"Yangyang..." Kun spoke in that tone of his. The dad tone. The bad tone.

"Whuh?" Yangyang said, looking up from his phone at his manager, crouched on the tiny little stool in the back of the shop. 

"Your break ended twenty minutes ago. We've got at least three people waiting in line." He paused, leaning down close to Yangyang, and looked him dead in the eyes. 

, Yangyang thought, and Kun let out a groan. 

"Did you get high before coming in again? I thought we talked about that." 

"Dude, it was just half a j! No biggie!" 

Kun sighed. "Just get back on the floor. And I am not your dude. I am your boss." 

Yangyang let out a childish groan and eased himself out of the stool, making his way to the front of the shop. 

As he walked down the hall his arms brushed the stashes of lilies, roses, forget me nots. Even if he was stuck at this job, at least it always smelled in. 

Finally, after making his way to register as slow as his dragging feet would allow, he looked up at the first customer in line. 

He didn't even bother to change his tone of voice from his slow, monotone drawl. "Welcome to Floral Vision, how may I help you today?" 

But as much as he complained, he had to admit this was a pretty cush job. Just dealing with the register and cutting stems, that was it. Kun shouldn't even care if he showed up stoned as , it didn't affect anything. Maybe it's a little bit of a silly job (Yangyang likes to think he's edgier than the typical flower shop au worker), but it's easy. Plus, he's been here five years, so he makes a dollar fifty over minimum wage! It's the perfect part-time job for while he's in college. 

Yangyang sighed audibly as he went to the fridge to get a customer's preordered arrangement. . He probably should study tonight. But Yangyang can feel that communication textbook leeching bad vibes from his backpack in the back, and if he opens it, it'll let all of the bad vibes out. 

Once all the waiting customers had been helped Kun emerged from the back, handing Yangyang a couple dozen roses to de-thorn. 

"Kun, do you think I should switch majors?" 

"Which one are you on now? Your fifth?" 

"Fourth! Only my fourth, dude!"

"What did I say about calling me dude?" 

Yangyang sighed. "Alright, alright, sorry man." 

"I'm not really sure if I like man either, but I'll allow it today." He cleared his throat. "What major are you on now?" 

Yangyang groaned. "Communication." 

"Actually, that's pretty useful. You can apply that to quite a few different careers." 

"But I hate it," Yangyang whined. 

"Yeah. It doesn't seem very you. Too..." 

"Responsible?" 

"Yeah." 

"It kinda feels like when I was a business major." Kun scoffed, then quickly shut his mouth. "I know, I know." 

Yangyang had started off as a bright-eyed eighteen-year-old, fresh out of high school, immediately declaring his major as sports medicine. He liked basketball. That seemed like it should be enough...but it hadn't. Nobody else in the major 'just liked basketball'. So in the middle of his second year, he realized it was time for him to get his together, to be a responsible adult, and switch to business. But that , obviously, so early in his third year he switched to music theory. He liked music, and who gives a about being responsible, man, he's Liu ing Yangyang! And he liked music, a lot, but not like that, so after two years, he went to communication. Something easy, vague, and semi-responsible. But..... I mean, Guanheng always said his actual major was getting drunk as and smoking weed, so what did it actually matter?

"You should probably just stick with communication though, until you find something that works for you." 

"But nothing's worked for me so far." 

"Maybe...college just isn't for you?" 

"Too late for that now. I've been in school for six years. If I didn't need to have a ing major I'd have enough credits to graduate twice. But technically in the communication department, I'm a freshman." 

"Oh. That is..." 

"ing ?" 

"Yeah. That." Yangyang looked at Kun, wearing his usual 'talking to Yangyang' expression of fatherly worry and disappointment. Just made him feel more like . 

"Welcome to Floral Vision!" Kun suddenly spoke, tone changing immediately as a customer walked through the door. Yangyang looked up and smiled; this kid was always enough to pull him out of his funk. 

He came up to the counter and gave Yangyang that gentle, sweet smile of his. "Could I have one daffodil please?" The usual. 

"Of course." Yangyang grinned and brought the flower out for him. 

"Thank you," he answered, paying in cash and taking the one seat in the shop, right by the window. 

