Chen’s lying on a small dorm bed, fiddling with the sheets at the end of the bed. His tail – fur as brown and sleek as Kyungsoo imagined – thumps restlessly on the white covers.

It’s a twin room. There are other people here as well, examining the cat on the other bed. The cat’s about the same size as Chen, with shiny grey hair, the color of stormclouds in the evening. Even his pupils are the same grey, as well.

He doesn’t look happy – he’s scowling, tail whipping from side to side. The volunteer has his hands on his hips, exasperated.

If Kyungsoo was drawn to Chen, he’s caught by the man standing in front of the other cat.

People say memories drown you. Kyungsoo thinks it’s nothing as poetic as that; only your body that betrays you.
There’s a shaking that begins, almost imperceptibly, in his hands. Hunches his shoulders, tightens his breath. It pulls Kyungsoo inwards, inwards, inwards, until he can’t see anything other than Chanyeol.

“Are you okay?”

Don’t turn, Kyungsoo almost says. But Chanyeol turns around, and Kyungsoo’s struck mute and dumb. It’s like a physical blow to his face, saying wake up, you thought you were safe an ocean away, did you think you could really forget him?

Chanyeol goes very still as well, swallowing as he looks at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo’s the one who broke up with Chanyeol, so why does he feel this way now?

He’s still the same. Haphazardly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, eyes sincere.

They stay in place, Kyungsoo half a room away from Chanyeol.

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo says at last. “I, uh.” He smiles at the volunteer, as best as he can. Looks over at Chen, who’s watching him curiously. Warily.

Makes himself walk over to Chen, who sits up as he approaches.

“Hello,” he says.

He must look horrible, because Chen gives him a tentative smile and pats Kyungsoo’s stomach soothingly.

The awkward gesture loosens some of the tension in Kyungsoo. He in a breath and gives Chen another smile.
It’s a better one, this time.

“Sit down?” Chen asks, patting the bed. Kyungsoo sits, and Chen stretches, before settling his chin on Kyungsoo’s thigh. Offering his head, wordlessly. He really is sweet.

Kyungsoo pats him carefully. It works. His hair is slightly rough, but still nice to the touch. The fur on his ears is slightly stiff, but furred beautifully.

Chen’s smarter than Kyungsoo gave him credit for. Kyungsoo barely even reacts as Chanyeol leaves the room.

--

Kyungsoo really, really likes Chen. He’s easy to talk to and funny and sweet, and best of all, he seems to know when Kyungsoo doesn’t want to talk.

But there’s a problem, which is that Chen and Baekhyun, the other cat, are very good friends. Kyungsoo’s hinted at adopting Chen before, but Chen always manages to avoid the question. Chen’s tried to introduce Baekhyun to Kyungsoo before, and Kyungsoo has played along. But Baekhyun’s too hostile for Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun would be right for Chanyeol, though. And he is. Kyungsoo can’t always avoid Chanyeol, and when Chanyeol is there, Kyungsoo’s vaguely jealous of how well he and Baekhyun get on.

Still, about two months later, Kyungsoo puts in an application to adopt Chen.

--

It’s the first time Kyungsoo sees Chen upset. He has his stuff strewn around him – clothes, toys and all – and he’s on Baekhyun’s bed, clutching obstinately at Baekhyun. The two of them are entangled in a heap of blankets.

“Adopt both of us,” Chen says stubbornly.

“I can’t,” Kyungsoo says plainly. “I don’t want him. Besides, he’d be happier with Chanyeol.”

Chen’s eyes redden with a speed that scares Kyungsoo.

“Don’t cry,” Kyungsoo says, reaching out for Chen. Chen just pulls away, holding Baekhyun tighter to him.

“Go away,” he says on the verge of tears. “Go away.”

Chen has always been nice and polite to Kyungsoo. Not like this.

“What if I took you back often to see Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo bargains. “Twice a week.”

“No.” Chen says, definite. “No. Go away.”

Kyungsoo understands, now, what the adoption woman was saying. It wasn’t that no one wanted to adopt either of them. It was that no one could adopt both of them. Who would want to be the outsider in this triangle?

