Qian Kun was seven years old when he first stole. It wasn't spectacular really, nor did it leave a mark on him like all those other adults who have their own guilty childhood stories about stealing a boiled sweet. It's not very important, and since he was seven he was past the point of learning that stealing was wrong.

He stuck his hand into the small tub of buttons (brass, not chocolate), took a handful and shoved them down into his coat pocket. His mother was too busy buying new curtain fabric to notice, and really, who suspects the seven year old boy of stealing sewing materials?

So he got away with that and they left. When he got home he put them in a shoebox.

 

Two weeks later, he struck again. A spool of butchers string.Of course he wasn't caught- he had a knack for stealing.

 

Well, his knack for stealing showed as he built up a collection in a year's time that exceeded not one shoebox, but two. He had all sorts of things ranging from sewing needles to squares of fabrics of all different sizes. It was the strangest sight.

 

When his mother died he left his collection behind. 9 years old and he was cast off halfway across the country to stay with his distant aunt too far away from the city to even find a gas station. Well, that was a good while ago.

 

"So, whats a country boy like you doing here anyway?"

Sicheng was nosy. Everyone knew it, no one liked it but they still kissed up to him anyway. Kun reasoned with himself, maybe Sicheng was just friendly, but somehow Kun doubted it. Sicheng decidedly didn't care anyway and Kun just wanted to tell him to shut up.

"You assume I'm a country boy?" he said instead. Sicheng shrugged in an annoying way, lopsided grin covering up too much of his face. Thankfully, Kun’s job wasn't to be Sicheng’s photographer.

"Oh, you know, office gossip."

Already?

"You should get used to it after a while."

Kun hummed for lack of response, messing with his bag straps and staring the place down for the third time. How unremarkable. Where were the chandeliers and grand pianos? And the alluring waiters pouring glasses of wine?

"Do you like the place?" Sicheng asked. Kun took a look at the purple-blue colour scheme and shook his head.

"It's not much to look at," he admitted. Sicheng first looked hurt then looked amused, before tapping his nose and gesturing for Kun to follow him.

 

They had spiral staircases, at the very least.

 

Well. Kun wasn't about to apologise for judging prematurely, but he had to give credit where credit was due, and good impressions were on his mind right now.

"It’s nice," he said, surveying the much better designed room, complete with sleek black furniture that you picture when you imagine getting ed against a desk.

"Sarcasm?" Sicheng asked in all seriousness.

"No, actually, but you'll be hearing it a lot," might as well be honest.

"I'll take note of that. now, this is your desk," Sicheng unsurprisingly pointed to the smaller of the two in the room. It was bare except for a cardboard box filled with blank printer paper and a blue pamphlet.

"That's important," Sicheng said about it. He sat down on his own office chair which faced away from Kun's. That gets rid of the biggest obstacle about Sicheng; his looks.

Sicheng must've known he was good looking and decided to be merciful when placing the desks. He was a very slight narcissist about it, but from observation Kun knew it wasn't his fault. Models tended to be either completely insecure or completely confident about their looks, and Kun was just glad he didn't have to deal with a broody Sicheng instead of a mildly aggravating one.

he sat down at his own chair which faced a wall that had a single framed poster of 80 per minute. Kun heard about it before, something about an aspiring singer who worked his way up from small bars in country towns to major establishments in Tianjin. He wondered if Sicheng was in it or if he just loved cheesy films before looking back down at his desk.

 

The blue pamphlet was an ice cream menu. Kun sighed and pushed it away. Important, huh?

"What do I do?" he finally asked. Sicheng waited nearly 3 minutes before responding.

"Nothing until I ask you to do something," Sicheng replied, pressing, well, 80 keys per minute. It sounded like hailstones hitting car windows.

Kun did have a laptop and laptops were associated with work, so he got his from his messenger bag. He put it on the table and looked at the blank screen rethinking his career choice.

 

Fact; Sicheng was extremely popular in the modelling industry. Therefore, it was almost a requirement to have a fancy studio apartment and a sparkly yet chic office. Kun wasn't sure about the first one but he heard rumours, specifically from Hyoyeon, who went into detail about her visit there. She was sure Sicheng would put a hand on her thigh as they sat across from each other in recliners she detailed as "really ing comfortable". Sicheng had invited her to discuss work which was an industry-famous codeword for 'bring condoms', and a classy alternative to the -me eyes. Turned out, he really did just want to talk about work, much to Hyoyeon's despair. Silver linings, she said the apartment was the most fancy one she's been in.

You could say the same for his office, located in one of the busier areas of Shanghai, where a lot of asian fashion execs and, in Sichengs case, loaded people stayed. Kun always imagined being there one day, in the actual place. Earlier he was let down but damn if Sicheng's office wasn't really well designed.

 

Kun still imagined the job differently but what can you do? It was a half assed CV and sheer luck that got him here, labelled as Sicheng's assistant in an office like this. He could deal with Sicheng's nosiness for a bit if he had to.

