Simplicity had been the key to life, the key to survival on the streets. Simplicity is nowhere to be found in romance, though, they soon find out. But it’s always Namsoon who comes up and says things that don’t really matter, just so he can tell Heungsoo the things that really do matter with his gaze. Heungsoo had always found that so annoying. Namsoon just doesn’t know how to say things, and it leaves Heungsoo always holding his breath in anticipation.

“Your fly’s ped.” This time, it was a simple commentary that wasn’t even true. Heungsoo’s hands immediately cover his lower region, finding that it was zipped up just fine. He musters a halfhearted glare, trying to convince himself he didn’t see that coming and that he is totally furious. Namsoon’s smile is cheeky, more gums and teeth than actual smile. That’s his signature, and even if Heungsoo does throw a tantrum, Namsoon will do it again and again and again. “Gotcha.” His eyes are deep and meaningful and Heungsoo stubbornly refuses to accept that as a confession.

The first time he had done it, it was through an apology. Heungsoo had made it clear that he wasn’t going to forgive Namsoon, not because the grudge runs so deep in his heart, although it does, but it’s Namsoon so he could give it up in a matter of seconds. What he doesn’t condone, however, is a promise and a feeling Namsoon seems completely oblivious to—something Heungsoo lives with and beats himself over every single day. Heungsoo is on the bus, standing up and trying to avoid any skin contact possible. His phone rings, an annoying tone that Namsoon somehow changed and locked it to. I won’t change it back until you forgive me—trust me on that. He picks it up, already annoyed. “Hey.” The voice was clear, like it was close by. The bus wasn’t too full, but there was enough people standing for it to be uncomfortable. He spots a familiar uniform in the crowd and his scowl deepens. Namsoon doesn’t even take this bus to school.

“What do you want?” His words are a lot harsher than he had intended and a lady nearby looked at him with the kids these days look that he gets at least once a day by random strangers.

“I’m sorry.” Namsoon is looking directly at him, and although he could’ve easily walked up to Heungsoo, he chooses to waste more money calling him instead. They weren’t too far apart—Heungsoo could see that strangely intense look Namsoon was giving him. Heungsoo rolls his eyes and hangs up, not affected on bit (his heart race, but he won’t admit that—ever).

Namsoon only flashes a smile and really, Heungsoo just doesn’t get him.

Sometime afterwards, Namsoon does it again. Heungsoo found himself in Namsoon’s flat, lying on the cool (and probably dirty—Namsoon doesn’t do housework) floor, waiting for the ramyun to boil. Namsoon is reading through a very old collection of manhwa—a cheesy one that had been their favorite as children, about a football player with super powers. The art wasn’t fantastical, and the plot was only mediocre, but Heungsoo finds himself pestering Namsoon for a volume of the manhwa. Namsoon gets up with an annoyed huff and chucks it at him afterwards. Nothing has changed here—Heungsoo could’ve easily found the book on his own, but it’s so much easier and much more fun when he annoys Namsoon to do it. Besides, Namsoon does it to him all the time. A little revenge wouldn’t do any harm. “Happy?” Namsoon asks awhile later, eyes burning again. Heungsoo doesn’t look up to see, mainly because he can feel the gaze bore through his skin. He makes a content sound and hopes it’s good enough. Namsoon announces the ramyun ready to serve a bit later, and Heungsoo makes it his life goal to not look into Namsoon’s eyes. It’s dangerous, he decides.

The day finally comes and he’s just lying in bed, not his own of course. Namsoon had somehow tricked him into staying over again. He had made sure to show his protest by hogging the blanket all and sticking his cold feet onto Namsoon’s strangely bare chest. Spring was starting to thaw into summer, and while sleeping shirtless during summertime is perfectly normal, it was still freezing outside. Heungsoo doesn’t stare at Namsoon’s sculpted back all night before he finally sleeps. He doesn’t. And since there are no eye witnesses, you have to take his word for it.

They wake up sometime in the late afternoon. The first thing they do is scramble for their uniform, cursing, and thinking they were late for class. They brush their teeth aggressively and Heungsoo does not stare at Namsoon through the mirror the entire time. Then, luckily, Heungsoo glances at his phone and sees that it’s Saturday, not Friday, and that they don’t have to go to school after all. They undress sluggishly, both of them groaning and ing about how they could’ve slept in a bit more. Again, Heungsoo does not imagine dirty things while Namsoon strips and doesn’t stare at him until Namsoon asks him what’s wrong. And then he doesn’t give a lame excuse.

Namsoon’s eyes are blazing with that strange look again, dim and dark and dirty, so Heungsoo says he has to go the bathroom and stays in there for half an hour.

“Did the ramyun get to you?” Namsoon’s voice is light and teasing. Heungsoo scowls and pretends he doesn’t hear.

They have nothing to do so they go back to sleep, Namsoon draping his legs over Heungsoo’s stomach and clings on a bit too tightly. Neither of them really fall asleep, Heungsoo too busy freaking out. “You know,” Namsoon starts and pauses, untangling his limbs from Heungsoo’s and scooting over, so their bodies are barely touching. “You never respond.”

Heungsoo knows exactly what he’s talking about, but he plays dumb. Even if Namsoon apologizes a million times, he’s never apologizing about the right reason, and he’s never realized Heungsoo has long since forgiven him.

“What?” Heungsoo tosses out, carelessly, groggily, hoping Namsoon had thought he actually slept.

“I’ve told you a thousand times.”

“You haven’t.” It slips out before he gave it a second thought, and oh dear, he’s in trouble.

Namsoon gives a disbelieving chuckle and all too soon, his lips are on Heungsoo’s. “Some things you don’t say out loud.”

“Some things you run away from.” Heungsoo retorts, not missing a beat. He finds his head lifting off the mattress, chasing Namsoon’s lips. These kiss were chaste and innocent, if anything, fleeting.

“Would you have believed me if I said it?” Namsoon asks, staring into Heungsoo’s eyes with that look again. Heungsoo still pretends he doesn’t know what it means.

“I would’ve believed you and forgiven you.” Namsoon’s body is heavy on top of his; it presses him into the mattress that was almost cotton thin. Namsoon wasn’t exactly the lightest of things and he wasn’t trying to hold himself up either—elbows were digging into Heungsoo’s side and he sees exactly what games Namsoon was playing this time.

“Well then,” Namsoon pauses and leans down to kiss a scar on Heungsoo’s collarbone, exposed because it had been too damn hot earlier and they had agreed that taking off their shirt was for comfort and nothing more. “I like you.” He brushes his lips on Heungsoo’s jaw and it takes all that Heungsoo has to not grab at Namsoon and pull him down for a much more intimate kiss. “No.” He says suddenly, lifting his face away from Heungsoo’s. “I love you.” Heungsoo finds himself breathing out a sigh of relief, not realizing he’d been holding his breath all along. This time, their kiss was anything but sweet and chaste and fleeting. It leaves both of them breathless.

“Am I forgiven?”

“Maybe if you kiss me again.”