--

It’s all fate. Kyungsoo’s returning to his apartment, when he notices the heap of boxes piled outside it. Someone’s finally moving into the unit next door.

It’s Chanyeol, coming out of the door. He’s shoeless and has his shirtsleeves rolled up as high as they will go, as he negotiates with the furniture men.

“k,” Chanyeol says, dropping his cigarette. He shakes his burnt finger sheepishly. He’d been staring at Kyungsoo for too long.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, self-consciously. He wants to do something - it’s an impulse, that’s all. “Do you have a minute?”

Chanyeol glances at the movers.

“In a while?”

“No, now.” Kyungsoo won’t have the nerve to do it, later.

“Okay.” Chanyeol shrugs, stepping towards Kyungsoo.

They stand at the lift landing. Kyungsoo leans on the metal railing, staring at the swimming pool and manicured garden below.

“Have you tried adopting Baekhyun?”

Chanyeol fingers his cigarette pack. Kyungsoo hates the smell, can already smell it – choking and lingering – in their shared apartment, last time.

“No.” Chanyeol keeps the pack, reluctantly. “There’s Chen.”

“Why don’t you adopt Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo suggests. “Then Chen could go back with me.”

Chanyeol’s staring at Kyungsoo. It’s familiar, everything’s familiar. Kyungsoo tugs restlessly at the collar of his shirt.

“It’s Chen that doesn’t want to leave Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, placing his left elbow on the railing. “Chen might not say as much as Baekhyun, but he needs Baekhyun more than Baekhyun needs him. Chen’s scared to death of losing Baekhyun, all the time.”

He’s not, Kyungsoo wants to say. He’s fine with me. He stops, however, when he realizes that he’s never really asked Chen what he wants. Has not wanted to ask, and Chen had seemed perfectly happy.

It’s too humid, this country. Like fog, but with heat that drifts into your nostrils, your throat. Stops you from talking, thinking, slows your breathing down to what’s only needed for survival.

“I want to adopt Chen,” Kyungsoo says.

“He’s a cat, but he’s stubborn, too.”

“It’s good for him,” Kyungsoo says. “I’ll be good to him.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything. He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He’s still wearing the watch Kyungsoo picked out for him. The brown leather looks good around his wrist, against the white, circular face of the watch. It has a hairline crack running through it, though – Chanyeol should throw it away. Kyungsoo had told him that.

“You could adopt Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says.

“I want to, but not like that,” Chanyeol says patiently.

“No, I mean that you can adopt Baekhyun and I can adopt Chen.” Kyungsoo’s vaguely horrified at what he’s saying.
“We stay next door to each other. We could let them each come over every day.”

Chanyeol’s quiet, but it’s a thoughtful silence. Kyungsoo can still read him like an open book.

“I’m doing a writing residency at the university,” Chanyeol says slowly. “I’ll be home most of the time, writing. If you don’t mind, I could have Chen over most of the time.”

“You’re still writing?”

“I make do,” Chanyeol says.

“This is a costly area,” Kyungsoo says, indicating the apartment around him. It’s one of those high-rise condominiums with swimming pools, tennis courts and function rooms. Exactly like it says on the brochure. The most unique thing about it is its name – goldleaf, which was probably chosen because it had the word gold in it.

“It’s a friend’s apartment,” Chanyeol says, smiling ruefully.

What friend? Kyungsoo wants to ask.

“How long will you be here?”

“I’m planning to stay here,” Chanyeol says. “Get an editing job after my residency. Maybe.”

“Will you have to move out?”

“Maybe,” Chanyeol admits reluctantly. “I don’t think so. But I’ll have to buy it from my friend. Eventually.”

“You can stay with me,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol goes, gently, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but thanks.”

Ears burning, Kyungsoo says waspishly – “I was just offering.”

“Yes.” That’s all Chanyeol says. For such a loud person, Chanyeol’s always sensitive to Kyungsoo’s moods.

“Should we go tomorrow? To find Baekhyun and Chen?”

“I have to work,” Kyungsoo says. It’s Monday, tomorrow. It’s going to be a long week, again. “Let’s go now.”