Yangyang sighed softly, abandoning the stem cutting to stare. His favorite customer, the tiny boy in the sweet little sweater vests and short schoolboy hair, pulling out his book to sketch the flowers he buys. It's at least a weekly occurrence, luckily, because he's a cutie. Probably in school too, an art major, maybe a year or two younger than Yangyang himself. 

Somedays, Yangyang dreams of taking him on dates to ice cream parlors and picnics, buying him treats and holding his small frame close. Other days, Yangyang just wants to take him home and have him, ruin that sweet innocence. God, he'd probably blush just from one Yangyang kiss. Yangyang knows he's a freak. One of the few joys of working was thinking about the pretty boy, looking up at him with soft eyes and long eyelashes. Taking care of him. 

"Stop staring! You'll make him uncomfortable!" Kun whisper yelled in his ear. Yangyang shot up and grimaced. 

"Dude, I wasn't staring," he answered with a chuckle. 

"Whatever. Just get back to work."

~~~~~~~~~~

"I could in' scale the cemetery gate if I tried," Yangyang yelled down the street as they passed by the dark, abandoned cemetery.  It was a Saturday night, and there was only one thing he would be doing on a glorious night like tonight: getting publicly wasted with his best friends. 

Guanheng turned to Yangyang with the kind of smirk that told Yangyang he meant trouble. "Bet." 

"Bet? Bet? Oh yeah I'll take your in bet. What happens if I do it? Which I will." 

"Loser gets a tattoo of the other's choosing," normally quiet Sicheng piped up. 

"Diabolical," Guanheng said jokingly. 

"I'm down. I'm not afraid." 

"Me neither." 

Both guys turned to the gate. Not many places to put your feet, but Yangyang saw a couple. He smiled. Sober Yangyang already had zero inhibitions, so drunk Yangyang is a ing menace. 

"Are you chicken?" 

" no!" Yangyang yelled and leaped onto the wall. 

Getting halfway up was easy, drunkenly laughing his off as he scaled up the gate at least three times his height. But the other half was... just some spikes. . 

"How many tries do I get?" Yangyang yelled to the ground. 

"One, dude! Stick with the agreement. Thought you said it was easy." 

Yangyang groaned to himself and tried to reach his arm to the top of one of the spikes. But with one hand free, the other slipped from the metal in held in drunken sweatiness, and down Yangyang went. 

At least he landed in a pile of soft bushes. 

"Dude are you okay?" Guanheng yelled, running over to the bush with Sicheng. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Other than his pride, Yangyang didn't feel a single injury. 

"Okay good then." Guanheng helped Yangyang up and brushed off his shoulders. "We're pretty close to your flower shop and I think I've seen a tattoo parlor near there." 

"Come on..." 

"A bet's a bet." 

He's right. Yangyang rolled his eyes as hard as he could but followed after his friends. 

"What kind of torture are you going to subject me to?" Yangyang asked. 

"I was thinking about a little sheep." 

"Bruh!" 

"Come on, that's not so bad! It'll be small too. It's kinda cute. I went easy on you." 

"It could be worse," Sicheng mumbled. 

"Could be," Yangyang mumbled back. 

"Here it is!" Guanheng said a little too excitedly, and they all walked inside the shop labeled Ten out of Ten Tattoos. The lighting was dim, other than the heavy fluorescents above each chair, and the red and black decor seemed almost...violent. 

"Hey guys," the man standing at the front desk spoke, a short man with a million piercings and even more tattoos. "Welcome in. We close in an hour or two, so we can't do anything super big, but we can do any little tattoos you'd like." 

"This young gentleman," Guanheng spoke gleefully, pointing to Yangyang, "Would like a sheep tattoo." 

Yangyang exhaled pointedly, Guanheng barely covered a snort with his hand, Sicheng had no reaction, and the guy seemed completely unphased. "Alright, I think I know the best artist for you. Renjun!" he screamed to the back. 

"What?" the tattoo artist screamed back. 

"This guy wants a sheep!" 

Yangyang could hear him huff and emerge from the back with heavy steps, but it seemed like sound ceased to exist entirely when he walked into the main room. 

