Chapter Text
"One, two... Again! Wonbin, you’re past the stage of making beginner mistakes like this!" The teacher paused, irritated that he had let his hips fall out of line during an ‘arabesque’ and lost his balance completely. "At this point, you should already know how to keep your axis!"
The reprimand – followed by the frustrated sighs of his classmates, forced to restart the choreography because of him – made him take a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning humiliation of failure and the sharp sting in his right foot.
…
Ever since he’d landed poorly during the ‘grand jeté’ earlier, twisting his right foot badly, every ‘relevé’ felt like punishment.
Within seconds, he lost focus again on the next turn. His gaze failed to find a fixed point ahead because of the stabbing pain that blinded him, until the teacher let out a low growl of pure displeasure and impatience.
"If you can’t keep up with the training today, why are you even here, huh? You’re holding everyone back!" Even though he was already more than used to the harsh atmosphere of rehearsals, her sharp words made a spark flare in his eyes.
Being the source of a problem had become something utterly unforgivable to him as a dancer, especially if the cause was such a beginner’s mistake.
Though the final result was meant to be the ensemble, ballet was the most individual practice he knew. There was no one else to blame. Only he was responsible for his own performance…
The frustration swelled inside him.
"I’m sorry. I won’t make any more mistakes." Wonbin said, lowering his head in shame. His teeth clenched as he rose onto his toes again.
It was the most painful 'relevé' he had ever done. His eyes blurred from the ache, yet he swallowed the discomfort to keep up with the others.
The teacher watched him coldly before releasing another sigh.
"You’re staying after class. I want you to repeat the full adagio, at the barre and center, until your hips stop breaking alignment."
Wonbin didn’t have the time or the nerve to argue, so he only nodded.
"Yes, miss Yoon."
"Wonbin, you’re one of the oldest and most experienced dancers in this company. What you did, getting distracted and making such basic mistakes, is unacceptable." From where he sat on the floor, trying to catch his breath and ignore the pain, the angle distorted the teacher’s figure slightly. She still clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. Her face was as cold as stone, her appearance immaculate, the elegant bun holding her slightly gray hair in place doing nothing to soften her disapproval. "Be honest, do you really want a future in ballet? If you do, never show up here again with that kind of attitude."
"I'm sorry. It won’t happen again." He managed to say, his head bowed. The anger of having disappointed her hurt more than his right foot, which throbbed from the strain.
Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but Wonbin forced them away, refusing to cry over his own failures. After all, that wouldn’t be the posture of a professional dancer.
Hearing harsh, merciless criticism was still the hardest part of it all. Yet, it was the path he had chosen for himself.
He didn’t regret it, not one bit, though his time walking it seemed to be running out…
Wonbin stared at the floor of the practice room, too ashamed to meet her eyes, while he listened to the teacher gathering her bag and sighing on her way out.
"Take care of your foot as soon as possible. Only come back when you’re ready to stop making mistakes." She was strict because she cared about his performance, and through one moment of distraction, he had managed to let her down.
"Yes, miss Yoon." His voice held no trace of emotion. It sounded mechanical and tired.
...
A low grunt escaped him as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing for a few seconds before silence took over the room.
…A catastrophic way to end an already terrible day.
"Shit!" Wonbin yanked off his ballet shoes in one practiced motion. His angry fingers threw them across the room before both hands came down to cradle his injured right foot.
It was slightly swollen.
It looked worse thanks to the strain from training, and from repeating the entire adagio moments ago as punishment. Still, the pain itself didn’t matter to him.
Getting hurt in ballet was normal. Making mistakes because of it, that was unforgivable.
It took him a while to get up, and when he did, every muscle in his body ached. His thighs trembled from the effort of the post-practice punishment as he limped across the room to fetch his bag thrown on the opposite side.
The message he had received from his father earlier, about starting to study for the university entrance exam, had been the main cause off his fall during the routine. And, in the end, maybe his father was right.
It was better to think about something that could offer him a concrete future rather than the uncertain career he found himself in… He had pushed that harsh truth to the back of his mind for far too long. There was no avoiding it anymore, no pretending it wasn’t real.
His journey in ballet, unfortunately, seemed far too close to ending.
A knot formed in his throat, but Wonbin didn’t shed a single tear. His blurry vision focused on unlocking his phone to read the notifications.
What time will you be home?
Don’t come back too late
Shotaro’s usual worried messages made him let out a small puff of air. And before he could change his mind, his fingers automatically found the message thread with the only person capable of making him forget things for a while lately.
Where are you?
At home??
At home… Why?
You want to come over?
Yeah, sure
I’ll bring some bottles of soju
Didn’t you say you didn’t drink?
I don’t
But tonight I want to
I see
I’ll send you my address
Okay
I’ll be there in an hour
Wonbin slipped his phone back into his ballet bag and stared at the empty horizon of the pale beige practice room.
He could still smell the familiar mix of his own sweat and that of his classmates who had left more than two hours ago, along with the echo of his teacher’s scolding that lingered in his head, a reminder that he should take every word home, absorb it, and do better next time.
…
Fuck it. He didn’t want to think about ballet for the rest of the night.
Wonbin let out a tired groan, and after a short struggle to keep his balance, limping under the extra weight of his bag, he finally made it to the locker room area.
Ten minutes under a stream of freezing water, eyes wide open and fixed on the beige tile wall, was all it took for his muscles to begin relaxing.
Then, he turned up the temperature and started washing himself at a painfully slow pace. When his gaze dropped to his feet, he noticed his right one was slightly swollen from the earlier twist. It didn’t seem like the kind of injury worth worrying about, but it would probably bother him for the next few days.
Wonbin didn’t even bother drying his wet hair properly afterward. He just got dressed and brushed it back. The earthy-toned Bape sweatshirt he wore, a mix of olive green, light caramel, and classic camouflage details, stood out against his pale skin under the white bathroom light.
The mirror reflected a corpse… deep dark circles and a face that had lost all sign of health.
For a second, he almost gave up on seeing Anton. But then he remembered how badly he needed that, just to keep himself from snapping, from thinking of doing something stupid.