--

So Baekhyun’s happy and Chen’s happy, Chanyeol’s happy, too. They set the adoption date as next weekend.

Except when that weekend comes around, Kyungsoo’s busy. He’s wading through fields of excel documents, picking out relevant pieces of information for the new system the bank wants to set up.

The next weekend, Kyungsoo’s still busy. New consultation papers have been issued over the weekend, and there are deadlines to meet.

He’s still busy, because his colleague has gone on maternity leave. He’s busy for another two weeks.

Chanyeol’s waiting on his doorstep, when Kyungsoo gets back. He has a small red plastic bucket beside him; it holds his ashtray and all his cigarette butts.

“Don’t chain-smoke on my doorstep,” Kyungsoo says sharply.

“You know,” Chanyeol says, smoking agitatedly, “I don’t think this will work. I don’t think you can adopt Chen. You can’t even make time to bring him home, what makes you think you can care for him?”

“I can.” Kyungsoo says. “I can.”

“He’s been sitting with his things packed every weekend, waiting for you.”

Kyungsoo scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ve been busy,” he says defensively.

“No, you just don’t want to make time. You’ve never made time for people.”

“I have to work,” Kyungsoo says. “You think it’s easy? To get where I am now?”

“God,” Chanyeol says. “I wish I never dated you.”

It hurts and it’s embarrassing. Kyungsoo flings a “it’s mutual” at Chanyeol before yanking him off his doorstep and shoving him away. Kyungsoo’s hands hurt, from how hard he pushes Chanyeol.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, raising his hands placatingly. “Hey, soo-“

Kyungsoo fumbles at the lock with his key. He’s inside in no time, slamming the door shut on Chanyeol.

Chanyeol’s knocking, loudly. Calling Kyungsoo’s name.

Kyungsoo rips his tie off, frustrated and choked. He stalks to the bathroom to bathe.

--

There’s knocking on the door, later. Kyungsoo drags his suitcases from the cupboard below the staircase, flinging them open on the floor. He starts searching for his in-flight earplugs in them.

He just happens to hear Chen’s voice, through his door. Calling Kyungsoo’s name.

Chen’s on his doorstep, when he opens the door. Chanyeol’s skulking in background, with Baekhyun, who looks like he wants to punch Kyungsoo.

“Chen,” he says, at a loss. He can be angry at Chanyeol – habits die hard – but this is Chen.

“Are you going to adopt me or not?” The cat says bluntly.

Kyungsoo pinches himself. It’s not a dream.

“Yes,” he says cautiously.

“Then come down to the agency and do it now.”

Kyungsoo sneaks a glance at his watch. It’s eleven at night.

“Adopt me now,” Chen says, “or I’m never going back with you.”

Is this the same, sweet Chen Kyungsoo knew?

Chen means it, Kyungsoo can tell.

“Let me get my keys,” he says.



Kyungsoo: Fishing for Dregs (I’ll change, this time) 

The next day, Kyungsoo gets a call, not even apologetic, saying “hey, you need to be back here.” And he goes, leaving a simple note and cash on the table.

Inside, he’s thinking that this is good, because part of him is scared of having to share his life with someone else again. It’s Chanyeol, you see. It’s Chanyeol and everything that went wrong – Kyungsoo’s thoroughly convinced that he’s going to hurt Chen, like he hurt Chanyeol.

It’s better if he stays away from Chen, this time. Until Kyungsoo’s clearer, of what he wants.

What does he want? Chanyeol? Chen? Kyungsoo thinks of both of them and his house, his sanctuary, becomes somewhere he has to avoid. He gets cold and stupid when he thinks of them. One from the past, one for the future.
Both squeezing Kyungsoo mercilessly, leaving no space for the present that he’s in.

Chen sleeps in Kyungsoo’s unused guestroom – is asleep when Kyungsoo wakes up in the morning, comes back from Chanyeol’s house only after Kyungsoo has gone to sleep at night. Kyungsoo buries himself in their latest project, and only resurfaces weeks later.

It’s not what Kyungsoo wanted, for both of them. He’s oddly guilty.