 

Sicheng didn't tell him to do anything at all until after the sky went a little too dark to make your way home by foot. He said "Kun, have a safe journey home and I'll keep working."

To be truthful, Kun knew he should be working a lot harder than Sicheng but he wouldn't argue. He packed up his laptop and even the wobbly doodles he did on a printer page, wrapping his scarf around him before mumbling a goodbye.

 

Kun stopped walking down the busy street when he heard distant guitar strumming. He wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to find the source.

 

It looked like a dive from the outside.

It was painted a sort of marble red colour, windows small and pointy with blurry bathroom glass you can't see through, the sign read 'Paradise' which sounded like a turkish night club. Kun could hear the guitar strumming coming from within.

He took a step in to be greeted with a warm atmosphere you wouldn't really expect from the outside. Actually the whole place was warm; a fire was lit in a grate-covered fireplace surrounded by two full tables.

Kun took a seat at the bar. It wasn't much to look at, but bars never are. Besides, from where Kun sat he could see the small stage- an elongated step by the already mentioned fireplace. there was a piano varnished brown sitting on the thing, an awkward stool in front of it, a man sat there singing his heart out into a microphone and playing a pretty blue acoustic guitar.

 

Kun turned his attention from the man's beautiful singing voice to the actual bar only when the bartender coughed to get his attention.

The bartender drank on the job, but was high functioning enough that Kun only noticed because he used to do it himself. He felt a bit of his heart go out to this tipsy bartender with a pointy nose and eyes that could light up if he wasn't so drunk. The man was not from China, Kun could tell. Not only that but curiously, they served hite at the bar. Of course Kun's never tried it- it's a rare find in China aside from Korean family owned restaurants that were dotted along the coast line. Kun hadn't much experience with those either. Holidays were always a rare thing for him.

Well, there's always a first for everything and today was not the day.

 

"Bottle of Tsingtao please," he said softly, still feeling sympathetic. The bartender nodded and gave Kun a pretty smile before going to work.

Kun didn't bother to check his phone when he felt it vibrate in his backpocket. He sat there and watched the man singing. The man's voice did and didn't match his looks. no one would expect him to be able to sing that well, but if you knew he could you'd assume he had a high pitched voice. He did.

Kun imagined for a small minute what could've happened if he went the music route instead of doing fashion. Maybe he would be happier, or maybe it would be the same.

It might not seem like it but Kun was happy anyway. His childhood was comparable to a crossword in that it was both boring and annoying, but never too bad. And now here he is in Shanghai, working in fashion like he wanted to ever since he shoved that fistful of buttons into his coat pocket years ago.

The moment to think passed when he was handed the bottle of beer and an ice-filled pint glass by the bartender. Kun pulled out too much money for the drink and tried to hand it to him.

"No," he said, accent obvious but nice. "It's on the house."

Kun gaped for a second before shaking his head.

"Nah, don't worry about it," he said and he took the bartender's hand and flattened the palm, putting the money on it and closing it into a fist. The bartender looked a bit surprised but grateful still, judging from how the corners of his lips curled upwards.

"You shouldn't drink on the job," Kun thought to say as he poured the glass of Tsingtao. He smiled at the bartender.

"Thank you," he actually said. The bartender nodded and went off to serve another customer. Only then did Kun notice the other people at the bar. There were a few of them, three american tourists had been trying to order in Mandarin beside him. The bartender said something in English and they looked relieved.

Kun didn't understand english so he went back to watching the stage. It occurred to him that there were a lot of foreigners in the bar. Shanghai was still foreign to Kun so it felt a bit nice to have mutual understanding with the other visitors in the room, even if it was never vocalised.

 

He finished the bottle and asked for another, overpaying the bartender again who was smiley for the rest of the night. The singer played a final ballad and when he finished Kun gave him a standing ovation without thinking and he caused the rest of the bar to stand and cheer too. The singer grinned and held the microphone, waiting for the applause to end.

"Thank you," he started, looking so pleased. "I uh... I don't really know what to say other than... I'm Doyoung and I play here every tuesday."

 

Kun could tell that Sicheng didn't really need photocopies done, but it was always a good idea to keep your assistant busy. He reminded himself of 1 P.M, maybe half an hour away, where he got an hour long break from doing nothing in particular. He sighed and hurried along to the photocopier room after relaying the directions Sicheng gave him in his head.

Sicheng didn't like office work- he said so himself. Kun couldn't understand why exactly he did office work then. Models didn’t need to do that, they just needed to look good and promote well.

Sicheng did both. Good thing the office chairs faced away from each other.

He leaned against the wall as he waited for the copies to collect in the dish. Hyoyeon had texted him on tuesday asking him out to lunch at 1. He checked the time again but it had only been a few minutes since he last looked.

 

When it actually went 1 Kun had to stop himself from sprinting out of the office. Sicheng gave him a knowing smile and that was more than enough permission Kun needed to grab his coat and go.

