Hey, over there

          It happens at a dinner party.

          It happens at a dinner party that Dongwoon is at because he and Doojoon are supposed to be cinching a business deal from France—a dinner party with tuxedos and backless dresses that sweep the floor. It happens at a dinner party where everyone is speaking in such convoluted, formal speech, hidden and interwoven meanings, that Dongwoon has to decode as he talks with anyone except for Doojoon.

          It happens at a dinner party because otherwise Dongwoon doesn’t know if he’d notice him otherwise. Dongwoon doesn’t know if he’d notice him if this wasn’t dinner party because at a gathering like this—in a hall filled with bright, white abstract lights and posh, asymmetrical furniture—he stands out so much that it almost makes Dongwoon’s eyes water to look at him.

Please forgive me

          Dongwoon doesn’t know what makes him do it.

          He doesn’t know why he approaches him.

          He can guess—he can guess that maybe it’s the black leather amidst a room of tuxedos and backless dresses that sweep the floor. He can guess that maybe it’s the way he seems to be smiling that eye-less smile, easy and easy going, relaxed and calm, happy and simple amidst convoluted formal speeches with hidden and interwoven meanings.

If I’m coming on too strong

          He’s more beautiful up close.

          His hair is black, dark and endless like his eyes—round and deep and then invisible and out of sight when he smiles. He reaches below Dongwoon’s ear and the leather clings to him like a second skin—body built up perfectly to be held tight and close with contours and wiry muscle. His skin is glossy in the light.

          He laughs before Dongwoon even introduces himself—before Dongwoon can even ask what someone like him is doing here

          on earth because don’t you belong in heaven?

          at a dinner party like this.

Hate to stare

          His name is Kikwang. His name is Kikwang—that’s the first thing he tells Dongwoon, still not letting him speak. He tells Dongwoon his name and then he says, “Hi.” He smiles up and Dongwoon thinks that he probably should’ve introduced himself first chance he got because now that Kikwang is smiling at him like that, there’s no way Dongwoon will be able to make his vocal chords work.

          “Hi,” Dongwoon says, coughing a little to make his voice clearer. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous—still doesn’t even know why he’s doing this when he should be helping Doojoon get that business deal. He knows that he’s here for work and if he doesn’t come back successful, Junhyung and Hyunseung will probably give him boatloads of because he’s the maknae and he can’t up his first job out of the office.

          He knows he should be doing a lot of things right now.

          But something is gluing his feet to wherever Kikwang is.

But you’re winning

          It gets a little confusing from here.

          Kikwang takes Dongwoon’s hand—just lightly, nothing that would draw attention and nothing that makes Dongwoon burst into flames too terribly (just a mild forest fire going on in his ears and chest). Kikwang takes Dongwoon’s hand lightly and says, “You don’t have to tell me your name,” as he leads him around and around the perimeter of the room, and down a back hall that’s not so brightly lit

          A back hall that’s rather dark.

          A back hall that Dongwoon notices is lined with rooms that are just as poorly lit.

          A back hall that Kikwang seems to be familiar with.

          A back hall that makes Dongwoon’s heart thud—bewildered and confused

          so confused—is this happening—this is new—confusing and confusing and what’s going on but—oh—just go with it—go with it—go with it

and anticipating and—

Hey, you might think

          Kikwang leads him into one of these rooms.

          He locks the door.

          From there, what Dongwoon expects to happen—what Dongwoon was thinking about when he approached Kikwang—what Dongwoon suspected to be in the room, what he expected the room was for, what he expected the back hall was all about, what he wanted what he wanted what he wanted what he wanted—from there, what Dongwoon wanted to happen happens.

That I’m crazy

          It’s because Dongwoon didn’t want to go on this job in the first place. It’s because he hasn’t had his heart in work for weeks—months. It’s because no matter how hard he worked to get this position, to be in this with Junhyung and Hyunseung and Doojoon—no matter how much he loves this job, his heart hasn’t been in work for weeks and maybe months.

          It’s hard to have his heart in work when it’s been broken.

          It’s hard to heal his heart so it can be in work when he’s constantly around with the person who broke it.

          It’s hard not to be constantly around with his heartbreaker when it’s his best friend.

          It’s hard to get rid of his best friend when his best friend is Kim Kibum.