--

One morning, when Kyungsoo’s going to work, he hesitates.

He knocks on Chanyeol’s door, still dressed in office clothes.

“I’m not making breakfast,” Chanyeol is saying, as he opens the door. His expression changes, becomes more awkward, as he sees Kyungsoo.

“Hey.”

“Is Chen here?”

“He’s not,” Chanyeol says, concerned. There’s the pattering of feet on the ground. Baekhyun appears, dressed in one of Chanyeol’s old shirts. It hangs over his , barely covering it.

There are marks on his neck. Red marks.

“Where’s Chen?” Baekhyun asks, anxious.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol had . That’s what cats and humans do. Still, Kyungsoo has this feeling, that the world’s tilting out under his feet.

“Soo?”

“He’s, uh-“ Kyungsoo tears his eyes away from Baekhyun, who lifts a hand to his neck. His ears are going red.

What was he thinking?

“Wait,” Kyungsoo says, to himself. “Chen never wakes until I’m gone. So he should still be sleeping.”

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “He should be.” He takes a yellow sports jacket from the open wardrobe in the entryway, and drapes it over Baekhyun. It’s big enough to cover the marks on his neck.

“Go and change,” he says, dropping a kiss on Baekhyun’s forehead.

Kyungsoo never imagined that Chanyeol would find someone else. Chanyeol was always taller than Kyungsoo, so
he used to do that. To hold Kyungsoo close and sneak a kiss on Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo let him, sometimes. Other times Kyungsoo would dodge out of his hold.

Chanyeol used to leave marks on Kyungsoo, too. Kyungsoo would always fuss, because he had interviews. Internships. People would think things of kyungsoo that he didn’t want them to, if he had those marks.

It had been a relationship that would not have worked out. It was just – strange, to think that all these actions that Kyungsoo had thought were his, that Chanyeol would only do to him – that were so intimate, so alive that Kyungsoo had locked them away and never ventured into that corner of his mind again – were, in the end, not his and would not be his. No matter how important they had been to Kyungsoo.

“You’re – out of it today.” Chanyeol gestures when he talks, he always has. There are marks on his fingers, from ink.

“You’re doing poetry?”

Chanyeol writes prose in pencil, poetry in ink.

“Yeah, something came.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says. “Um, about Chen-“

“He should be sleeping.” For a second, Kyungsoo had really forgotten about Chen. “I’ll check, and, um. Bring him here.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Chanyeol says.

“You said you didn’t want to.” Kyungsoo blinks. “There’s a starbucks downstairs. I can run and get something. For all of us.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Not today,” Kyungsoo says. “I have to call in. But. Not today.”

“I’ll cook,” Chanyeol says. “Chen likes my crepes.”

It feels like nothing has changed, and Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are still sharing the same shoebox apartment they did in university.

--

Kyungsoo enters Chen’s room carefully.

He’d been using this room as a storage unit, before, so there are boxes stacked in a side of the room. The boxes are still there, taking up space between the bed and the cupboard.

Chen had moved some of the boxes, so one panel of the six-panel cupboard is freed up. A shirt rests on a blue plastic hangar, dangling from the door.

It’s a shirt Chen used to wear in the shelter. Kyungsoo hasn’t brought Chen shopping, now that he thinks of it. Has only given Chen a house key, and leaves a pack of dollar notes on the kitchen table at the start of each week.

Chen must have found the sheets, somewhere in the cupboards. And the pillowcases.

Chen’s lodged under the blankets (Kyungsoo doesn’t recognize them, either), only a bit of brown hair and a single ear peeking out of it. Sunlight streams into the room – the sun rises, rages, unreasonably early in the morning, in Singapore.

He’d have to buy thicker curtains, Kyungsoo finds himself thinking. And clothes. They could do that all today.

Kyungsoo had been so thoroughly convinced, back in the shelter, that Chen was the answer to all the silent nights spent alone in his apartment. But Chen’s not, he’s just a cat with needs. And Kyungsoo is a person with problems, problems that he has to solve if he ever wants to take good care of Chen.

Chen startles awake when Kyungsoo shakes him. Groggy and confused, he hides in the blanket, rubbing his face along the material.