 

The cafe he and Hyoyeon went to was called Ruby's Place even though there wasn't a single person called Ruby in the entire area.

The cafe was to the workers in the office what cafeterias were to high schoolers, it was directly next to the building and everyone was there.

To be honest Kun could barely focus on his cheesecake when he realised that Taeyeon was sitting at the table just next to his. Taeyeon, probably the most famous female model based in China despite Hyoyeon's whining ("How could you say that! i get a lot of shoots too!"). Kun tried to focus on Hyoyeon who was rambling on about her agent's annoying habits.

"-And she always leaves the door open when she enters a room! God, she's driving me up the walls with all this work. At least I only have two weeks left," she said, stirring more sugar into her coffee.

"What's in two weeks?"

"I'm going back to korea for a shoot with Siwon."

Kun raised his eyebrows. "Oh, Siwon? very risqué!"

Kim Siwon was a touchy subject when Hyoyeon had had too much to drink, it was something that the building gossiped about a lot. They moved to China together to try and get a career and something must have happened because Siwon went back to korea after a year. Hyoyeon still wouldn’t talk about it.

"Hmm, I haven't seen him in awhile," she said wistfully. "Enough about me though. How’s your new job going?"

Kun sighed.

"God, I never know what to say to Sicheng. Like, ever."

"He's really nice, you know. I thought it was an act at first but he's genuine about it."

Kun finished up his tea wondering how much more of Sicheng he could take.

 

God wasn't real, Kun reminded himself, as Sicheng rearranged the office furniture right there in front of him. God wasn't real; that was the only explanation as their desks were arranged to ing face each other.

"Now, won't that be better?" Sicheng smiled as he wiped his dusty hands on his trousers. Kun gaped at him.

"What... don't you like it?"

"Uh, no, i do!"

Kun sat down at his desk, peeking at Sicheng over the top of his laptop. Sicheng seemed clueless. He was completely focused on whatever he was doing on his computer, and apparently unaware of how good he looked chewing on the end of a pencil nervously. Kun could've asked what was wrong, but he was worried that'd be a bit weird. Maybe then Sicheng would realise Kun was looking at him?

Whatever, Kun went back to doing proper work. Finally Sicheng had thrown him a bone and asked him to set a shoot up with Youngor.

"How's it going?" Sicheng asked, finally snapping out of his weird trance.

"Huh? Oh, they're interested in setting up a shoot for this friday if you can?" Kun said.

"Yes! Of course!"

 

Seeing Sicheng in casual clothes was agonising enough for Kun, who admittedly spent some time going through his old magazine photos ("research") but now, of course his first photoshoot with Sicheng was for Youngor.

Youngor; a brand known for their collections of mens' formal wear.

 

Kun... admired... the sight from where he stood near the photographer. it was very formal, Sicheng wore a blank expression and a black suit that clung to his body a lot. He was one of those men with broad shoulders and long legs, one of those men who looked more serious than they really were. At least he did here-  hair parted midway and perfectly, a slight pout on his lips. Kun shuffled from foot to foot. He didn't know what to do with himself so he settled with looking away from Sicheng and letting none of this valuable work experience sink in.

 

"Did you see me?" asked Sicheng, pulling out the chair across from Kun and taking a seat. His casual clothes were back on at least.

"How could I not?" Kun replied. He shoved his half eaten icecream towards Sicheng. Kun was sure he would appreciate it a whole lot more. Sicheng gleefully picked up a spoon and dug in, all smiles and brightness. Kun loved how Sicheng smiled, by the way. It was even better in person when he didn’t restrain himself and it was wide and showed almost all his teeth. Kun felt the weird pit in his chest grow as Sicheng mumbled a shy "Thanks..."

 

 

Kun took his first weekend off to go to a karaoke bar. He went alone, it was a tradition of sorts, but he had Doyoung in mind as he went up to the karaoke machine and sang his heart out to Jay Chou. It didn't matter that no one was there to hear, Kun knew that it was only so long until he would be forced to go again with work. It was kind of a staple here.

Kun finished the song and went back home, it was nice to have time to himself. He wasn’t one to sing seriously but it was always an option.

 

See, fashion was his thing, and it went beyond brass buttons. He remembered a couple of years back when he was 14 and his aunt paid him to completely replicate a dress she'd seen in a magazine for her best friend's daughter. It looked great. It almost made the name calling at school worth it.

 

He slammed his apartment door behind him and tried to forget about secondary school. It was always kind of hard to forget about it once he started but maybe if his earphones were loud enough it would drown out his thoughts with choppy guitar chords.

 

Here's the thing about working for Sicheng- it gets you noticed. Kun only acknowledged this when a complete and utter stranger ran into him and he watched as the fruits of his labour ( a few pages from the photocopier ) fell to the ground like rain. It was poetic, really.

He looked up to see who just ruined his next minute he'd spend picking the pages up and it was not a stranger. Actually, it was Zitao, the Zitao, who looked just a bit guilty.