The only thing that gave him even a hint of dignity was the musk perfume he sprayed over his entire body, more times than necessary.
…
Pulling on the dark gray sweatpants was easy enough. The trouble started when it came time for socks and white sneakers.
Wonbin gritted his teeth hard, swallowing the sharp pain in his right foot as he forced it into the shoe, trying not to tighten it too much to ease the throbbing. He bitterly regretted having thrown his ballet shoes across the practice room, because bending down to grab them had made him grunt like someone twice his age.
He was wrong, there was no way he’d make it to Anton’s place within an hour. It had already taken him thirty minutes just to get ready and leave the ballet company, then some extra time to stop by a nearby convenience store for bottles of soju, and what felt like an eternity to finally find an available Kakao T.
…
Maybe an hour and a half, in the end.
When the ride pulled up in front of the address, his eyes widened at the sight of the building. A massive, contemporary glass skyscraper.
Wonbin double-checked the location Anton had sent him, just to be sure, and was shocked to realize he hadn’t misread it.
It really was in Cheongdam-dong, one of Gangnam’s most expensive districts, where residents probably earned three times the worth of his entire life.
“You’re not getting out?” The driver, a wrinkled man in his forties, snapped impatiently.
“Huh, yeah. Thanks.” Wonbin’s expression soured too as he clumsily grabbed his heavy ballet bag and the plastic bags filled with soju bottles. The clinking of glass made the man huff and mutter ‘Reckless kids’, as if he couldn’t hear him.
Whatever. He had no energy left to deal with a bitter old man.
His exhaustion returned full force as he limped across the busy street.
Inside the apartment complex, a bright, well-kept lobby greeted him, the complete opposite of his and Shotaro’s rundown building. This one clearly had 24-hour front desk service and, most likely, top-notch security.
“Good evening." Greeted a middle-aged man with a neutral tone, not cold, not warm, just the typical Korean politeness.
“Good evening, I, uh… I’m here to see Lee Anton.” Wonbin hunched his shoulders slightly. The wealthy atmosphere of the place made him feel small, like the space itself was whispering that he didn’t belong there.
“Park Wonbin? He’s expecting you. Just take the elevator and press the button ‘PH층’, it’ll take you straight to Mr. Lee’s penthouse.”
Penthouse?... It took all his self-control not to panic or let his eyes widen in front of the man, who didn’t even twitch an expression.
…
What kind of job did Anton have??!... The question screamed inside his head in pure chaos.
“All right, thank you.” He pretended to act naturally, turning stiffly and hobbling toward the elevator, doing his best not to show how unsettled he was.
And before he could even consider the idea that he might’ve gone to the wrong place, the elevator doors opened directly into a beautiful entryway, light wooden panels, soft LED lights on the ceiling and walls, and the faint scent of expensive wood and lily of the valley in the air.
“Anton?” Wonbin only noticed the doorbell beside the entrance seconds after he had already called out loudly.
At least it only took a moment for the person he was looking for to appear, smiling wide, delighted.
…
As always, he looked flawless, even in something casual: black lounge pants and a navy wool sweater.
“Hyung.” Anton rushed to help him, taking his ballet bag without hesitation, and then the soju bags, though his expression changed to concern when he saw Wonbin struggling to take off his shoes. “What happened?”
“I twisted my ankle earlier." He shrugged, unconcerned, because ballet was the last thing he wanted to think about. Then, sarcastically, said. “Nice house for a tailor.”
“Well, I’m a manager now. The company’s covering my transportation and housing.” The younger man laughed softly, and he supposed that made sense.
Fair enough. Any company that lent an employee an Audi for work would probably also put him up in a fancy penthouse.
“If I had a good job like yours, instead of this dead-end career, maybe my father would finally stop nagging me.” The acid joke slipped out before he could stop it. Anton watched him for a moment, his eyes returning to the area around his feet, as he fished a pair of white slippers out of the nearby locker.
“Should we go to a doctor first?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Wonbin met his gaze, but silently slipped his feet into the slippers Anton offered.
“It’s just a sprain. Besides, I came here to drink, not to get checked out.” In truth, Shotaro would worry himself sick if he saw him come home like this.
Anton went quiet for a moment, then let out a small sigh and smiled faintly before opening the door wider.
“All right. Come in.”
XxX
Anton wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but worry couldn’t be hidden even if he tried. His analytical eyes examined every detail of the small figure sprawled across the plush rug of his living room, trying not to focus on the visible collarbones beneath the white tank top the dancer wore, now that he’d unzipped his military hoodie a little, and instead to concentrate on his beautiful face.
“Why am I the only one drinking?” Wonbin lifted a shot of soju to his lips, wincing at the likely bitter taste as it burned down his throat. “Are you just going to sit there and stare at me? What's the point?”
'Grumpy'. Anton guessed in amusement before sighing, standing up, and walking toward the small bar area near the open dining room.
His apartment had an open-plan layout, wide and clean, with cream polished marble walls and flooring and oak furniture, so he could easily keep his attention on the older man without distraction.
Something in his subconscious had already warned him that would be necessary…
This was nothing like how he’d imagined Wonbin’s first time at his home, but that was fine. Anything involving the dancer was bound to feel magical in his eyes.
“Well, someone has to stay sober to take care of you later. But if you insist, I’ll pour myself a glass of wine to keep you company. Would you like one, Hyung?” He searched for a bottle of Cabernet he’d brought from France, already opened, since he’d shared a few glasses with Eunseok a few days earlier, and poured himself some.
“No, I don’t like wine.” Wonbin huffed from across the room. The petulant tone of the small creature sitting on the carpet, surrounded by bottles of soju, pulled an unexpected laugh from his lips. “Of course you have to be different in everything. Going to museums, not drinking soju. What else?”
Anton laughed for real, because this was the most unbelievable person he’d ever met.
The older man’s irritation only made him seem even more adorable, like a skittish cat puffing up when bothered.
Wonbin was sharp and intelligent, but somehow still a little naïve. After all, that was the only way to explain how easily he had believed the dumbest lie Anton could have told.