no way. there was no way the soft sweet boy who came in to do sketches of the flowers was working here. as a tattoo artist. about to give him a tattoo. 

The boy- guy- Renjun, apparently, was still dressed in one of those sweater vests of his, although his short haircut definitely seemed more punk than schoolboy in this context. 

"Hey, aren't you the one who works at Kun's flower shop?" 

Yangyang laughed after an awkwardly long amount of time. "Yeah. That's me." 

"Ooh..." the guy working the front desk said. "So you must be Yangyang." His tone made Yangyang grimace. "I'm Ten. Owner of this tattoo parlor and Kun's husband." 

"There's no way," Yangyang whispered, but shook Ten's hand nonetheless. 

"I've heard a lot about you," Ten said. 

"All bad things, I suppose," Guanheng spoke up. 

"Well...only mostly." 

"I'm Renjun," he interrupted, holding his hand out for a handshake. Yangyang prayed he wasn't sweaty and shook it back.

"Yangyang. Nice to, um, meet you, uh, for real, I guess."

"Come on, let's get you the tattoo," Renjun said, leading Yangyang to a soft chair. He patted and Yangyang slowly slid into the seat. He'd had a few nerves on the way here, but now his fingers were shaking. "You said a sheep, right?" His voice was a little lower than Yangyang expected, and he was all business. Huh. 

"I guess," Yangyang answered, managing a small chuckle. Renjun gave him a concerned look. "I lost a bet." 

"You...you know you don't have to do it, right?" 

"No way, man. A bet's a bet. I finish what I start." Yangyang thought about his academic history and winced. "Sometimes." 

Renjun chuckled. "If you're sure...then let's do it. Did whoever you bet pick the place and size?" 

"Nah, luckily. I'm thinking pretty small." Renjun hummed in understanding. "But I have no clue where it should go." 

"Hmm..." Renjun got up and circled Yangyang so authoritatively that Yangyang had to avert his eyes. "Maybe here?" He sat back down and left his hand on the back of Yangyang's right shoulder. "You wouldn't have to see it every day, but it's still visible and it doesn't hurt much there. I think it would be pretty." 

"Y-yeah," Yangyang stumbled to speak. "There's good." 

"Alright, let me do a quick sketch."

Renjun pulled out his sketchbook, the same one he'd bring into the flower shop, flipping through the pages. Yangyang took a peek inside, the flower sketches on pages between what looked like tattoo sketches for customers. He put pen to paper quickly and as much as Yangyang wanted to watch the page, he needed to watch him. 

It was different, seeing him up close like this. The softness was still there but there was an edge alongside. And Yangyang actually kinda liked it. 

Renjun held up the sketchbook only a few minutes later. "How's this? I know sheep are more fluffy but that doesn't seem very...you." 

Yangyang smiled. It was small, and simple, and cute, and kinda fluffy but also spiky at the same time. It fit him, and maybe he wouldn't mind having it on his body forever. 

"It's perfect." 

"Really?" Renjun smiled brightly. 

Yangyang nodded. "Yeah." 

"Okay. Shirt off." 

"What?! Oh, yeah, sorry." Yangyang shakily peeled off his shirt. 

"On your stomach." 

Yangyang couldn't really help but obey quickly, pouting to himself. Renjun hadn't even glanced at his body! Well, he was at work, but...

Renjun began cleaning the area and Yangyang had to grip the chair. And then he was firing up the tattoo gun and  it hurt but then Renjun was using his hand to steady them both, telling him softly to relax, and Yangyang kinda did but also gripped the chair harder. 

Why the was he low-key ?

Well, he knew, but what the , still. 

Renjun. Flower sketch cutie boy Renjun is giving him a tattoo. 

"And...done!" 

"Wait, what?" 

"I made it small like you asked." 

"That was like five minutes?" 

"Actually, it's been half an hour." 

Oh. Yangyang must've been so concentrated on not getting noticeably that time just flew by. He sat up, his chest all red and sweaty. But at least he'd managed to (mostly) suppress a hard-on. The rest could be blamed on the pain. 

"Let me take a picture for you," Renjun said, grabbing his phone and snapping a shot. When Renjun showed him the picture, he couldn't help but smile. 