"Sorry Kun, I didn't see you there," said Zitao, who didn’t help pick the paper up and instead continued walking down the corridor.

Kun watched him go, eyes wide with the surprise of Zitao knowing his name.

 

"You were right about office gossip," Kun said in between writing a sentence on a newly composed email.

"Why would you say so now?" Sicheng looked up with his screen and Kun felt a bit guilty for getting angry about the chairs earlier. It wasn't Sicheng's fault he was gorgeous, and it wasn't Sicheng's fault that Kun could literally stretch anything into a compliment whether it fit or not.

 

A few years ago it was the reverse- his boss at the bar down in his old town was attracted ( no he didn't have a crush, Kun thought ) to him. The day his boss tried to pull him in by his hair was the day Kun realised he wasn't quite as good at waiting tables as he'd been led to believe. But that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that Sicheng wasn't taking advantage of him and oh- hadn't he asked Kun a question?

"W-what?"

"Don't worry about it," Sicheng replied, obviously unaffected by Kun's long pause.

"Uh, okay," Kun checked his watch and it was 1 already.

"Hey, are you getting lunch now?" Sicheng asked.

"Yeah, I am."

"Mind if i tag along? i mean-" he laughed nervously. "I'm tired of eating alone in here everyday..."

"Dorry Sicheng, the cafe doesn't have ice cream," Kun said and it wasn't even true. Sicheng laughed again and oh god!!!!!!!

"I'm joking, it totally does. let's go."

 

Kun could say with a certainty that he might have just the smallest crush on Sicheng, because unlike love crushes don't even bother to develop. They pop up in a good portion of nice, cute people you meet and they go just as quickly. That’s right- Kun  thought as he watched Sicheng order their drinks with a grin- just another cute person.

“there’s a table!” Sicheng pointed to one by the window. Kun nodded and took his drink over, and they talked about nothings like the weather and what's been on tv lately.

“Well, I don’t really watch the tv,” Kun admitted as he took the smallest stip of coffee that was feasible to man. If he was very careful about it he might not have to finish within the next twenty minutes, anything to stay out of that office that felt like it was closing in from all sides, and anything to stay in Sicheng’s company.

“Yeah me neither,” Sicheng said “I'm always too busy.”
“With what?”

“I don’t know, I like to stick around the office for a while after you leave. sometimes I reorganise my bookshelves and there’s this bar I go to…”

“You’re not an alcoholic, right?” Kun asked. He had to be sure, maybe if Sicheng was an alcoholic Kun could stop liking him. Sicheng laughed like it was ridiculous. Maybe it was.

“Nah, I mostly go for the music. Lately it’s been a bit bad though, I'm not going to lie- more drunks than music lovers. I get that bars are for drinking in but…” Sicheng trailed off, looking out the window the whole time at the busy street. A scary looking man passed by the window with one of those sticks that were spikey at the end, picking up litter from the streets and putting it into the black binbag he was carrying. Community service most likely.

“No, I get you. I love that kind of thing aswell,” Kun replied, taking another calculated sip of his drink.

 

He ended up throwing the coffee cup away twenty minutes later, slightly more than he’d calculated; that was the upside. The huge downside was that now he had to go back to the office and sit across from Sicheng who wouldn’t notice someone checking him out if they used binoculars from a meter away. This was a terrible, terrible thing. It meant that Kun had all the freedom to watch as Sicheng tapped his chin, typing away again. What does he even do half the time? And why does he try to pretend he’s not listening to earphones like Kun can’t see the wire go under his shirt? Realistically, no one would’ve looked at Sicheng’s shirt enough to notice. realistically.

Kun tore his eyes away from the sight and rested them on the jumble of words spread across his laptop screen. Something about great wall motors, Kun thought. He scanned over the email once more.

“Sicheng…?” he tried, but yeah, those earphones were up pretty loud.

“Sicheng?!”

He jumped up, yanking the earphones out of the ears then gave Kun a sheepish sort of look that was aggravatingly easy on the eyes.

“It’s okay to listen to earphones, you know. You’re my boss- it’s not the other way round,” Kun said. Sicheng blinked, eyes going wide.

“You noticed?”
“I did but it's fine!” Kun needed a lesson on public speaking, or not even public speaking- he was failing to act natural in front of a single person.

“...Anyway. great wall motors wants you to model in a commercial!” Kun said excitedly. It was a big deal- great wall motors were always very picky about their actors, and they were always even more picky about their models who didn't need to act; the girls who had to drape themselves over a car like it wasn’t a vehicle. So to be asked to model was a huge deal. Maybe he’d get to go along and look at the-

“I can’t drive,” Sicheng said, interrupting Kun’s thoughts.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

 

Well, it was a problem, apparently there was no way they could use a stunt double or something. Sicheng may be high profile enough to snatch up these sort of jobs like they were nothing but he wasn’t about to become a special case.

“Hard luck,” Kun had said when he’d explained what the company had told him over the phone just a few minutes before. “I'm sure we’ll get it next time!”

