“I left home when I was 17.”

    Sehun’s eyes fly open as soon as the words are out of Kai’s mouth.

    He looks up at the other boy, his head resting in Kai’s lap, all traces of drowsiness disappearing, even though moments before he had been half-way asleep, Kai running gentle fingers through his hair as they sat talking on the couch after dinner.

    Sparrow is lying on Sehun’s stomach, his tiny paws curled under him and nose buried in Sehun’s t-shirt, and he blinks large eyes at them as if scolding Sehun for shifting the tiniest inch and interrupting his slumber.

    Kai isn’t looking at Sehun, his face turned instead towards the window so that Sehun can only see his profile, jaw tight and fingers stilling in Sehun’s hair.

    Sehun stays quiet, barely breathing because he’s afraid that any kind of noise or movement will make Kai stop talking.

    “It was all too much,” Kai continues, still looking outside. “My father, he wanted me to take over the company, and my mother agreed with him, and every time we argued I would end up backing down, I would end up pretending that dancing wasn’t the real thing I wanted to do.”

    Sehun keeps his eyes locked on Kai’s face, seeing the picture he had found on the bookshelf, Kai’s eyes lit up with a grin, his mother and father standing behind him, ice-cream cone dripping in one hand.

    “And one day I snapped.”

    Kai’s voice is softer now, hushed, like he’s reluctant to push the words out.

    “I told them I didn’t want the company. I told them I wanted to dance. And my father told me to get out.”

    Sehun’s heart skips in his chest, ribs tightening because he can’t begin to imagine how he would feel if his father disowned him.

    He moves slowly, his hand reaching to hold Kai’s free hand that’s resting on his chest.

    Kai takes a shuddering breath then, fingers lacing with Sehun’s, and he looks down, eyes softening slightly when they meet Sehun’s, a weak smile playing across his lips.

    “So I came here,” he finishes with a shrug. “I didn’t finish high school, but I got a job with Kris and I met Yixing and I’ve been dancing ever since.”

    Sehun smiles back, squeezing Kai’s hand in lieu of words because he doesn’t know what to say.

    Later, Sehun will try to ask him if he’s talked to his family since he left, if he ever plans on going back to see them, but for now he just rubs soothing circles into the back of Kai’s hand with his thumb.

    Kai leans down a little, eyes brightening a little more. 

    “And I met you,” he adds, saying it like Sehun saved him, but Sehun knows Kai saved himself.

    “I’m glad you told me,” Sehun responds, leaning up to kiss Kai quickly, cheeks a little hot afterwards because he rarely initiates kissing, but Kai’s eyes light up with surprise before a pleased look crosses his face, and Sehun thinks a little embarrassment is worth it.

    “I love you.”

    Sehun blinks in surprise, breath caught in his throat and eyes widening as he stares up at Kai, who’s staring back with all of the confidence in the world.

    “You-,” Sehun gets out, heart thundering against his chest, and surely he imagined that, or maybe Kai didn’t mean to say it, or-

    “I love you,” Kai repeats, softer this time, but just as determined.

    Sehun’s face is burning and his heart is going so fast he’s sure Kai can hear it, but he can’t force his gaze away from Kai’s.

    And then the words are bubbling up in his throat, words he’s wanted to say for a while now, and he blurts it out in one big rush.

    “Iloveyoutoo.”

    Kai grins widely, eyes dancing with amusement and something else.

    “I’m sorry,” he says teasingly. “I didn’t catch that.”

    Sehun frowns at him, his tongue suddenly tangled in his mouth, the words stuck in his throat and embarrassment flooding his body.

    “I love you,” Sehun murmurs, finally turning his head so that he’s not staring Kai right in the face.

    But there are two fingers placed against his jaw, turning him back slowly, and then Kai is leaning down and kissing him, and Sehun curls fingers into the front of Kai’s shirt and kisses back, trying to put all of his feelings into the action, the words repeating themselves over and over again in his mind.

    “I love you.”

    Kai pulls back to breathe, eyes dark because his pupils are blown, and Sehun arches up, trying to regain his warmth, pressing wandering kisses to Kai’s jawline.

    Kai makes a low noise in the back of his throat and slots their mouths back together, pulling Sehun up until the younger is fully in his lap, Sparrow leaping from the couch with a disgruntled meow.

    “I love you so much,” Kai says, lips trailing down Sehun’s neck until he reaches the hollow of his throat, and Sehun gasps at the sudden scrape of teeth against his skin.

    Sehun tries to return the words, but Kai is slipping warm hands under the hem of his shirt and letting his fingers brush across Sehun’s stomach, and he loses them, ducking his head to kiss Kai again instead.

    Heat is building in the pit of Sehun’s stomach, and all he can do is press closer, breathing in Kai’s shampoo and tightening his thighs around Kai’s hips, thoughts a mess in his mind.

    That is, until he rolls his hips down unconsciously and Kai jerks back with a gasp, cheeks completely flushed and hair a mess.

    “Sehun,” he says, a trace of warning in his tone.

    Sehun can’t control his breathing, chest rising and falling rapidly, want coursing through his veins, and he bites down on his lower lip, suddenly unsure if Kai wants the same thing he does.

    Kai’s hands move out from under Sehun’s shirt to cup his face, thumb brushing across Sehun’s lower lip softly as he looks at him.