‘What kind of company gives its employees an Audi and a million-dollar penthouse?’ The thought echoed in his mind as he returned to the sofa, another soft chuckle escaping him.
"Don’t overdo it with the drinking, mon chaton, or you’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow.” Before sitting down, his fingers brushed through the older man’s hair, finding damp strands still clinging to his scalp.
Anton frowned. It was cold outside.
Why would he go out with wet hair?
“I don’t care about a hangover. I just want to drink, sleep, and never wake up again.” Wonbin shot back, half dramatic and half irritable, his eyes already drifting shut.
…This was going to be a long night, and not in the way he had imagined.
“That’s a shame, because I’d like you to wake up bright and well tomorrow. So no overdoing it, please, Hyung.” It felt like he was dealing with a sulky child, even though he was the younger man in the room.
Anton settled into the navy-blue Camaleonda sofa, a classic piece by Italian architect and designer Mario Bellini that his mother had insisted he bring to Korea, and took a sip of his Cabernet. The pleasant taste of the wine made him hum softly, a striking contrast to the bitter grimace of the other man, who grunted at the soju still burning his tongue.
They spent several long seconds drinking in silence, connected only by the quiet exchange of glances, until Wonbin looked away and sighed as if gathering courage.
“Try some wine, Hyung.” Anton wanted to distract him, make him comfortable enough to open up about whatever had happened, and also get him to stop chugging that strong liquor without pause. “And let me see your foot.”
“I’m fine.” Wonbin huffed again, but crawled away from the bottles scattered across the carpet until he was right in front of he, his cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. “Ok, I’ll try it.”
Anton never could have imagined that such an innocent gesture, offering a glass of Cabernet to the other’s parted lips, could turn into a full display of sensuality.
The way that much smaller hand clasped his, purely by instinct, made his pupils dilate. And that kneeling posture right between his knees, hoodie hanging open to reveal those damned collarbones thanks to the white tank top that barely covered anything, it all tested the limits of his self-control.
…
“It’s not bad.” Wonbin stared at him, too drunk to notice the direct effect he had on his lower regions.
‘Shit, he’s completely gone. Get a grip!’ Anton cursed himself, half panicked, his face flooding crimson at the thought.
“Sit on the couch, Hyung. The floor’s cold.” He tried to distract himself with genuine concern for the other’s well-being, but he hadn’t expected the older man to suddenly rise and sit right on his lap.
“Wonbin-hyung.” The stern, weary tone only earned him a muffled laugh. He could feel the trembling in the dancer’s chest from how close they were.
“You told me to sit.” Oh, this was a seasoned little demon in disguise. His poor mind lamented the realization.
“Mon chaton, this isn’t the time for jokes.” Anton had to be the responsible one, he was the only sober person there, after all. His voice came out sharper than intended, but Wonbin didn’t move.
“Stop arguing with me. Let me drink.”
Damn it, he was definitely going to need a cold shower later, because that soft, whiny tone made his half-hard need throb with life.
…
Fine… His left hand gripped the older man’s narrow waist just to keep him steady, yet he hadn’t anticipated that the little creature would use his distraction to steal the wine glass from his right hand.
“You’re a menace.” Anton exhaled sharply as Wonbin downed the entire glass in one go.
Something, however, shifted in the older man, a sudden change that wiped away all traces of the playful tension between them, as if a shadow had drifted into the room.
The other was far too drunk, so he wasn’t surprised by the sudden mood swing.
“I think I’m going to quit ballet." Wonbin murmured out of nowhere. His voice sounded like a wounded whisper, small and frightened like a child’s.
“What?”
Anton blinked for a few seconds before his eyes widened in pure disbelief.
“My father’s right. I’m getting too old to keep pretending I have a future. I, huh… never really thought of a plan B, but… I guess I can’t delay it anymore. I mean, it’s not like my career can be saved.” He felt the strong tremors shaking the other’s body and tried to find Wonbin’s face, but he turned away on purpose to hide his tears from view.
“Hyung…”Anton placed a hand on the back of the being on his lap, an indescribable sorrow settling in his heart.
He finally understood the strange behavior earlier, the weird messages on his phone, the drinking, something the dancer always said he never did.
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t dump my frustrations on you.” Wonbin gave a bitter laugh between hiccuping sobs. A hand wiped at his tear-stained cheeks, but new ones kept falling. “I didn’t want to worry Taro-hyung. He’d be devastated if he saw me like this.”
“But why stop now?… You’re an amazing dancer, Hyung. I don’t even have to see one of your performances to know that. Your discipline, the time you’ve dedicated since you were a kid, it speaks for itself.” He couldn’t understand, even though he knew the root of the sadness: career failure.
He was absolutely sure the other would regret it deeply if he gave up on ballet like this.
“Anton, I’m old. At my age, a professional dancer should already be entering, or already inside, a major company… These last few years since I moved to Seoul, all I’ve done is stay stuck in the same place.” Wonbin sighed, fatigue finally catching up to him, a yawn slipping past his lips. At least he’d stopped crying.
…
He said nothing for a while, trying to steady his thoughts, but the laugh that followed shattered them completely.
“Now’s the part where you give me a consoling kiss.”
Of course, no drunk person could be taken seriously. Especially one this gorgeous, sitting right on his lap.
"A kiss? Come here, mon chaton.” Anton caught the older man’s chin with ease and pressed their lips together, while his mind scrambled for a way to coax Wonbin to bed. What he didn’t expect was to be pulled by strong arms looping around his neck, or for that simple peck to deepen into something fierce.
Wine and soju mixed on his tongue as their mouths met, and his brain short-circuited.
Fuck.
Anton’s eyes flew open, a muffled moan escaping in the middle of the kiss. One hand darted to catch the glass Wonbin almost dropped, while the other anchored at the exposed slim waist, his favorite part of the other’s body.
A needy sound slipped from the older man.
“Anton…” The moment the dancer parted his lips and started moving on his lap, it was clear he had to stop before he lost control completely.