It was the end of the day as always when Kun wondered if the lingering feeling was just on him every time he left the office. He zipped up his coat and took off quicker than usual- it was a tuesday after all.

 

Paradise was familiar even to those who had only been once. Kun stepped in and the bartender waved him over, so he sat at the bar wondering if today was the day he’d buy a pint of Hite. He was early enough that he saw Doyoung setting up the cables to the amp onstage with another man who looked like his friend.

Kun pulled out his phone and checked his texts which were thankfully not plentiful, he turned back to the bartender who was standing idly at the counter.

It wasn’t as busy as last time, since the sun had barely gone under, and the tables were filled with people who loved the A La Carte menu (Kun’s been there) but hated the noise.

“A Tsingtao, please,” said Kun, and immediately he felt a rush of nostalgia to last ing week. That's what places like this did- they made you feel warm and tucked away. It was a weird feeling to be honest, one that Kun welcomed rather than thoughts of Sicheng again. Sicheng said he liked to go to a bar but it wasn’t this one.

He said the music there was bad. Definitely not this one, Kun thought, as Doyoung sat down at the stage again.

There were a few returners in the crowd which was always nice.

“Hi everybody! I'm Doyoung, and I'm going to do some singing tonight,” he said and the microphone cut off slightly as it was just .

Kun heard a groan and he turned to see one of those men that everyone hates- one of those men who can’t help themselves; all shouting and walking pigeon-toed. Thankfully the man forked the money for his tab over and shuffled out, grumbling about annoying singers or whatever.

Kun was glad to be by himself at the bar again, well him and the bartender who handed him the Tsingtao. Kun paid a little extra and turned to the singing.

It was nice, yet again. He wished he was this distracted all the time. (maybe then he could get over his stupid crush)

 

Wow, Sicheng really couldn’t help himself, could he?

He left a small paper box on Kun’s desk that morning. Kun eyed it curiously before sitting down. He organised all his stuff, leaving the best for last, before pulling the purple box back ( that was stamped ‘Ruby’s Place’ ) into the center of the table. He could feel Sicheng watching him as he opened it.

It was his favourite; a slice of blueberry cheesecake. He thought back and realised he’d ordered it yesterday when they went to the cafe.

“I picked it up when I was getting a coffee earlier,” Sicheng said, expression bright.

“Thank you,” Kun breathed as he tried to process his simple thought; Sicheng thought of him?

“How much do I owe you?”

“What? No, it's a gift!” Sicheng insisted. “Keep your money.”

Well, there was no arguing with that kind of logic. Kun fondly set it aside for later, saving the best for last, and he started to work on the second redraft of Sicheng’s application for a Tsingtao commercial.

Kun did it dutifully. He knew Sicheng wouldn’t get the ad- he wasn’t “manly” enough for the company.

And that was okay.

 

The days stacked up, Sicheng joined him to lunch and sometimes breakfast.

Kun didn't ask for any of this.

Knowing that Sicheng was quite honestly one of the nicest people ever was going to drive Kun crazy. He'd had  just about enough and he was sick of giggling like a schoolgirl in his room as he remembered meaningless compliments ( "Your emails are so professional!" Sicheng had said about Kun's email to youngor and Kun was too proud about stupid things like signing 'kind regards' at the end of formal emails).

 

“Kun,” said Sicheng. He was watching Kun pack up who was ready to run away for yet another tuesday night.

“Wait up,” he added, and that's when Kun noticed him.

“What is it?” Kun asked, a little more piercing than intended and he almost felt guilty. He really really just wanted to head out to Paradise where he wasn’t so constricted with his awful crush.

“Why do you rush off every tuesday?”

“...What do you mean?” Kun played clueless- what's new?

“Every tuesday you practically sprint out the door,” Sicheng said but he didn't sound annoyed. him for looking amused, pushing his brown hair out of his face. And that's another thing- Sicheng’s hair practically begged Kun to run his hands through it. It was so. ing. Annoying.

“Oh, I go to this bar,” Kun decided to come clean. “There's this singer there every tuesday. He’s really good.”

Sicheng raised his eyebrows.

“That sounds cool!” he said with a grin. “Where is it?”

“Have you heard of ‘Paradise’?” asked Kun.

“Nope.”

“-Well, do you want to see it?”

The single most daring thing Kun’s ever said in his life. its truly remarkable that he said it without being held at gunpoint, but Sicheng lit up and threw his coat on before Kun could backpedal.

 

The street that Paradise was on was one that was never driven past. it was all walk, like the builders knew when they built the narrow road(?) that no one would bother driving through it.

Because it was for drunks. Drunks who’d bar hopped all night, drunks who knew every single bartender in every single bar within a 20 mile radius personally. Kun was halfway between embarrassment and complete glee as Sicheng looked around the place. The wind was strong, so strong Kun held desperately onto his scarf, so strong he could smell the fried chicken from the stall a few dozen meters up. He didn’t trick himself as they ducked into the bar, he definitely felt Sicheng’s hand on the small of his back, right?