    “Do you want-,” Sehun begins, unable to keep the words from leaving his mouth because his skin is on fire and he still feels like he’s falling.

    Kai’s eyes sharpen, and he takes a deep breath.

    “Yes,” he says quietly, and Sehun’s heart stutters in his chest, but Kai is talking again, this time quickly.

    “But only if you-”

    Sehun answers him by kissing him again, pressing back into the warmth of Kai’s body and sighing into his mouth.

    Kai groans, fingers running down the front of Sehun’s chest to grab at his waist, and then Sehun is being lifted, his gasp of surprise muffled by Kai’s mouth.

    “I love you,” Kai says once more as he carries Sehun across the living room, and this time Sehun manages to repeat the words back before Kai is shutting the bedroom door behind them.

Kris is sure this is going too fast.

    But he can’t seem to stop his own hands from pushing at Chanyeol’s jacket until it hits the floor with a dull thud, can’t stop himself from pulling Chanyeol closer until they’re lined up perfectly, can’t stop himself from responding to Chanyeol’s kisses with his own.

    It’s like his body is moving on its own accord, pulling Chanyeol in as the other crowds him against the countertop in the kitchen, the ingredients for pasta forgotten behind him because that’s what they had been doing before Chanyeol had suddenly whirled around from draining the water off of the noodles into the sink and had cut Kris off mid-sentence by cupping his face and kissing him.

    Kris had been borderline relieved because he had been nervous to initiate anything, the previous events from last week swimming in the back of his head.

    Chanyeol tastes like spaghetti sauce and toothpaste, and Kris registers vaguely the sharp press of the edge of the counter into his back, but everything else is a muddled mess.

    There aren’t many words exchanged, just Chanyeol asking him if this is okay and Kris answering with a soft yes, and behind his eyelids Kris thinks he can see the glittering lights of Shanghai, thinks he can maybe just taste the victory of being good enough, at least for himself.

It’s like a craving Yixing decides.

    That internal understanding that what you’re doing isn’t going to pay off.

    That, in fact, that cigarette that you light between your lips, or that little voice that says, “One more won’t hurt,” will ultimately lead to a disaster.

    But it’s a craving.

    And while you’re taking part in that small moment of sweet release, every endorphin in your brain is screaming at you that it’s okay.

    Except that it’s not.

    It’s never okay.

    Muggy summer days and late-night phone calls and sugar-coated lies used to be rolled up in that addiction.

    And now Jongdae is that craving. 

    He’s a drug, a dose of adrenaline, that cigarette dangling from between your lips, the burning embers lighting up the darkness with a spark that isn’t much better than the shadows.

    At least, that’s what Yixing tries to tell himself when Jongdae slams him up against the wall, crashing their mouths together.

    Yixing makes a noise of surprise because he had not expected Jongdae to immediately stride towards him as soon as he made it inside the door, fingers winding into Yixing’s shirt collar.

    But the noise is lost in the heat of Jongdae’s mouth against his, and Yixing closes his eyes and kisses back, letting his hands slide up Jongdae’s neck to wind fingers into his hair, unable to resist this craving, this desire to touch and be touched.

    Jongdae moves burning hands to press against Yixing’s sides, to grip Yixing’s hips and keep him in place, and Yixing is glad because his knees are starting to feel weak and he’s not sure if he could stand on his own without Jongdae’s body pressed against his, pushing him into the wall, a knee sliding between Yixing’s legs.

    Yixing breaks away to breathe, turning his head to the side and gasping, thoughts blurring and breaking, and Jongdae moves to mouth just behind Yixing’s ear, a weak spot, one that leaves Yixing shuddering and grasping desperately at the front of Jongdae’s shirt.

    “I didn’t think you would come over,” Jongdae murmurs into his skin, and even over the pounding of his own heart, Yixing can make out the uncertainty in Jongdae’s voice.

    Yixing doesn’t answer him because it’s not far from the truth.

    He had ignored the text Jongdae had sent earlier that afternoon, the one asking Yixing to come by for dinner at Jongdae’s apartment, had almost sent Jongdae a polite refusal, some kind of excuse ready to be typed out, had almost just gone to bed early for the night.

    But it was no use.

    Forty-five minutes later had found Yixing dressed and locking his apartment door, text saying he would be there in twenty minutes already sent out.

    But Yixing doesn’t tell Jongdae that.

    Instead, he presses closer, lets Jongdae into his mouth and hears his own responding sigh, lets himself fall backwards onto Jongdae’s couch after Jongdae gasps out that Chanyeol won’t be home until tomorrow night, arching up into Jongdae’s touch, and forgets that this is just a craving.

Kris slips back into the staff room as soon as he sees Chanyeol open the front door of the cafe, the sun having set a while ago and the shop ready to close in a few hours.

    Despite the late hour, the place is more crowded than usual because Christmas is in less than a week and everyone is doing last-minute shopping, stress levels running high.

    And maybe that’s why Kris has been avoiding Chanyeol for the past two days.

    Every time he sees him, Kris makes up an excuse to not be at the counter, Kai shooting him inquiring looks but not arguing.

    Ever since Kris woke up to Chanyeol looking down at him like he was something precious, propped up on one elbow and devastatingly beautiful, Kris has been feeling more and more anxiety, his stomach twisting every time Chanyeol texts o