vii.

“,” Donghae curses under his breath, “.”

Frantically, he shoves a handful of random objects and a rumpled sweatshirt into a drawer before slamming it closed. Then he pushes some magazines under his bed with his foot, all the while trying to straighten his pillows and his blanket over the mattress. He should probably change the bedsheets, too, he thinks conflicted—except that his dirty laundry has been lying untouched and forgotten in the depths of his cupboard for days now.

Donghae swears again. Hyukjae is supposed to show up any minute now, and even in spite of his best efforts, his place still looks like a complete warzone. There’s junk scattered about everywhere on the floor, while empty takeout boxes and dirty dishes have piled up in the kitchenette. His fridge is despairingly empty, except for some instant rice and an expired pack of orange juice that he can’t possibly offer to drink. To top it all, his room smells.

Donghae feels his nervousness intensify. He forcefully shoves the trash lying around into the bin and then rushes to open the windows. Small snowflakes fly in with the sharp coldness, sending shivers running across his skin. God, he groans to himself as he looks for a deodorant, but exactly what had he been thinking about when he invited Hyukjae over to his apartment?

Well, besides wanting to see him, that is.

Donghae’s heartbeat speeds up slightly at the thought. He can’t help but grin widely as a bubble of excitement builds at the bottom of his belly and spreads swiftly to the rest of his body. It’s an odd, wonderful sensation that leaves him a bit panicked; a lot breathless. The great beast that used to be so irritable and possessive all the time, is purring in anticipation now. It keeps pawing at him insistently, prompting tight knots of nervousness to form inside his stomach as well.

Midterms ended only a couple of days ago, and Christmas vacations started immediately afterwards. The perspectives of moving their not-relationship forward had seemed quite bleak back then; the university was closed down until the new semester, which meant that Hyukjae and Donghae normally wouldn’t have been able to see each other for two whole weeks.

Donghae really didn’t like that idea. At all. And so, on the pretense of working on their mini-thesis, he managed to catch Hyukjae on the last day of exams and invited him over to his place. Even now, he’s still a bit amazed that Hyukjae accepted his offer so easily.

His best friends laughed for the longest time when he told them about their not-quite-date. Donghae didn’t think that it was that funny, really, but they only laughed harder when he pointed it out sullenly. “Yeah, right, studying—is that what they call it these days?” Heechul snickered as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively; Siwon patted his shoulder encouragingly, while Kyuhyun wisely advised, “try not to it up.”

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it? Hyukjae’s not even here yet but as Donghae looks around the miserable state of his room, he feels like he’s half-ed it up already. At least he remembered to hide his stash.

The bell rings through the apartment, startling him, and he has to force himself to stop thinking about Hyukjae and in the same fantasy. His pants already feel a bit tight around his crotch and he wants to punch himself square in the face.

“Alright,” Donghae gulps as he closes the windows, then straightens his clothes and pats his hair down.

The bell rings again, more insistently this time, and he rushes to the door. He opens it so fast that the knob slips out of his hand; the door flies off and crashes into the wall.

The sudden commotion startles Hyukjae. He frowns at Donghae reproachfully, standing tensely in the hallway. “Hello,” he says stiffly, looking wary and a little nervous.

“Uh, yeah, hi,” Donghae answers and he sounds just as awkward as Hyukjae looks. His heart seems to miss a beat, as if the complex mechanism inside his chest went a bit faulty. Then it starts off again at a frantic pace. Suddenly he feels flushed, breathless, a little faint, and he gulps nervously. Shoving one of his hands into his pocket, he tightly curls the other one around the doorframe to stop himself from reaching out.

him, he thinks desperately—but Hyukjae looks like he just stepped out of a dream.

White snowflakes are melting on his head and on his winter coat, and he looks like he’s covered in tinsels of tiny diamond pearls that glitter and shine charmingly in the light. His hair is ruffled from the wind outside and falls messily around his face. Donghae has to squash the urge to reach out and run his hand through it. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, highlighting the sharpness of his features while softening them all at the same time. A thick scarf is wrapped around his neck, making him look all soft and cuddly and adorable. His eyes, though, are sharp and intense. They send tingles running across Donghae’s skin. It’s as if they could look right through him, staring deep inside his very soul. His lips are full and delicious, even better than he remembers them, and Donghae would really like to kiss them someday.