But you know

          Dongwoon doesn’t know who Kikwang is when he approached him. He doesn’t know who Kikwang is, why Kikwang is dressed this way at a stuffy-rich-business dinner party, what Kikwang is doing here, what Kikwang is like—he doesn’t know anything, doesn’t really want to know anything. All Dongwoon knew when he approached Kikwang was that Kikwang is attractive—undeniably, ridiculously, beautifully attractive and Dongwoon has drunken enough champagne not to care.

          He’s taken in enough alcohol, talked to enough associates, escaped Doojoon’s watch—he’s had his heart broken enough times by Kibum (because Kibum loves someone else—is happy with someone else—can never love Dongwoon—still wants to be Dongwoon’s friends—oh—it hurts)—he’s done everything and more to get to this point and he just needs a body right now to forget.

          Kikwang told him that Dongwoon doesn’t have to tell him his name.

          To be honest—

          Dongwoon never cared for Kikwang’s name either.

I’m just your type

          Kikwang has clearly done this a thousand more times than Dongwoon.

          From the very first kiss, it becomes painfully obvious and maybe sober, maybe if he weren’t upset, maybe if he actually cared about Kikwang and not Kikwang’s body, maybe if he wasn’t in love with Kibum—maybe then Dongwoon would be shy, would be a little nervous, would want to reciprocate, would want to try for Kikwang.

          But right now, Dongwoon is none of those things so he doesn’t care—he lets Kikwang lead—he takes what he wants from Kikwang—he treats this like the mother of all one night stands. Dongwoon kisses without regret, thrashes his tongue into Kikwang’s mouth without inhibitions, grips Kikwang’s hips tight enough to bruise, digs his fingers into Kikwang’s skin, sighs and gasps Kibum’s name, closes his eyes and doesn’t look at Kikwang’s face when he throws him and pins him onto the bed.

          Dongwoon is glad the room is dark.

When we’re dancing on the floor

          Dongwoon lets Kikwang do all the work.

          Kikwang seems to want to anyway.

          Dongwoon lies on his back on the bed, eyes closed, hands holding Kikwang’s hips as he climbs all over Dongwoon, kissing Dongwoon’s skin, gasping into Dongwoon’s mouth, straddling Dongwoon’s stomach, fingers tracing the lines of Dongwoon’s muscles, full lips dragging up and down Dongwoon’s —Dongwoon lets him do all of this while Dongwoon lies there and lets pleasure rock his body stiff and wonderful and forgets—he tries his best to forget—tries his best to erase Kibum’s face from the insides of his eyelids.

          He wants to forget so hard. He wants to forget even if it’s only for one night. He just wants a relief from the pain—just one night, just one hour, just one minute, just one second, just one moment, just a period of time—some time—just a little, anything, Dongwoon will take it, he just wants it to stop because it hurts so ing much and he doesn’t understand how anything can hurt like this.

          Dongwoon’s eyes have been closed almost through this entire thing—only opening to take off his clothes, to guide their bodies onto the bed, to put a on, to tell Kikwang there and a little bit higher and almost, almost and don’t stop, a bit more. His eyes have been closed through almost this entire thing with Kibum burned into the backs of his eyelids, but—

Gimme gimme more

          Warm, wet, tight, hot, perfect—

          Warmth and wetness and tightness and glorious heat drops down and around his and the sensation shocks Dongwoon’s eyes open.

          It shocks his eyes open and then he suddenly understands why his body was fighting to keep them closed. He suddenly understands because his body was trying to warn him against looking at this—against looking at something that could turn him into the first person to die while having .

          Because Dongwoon’s heart nearly stops when he looks at Kikwang properly for the first time since locking themselves into this room.

Gimme more

          His heart nearly stops when he looks up at Kikwang—when he looks up at Kikwang, eyes vanishing but not into a smile, out of pleasure, out of that initial pain, out of the intensity, out of something raw and needy—perspiration coating his face, dripping down the sides of his head, soaking his hair, forming beads against his cheeks, full lips parted, panting and gasping and whimpering and—

          And—

          And—

          Ki—

          Kib—

          Kikwang?

          Dongwoon suddenly can’t remember who Kim Kibum is.