“No, Hyung. You’re drunk.” His voice was low, firm, authoritative, and just a little hoarse.
“Not drunk enough to not know what I want right now.” Of course, Wonbin tried to push further, the devil in disguise that he was, until he huffed in frustration when his iron grip stilled his hips. “Anton, please… I’m hard as a rock.”
He knew that. The older man’s hard length was pressed right against his abdomen.
“I’m not doing this while you’re drunk.” After tonight, he’d consider himself the most resilient man alive, his brain mocked. Instead of saying it, Anton only sighed in exhaustion. “Let’s get ready for bed, Hyung.”
And, as if to test his patience, Wonbin complained in a grumpy tone.
“Well, I can’t sleep while I’m hard.” Even drunk, his stubbornness was impressive.
…
One, two, three… Anton didn’t know how many times he counted just to keep his near-infinite patience from snapping, especially when the other started moving on his lap again.
"Hyung, are you ready to come?… I’ll give you this, and then you’ll go straight to… bed." He discovered that fighting a stubborn and tempting being was synonymous with failure. The hand not holding the empty glass slipped with initial difficulty inside the sweatpants and underwear the other was wearing, until it found the erect and leaking member. "Did you hear me? And no more complaints… You need to rest."
"But… What about you?" Wonbin arched his back and moaned, caught off guard, his short fingernails digging into Anton’s shoulders as the tight stroking made him gasp.
Cute.
There was no way not to feel charmed by the bulging eyes, which stared at him for a moment before their owner threw his head back and let out a squeaky sound.
"Tomorrow, mon chaton." Anton smiled convincingly to reassure the small, anxious being, and grunted at the lost and rhythmic movement of Wonbin’s ass right above his pelvis. His own neglected, encased member even ached for the attention he couldn't give.
…
Taking a cold shower would be equivalent to a medieval torture method.
Regardless, he ignored his own need, focused on making the older man climax quickly.
The hand worked with more zeal, brushing over the tip until Wonbin’s thighs trembled and pre-cum spread over his fingers, before returning to stroke the entire length.
"Anton." The moan he heard and the way he was riding his lap made it clear the dancer was close.
"Are you going to come for me, Hyung?" He licked his lips in lust, savoring the privileged view of the most beautiful figure he had ever met, surrendered to pleasure.
"Yes… Yes!" Wonbin repeated, lost. His half-open eyes could barely focus on him, even though he seemed to be trying to look at him.
It was messy, quick, done only to give the older man relief, because Anton was only using one hand, so there was no way to attempt a better job, and because this was the absolute limit he would cross without them both being completely sober. His moral compass would never forgive him if he did anything without consent. The glass remained balanced.
“I—… Ah!” As he’d imagined, Wonbin didn’t take long to orgasm, arching his back and throwing his head back, riding him frantically as waves of pleasure overtook him.
Within moments, his fingers were wet and sticky
"Good job, Hyung." Anton praised, smiling widely, and delighted in the instinctive movements Wonbin gave to recover from all the post-orgasm tremors.
He persisted in stroking until he extracted the last drop, only stopping when the other's thighs tried to close due to overstimulation.
After that, Wonbin’s head fell onto his shoulder, his breath ragged near his ear, on the verge of starting to snore.
"Now it’s time to get ready for bed." Anton removed his hand from inside the older man’s pants, who grumbled, too exhausted to complain, and wiped it without caring on the military hoodie he was wearing over it.
…
Finally.
He was just about to stand, the light weight of the other’s body still in his arms, when Wonbin’s phone, thrown somewhere far across the carpet, started ringing, the sound echoing through the wide living room.
“Must be Shotaro-hyung.” For some reason, the dancer still had a trace of sobriety left, though he looked seconds away from diving headfirst into the world of dreams.
“You told him you’d be here?” Anton asked, brow furrowing, and grew irritated at the negative response he received. “Hyung.”
“Stop scolding me…”
Wonbin was, quite simply, impossible to deal with in that state.
Anton shut his eyes briefly, carefully moving the older man off his lap, taking care not to aggravate the injury on his foot.
“Wonbin! Where are you?!” The excited voice nearly ruptured his eardrum the moment he picked up, the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he walked toward the small bar area to discard the empty glass in the sink.
“Shotaro?” He guessed, glancing at the young man slumped sideways on the couch, breathing evenly, fast asleep. Despite the chaos around him, Wonbin looked ethereal. “This is Anton… Nice to meet you.”
A half-second of silence passed before the man on the other end shouted.
“Anton?! …Oh, is Wonbin with you?” He sounded shocked for a brief moment, then recovered quickly. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Shotaro.”
“Yes, he forgot to text you.” Anton decided not to mention the dancer’s drunken state so as not to worry the friendly voice on the other end. “He’s sleeping. I’ll take him back tomorrow afternoon without fail.”
The omission echoed harmlessly through his living room, and the figure on the couch didn’t so much as twitch or protest in his sleep.
“Huh, ok. Tell him to call me tomorrow when he wakes up." Shotaro said, utterly unaware of his friend’s current disaster. “And Anton, thank you for taking good care of him. He talks about you all the time. I’m glad to know someone finally charmed him for real.”
…
The words caught him off guard.
Wonbin had been talking about him?... His heartbeat stuttered, and warmth crept up his neck and across his chest.
He didn’t want to show his inner turmoil, so he forced a calm tone.
“Thank you for trusting me.” Anton revealed sincerely. He already knew how important Shotaro was to Wonbin, just from the few things he’d overheard here and there.
The man on the other end was silent for a few seconds before letting out a cheerful, warm laugh.
“He’s not someone who gets attached easily, even if he might seem that way to you. So I should be the one thanking you for taking good care of him.” Shotaro’s words were kind, genuine. “Well, I’ll hang up now so you can get some sleep too. Sorry for calling so suddenly… Wonbin didn’t tell me anything, and I got worried.”
Of course he didn’t… Anton rolled his eyes, looking at the sleeping man in the living room, and sighed softly.
“Alright. Have a good night.”