Well Sicheng had retracted his hand by the point he’d stumbled fully in the door, the sound of Doyoung’s voice already in the air from the getgo. Kun remembered that Sicheng was his boss as they sat at the bar and he straightened his posture. The bartender had a glint in his eye has he asked what they wanted to drink.

“A Tsingtao, obviously, and…?” he said before Kun even got the chance to speak.

“A pint of Hite, please,” Sicheng told the bartender who went to make their drinks.

He turned to Kun, head rested in his hands. This wasn’t just on Kun’s side anymore, he wasn’t going to delude himself with “oh I wonder if Sicheng likes me!”’s. Because.

Sicheng really did like him and that was that.

 

“You’re cute,” he said, instead of ‘do you like the place?’. And Sicheng just giggled, maybe his cheeks went red as was cliche but Kun didn’t really think to check, all he could focus on was Sicheng completely and fully, to the point where Doyoung sounded so far away.

 

“I know,” said Sicheng.

 

“Is that all you have to say?” Kun asked, just a tad desperate.

“Hm, there’s things we can do besides talking,” Sicheng replied.

 

“Like what-”

 

The bartender coughed and Kun instinctively scrambled away from where he was way too close to Sicheng. You want to know what Sicheng did? he laughed, and it sounded brilliant as he rested his hand back on Kun’s back.

“Thank you,” he said to the bartender, Kun mumbled it after him and took long drinks so he didn’t have to think of anything to say.

In the end he didn’t need to. They sat watching Doyoung, leaned against each other like drunk friends do.

Except. They were both sober, so maybe it meant something else that they were close.

Sicheng turned to him and the low lights made it a little unclear whether he was smiling or smirking, he said “I don’t want to get drunk.”

Kun hummed in agreement but took another drink of his beer anyway.

“But I do want to go back to my place.”

“F-for what?”

A secret smile, that was all it took to tell Kun what Sicheng’s intentions were, but he spelled it out anyway.

“To discuss work.”

 

Sicheng could obviously afford a taxi.

Sicheng could obviously afford a taxi, and here they were, strolling down the streets of Shanghai in the freezing cold. It got to the point where Kun could’ve sworn his lips were turning blue, teeth chattering and all.

His hands weren’t cold.

Sicheng’s weren’t either, Kun could feel; their fingers were intertwined and Kun could feel the pit in his stomach get bigger, but in a good way that made you feel like you’re going to laugh until you pulled a chest muscle. Kun didn’t laugh, but the feeling was there in the way that Sicheng spoke hushed and only to him, to the way that Kun could say whatever he wanted.

He could say whatever he wanted because Sicheng liked him too, right?

“Sicheng,” he said as they passed by the convenience store that was still open this late at night. It made Kun feel a little bad but what can weigh you down now?

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re cute,” Kun reminded him, and Sicheng seemed all too used to it but happy just the same.

 

“You’re sweet.”

 

Well, the funny thing was that Sicheng really did just want to discuss work. It was nice to hear his voice and all but Kun was about ready to spread his legs from the moment he got into the apartment.

It was a little while away from Paradise in one of those areas that seemed uninhabited because no one in their right mind could afford it. It was unintelligible and if Kun really thought back he would remember thinking ‘does anyone actually live there?’ as he passed it on the bus only a week ago.

The walls were covered in scattered movie posters, much like the one for 80 Per Minute, some music ones too. The walls were a college student’s basically. The furniture was a different story. Kun could guess Sicheng’s favourite colour easily, all black leather and screens everywhere that were as thin as possible. Hyoyeon was right.

“Take a seat,” Sicheng said, dropping his coat onto a (leather) sofa as he walked past it to a door on the right wall. Kun nodded, admittedly a bit hard already, he took a seat on one of the recliners Hyoyeon referred to.

Sicheng returned a second later with a jug of… water…?

“I don’t want to get drunk,” he repeated, placing it on the coffee table.

“Why not?” Kun practically whined. Anything, anything to see Sicheng on top of him.

“I like you a hell of a lot,” said Sicheng as he poured a glass

“And I want to take things slow.”
“Kiss me at least.”

And it was Sicheng’s turn to be flustered, he overpoured the water and spilled it all over the table and Kun thought about offering his shirt up to clean the spill.

“Come here,” Kun said, and when Sicheng stayed hesitant he got up and walked over himself, pushing Sicheng back onto the (leather) sofa.

“I want to take things slow too,” said Kun, finally getting the chance to run his hands through Sicheng’s hair.

 

They were kissing.

It was slow, just as promised, they both hadn’t figured each other out yet but it was a taste of something great. Clumsy and sweet and slow; that’s just how crushes are, that's just how they usually are, and yet Kun felt so happy that he couldn’t help but smile more than ever as he leaned onto Sicheng to the point where he might as well have just crashed onto the sofa.

So he did.

They broke away quickly and it didn’t even have to be a bad thing because now Sicheng was all Kun’s. Hopefully.