"It's actually so cute!" It looked just like the sketch, and Yangyang had to admit, it kinda suited him.

"Yeah. I think it's pretty," Renjun answered, and maybe (probably) Yangyang was completely delusional, but Renjun was looking at him and not the tattoo when he spoke.

"Thank you. You did a really good job." 

"It's my pleasure." 

Renjun began to drone on about the care and Yangyang just smiled at him. He'd heard about post-tattoo euphoria, but it helped that the artist had been y too.

"Alright Yangyang. Here's a pamphlet too with everything I just said, since I don't think you were listening." Yangyang took the pamphlet and laughed a little. 

"Uh, thanks." 

"No problem. Just...don't drink anymore. You should probably head home." 

Renjun didn't seem like the kind of person to ignore. "Alright, fine." 

As he walked out, Renjun waved and gave him a smile. "I'll see you around at the flower shop!" 

"I hope so," Yangyang said as casually as he could and headed home with a swimming head. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It was only three days later when Yangyang tentatively made his way back into the tattoo parlor. 

"Hi Ten, I'd like another please." 

Ten laughed a little under his breath. "Sure! Have you made an appointment?" 

"Uh..." Yangyang didn't know that was a thing. 

"Alright, I figured as much. Let's see who's available..." 

Yangyang looked at the ground. "Is Renjun in?" 

Ten smirked so hard Yangyang thought both of them were going to combust. 

"Yes he is. Let me see if he's got anything coming up..." Ten looked closely at the work ipad. "Is it a big one?" 

"Nah, just a little one like before. A little bigger but not much." 

"Okay cool. That's perfect then; he doesn't have anyone for a couple of hours. I'll go get him for you." 

A few moments later Renjun was there, in front of him, looking as cute as before in a brown sweater vest and his hair all spiky. "Back again?" 

Yangyang laughed uncomfortably. "Yup." 

"Come on then, let's get started." 

Yangyang showed him the picture of his childhood dog Bella on his phone and Renjun got to work with a sketch right away, perfectly stylized and sweet, but it was so clearly Bella. 

"It's perfect. You're so...good at this." 

"I know. Thank you, though." 

Renjun casually cleaned Yangyang's shoulder, under where his t-shirt sleeves had been hitched up under his shoulder, and got to work. 

It still hurt and was also y at the same time but Yangyang felt a little more with it now. But maybe that's because he was sober (except for a hit off of his dab pen, but did that really count)?

"Is Bella still with your family?" 

"Yeah. She's a little old but she's still kickin." 

"She must be very important to you." 

"I mean...yeah," and even though Yangyang was trying to hide it, Renjun could see right to the hesitance in his tone.

Renjun sighed. "It's very irresponsible to get a tattoo just so you could see me, you know." 

Yangyang's eyes widened at his boldness, but he wouldn't back down. He finishes what he starts. Mostly. 

"Irresponsible is my middle name." 

Renjun fake gasped. "Oh no! You're totally not a reckless person who would never get a tattoo on a bet. Never." 

Yangyang laughed, for real this time. He'd like the old Renjun, the one he just saw sketching in the flower shop, but he really liked this one. The Renjun that knows he's talented and y, who's not afraid to tease, who doesn't seem so tiny when they're actually talking. 

If they ever did anything, nobody's innocence would be on the line, that's for sure. 

And it would be an honor for Yangyang to even get the chance. 

"How long have you been doing tattoos?" Yangyang suddenly asked, itching for any more of Renjun he could get. 

"I've been working here about a year or two now, and I was doing stick and pokes for friends before."

"What got you into it?"

"Well, I've always loved to draw and paint, ever since I was little. I wanted to be a painter even, but I realized it would be hard to make money selling pieces. But I figured it would be a little easier to do tattoos, and I could still make art. It would just be attached to people's bodies instead of a canvas. I went to art school, and Ten saw one of my works senior year and asked me to come work for him after graduation. I really love it, plus I can still paint on the side." 