They exchanged quick goodbyes, and he set the older man’s phone down on the coffee table beside the ridiculous number of soju bottles scattered around. Just looking at them gave him the beginnings of a headache.
He checked the time on his wristwatch, his favorite Hublot.
12:25 a.m.
It wasn’t particularly late, but the exhaustion Wonbin had managed to inflict on him made it feel like it was already past four.
Another sigh escaped his lips as he walked toward the sleeping figure and effortlessly lifted him into his arms.
“Let’s go to bed, mon chaton.” He brushed a hand through the messy strands framing Wonbin’s face, earning only a sleepy mumble in return. The mix of soju and wine on his breath made Anton grimace.
“My foot hurts…” Wonbin murmured, more in dreams than in consciousness, which made him huff.
“Does it now? And you spent the whole night stopping me from even looking at it.” He gave up on scolding a drunken man, it would’ve been a complete waste of time.
…
After settling Wonbin into his bed, Anton had to take a long, cold shower. And even though caring for him under such circumstances had been as exhausting as babysitting a restless child, his heart still beat fast, loud and utterly, hopelessly in love.
XxX
At first, Wonbin thought he was back home in Ulsan, or dreaming about some fragment of his childhood, because the affectionate touch on his scalp felt exactly like the ones his father used to give him.
A massage so comforting that a sigh escaped his slightly parted lips.
“Time to wake up.” It was only when Anton’s low voice reached his ears that he realized this wasn’t a dream at all, it was simply an alternative way of waking him.
Gradually, the scent of clean sheets and the texture of a soft, luxurious bed, ten times more comfortable than his own, made his arms and legs stretch to test the softness.
“No.” Still, Wonbin complained and tried to roll over without even opening his eyes. A quiet laugh escaped the other’s lips, just before he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his forehead, and then insisted gently.
“Yes. We’re going to the doctor to find out what happened to your foot.”
That warning alone was enough to pull him back into reality.
Doctor? … Injured foot? …
He finally remembered one of the worst training sessions of his life, and the message from his father.
“No doctor… I’m perfectly fine.” Wonbin automatically woke up in a bad mood. A sharp headache hit him like thunder, making him groan and cover his eyes with both hands. The faint light in the room, despite the blackout curtains, almost blinded him. “What a fucking hangover.”
“Well, I told you not to overdo it last night.” Anton scolded, unfortunately removing his fingers from his scalp. “And we do need to see a doctor. You spent the entire night groaning in pain while unconscious.”
Then, everything he’d done while drunk started replaying in his mind in slow motion, from the moment he’d vented about ballet to the desperate way he’d begged the other man to fuck him.
…
Wonbin was mortified.
His ears burned, though Anton didn’t seem to notice as he walked toward a door at the side of the large bedroom, probably the closet. His voice echoed faintly.
“I’ll grab some clothes for you to change into after you shower.”
Fuck it. He could die right now and spare himself the humiliation… His mind went into panic.
“I want to disappear from this planet." Wonbin muttered, irritated and dramatic. He tried to pull himself together, sitting up so quickly that his muscles ached, and looked around the bright, clean space, cream-colored walls, light furniture, and his own messy dark hair sticking out in every direction.
There was no way he could look at the younger man without wanting to faint from embarrassment.
“Why did you have to act all nice and take care of me after that?”
“No, you don’t. Stop it, Hyung… And I acted that way because I care.” Even though Anton usually spoke quietly, he heard him perfectly.
His mortification deepened, and his eyes darted away.
The other had one eyebrow raised in amusement when he returned to the room carrying a small pile of clothes. The color palette resembled the black wool trousers and sweater he was wearing, though Wonbin also spotted shades of olive green, burgundy, and navy blue among the pile.
“These are samples that haven’t been released yet by the brand I work for. Some look close to your size. Do you have extra underwear to change into?” It was ridiculous how Anton didn’t stop taking care of him for even a second.
Always thoughtful, always worrying about the things Wonbin would definitely forget.
Oh, Shotaro was right… He had fallen helplessly in love.
“I have some in my ballet bag.” A small pout formed on his lips along with a muttered reply meant to hide how flustered he felt.
Anton ignored the attitude, ruffling his already messy hair before heading toward the door.
“All right, I’ll get it for you. Take a shower and come down for breakfast. I bought medicine for your hangover.” Oh. Wonbin’s mouth fell open in surprise, until a delayed realization hit him.
The younger man had clearly anticipated what he’d say. “It’s porridge, and it’s part of your diet. Don’t worry.”
…
Ok, maybe he was enjoying being spoiled a little too much.
“Fine, whatever. Just go already.” Still, no one needed to know that. He waved his hands dismissively until Anton sighed, turned his face away, and narrowed his eyes like a worried guardian.
“Be careful with your injured foot in the shower.” The concern was genuine, and the door closed before Wonbin could curse him.
“Idiot!”
He wasn’t a child anymore. He didn’t need constant warnings.
Instead of wasting more time cursing the man, his curious gaze drifted to the clothes Anton had left at the edge of the bed for him to choose from. Obviously, they all followed the smart-casual standard, since they belonged to a tailoring brand.
Not that it mattered much, he could make it work with some creative combination.
Wonbin sifted through each shirt, pair of trousers, and sweater with genuine interest, loving fashion and picking his own outfits, so he ignored the unbearable headache and the constant throbbing in his foot.
On the tags, he noticed the name of a brand he’d never heard of before, encircled by two elegant ornaments.
…………………………….
꧁ Le Rivière ꧂
…………………………….
“You could try being in a better mood, you know?” Anton maneuvered the car through the streets and let out a long sigh, more amused than irritated, before turning into the underground parking lot of a building Wonbin took a moment to recognize.
“I’m not in a bad mood.” He said, even though he knew it was a lie.
In truth, his spirits had improved countless times after a good soak in Anton’s bathtub, although, quite unintentionally, he’d kicked his injured foot against the marble edge hard enough to groan aloud and tear up for a few seconds… He decided to blame the unsolicited warning he’d heard earlier for the accident: ‘Be careful with your injured foot in the shower.’ It must have been a curse.
