lu han leans over the railing of the balcony, the glittering lights of seoul hazy in the distance. his cigarette is burning down to the filter, warming the tips of his fingers.

he pays it no mind.

the streets are bustling underneath his balcony; a man rushes by, talking animatedly into his phone, and a woman follows right after, heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.

he wonders where they’re going. he doesn’t know what time it is, but he knows it’s late. there shouldn’t be people out.

ash falls from the tip of his smoke and he presses the filter to his lips, takes a deep drag and holds it until his chest hurts before he breathes it out, where it melds into the pollution haze and is gone in an instant.

screeching from behind him as the glass door opens, muttered cursing, and lu han doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s jongdae.

"where’s minseok?" he asks, rasp in his voice (he’s almost through the whole pack, he thinks as he stubs out his fading cigarette and taps out another one). he keeps the flame too close to his palm when he lights, pulls deeper than before and keeps it until he coughs.

"out," is jongdae’s response, and his shoulder pressed against lu han’s makes his chest warm in a way no cigarette will ever do.

lu han hums, doesn’t turn to look at jongdae until long fingers pluck the smoke out of his hand, and he watches as it goes flying over the railing.

"that ’ll kill you."

"what doesn’t?"

jongdae’s laugh is closer than he expected, jongdae’s hand sliding up the back of lu han’s sleep shirt (too big, probably one of his ex’s; why buy your own clothes when you can just sleep with people and take theirs?) and fluttering over his spine.

he smells clean, like he just took a shower, but the shampoo he used was definitely minseok’s.

lu han smiles.

when he turns to look at jongdae fully, hands sliding through jongdae’s recently cut hair, jongdae is already leaning in, thumbs fitting into the spaces above lu han’s hipbones.

instead of kissing him, lu han ducks his head, causing jongdae’s lips to brush his cheek instead, and smiles wider when he hears jongdae’s frustrated sound.

"lu han."

the slight whine in his voice has lu han tilting to graze his lips over jongdae’s jaw, following the curve to press his cold nose behind jongdae’s ear.

"yah, jongdae," he murmurs, leaning forward and causing jongdae to fall back against the railing, lu han’s hands on the metal to box him in.

it’s jongdae who hums this time, curls his fingers in the hem of lu han’s shirt and pulls him in. lu han goes easily (he always does) and jongdae tastes like toothpaste when lu han kisses him.

their mouths slot together, lazy, dancing around each other with the grace of people who have done this often. the movements are slow, languid, lu han’s fingertips pressing against jongdae’s skull as his hands comb through thick hair, and jongdae into his mouth.

lu han had never met anyone who loved kissing as much as jongdae, and is fairly certain he never will. jongdae kisses like he has nothing in the world he’d rather be doing, hot mouth and even hotter fingers skating over bared skin, and lu han has spent hours getting lost in jongdae’s kisses.

they break apart, lu han’s fingertips, and then his lips, tracing the line of red up jongdae’s sharp cheekbones, and he feels jongdae go pliant under the touch. lu han feels more than hears jongdae’s pleased sound in his throat, jongdae’s mouth finding his again with a mumbled “i love you.”

lu han laughs, a breathy exhale against jongdae’s lips.

"i love you too, you big sap."