"It's nice to be able to do what you love." 

"Yeah, it sure is." Renjun smiled to himself. "How about you? Are you full-time at the flower shop?" 

"Nah, only part-time. Actually, I'm a rapper." 

Renjun gave Yangyang a look. "A...rapper?" 

"Yeah." 

"Are you signed to a record label?"

"Nah, not yet. But I've got, like 5k followers on soundcloud." 

"Oh. A soundcloud rapper." 

There were two types of people in the world: people who thought Yangyang was cool for being a soundcloud rapper, and people who thought it was cringey. It was clear Renjun fell under the latter category.

"Five thousand followers is quite a bit. You must be pretty good." 

Yangyang was astounded Renjun didn't rip him a new one. 

"Eh. I think I'm alright." 

"So is rapping the plan?" 

"Yeah. I need a plan b, but I'm still trying to figure that one out." 

"Did you go to college?" 

Yangyang grimaced. Did he really wanna admit his one weird, not commital thing to the guy he was obsessed enough with to get a random tattoo just to see him? "I'm still in school, actually." 

"Oh! What year are you?" 

Yangyang grimaced again. "Sixth." 

"So what's your major?" Renjun asked, unphased. 

Yangyang breathed a sigh of relief. "Communication." 

Renjun gave him a confused look. "And you wanna be a rapper?" 

"I mean I'll need to communicate with my fans! And I need a backup plan, anyways." 

"You don't seem that enthused." 

Yangyang sighed. "I'm not. I kinda wanna change my major, but I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"This...is my fourth major." 

Renjun shrugged. "Whatever. I mean, it's not a bad thing to take your time. Make sure you know what you really want." 

"You really think so?" 

Renjun nodded and gave him a genuine smile and if Yangyang didn't melt a little.

"Alright, you're good to go!" 

Yangyang hadn't even noticed the pain of the tattoo gun go away, but when he looked at his arm, there Bella was, exactly like Renjun's sketch.  

"Already?" He'd subject himself to even more tattoo pain if it meant some more chatting with Renjun. 

"Don't worry Yangyang. I'll come to the flower shop soon. No need for another tattoo." 

Yangyang grinned back at him, and made his way home with a giddy spring in his step. Definitely not the post-tattoo euphoria this time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Yangyang was practically bouncing off the walls next time Renjun came into the flower shop. ing Kun had helped him since Yangyang was cutting stems in the back, so Yangyang didn't even see him until, like, at least minutes after he arrived. 

"Can I take my break now? Please please please?" Yangyang whined at Kun. 

"You got here less than an hour ago." 

"Come on!" 

Kun sighed. "Fine. But please don't double the time, okay?" 

"Thank you!" Yangyang cheered with his signature grin, bounding his way to the front, but not before grabbing something from behind the counter. He slid into the seat across from Renjun's. Renjun barely looked up at him, only for half a second, before going back to his work. 

Yangyang wasn't phased, he was persistent (sometimes). He set the single red rose on the table. 

"For you." 

Renjun looked up again, took the stem in his hand, and smelled it. "Thank you." He finally really looked up at Yangyang. "What makes you think I like you back?" 

Yangyang shrugged. "I don't think that. But I'm going for it anyway." 

Renjun looked surprised for a half-second before smiling to himself, turning back to his sketchbook. 

Yangyang, obnoxiously, of course, leaned halfway over the table to peek inside. "Whatcha drawing? Oh-" 

Inside was a picture-perfect sketch of himself. Renjun looked panicked as soon he noticed Yangyang's grin, clutching the sketchbook to his chest. Slowly, he flushed and turned away, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

"I changed my mind," Yangyang said, leaning back in his seat and manspreading. "I do think you like me back." 

Renjun looked at him, defeated. "You're kind of a mess. I don't like messy guys, but I like you, for some reason." 

"I'll take it," Yangyang answered. "Go on a date with me." 

"Alright. Sure." 

