Rinse, repeat. 

Where are you going with
Those weak legs

Hoseok stumbles through the door at three in the morning, reeking of someone else's cologne, but he's got a fat wad of cash tucked in his back pocket, grinning widely despite the soreness from waist-down. There's a figure huddled on his sofa, and he squints a little in the darkness, eyes adjusting. His shoulders relax and the tension leaks out of his wound-up muscles, it's the boy he can recognize no matter what. 

Donghyuk's voice is scratchy with sleep, and he's wrapped up in a thin quilt, wearing one of Hoseok's pullovers, fitting it snugly where it hangs loosely on the latter's frame. "Hoseok? Is that you?" 

"It's me," he breathes in return, "what're you doing here? I have no heat or electricity," the sentence trails off with a hint of chagrin, and he can make out Donghyuk's frown even in the dark. "I'll go get you some coffee from downstairs? It's freezing."

Hoseok limps, depositing the cash on the dining table, wincing a little as pain shoots up his thigh - from when the rich, middle-aged businessman he met earlier had been a tad too rough. But he was a regular, and paid well, so Hoseok couldn't afford to complain. The exhilaration from getting his paycheck bleeds out of him like fading ink, and he can f