The streets are icy, the gray sidewalks spotted with white snow, slushing together with the dirty shoes of passing people.  Jinseok tries not to get his shoes wet, regrets not listening to his mom when she told him not to wear his sneakers.  The canvas of them get wet and his toes are starting to get cold.  

The stores are still dotted with Christmas lights, the trees are still shoved into the small front window displays.  But the stores are bare besides anything that is not holly or jolly.  The streets are mostly empty, except for one or two people roaming aimlessly, peering into windows for signs of post holidays sales.  The streetlamps glow orange underneath the darkening gray skies and the artificial wreaths that hang from them sway with the chilly wind.

His mom had made him a cake yesterday, she had shoved a shimmery box under his nose, it had been big, tied together with a giant bow.  The note had said happy birthday! and the wrapping paper had been decked out in little reindeer.

Jinseok hadn’t opened it, he had smiled and hugged her and closed his eyes real tight because the hot pressure of tears had appeared out of nowhere.
  
Now he kicks the slush in his way, digs the toes of his shoes into the frozen water and winces when it floods into his shoes, sticking his socks to his feet, unpleasant and uncomfortable.  But he sighs and keeps walking, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, breath fogging up in front of his face.

If he's honest, he wasn’t expecting much, but there’s still the childish undertone to him that wants birthdays and holidays to be something different, something huge, like how they used to be when he was barely half his size.

He doesn’t know why there’s a lump stuck in his throat, why it feels like he’s choking back tears, but it doesn’t go away, walking down the streets, under the streetlights, he’s just so unhappy.

Walking does little to clear his mind, he ends up looping the small shopping district more times than he cares to admit before he makes it back home.  The door still has tinsel over it but he can’t hear footsteps from the other side, his mom must have turned in early when she realized he wasn’t going to come home soon.  He had left his phone in his room, but he doesn’t need it to know that she had called him more times than necessary.  

Jinseok’s trying to get the key into the door knob when the door across from theirs opens, Jinseok feels the way he goes stiff, eyes flitting to his wet shoes, holding in his breath.

“Ah, Jinseok,” Gunwoo says softly, voice quiet and slow, sultry in a way that shouldn’t make sense at all.  

Jinseok feels the way his neck starts to heat up, how the blush is creeping to his cheeks.  He takes a deep breath, braces himself to face his neighbor.

“Hi,” he squeaks out, cutting himself short when he sees the way Gunwoo’s knobby knees stick out under his shorts, how his shirt falls just a little before the hem of them.  

He’s smiling at him, tilted to the side, warm in a way that makes his wet shoes seem unimportant.  Jinseok stares for entirely too long, but it’s the way the sleeves of Gunwoo’s shirt have been cut out, big gaping holes that skim the sides of his ribs, flashing the lines of his tattoos.

“So,” Gunwoo closes the door behind him, his hands behind his back, holding the door from closing completely, “it’s your birthday today,” he raises an eyebrow in question, smiling when Jinseok nods at him, unsure on how to put words together.

“Yeah,” his mouth feels all out of use, “yeah that’s today.”

He doesn’t have time to mourn all the words he could have said, how much more smoothly his response could have been, so he nods again, thinks he did the right thing when Gunwoo smiles even wider at him.

“Your mom told me,” he says, “I helped her carry her groceries, did you like your present?”
Jinseok isn’t used to this must exposure to Gunwoo, he knows he should answer but it still takes him a while to think of the right combination of words.

“I haven’t opened it yet…?” he stretches the last word into a question, his ears are now as hot as his neck, probably just as red.

Gunwoo laughs, and darts forward, hand wrapping over Jinseok’s wrist, pulling him closer, Jinseok stumbles, eyes wide.

“Just my luck,” Gunwoo says as he pulls Jinseok towards his apartment, pushing the door open, “you’ll get to open mine first.”

Gunwoo throws him in the direction of his couch, going down the hall in the direction Jinseok assumes is his room.  And then he lets himself think and it’s the worst decision he has made in his 20 years of living.

The words Junkyu had said to him at school are loud in his ears, you’re so obvious Jinseok, he has to know.  And panic starts to set in.  Gunwoo knows, Gunwoo has to know.  He’s tried to be subtle, not stare too long, keeping to himself.  But the truth is that him and Gunwoo always ends up with Jinseok stuttering, nerves on edge, cheeks blazing with how smitten he is with the older man.  And even though he swears he doesn’t throw heart eyes at Gunwoo, it's hard when his smile always tilts to the side in a charming curve, and how the ridge of silver earrings just screams danger at him, exciting.  Or the way his voice mellows out, low and sweet, alluring, so so so attractive. 
 