If I said my heart was beating loud

          Dongwoon sits up—he sits up, barely able to keep himself from falling back down against the pillows (too hot, too tight, too wet, too perfect). He sits up and holds Kikwang’s face in his hands (his face is so small in Dongwoon’s hands, so soft, so smooth) and kisses him—kisses him in the most contrasting way—kisses him gently, the gentlest Dongwoon’s been all night and Dongwoon doesn’t know why he’s being gentle. He thinks maybe it’s just a side-effect Kikwang has on all humans.

          Kikwang moves up and down on Dongwoon, and with every rise and fall that Dongwoon feels, he thinks it’s a miracle that he hasn’t come yet. He thinks it’s a miracle and he wishes he could be gentler in holding Kikwang’s hips—in helping Kikwang move up and down—he wishes he could be gentler, but he’s already gritting his teeth, already curling his toes, already doing everything he can not to come right now because he wants this feeling to last longer (it’s so good, too good). He can’t loosen his grip—it’s bruise tight and he knows he’ll apologize afterward.

‘Cause you feel like paradise

          When Dongwoon comes, he always has to come kissing his partner—he always has to breathe and gasp into someone’s mouth. He always has to be kissing his partner, so when he feels himself on the edge, when he feels approaching, he crushes his lips to Kikwang’s, parts those full lips with his tongue and kisses the life out of him—kisses and kisses and gasps and moans into Kikwang’s mouth. He kisses Kikwang as they come and Kikwang’s hand comes up to the back of Dongwoon’s neck, gripping his hair, fingers digging into the skin.

          He expected to see Kibum’s face when his eyes fall shut again from the unbearable surge of pleasure.

          But—

          For some reason—

          All he sees is eyeless smiles on a face that he’s only met tonight.

          He’s only met this face tonight, but for some reason it feels like he’s known it all his life.

If I said I want your body now

          When they are getting dressed, Dongwoon realizes that his wallet is missing. It’s instinct that makes him look directly to Kikwang. It’s instinct and it’s fairly accurate instinct because Kikwang looks back at him apologetically from the other side of the bed—he’s putting on his shoes—and tosses Dongwoon back the wallet, letting it fall in the middle of the rumpled bed.

          “I’m sorry,” Kikwang says with a small smile. “I just thought it’d be easier if I wrote down your credit card number. You look too tired to do cash.”

          Dongwoon blinks. “Wait—what? For what?” He looks around, blinking some more. “Is this like a rental room or something?”

          Kikwang blinks back and does the same thing—he looks around. “Um—huh—you know what, I don’t know. I don’t think it is, though.”

          This—wait—no. Yeah—this—this is weird.

          “Then why did you need my credit card number?” Dongwoon asks, and suddenly has flashbacks of Hyunseung telling him about alien kidnappers who somehow steal your social security number before they abduct you.

          Followed by the flashback of Junhyung hitting his head on his desk from overhearing.

          Kikwang looks at Dongwoon like he’s stupid—only on a face like Kikwang, it just looks adorable (no, of course Dongwoon doesn’t really think that way) and childlike and sweetly condescending (no, of course Dongwoon doesn’t think that way either—he’s a grown man and grown men never think of anything as sweet). “Because you need to pay,” he says slowly, as though perhaps making sure that Dongwoon hears every word. “And counting cash when it comes to me would take a long, long time.”

          Okay—okay—wait.

          Wait.

          Dongwoon—

          He—

          He thinks he might be getting a nudging idea about where this is going, but he really, really hopes he’s wrong because if he’s right then the possibilities of this turning his life into one big mess for the next few months until he can undo this -up are endless and he already has enough to deal with and the last thing he needs—the absolute last thing he needs right now is the fact that he might or might not have (please let it be might-not-have) had with—

          “Anyway, there you are,” Kikwang says, patting a small, white card into Dongwoon’s front suit pocket. He gives Dongwoon that eye-vanishing smile as he passes by and heads for the door. “I’m only there on—mm—oh—I got moved. I’m on Tuesdays and Thursdays now.” His body is halfway out the door, foot wedging the door from closing. “But Hongki is there on the other days—you might like him,” he laughs, a flash of white teeth and dark crescents, “Bye-yeom.”

          The door snaps shut after Kikwang leaves.

          Dongwoon takes the card out of his pocket and stares at it.

          .

Would you hold it against me?