~~~~~~~~~~

Date. Date. Yangyang hadn't actually been on a real date since...well, Yangyang had never been on a real date. But he was determined to make this one special.

It was pretty rare that he liked someone. He was normally a netflix and chill in his nasty apartment kinda guy, no date necessary. 

But Renjun felt different, somehow. Maybe it was the years worth of build-up, watching him at the flower shop, or maybe that he was so put together, seemingly, or maybe he was just cute. Maybe, it was that Renjun knew he deserved better, so Yangyang had to give it to him. 

But Yangyang hadn't really been a date guy, up until now, so he decided to take Renjun to the one spot he knew that was decent. He picked up Panda Express on the way, and figured that if Renjun couldn't take this, then he couldn't take Yangyang as a whole. 

Doesn't mean he's not stressed, though. 

But before he knew he was in front of the tattoo parlor, picking Renjun up after work for their date, in his twenty-two year old beige Ford Station Wagon that he bought off some sad suburban dad three years ago for 500 bucks. He could only hope it wouldn't break down tonight (it did that, sometimes). 

Renjun was already standing on the corner, waiting for him, and that dispelled a few of his worries. He honked and Renjun gave him the cutest smile and a wave, hopping into the passenger seat. 

"Thanks for picking me up. Where are we headed?" 

"You'll see." 

Renjun fake groaned. "Ugh, please don't kill me tonight. I'm really not in the mood." 

"What would I have to gain from killing you?" 

"True. Very true." 

So Yangyang drove and Renjun sat in the front seat, staring out the window. There was silence yet it was comfortable, somehow, and up until now, Yangyang had never been a comfortable silence kind of guy. 

But they reached the spot pretty quickly: a thick cliff, on a (probably) safe ledge, with a full view of the lights of the kind of college town, kind of city. It was almost as pretty as it would be in a movie, and Yangyang parked and turned the car off. 

"The view is gorgeous." 

"I know. Have you never been here before?" 

"Is this where the teenagers make out?" 

"Luckily, no. Thank god they haven't discovered this place yet." 

Yangyang reached into the back seat, handing Renjun his cartoon of orange chicken and broccoli beef. 

"Dinner." 

"Is this...panda express?" 

"Yeah?" 

"But Yangyang...we're both Chinese." 

"Admit it. Panda express slaps." 

Renjun sighed. "Okay, fine," he answered, and they both dug in. 

The moonlight night surrounded their orange-streaked lips and they were quiet, eating away, but Yangyang wasn't sure if it had ever been this easy. Renjun, Renjun, ate the panda express, even though Yangyang got the feeling he could cook impeccable Chinese food at home. They locked eyes a couple of times, weird, but they both smiled. 

When the cartons had been carelessly tossed into the back seat and they were groaning and clutching their stomachs, Renjun turned to Yangyang. 

"So...what are your hobbies?" 

"Honestly, rapping. That's kinda it." 

"I remember you told me. On soundcloud. You kinda have a following." 

Yangyang smiled and shrugged. "Sure, I guess." 

"Play some for me." 

A strike of nervous lightning struck Yangyang's stomach but he reached for his phone and the aux cord anyways. How could he say no to anything Renjun asked? Luckily the dark night hid his shaking fingers, and despite how difficult it was to work the screen, Yangyang managed to get one of his songs to play. 

Renjun listened quietly. Yangyang tried to tune himself out; he'd never hated himself more, and stared very pointedly out of the window. 

It was one hundred percent instinct when Yangyang let out a sigh of relief when the song ended, tugging his phone off of the aux with enough force to break the cord. 

"That was really good." 

Oh. Yangyang didn't expect to hear that. 

"You thought it was cringe when I told you I was a rapper." 

"I did. I mean, soundcloud rapper isn't exactly a great title. But it wasn't cringe. You're not cringe." 

"I'm....I'm really, really glad you think that." 

"You know, your beats are pretty good, but...your lyrics. Just...the writing is so good. It was amazing, frankly, Yangyang." 

Yangyang kinda thought he was going to explode, or implode, or cry, he wasn't sure. It took everything to keep himself together. "I like writing the lyrics the most anyways. Making the beats is low-key the worst part." 

"Have you ever thought about writing? Like...as your plan B? Or plan A? Or just...part of your life?" 

Yangyang sighed, staring at his lap. "Yeah, kinda, sometimes. But I'm not good enough. It's tough out there. Competitive." 

"Yangyang, good enough doesn't matter. When your life's happiness is on the line...it doesn't matter. I'm an artist too, so I know exactly what you mean. I know how it is. But you have to just do it. No matter if anybody else thinks you're good enough, no matter if you think you're good enough." 