Other than that, the porridge for breakfast, cooked by the homeowner himself, and the hangover medicine really helped. Wonbin had felt much better once the headache faded, but his good mood vanished the moment they ended up in a hospital.
He really had suffered a mild sprain, and the doctor ordered him to take a full week of rest. Something impossible, given how often he trained.
His teacher had already been irritated with his work; The last thing he wanted was to be cut entirely from the upcoming piece. It might be his final performance before quitting ballet to study for college entrance exams.
…
At least he’d been prescribed a painkiller, and the aching foot was now stabilized inside a ridiculous boot, relieving him of his primary discomfort.
“Whatever you say, Hyung.” Anton unbuckled his seat belt and turned to him with a smile. “A week isn’t that long. Think of it as recovery time.”
“I’m not taking a full week off. Just three or four days.” Wonbin knew his body well, and sprained ankles weren’t exactly rare for ballet dancers. A faint pout formed on his lips as the younger man unfastened his seat belt and brushed a stray lock of hair that the wind had tossed out of place.
Then he noticed Anton staring at him, grinning like an idiot.
“What?” His brows furrowed, confused, until the other couldn’t hold back a low, utterly embarrassed laugh.
“Nothing. It’s just… seeing you like this, perfect, wearing clothes from my brand– well, from the brand I work for, it’s been messing with me since this morning.” Within seconds, Anton’s face turned scarlet from the almost-whispered confession.
…
Wonbin blinked, disoriented.
Okay. If he’d known the younger man would react like that, he would’ve chosen the plain wool trousers and a random burgundy sweater more often
“Should I start buying clothes from the place you work at?” His lips curved into an ironic smile. Of course he wouldn’t miss the chance to tease him.
Besides, his outfit did look good. The only thing he’d missed earlier were his usual accessories and jackets, which would’ve made the look more casual, more him.
He just didn’t expect the quick, bold reply that came next.
“The clothes you’re wearing, or any others you want, are yours.” Anton didn’t even blink. His eyes burned like embers as he added, in a daring tone. “You can have the entire collection if you like. Just choose and tell me later.”
…Alright. Maybe he’d never get used to this man’s absurd behavior.
“Do you plan on giving clothes to every guy you date? The brand owners will go bankrupt.” Wonbin laughed, half-embarrassed, failing miserably to hide his insecurity.
His heart pounded hard, and he shifted his attention to the underground parking lot, too afraid to meet Anton’s gaze.
It was strange... feeling this way. Good and bad at the same time. A little terrifying, too.
That was exactly why he’d spent his whole life avoiding relationships or anyone who got too close. But now, there was nowhere to run from these feelings that had hit him like a storm.
“Well, I’m the manager, and the pieces at my apartment were gifts. I can decide what happens to them." Anton said, voice low and husky, before leaning in to press his lips gently against Wonbin’s forehead. Their faces were close enough to make him hesitate to look up, but the other didn’t force it.
‘Right. He really seemed like the type of employee who wore the company colors with pride. His Kakao profile picture was literally a corner of the tailoring shop. No wonder the owners valued him so much. Nice car, nice place to live. He basically lived for his job.’ His subconscious summarized it all quickly and neatly.
However, Anton’s next words were impossible to ignore.
“And Hyung, there aren’t any other guys. You’re the only one I’ve ever brought into my home, so you’re also the only one who’ll get any gifts I want to give.” Wonbin’s eyes widened, his head snapping toward the man’s infuriatingly perfect face, one that looked at him with pure devotion.
That smile was so broad and captivating that his lips almost let out a dazed sigh. He had to hold it back with the willpower of a medieval knight.
“I know it’s still early, but… I want to make my intentions clear. Not like I’ve been hiding them, anyway. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken care of a certain grumpy, adorable drunk last night.” Anton’s entire face was red by the end of it, but his genuine happiness never faltered.
…
Fuck! His brain short-circuited.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop talking. You’re going to kill me with embarrassment… Why do you always have to act like this? I’ve never fallen in love before, and you’re not making it easy.” Wonbin buried his face in his hands, mumbling incoherently, even considering opening the car door and running away.
His harmless outburst made the other laugh loudly, catching his wrists gently to look into his eyes.
“Too soon?” It wasn’t a frustrated question. If anything, his tone was genuinely curious, concerned. He just shook his head once, and Anton understood perfectly, sealing his lips instead. “Alright, sorry for pushing you, mon chaton. Let’s just forget about that for now and go have lunch, huh?”
The mention of food reminded him where they were.
In the underground parking lot of the fucking Signiel Seoul Hotel, instead of some random corner restaurant.
“You’re paying for everything." Wonbin said, pointing at the younger man's broad chest without an ounce of remorse for the extortion.
He’d already spent more than planned: hospital expenses. And his father would kill him if he blew his allowance on such a pricey place, unlike the groceries for the apartment he shared with Shotaro. At least until he really started studying for the entrance exams, it was best not to make his father mad.
…
“I’m not poor, Hyung?” Anton chuckled and teased, only to panic when he saw him opening the car door, accidentally hitting his injured foot on the side.
“Careful.”
That made him even more irritated.
“Shut up.” Wonbin cursed, almost whining. He sat back down quickly, hands rushing to hold his right foot, cursing himself for forgetting. His face scrunched into an adorable grimace. “Why did you pick such an expensive place?”
“Because someone here has an ultra-restrictive diet that’s hard to accommodate.”
Oh.
The other didn’t let him get out alone, he walked around first to help him set his foot down and steady himself on the concrete.
Wonbin was speechless.
He hadn’t imagined Anton would take his diet so seriously. Not even his parents did, back when he was a teenager; his mother would sometimes insist on cooking his favorite foods and say he was too thin. But now, the younger man's religious adherence to it was just another accepted fact.
Since the day they met, he’d seemed capable of doing anything for him, like a true devotee. Wonbin could’ve called him a subject, and all he’d get in return was a smile and an eager nod.
