“Jinki, where are you?” The words were drowned out by the reverberations of the music in the smoky den he had just entered.

“I’ve just gone out for the night, Kibum,” Jinki yelled back into this phone. “Don’t try to find me!” He ignored the other’s spluttering sounds and disconnected the call.

Jinki sighed with frustration and ran cold fingers over his face and through his hair. Ever since he had returned from his stay in London, Kibum had become his conjoined twin. But not tonight – Jinki craved for some personal space.

His blood sang for some excitement. A fuzzy energy hummed against all of his senses the moment he had arrived at Kibum’s doorstep – his sense of sight sharpened as if he was on the lookout for something; his nose was twitching for a familiar scent; his fingertips were constantly running against random things in the apartment. Thus highly strung out, Jinki had picked up his jacket and slipped out into the winter cold and in search for some relief.

There was a sense of destiny in the air and he had rushed forward as if driven by an invisible rope to god knows where. Jinki had left the apartment with no plans in mind other than to escape the ever watchful eyes of his cousin. He was content to be pushed along by the bitter wind that was blowing home the late office-workers. Jinki’s gaze passed over the shop fronts; every now and then he caught sight of his reflection. His black hair was long and wild, but not long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail without making him look ridiculous. His eyes seemed bigger than usual with his contacts in. His lips were dry, as too was his throat; and so his attention was snapped up by the flickering neon sign of a nearby bar.

A sudden quiet settled over Jinki’s restless energy the moment he had pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside the smoky haze. Kibum had called him as he was ordering a drink from the barman. The bar had a live band, a male singer in a felt black cap was crooning into the microphone. Jinki’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and his hearing immersed itself in the smooth R&B. His skin flushed from the heat generated by the small crowd on the dance floor. He stood to the side with his drink and watched them move, rolling their hips and rubbing their hands all over themselves or someone else. He was about to move away – it was not quite his crowd – when his casual gaze was arrested upon a couple in the middle of the dance floor.

She was in a tight red dress with dark red lipstick, her hand on her partner’s shoulders as she spun herself to the ground. He was tall and leggy in his dark jeans and top, the buttons not all done up. Wild copper-red hair brushed across his hooded eyes as he danced with the girl. There was nothing particularly spectacular in their dancing; in fact to Jinki, he had seen better. There was a mismatch that he could not place his finger on. Yet his eyes could not move away from the pair. Jinki’s lazy eye travelled all over the slim male dancer’s body. Jinki could tell that he was bored. He also knew that the dancer could do better ... although he was not too sure where his conviction came from if he thought hard about it.

Jinki continued to stare and caught the other’s stumble when they made eye-contact.

The pause was barely noticed by the girl, whose focus was on the boy’s pants. The dancer slapped her hands off his hips and pulled her closer to him. Yet, he paid her no attention, his body was moving on auto-pilot. The dancer’s eyes were firmly fixed on Jinki’s.

Jinki settled himself at a table and continued to watch. He lost sense of time. He did not follow the dancer when he went to get a drink. He did not get up to dance when the other changed partners. Jinki filled his eyes with the boy with copper-red hair. It was only when the boy left the smoky den with a wink in his direction that Jinki snapped out of the hocus-pocus and saw the time. It was 4am and he had to go back to Kibum’s place.

                --//--

Jinki returned to the bar the next night, and like before, the restless buzzing in his blood quietened when he saw the boy on the dance floor. He was on his own this time, his shirt tight on his thin frame. And Jinki itched to hold onto those hips. His hungry gaze travelled up the dancer’s sharp edges and caught his eyes. They returned Jinki’s intense stare.

The dancer beckoned him over and Jinki found himself standing awkwardly on the dance floor. The dancer was still moving to the slow rhythm of the singer’s smooth song. He burst out with good-humoured laughter and his face relaxed into a wide smile when Jinki continued to stand like a solid tree. He moved closer and took Jinki’s hands into his. The contact jolted him back into some sense and he finally moved with the music; he moved with the boy who held his hands.

And unlike the girl in the red dress, Jinki instinctively knew they matched each other perfectly. Through each song, Jinki grew bolder and abandoned himself in the intoxication exuded from being near the dancer. His blood hummed again, but this time with an electricity of desire. They were so close to each other, breathing on each other’s skin.

They only found themselves back into reality when it was time to leave.

“Wait,” Jinki stopped the dancer from walking away. They had stepped outside of the bar and into the frigid early morning air. “My name is Jinki. What is yours?”

Pain flickered across the other’s face. He looked away and his lips, deciding on what to do. Jinki frowned to see the hesitation but relaxed when the dancer made eye contact again.

“Taemin; my name is Taemin.”