 

“Was that… was that okay?” Kun stupidly asked and Sicheng just laughed at him once again, pulling him close to his chest so they were wrapped around each other and Kun felt like the luckiest person alive.

“That was more than okay!” said Sicheng.

“-Ah, that's good. I mean, I'm glad,” Kun mumbled, and this time it was Sicheng who said “you’re cute.”

 

Kun didn’t stay the night.

It didn’t feel right at the time, which was all fine when he could call Sicheng his boyfriend.

(His boyfriend.)

 

“What’s that?” asked Sicheng, his boyfriend.

They were in Kun’s humble apartment. He would say humble because it was the size of a family bathroom and didn’t have enough space for just about anything.

Sicheng was looking at the shelves. He’d never been here before.

“Oh, those? they’re just buttons I guess,” Kun laughed.

Dome buttons lay on the corner of the bookshelf- a handful if you were seven or four if you were an adult.

“No deeper meaning?”

“Well…” and Kun explained his childhood kleptomania as quickly as he could, up to the point that kind of made his eyes glaze over. Sicheng must’ve noticed because he wrapped Kun in a hug.

“I get it, I mean… Not to that extent but…” Sicheng trailed off.

“Did you lose someone?”

“My sister, but I was only 6 so it doesn’t really matter.”

A sniff. “That’s terrible.”

“Hey, lets not worry about it… Will I cook dinner?”

It turned out that Sicheng couldn’t cook for .

 

Kun had only ever been to Paradise on tuesdays but desperate times called for desperate measures and Kun thought Sicheng’s attempt at a chicken casserole was desperate enough to warrant their visit here. Finally, Kun could be a disgusting couple in public, and with Sicheng no less.

They held hands mostly. The bartender winked at him.

 

“Sorry to bother you, but are you Dong Sicheng?”

They both turned from where they were facing the bar, and there was a man with white hair and a nervous smile.

“Um, that's me… do I know you?”

“W-well, you don’t know me exactly, but my name’s Lee Taeyong and I'm an amateur model,” Taeyong had said, with all the grace of a webcammer. or maybe a bit less- webcammers didn’t deserve an insult like that.

“I'm a fan.”

And that’s how Sicheng and Taeyong chatted Kun’s ears off about modelling for the next half an hour.

“He's nice,” Sicheng said as they watched Taeyong walk out the door.

“Looks like Sicheng’s got an admirer~”

He nudged Kun off the barstool to shut him up.

 

Of course Sicheng had friends. What Kun hadn’t anticipated was being introduced to each one and being told “oh, so you’re that Kun”.

It wasn't even a bother. It was actually nice, as were Sicheng’s friends. they seemed both intimidating and friendly but Kun mixed in easily, talking to all of them to the point where they hung out frequently. Sometimes Kun invited his friends too, as was the case tonight, they were all sat around the tv set in Jaehyun and Johnny’s shared apartment.

It was Hansol who said it. It was always Hansol.

 

“Isn’t it inappropriate to be in a relationship with your boss?”

 

Hansol was right. Hansol was always right.

 

The truth was Kun had a lot of good work done. He was always diligent and he saw his ideas through 99 percent of the time.

He didn’t expect the job offer to just land in his lap like this, but suddenly Hyoyeon was squealing on the phone about the whole thing.

“You have to take it!” she said and was that Siwon’s voice in the background?

Kun could have the chance to work with Taeyeon.

But that meant…

“I think you’re right,” he said.

 

Sicheng’s apartment was marginally nicer than Kun’s and that's where they were most of the time even though it was more impersonal.

Kun blurted it out after they had just finished watching 80 Per Minute.

“I got offered a job.”

“Oh?” Sicheng raised his eyebrows.

“They want me to work with costume design for some show.”

“What show?”

“I don't know, a famous one?”

“Well, you know what Hansol said! And I support you!”

 

Kun would still see the office but it was almost sad to leave it behind, just another short lived job.

Except, it wasn't just that, was it? Kun kissed Sicheng as he said goodbye.

Sicheng had himself a new assistant anyway.

Lee Taeyong, always looking for work experience, was at that desk Kun had sat in front of for weeks.

Kun wasn’t worried.

 

It was like a dream, working around all these light fixtures and all these racks of clothes that Kun couldn’t even spend a paycheck on. He met up with an experienced designer and they went through Kun’s portfolio to discuss the styles required and it was such an experience, one that Kun dreamed of for a long time.

He didn’t meet Taeyeon, he didn’t get to hand her his meticulously designed outfit, but he got to watch what Sicheng recorded of the episode and it was more than enough.

 

Sicheng still couldn’t drive and Kun still hadn’t bought a car.

He got off the bus and walked a familiar route, inviting himself into the building because he knew it was all fine.

Zitao smiled at him in the hallway and that could’ve killed Kun a little over two months ago but now it didn’t seem like anything.

“You’re here!” Sicheng said, his eyes were bright like he was surprised but Kun would come pick him up every tuesday without fail. Kun pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

He loved Sicheng.