And Yangyang couldn't help himself, but at that, he ing jumped Renjun.

Lips were on lips before a single thought could even truly be processed, hands tangling in each other's shirts and hair. The cans in the cup holders between their seats crinkled as Yangyang leaned over them, and it sounded like Renjun squished a water bottle beneath his feet, but who could even give a when Renjun's tongue was in his mouth and those perfect fingers squeezed his waist? 

Renjun was perfect, so perfect, so small but not soft, putting up his own fight; his mouth didn't even taste like Panda Express, somehow. Yangyang was so lucky, so lucky, that he even got the honor, the privilege of this, even when an empty cheez-it packet was falling out of the crook of their seats that Renjun managed to jostle. 

He was too good for all this, and yet, he was here, with him. 

"Wait," Yangyang said, pulling away, breaths pathetic and heavy. But Renjun leaned his forehead against Yangyang's and reached for his hand. "Come here." 

Renjun looked confused but followed Yangyang as he hopped out of the car and went to the trunk. He popped it open, folding down the trunk dip cover and the backward-facing seats. "Let's take this here." 

"Were you...planning this?" 

"No! No, I promise. It's just an added benefit to having a ty car." 

Renjun took a deep breath, in then out. "Fine." He hopped into that trunk, peeled off his shirt, and laid back on his elbows. Yangyang shivered and barely held back a moan just at the sight of him, jumping in and shutting the trunk door behind him. 

Yangyang was a freak but apparently so was Renjun, biting at his lower lip, tugging at his shirt ferociously. 

"It's not fair that I'm topless and you're not," Renjun whined, so cute and yet so him. 

Yangyang smirked and took off his top, noticing Renjun eyeing the tattoos he gave him. 

"You're a tattoo artist, where are your tattoos?" 

"Below my knees. That's the easiest place to do myself." 

No more talking, Yangyang thought, and pressed lips hard on lips. They were just, so soft, and his skin was so soft, and he was perfect, and Yangyang was kinda pissed when he pulled away. 

"Yangyang, ," Renjun breathed out against his neck. "I've fantasized about this for years, can't believe I'm actually here with you." Renjun let his hands roam over Yangyang's shoulders and chest and back, and Yangyang's brain short-circuited. 

"No way, seriously?" 

"Yeah, ever since I started at the tattoo parlor, always go in on my lunch break to see you." 

"," Yangyang groaned just at his words, tugging down Renjun's pants along with them. 

"Did you feel the same?" 

Yangyang pulled away to look him in the eye and snort in his face. "Haven't you seen me staring at you like a god damn idiot?" 

"Please, Yangyang, don't stop." 

Yangyang pressed himself against Renjun, and Renjun started mouthing at his neck, so he kept talking. 

"I felt the same, Renjun, god I felt the same. Ever since that first day you came into the shop I've been kinda obsessed. But like, I thought you were different. I thought you were innocent and naive and maybe a little dumb but I was so ing wrong about you. , Renjun, but I like you better like this. I like the real you so much better." 

Words were hard now with Renjun's hand ghosting over the zipper of his jeans, so Yangyang shut himself up, for once. 

"I like the real you too. A lot. Now, just take me already." 

And who was Yangyang to say no?

~~~~~~~~~~

It was one in the morning when Yangyang and Renjun were laying in the trunk/back seat of his ty car. , but tangled together, so it wasn't that cold. Yangyang shivered a little, but Renjun was way too pretty to suggest they get dressed. 

"You didn't take me to your apartment because it's disgusting, right?" Renjun asked, resting his head on Yangyang's bare chest. 

Yangyang laughed, arms wrapped tight around Renjun's frame. "Oh it's ing nasty." 

Renjun took a deep breath; Yangyang could really feel it. "If you bring me two dozen daffodils from the shop, I'll clean up your place." 

Slowly, Yangyang smiled. "That would be amazing. Plus, you could meet my cat." 

"You have a cat?" They made eye contact, and Yangyang gave him a little nod and a smile. "Okay, just one dozen then. The cat's payment enough." 

Yangyang laughed a little, and looked up at the roof of his car. Maybe, this was the start of something real.