“Let’s go over to Chanyeol’s place for breakfast,” Kyungsoo says.

Chen yawns widely, then closes his eyes again.

Kyungsoo finds himself rubbing behind Chen’s ears. “Chen,” he cajoles.

Chen’s obviously confused.

“-yungsoo?” Then, “-mm what’s.” Chen disentangles a hand from the blanket to rub his eyes. “kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo is a really bad owner. He doesn’t understand how he passed the background checks at the shelter – it should have been obvious, that Kyungsoo’s not good at taking care of people.

“Stay here,” he says, instead.

--

Chen lies obediently on his back. Kyungsoo’s sitting on the side of the bed which faces the windows, so he blocks the sunlight for Chen.

Carefully, Kyungsoo runs a washcloth over Chen’s face. There’s nothing to wash – Chen has good skin – but Chen lets him, anyway. Lets Kyungsoo trace his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. The soft area below his eyes, and where his ears meet his cheek.

Chen breathes; slowly, quietly.

Kyungsoo wants to take this as slowly as he can. It always ends, he knows, but he doesn’t want this to.

--

Kyungsoo’s phone is ringing. Chen’s eyelashes twitch.

He’s still lying there, unmoving, as Kyungsoo pads across the floor to the living room, where his phone is.

“Hello,” he says, glancing back at Chen. Chen’s ears are twitching.

“Kyungsoo?” It’s Suho. “Where are you?”

“I’m taking a day off,” Kyungsoo says.

“What? Which hospital are you in?”

“What? I’m fine, Suho.”

“Is there anyone with you?”

“I’m just taking a day off,” Kyungsoo says petulantly.

“Why?”

“I have stuff to do,” Kyungsoo says. That seems to make more sense to Suho.

“You’ll tell me if you’re injured, right?”

“I will,” Kyungsoo lies. Chen’s eyes are blinking open, slowly. He has really long eyelashes.

“I’m taking the week off,” he says, and hangs up on Suho’s bewildered “Kyungsoo!”.

Chen’s still blinking. Kyungsoo goes back into the room to him, still holding his phone.

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says, standing over Chen. The tiny, reluctant smile that Chen can’t hold back makes Kyungsoo feel like he did the right thing, at least once.

--

Truth is, Kyungsoo’s not interested in breakfast. His eyes keep darting to Chanyeol’s worktable, set up in the other corner of the apartment.

“Come on,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. Kyungsoo follows him over, eager. They leave Baekhyun and Chen at the breakfast table, squabbling over the crepes.

“It’s a group of nine poems,” Chanyeol says. He sorts through the mess on the table, pulling out a paper with strange shapes drawn on it. “I just got started on the first.”

“What are they about?” It’s been a long time since Kyungsoo touched poetry. He and Chanyeol, they used to write, back in school. Chanyeol was always the better one.

“Life,” Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo laughs. Chanyeol sounds so serious.

“It’s all about life,” he says. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. But that’s a reply that’s not – Chanyeol’s thinking about something.

“It’s about moving on,” he says, looking at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo forces a dry laugh, and hates himself immediately.

“Not just – “ Chanyeol frowns. “Not just love. Well, it is, but everything is love, too. It’s just. Family, just. Friends. Work. The grass.”

“The grass?” Kyungsoo snorts. But it works, Kyungsoo’s thinking about what Chanyeol is doing, now. What Chanyeol can do.

“Depends on how it goes. I’m hoping being here will – stir things up, for me.”

Kyungsoo nods. There are other books on Chanyeol’s table, books he finds familiar. “Jean Rhys?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. He grins, boyish. “Chen’s reading that, actually.”

“What? Why?”

“He just is,” Chanyeol says, shrugging.

Voyage in the Dark is a book Chanyeol read and loved. Kyungsoo had read it once, then went to bed for the rest of the day. Had not touched it again, and didn’t want to discuss it with Chanyeol.

Chen can read whatever he wants. It’s not like Kyungsoo can stop him.

Chanyeol has a bookshelf, which takes up an entire wall of his tiny apartment. It’s worn and patched and comes with a glass case to keep out dust.