Donghae feels his heart skip another beat. Inside him, the great beast purrs with desire and paws insistently at his lower belly, urging him to step closer to Hyukjae. He barely manages to resist it. On some level, he does realize that he’s biased. He came to terms with his attraction for Hyukjae only a few days ago, and he still strongly feels the excitement that came along with that revelation. Every thought that he has about him seems to be amplified ten-fold, leaving him feeling giddy and a little faint.

Still, the urge to reach out and touch with his own hands grows bigger within Donghae. His grip around the doorframe tightens as he tells himself to tone it down before Hyukjae realizes he’s being weird and decides to kick him in the face.

Reveling in the warm feeling that’s steadily spreading through him as he drinks up the sight of Hyukjae, he smiles and says again, “hi.”

“Yes,” Hyukjae sniffs, giving him a strange look, “you already said that. Maybe you could continue by inviting me in next. It is a bit cold out here, you realize.” 

“Oh! Yeah, of course—come on in.” Donghae hastily steps aside. Hyukjae cautiously walks in, looking around the apartment curiously. “Do you want something to drink? I only have water and, uh, orange juice, but it actually expired so that’s probably a bad idea. Maybe I have tea somewhere—and snacks! I have snacks.” He triumphantly brandishes the packet of chocolate cookies that he found at the bottom of his backpack. It’s already open and half empty, but it’s his last resort of hospitality. “They’re nice.”

Hyukjae doesn’t reply, instead raising a skeptical eyebrow. He scrunches up his nose in disapproval at the mess that Donghae couldn’t hide properly, and then stares critically at the kitchenette. Donghae follows him a few steps behind, feeling oddly out of place.

“Well,” Hyukjae says, looking resigned and unsurprised. He sits down primly on the floor and shuffles closer to the coffee table, looking as if he’s trying hard to touch as few things as possible, in case it might carry some sort of lethal disease. Donghae rolls his eyes. “I cannot say I’m surprised that you live… here; it’s as messy as your personality.”

Donghae glares at him, a bit stung. It’s nice to know that even his feelings for Hyukjae can’t make him ignore how annoying he can sometimes be.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” he retorts unhappily and sits down as well. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure,” Hyukjae scoffs.

Then, with a stern frown, he starts another of his infamous speeches about their mini-thesis. He takes out his laptop and a couple of heavy books, gesticulating wildly as he explains his research results and then mentions a few other elements that he’d like to look further into. Excitement livens up his voice as he keeps talking animatedly. For once, Donghae finds that he doesn’t mind it so much. He actually grins, welcoming like an old friend the familiarity of listening to Hyukjae’s rambling and his critical comments about the doubtful quality of his work. He props his elbows on the coffee table and stares at Hyukjae distractedly. Hopefully Hyukjae will realize that he’s not paying attention before his lecture gets really boring.

“Are you listening to me?” Hyukjae demands after a while, looking very much outraged. Drawing himself up importantly, he raises his nose high up in the air and glares down at Donghae. “I am talking to you, you know.”

“Uh.” Donghae blinks. He stifles a small yawn. “Yeah, I mean—kind of?”

“You are truly beyond help,” Hyukjae declares. He sighs and shakes his head in exasperation. But he’s grinning, too, a tiny little something that’s sweet and reluctantly fond, as if he can’t quite help it.

Donghae smiles back, surprised. Hyukjae seems to startle like he didn’t even realize that his scowl had slipped off. He flushes in embarrassment and looks away, mumbling something under his breath that awfully sounds like ‘what are you looking at, ugh’. His lips are pursued into an unhappy, defiant pout.

Donghae bites down on his lower lip, charmed by Hyukjae’s shyness and the way that he tries to hide it by picking petulantly at a loose carpet thread. He’s so easy to read, really, all cute frowns and embarrassed for opening up unconsciously. Something fluttery and hopeful bursts alive inside