It should’ve been a funny thought, not one that made his heart beat so wildly…
"Not sure if you knew, but there are other restaurants way cheaper than this one, with food that’s also on my diet." Wonbin teased deliberately, in his typical sharp yet harmless tone, making Anton raise an eyebrow as he sipped his water with enviable calm.
Actually, after the other had spent so much on him, he felt a sort of pseudo-debt…
"Well, I don’t know anything in Seoul and I’m paying, so you can eat whatever you want and stop complaining." The younger man shrugged, because by this point he was already used to his sharp tongue and didn’t even care. Still, an amused smile slowly grew on his lips. "Remind me not to let you drink again anytime soon. You get moody the next day, Hyung. It’s cute, at least. When else would you let me take care of you so willingly like today?"
…
The mere mention of his 'little drunk show' made him grimace instantly.
Yes, Wonbin knew he got far more unbearable than usual at times like that, and it only worsened with someone willing to provide everything he wanted.
Shotaro said he was like a truly skittish and spoiled cat, but now he had two new traits: possessive and greedy.
‘There’s no way I’m sharing Anton with anyone else, especially all the attention and care he gives me.’ Just the thought was enough to make him furious.
"Don’t ever remind me of last night again, or I’ll block your contact… And you’re always taking care of me. It’s not news." The fact that he’d admitted it himself without realizing it surprised both of them, and they stared at each other in shock, until Wonbin grabbed the menu from the table to escape the embarrassment. "I’ll order the most expensive food and bankrupt you."
A genuine, low laugh escaped the man on the other side of the table.
The place was relatively full, but the spacious high-ceilinged room lent an intimate air, not to mention the perfect panoramic view of bustling Seoul.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Anton shrugged again, relaxed. Money didn't seem to be an issue, since he had driven here himself. "I’d never take you somewhere I couldn’t afford."
Wonbin then examined the menu, full of fancy food names. His face scrunched in doubt before reaching the small part that mentioned the chef’s recommendation.
┏━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┓
STAY restaurant.
Chef’s Recommendation:
Starter: Langoustine ravioli flavored with tarragon, clear consommé;
Main Course: Vol-au-vent, seafood blanquette (Puff pastry with Korean abalones);
Dessert: Roasted whole fig with Neapolitan sfogliatella;
┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛
"Anton, I really hate you… What kind of place is this where you can’t understand a single word on the menu, not even what’s in Korean in parentheses?… What the hell is consommé?" His reaction was immediate as he lowered the menu, eyebrows furrowed.
"It’s a soup, Hyung. Which part are you reading?" The younger man asked calmly, in direct contrast to the mood he received, leaning forward to look at the part Wonbin had pointed out. "The chef’s recommendation? We can order that, if you want."
"I don’t know. I can’t understand anything on this menu." It didn’t take long for him to drop it with a huge pout on his red lips.
"Well, the starter has seafood. It’s protein and low in fat, so I don’t think it strays too much from your diet. And as for the rest, I don’t think it would cause much trouble." Anton stifled a laugh, as the older man frowned like a sulky child, explaining in a very affectionate tone.
"Then fine." It wasn’t as if Wonbin would argue about something he didn’t understand. Breaking his diet for a day, for the first time in a long while, didn’t seem so bad. After all, he had drunk last night anyway.
It was only after the other called the waiter and placed the orders that a delayed realization lit up over his head like a lamp.
"You speak French?…" He felt a little foolish for asking only now, given the obvious indicators from the past few days. His eyes blinked a few times at the super-relaxed figure in front of him.
"Yes, I’ve been living in France for about a year and a half." Oh… Anton laughed at how startled he seemed by the information.
"I thought you lived in the United States." That’s what the blind date sheet had said: ‘Korean-American.’
Wonbin realized that, as much as it didn’t seem so due to the closeness they’d developed in such a short time, they barely knew each other for real. There were countless important things to discover about one another.
…
It was strange to think they had only met a few weeks ago… and that everything had happened so quickly since then.
"I’m of mixed nationality. I was born in Korea, but my parents moved to the United States when I was a child. My younger brother is American. We lived there for a long time until we decided to move to England, which is where I attended university." Anton, in any case, seemed willing to explain his whole journey, sipping a bit of water before continuing. "Currently, everyone is in England, while I live alone in France. It’s not that far, so I often travel between the two places."
Wonbin was stunned. His mouth opened and closed until he absorbed everything he’d heard.
...Suddenly, he felt like he knew nothing about the man in front of him, unlike the other, who could read him with extreme ease.
"You must feel lonely… Maybe you should get a pet." Wonbin teased, a smirk playing on his lips. He was too needy to live in another country far from family or a friend like Shotaro. Yet at the same time, that explained Anton’s ultra-mature and independent demeanor.
Looking at him now, it made total sense that he liked living isolated and solitary. Still, he asked, finally wetting his lips with his untouched glass of water.
"Why did you move to France?"
"For work, mon chaton." Ah, indeed… For a moment, he forgot the foreign-sounding nickname. French, obviously. Anton smiled at him, but the mischievous glint in his eyes made Wonbin brace himself to hear some nonsense. "Well, I’ve been interested in a very sharp black cat lately. Maybe, if I try hard enough to earn its trust, I can take it home when I return."
…
As obvious as it was, it took several seconds for him to understand the flirtation, rolling his eyes in irritation, even if the suddenness of it made his ears flush automatically.
"Don’t start with this crap now." Wonbin complained loudly, until he realized they were in a restaurant too fancy for such exaggerated antics. "And that… nickname."
‘My kitten’… Unfortunately, he couldn’t say he hated it.
"So you looked up its meaning on Naver." Anton laughed, but his eyes immediately reflected curiosity. "And you? Have you ever left Korea?"
The first courses arrived, fragrant and beautifully presented enough to make his stomach almost growl. The polite waiter bowed and placed the food carefully before leaving with enviable discretion.
"Hm, what do you want to know about me?" Wonbin asked, though his attention was on tasting the langoustine and the ‘soup’. The explosion of flavor hit his palate instantly, making his eyes close for a moment and a satisfied noise escape.