The bottom shelf is filled with fantasy and science-fiction books, the top with poems. The middle is a mix – there’s Charlotte Bronte’s Villete, another book Kyungsoo has avoided after reading once – books on philosophy, Jared Diamond (everyone has a Jared Diamond), Lolita. Some books on Singapore.

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had studied literature together in school. But Kyungsoo had gone for a career in banking, and Chanyeol had gone on to – well, write. And continue writing.

Now that Kyungsoo thinks about it, they had started talking less, around then. Kyungsoo had bought a tailored suit, shoes, cufflinks, watch and a good haircut. Chanyeol had bought rounds at the pub for his writer friends.

Uncomfortable, Kyungsoo looks away. The apartment’s a mix of sensible furniture and the occasional blaze of colour that has to be Chanyeol’s. The huge rug on the floor, the lumpy beanbag in the corner, the – hammock? - strung in the middle of the apartment – those are Chanyeol’s.“I’m taking Chen to buy clothes,” he says.

“That’s great,” Chanyeol says.

“Do you and Baekhyun want to come along?”

Chanyeol misses a beat, but recovers. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

--

Kyungsoo gets lost on the roads, because he doesn’t usually drive. It’s easier and cheaper to take a taxi to work and back, not to mention safer. Kyungsoo’s dead tired, by the time he leaves at night. He’s not a morning person either.

“Where are we?” He says, lost. Chanyeol fiddles with his phone, tapping on google maps.

“I know a big shopping mall in the east,” he says doubtfully. “Not around here, though. Just – take that road –“

Kyungsoo finally finds an expressway, and heads down it. As long as they’re going in the right direction, they should hit a shopping mall somewhere. Shopping malls are everywhere in Singapore; it makes no sense that they won’t find one, now.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, Kyungsoo sees Baekhyun cuddling with Chen. Chen has an arm looped around Baekhyun’s shoulders. He meets Kyungsoo’s eyes in the mirror.

“Turn left,” Chanyeol says sharply, “left-“

It’s too late, they’ve missed the turning.

“We’ll find something,” Kyungsoo says.

“Those who eventually find something are never lost, right?”

“I have a good sense of direction,” Kyungsoo says firmly. Chanyeol laughs, low and happy.

--

They end up at a small park. It’s –

“Pasir Ris Park,” Chanyeol pronounces carefully. It sounds like, “pah ser rees pak.”

The Singaporean accent is a distinct one that Kyungsoo can’t place, but knows instantly when he hears it. They like to save words; cut their sentences into carefully placed phrases, slung together in a machine-gun monotone.

“I got my students to teach me,” Chanyeol says smiling.

There’s a pond in the middle of a small park. It’s actually like a small drain, but deeper and longer, snaking round and round, with clear water and small fishes inside of it. The sides are sandy, not mossy and green.

“I want to catch fishes,” Baekhyun announces. It should sound childish, but Baekhyun says it so brightly Chanyeol’s already saying “sure” before Kyungsoo can reply.

“Can we?” Chen’s holding on to Baekhyun’s arm tightly.

Chen’s always polite, Kyungsoo notices. Sweet, but it’s a sweetness that’s poured out carefully, as though he’s scared of offending. That night, when Chen demanded that Kyungsoo take him in, was the only time Chen was forceful with Kyungsoo.

--

Crouched alongside the pond, Kyungsoo splashes water onto his arms. It’s – too – hot. Kyungsoo’s an indoor creature, raised on a diet of air-conditioning.

“You’re supposed to catch fishes,” Chen says, nudging him. Kyungsoo jostles him back. “I am,” he says, lazily scooping another handful of water. Chen’s eyes goes wide, and Kyungsoo looks down to see that somehow – miraculously – he’s cupping this tiny black guppy in his hand.

“I’ll get the bucket!” Chen’s gone, and Kyungsoo remains in place, holding the fish in place. Water leaks through his fingers, trickles down his wrist, draws a long rivulet down his arm.

He cups both hands together, but water keeps dripping from the gap between his fingers. The tail of the fish lashes against his skin. It thrashes, jumping, and Kyungsoo is scared that he’ll drop and lose it.