“come on,” he said, leading Sicheng out of the office with a hand on his back. “Tell me about your day.”

“I got you some cheesecake at Ruby’s Place,” Sicheng said with a smile. “But I ended up eating it.”

 

They went to Paradise and it was still fond, or fonder even, as the bartender stood there at the counter and Doyoung still sang.

“My name’s Ten,” the bartender was filling up their glasses. “It’d feel weird if you came here so much and you never knew my name. I'm Ten.”

“I'm Kun.”

“I'm Sicheng!”

“And I'm Doyoung,” Kun turned and saw him there, the singer from every single tuesday. It felt a bit surreal to actually see him off stage, as weird as that sounded.

“The usual?” Ten asked and Doyoung nodded.

“I notice you come here like, every week,” Doyoung said to Kun with a grin.

“Y-yeah, I do come here a lot,” Kun laughed.

“What he means to say is, you’re a great singer,” Sicheng said and squeezed Kun’s hand who gave him a glare.

“I really appreciate it!”

 

It was a matter of a year before Doyoung ended up on air.

Kun got the pleasure of planning his outfit and he put every ounce of effort into it. It was for a friend, after all.

“Nervous?” and this time Kun did get to talk to the actors offstage.

“yeah,” Doyoung replied. “excited, I mean- but still. you know how it is!”

“I'm so proud of you,” Kun sniffed. “I could cry.”

“I could cry too! Did you see how many cameras they point in your face?”

 

The shoot went absolutely wonderfully and the best part was that Kun got to see it all being recorded, got to watch Doyoung talk about his new single ‘Without You’ that had become a radio hit over the span of a day. Doyoung really did deserve all the praise he got.

“You did well!” said Kun as Doyoung left the dressing room in much more casual clothes again.

“I think I did too, even though the eye contact was so. Awkward.”

“You're right, the presenters really scary.”

Then there was Hyoyeon who could actually drive. she was parked out the front and forced Siwon to sit in the backseat next to ten for room. Of course Kun sat in the front of the car, because that’s always how things were even with Siwon around.

They drove back to Sicheng’s office.

“There's no space,” Hyoyeon shrugged as she rolled down the car window to talk.
“I can think of a solution to that problem,” Sicheng responded before he landed in Kun’s lap.

“For s sake,” Kun groaned at the sudden weight.

“Ew, get a room,” Ten spat and all you could hear was Siwon laughing.

 

Paradise was even nicer tonight with celebration. Doyoung sat at the center of everyone because this was his night.

“To Doyoung!” Ten exclaimed and they all raised their glasses and erupted into cheers.

“How does it feel to be famous?” Ten asked him and Doyoung laughed.

“I hope I find out someday,” he replied and then they all drank.

 

By the end of the night Hyoyeon was both drunk and around Siwon, that combination never ended well before but the two seemed steady enough. Sicheng wasn’t a lightweight at all and had downed half of the combined alcohol, Kun was content to just listen to the conversation and Ten and Doyoung could bicker for days.

“No, that’s orange!” Ten practically shouted.

“Ew, I would never wear orange! It’s red!” Doyoung retorted. They were talking about Doyoung’s shirt, and for the record, it was 100 percent orange. Kun wondered how blind Doyoung really became when he was drunk, but he couldn’t stop grinning.

 

They had come a long way, Doyoung released a first song and was getting major publicity, Hyoyeon and finally sorted things out with Siwon( and judging from their PDA over there, it worked out very well), Ten stopped drinking so much ( besides now), and well.

Kun had Sicheng.

“I'm going to miss you guys,” Hyoyeon sobbed, she was moving back to Korea with Siwon in two days.

“Don’t worry, we can always text,” Kun told her and Ten nodded in agreement.

“It’s really fine,” Doyoung agreed. “We’ll keep up contact.”

They all parted ways on the narrow street.

“Goodbye, Hyoyeon,” Kun had said to her, hugging her tightly.

“See you next tuesday,” he had said to Ten who just grinned and waved.

“Good luck!” he had told Doyoung who had called a taxi.

 

And Kun had Sicheng, always at the end of the day.

That was the nicest thing of all.

“Shall we?” he had asked Sicheng who kissed him a little too deeply for a place this open.

“Lead the way.”

 

They kissed as soon as Kun closed the door behind them.

He was home, and it felt definitive, this was home.

“I love you,” Sicheng told him, pinned against the wall.

“I love you too, for the twentieth time,” Kun said with a laugh because the words felt as light as ever but they still filled him with happiness.

He kissed Sicheng one more time on the nose.

“Come to bed?”

 

Do there they were in Sicheng’s bed. This was the first time Kun’s stayed the night.

He pulled Sicheng closer but it still wasn’t enough and that’s okay.

“Is it cheesy to say that i feel at home with you?” he asked.

“Definitely cheesy,” Sicheng laughed brilliantly.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

 

…

 

In eachothers’ arms.