Jinseok’s crush has been growing for years, fueled with the few words they’ve exchanged, the glances he still blushes over, the flashes of skin sweet sweet summer brings him.  

“Ah,” Gunwoo walks in, present bag in his hands, a metallic gold, “I’m not sure you’ll like it, but I tried really hard.”

Jinseok smiles when Gunwoo hands it too him, looking at the wrapping tissue spewing from the top, “you didn’t have to get me anything,” he stops, Gunwoo still having a hard time coming from his mouth, “I mean, you don’t have to waste your money on me, we’re just neighbors, right?”

It gets quiet after that, Gunwoo sits on the low coffee table, knocking down a pen, a couple of small papers.

Jinseok can’t look at him, has a hard time looking into Gunwoo’s eyes, so he looks at his present, starts to peel the clear tape.

The present is more tissue paper than anything else, Jinseok pulls sheet after sheet before his fingers catch something cool and metallic.

“They’re earrings,” Jinseok says slowly, eyes flickering to Gunwoo’s heavily pierced ears, his free hand going to his own unpierced one.

“It’s a two part gift,” Gunwoo finally says, and then, “we are neighbors, Jinseok.”

It’s all disjointed and it stumps Jinseok before he tries to speak again, “We are.”

It’s the only answer he can give, he’s unsure how this all adds up to one conversation but Gunwoo’s never been one to keep in the flow of things so he nods and Gunwoo leans forward, just enough that Jinseok’s breath catches in his throat.

“We can be more than just neighbors,” Gunwoo continues, “it’s part of your gift.”

“What...do you mean?” Jinseok’s heart is doing weird things, it speeds up, slamming against his chest, trying to reach out to Gunwoo.

“The only way to wear those earrings is to get your ears pierced,” Gunwoo says slowly, “let me take you to get them done, and then maybe dinner, unless you like other kinds of first dates.”

Jinseok blinks at him, in that moment he realizes he still has his shoes on, that his feet are unbearably cold, there’s a wet patch on the carpet but Gunwoo looks unconcerned, gives Jinseok a look like he’s ready to wait as long as he needs to.

And then he realizes what he’s just heard, more than neighbors, dinner, first dates, his face is flaming up all over again and his chest feels like it’s two seconds away from splitting open to make way for his heart. 
 
Gunwoo knows, of course Gunwoo knows. 
 
He wants to ask if this is a joke, if Junkyu told him anything, he wants to know what’s going on.  But Gunwoo’s hands fold over his and the space between them becomes nonexistent, there’s a beat of nothing, just Gunwoo’s mouth touching his and then he closes his eyes, tilts his head.

It’s not his first kiss (that had been Junkyu one late night after there had been some crying involved) but he’s still pretty new at this so he freezes, eyes wide open, mouth stilled before Gunwoo’s hands take Jinseok’s and lead him to his sides, pressing his fingers to touch the soft skin of his ribs, the ink of his tattoos, things only dream Jinseok could do.

It makes his heart beat faster, pressing hard against his ribcage, he’s sure Gunwoo must be able to feel it press against his own chest but he can only concentrate on one thing at a time and kissing Gunwoo (or trying to) seems to be more important, so he closes his eyes, lets his hands skim over the warm skin under Gunwoo’s shirt.

“So yeah?” Gunwoo breathes out, pushes his face into Jinseok’s neck, “say yes, I like you a lot.”

Jinseok’s hands stop at the skin right over his shorts, afraid to go further, “yeah, ok,” he smiles, shy, “if you really want to.”

He can feel the way Gunwoo’s mouth forms into a smile, hot over his neck, “of course I do, I’ve wanted to for a long time, do you?”

Jinseok ends up smiling too, “yeah.”

(Gunwoo tells him later, while he watches the needle get sterilized, that he’s like Jinseok the moment they moved in but just couldn’t find the courage to say anything.  Jinseok holds his hand really tight, takes a deep breath when the needle goes through his ear.

Jinseok's throat closes up, but it's not a feeling of sadness, more nervousness.  Something about the moment, something about thinking what him and Gunwoo will end up being.

He thinks it was totally worth it.)