Chen’s back, breathless, pressing against Kyungsoo. “Here,” he says, holding the small pail under Kyungsoo’s hands.

“Put some water into it,” Kyungsoo says, voice strained. He’s being silly, it’s just a tiny fish. Chen dives for the gully, scooping a pail of water with a huge splash.

“You got one too,” Kyungsoo says, peering into the pail. A brown guppy wriggles inside the clear water. Kyungsoo lowers his joined hands into the water - the black one joins it. Kyungsoo’s unexpectedly relieved.

“I did?” Chen nearly shoves Kyungsoo out of the way, in his rush to see it. He laughs, clear and unforced. “I did!”

Chen’s a cat made for smiling. The sun is still hot and pounding overhead, but it lights his brown hair golden in places and – and his smile’s made to be seen like this. Framed with sunlight and Chen clutching a cheap plastic pail in wet hands.

Kyungsoo just likes his smile. There’s no other reason.

He realizes that he’s smiling, too, as Chen lifts a hand to trace his lips. His hand is wet and sticky from the pond water, but somehow Kyungsoo doesn’t mind.

--

They pick clothes for Chen in the mall. Kyungsoo follows him into the dressing room.

Chen lifts an eyebrow at him. “I’m changing,” he says. Kyungsoo says “I know” and leans in, kisses him. Soft and light (it’s been a while for Kyungsoo), on his lips.

Kissing’s strange. The first time Chanyeol and Kyungsoo had kissed, Kyungsoo had been wondering why there was so much saliva. He’d bought breath mints and Chanyeol had learned how to kiss better, so things worked out.

Kyungsoo’s wondering the same thing with Chen. Chen’s lips are chapped and dry, and it’s just – it’s just skin touching skin, and when eating your lips touch things of all kinds of textures, like roast duck skin, so what makes this special? – but it’s just. It’s just something that Kyungsoo wants to do again.

Maybe it’s not just the lips, Kyungsoo muses, as he leans in again. Chen’s the same height as him, so no one has to crane their necks. Maybe it’s Chen holding his breath as Kyungsoo moves in. Maybe it’s the way Chen tries to keep his eyes open, but can’t help closing them as they get too close.

It’s the way Chen moves forward, the third time. He pushes Kyungsoo back, into the door. Leans into Kyungsoo, eyes serious, closes his eyes and presses himself – beginning from the lips, then their legs, Chen’s left leg stepping gingerly between Kyungsoo’s, then hips, Chen’s pelvis pressing into Kyungsoo’s crotch – then bodies, at last. Stomach and chest and then their collarbones, touching.

It’s like a kiss but not really a kiss. This time, Chen just leans into Kyungsoo, putting all his body weight on Kyungsoo. It’s like Chen’s goal is not to trace Kyungsoo’s lips but rather to press theirs together as long as they can – letting this be something familiar, rather than something exciting.

Kyungsoo loops his fingers in the back of Chen’s jeans, keeping him in place.

They have to breathe, eventually. Chen drops his head to Kyungsoo’s shoulder, exhaling. His breath is warm and moist, tingling across the vee of skin exposed by Kyungsoo’s shirt.

Kyungsoo takes a loud, noisy breath, then regrets it. It resounds in the small, locked-in room.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” he says, keeping his voice low. They’re still in a dressing room, after all.

“It is,” Chen says.

There’s a full-length mirror opposite Kyungsoo and Chen. Kyungsoo sees himself, leaning his cheek into Chen’s hair. His arms looped around Chen’s waist, black strap of his watch contrasting against the white shirt and blue jeans Chen’s in today. Chen’s tail loose and relaxed, curling down across the back of his jeans.

Kyungsoo looks like he’s a happy person. It’s not something he’s used to seeing.

Chen lifts his head, sees the mirror. Instead of blushing, like Kyungsoo thought he would do, he smiles lazily at it instead. Mouths a hello to himself.

“Say something to yourself,” Kyungsoo suggests.

Chen shakes his head, slowly. Presses a kiss to the hollow of Kyungsoo’s throat, instead, like an afterthought.