‘Okay, maybe the restaurant wasn’t so bad after all, despite the poorly written menu.’ His mind concluded. There must be a proper way to eat fancy meals, but he ignored it entirely.
Most likely the same way Anton handled his own utensils and brought the food to his lips.
"There’s not much to know about me. My life hasn’t been as extraordinary as yours. But yes, I’ve left Korea twice. I visited Shotaro-hyung’s parents in Japan at the end of last year, and my family went to Thailand for vacation when I was a teenager." After diverting attention from the food, Wonbin wiped his mouth with the napkin, aware of the other’s gaze, intensely focused on every action. "I started practicing ballet in elementary school. My Harabeoji, my Appa, and my Hyung are police officers, and my Omma, as you already know, is a preschool teacher. Nothing very special."
"Well, it sounds special to me. You have a warm and caring family, like mine. And a loyal, caring friend who called last night." Anton concluded this easily, smiling. "So you’re the youngest in your family. I don’t know why I’m surprised, since it’s kind of obvious from your… spoiled nature. I like it more than I should, Hyung. You’re a total danger to my sanity."
It wasn’t a personal attack, yet Wonbin was annoyed by the audacity.
"And you’re as annoying as my Appa." No matter how spoiled he was, no one needed to go around pointing that out. He wrinkled his nose and returned his attention to the delicious food.
"After we leave here, I’ll take you home as I promised your friend last night." Anton said, though Wonbin was too irritated at being called spoiled to care.
"Fine. Whatever." Not a very mature response on his part.
XxX
Wonbin had a surprisingly good Saturday morning and early afternoon for someone who had drunk everything and more the night before. Of course, that was thanks to Anton, who seemed to be getting increasingly skilled at the art of pampering him, making him forget the sadness of having to give up ballet and helping him cope with his terrible hangover mood.
The rest of their lunch at the STAY restaurant, located on the top floor of the Signiel Seoul Hotel, went smoothly and deliciously. He had to admit that, although the place wasn’t exactly affordable, both the food and the discreet, elegant atmosphere were truly worth it.
It was a different kind of experience, just like their visit to the Leeum Museum. Something Wonbin would never have thought of doing on his own, even if he had the money to lunch there again. But he wouldn’t mind going back with Anton.
That realization startled him a little. It was as if, with each passing day, the mere urge to give in, a weakness he hated because of his pride, was growing stronger inside him.
More than that, he’d actually enjoyed both dates far more than he thought possible... He even wanted to relive them.
Once, his older brother had talked about the 'Whatever Syndrome' he’d developed after starting to date his now-wife, since he was always running around to meet her every demand.
(…) You just haven’t gone through the ‘Whatever Syndrome, as long as it’s with you’ phase yet.
It’s a canonical event in every man’s love life. (…)
Now he kind of understood what that meant, although, looking closer, Anton was the one who always gave in to everything he wanted.
…
Wonbin stared out at the scenery moving past the car window while letting his new favorite scent, amber, which clung to his clothes, the car, and the calm figure at the wheel, envelop him from head to toe.
The scent was everywhere, even in the other’s skincare and hair products. It was impressively good.
“I’m choosing the next place. I want to go shopping.” Still, a bit of petulance hit him for having been the one to give in twice already without realizing it. Anton laughed softly in return.
“As you wish, Hyung. We can do whatever you want next time. But... did you like that restaurant?” It didn’t take long for sudden insecurity to flicker across the younger man’s face as he stopped at a red light and glanced over at him, his lower lip caught between his teeth.
Cute.
Wonbin thought about teasing him but gave up almost immediately.
“Yes. Even though it felt a bit intimidating at first, because of the kind of people there, I think I can actually enjoy myself with you, even in those super fancy places. The food was great too.” He remembered that Anton had been trying out all kinds of things with him since they didn’t know each other very well yet, and that speaking up about his preferences was probably important. Then, his brow furrowed with his usual petulance. “Just let me choose next time. After all, you did say you’d obey my wishes like a royal subject.”
That last part was on purpose, just to make Anton stare at him in disbelief before bursting into laughter and rolling his eyes as he drove toward the apartment he shared with Shotaro.
“You’re such a little dictator… Tell me, what else can I do besides agree with everything you want?” He complained, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in his tone. His voice came out tired, soft.
‘Oh, this man should belong only to me.’ Wonbin wasn’t even surprised by such a thought anymore, a bright smile spreading across his lips.
“You like being bossed around by me and doing everything I say." He declared with childish triumph, because it was obvious. The way the younger man blushed only proved his point.
Anton was the one suffering from the ‘Whatever Syndrome’, not him.
“You’re a danger to humanity.” He neither confirmed nor denied it, and that only made Wonbin feel victorious. “And here we are.”
He finally recognized the street.
Their conversation had distracted him so much he hadn’t noticed they were already across from his apartment building.
However, he didn’t have time to think, because regret hit him the moment he lowered the car window and saw an overly enthusiastic figure on the sidewalk waving at him.
…
“I don’t believe this.” Wonbin slammed the window up, mortified, but it was too late to pretend nothing had happened.
Shotaro, grinning like the Joker, would not be scared off by mere willpower.
(…) If you don’t introduce us, the next time he’s here, I’ll just go talk to him myself, tell him to take good care of you. (…)
The memory struck him like lightning.
‘Shit… Would this be the most embarrassing moment of your entire life?...’ He almost told the man in the driver's seat to drive off right then and there.
“What’s wrong?” Anton asked, confused, since Wonbin only shrank into the passenger seat in response.
He didn’t even have time to warn him before Shotaro hurried across the street and knocked three times on his window.
“Hyung, for God’s sake, disappear right now.” Wonbin had planned to pretend he didn’t know who it was, but irritation won out. He quickly lowered the window again, exclaiming loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You were gone all night without a word, and you think I wouldn’t at least want to meet the person who took care of you this whole time?” His ears flushed red with the older man’s indignation, who tried to reach out and grab his cheeks. He only didn’t succeed because Wonbin pulled away. “How old are you, fifteen? Next time, warn your poor worried friend.”
…
“Shotaro?” Anton, however, seemed unfazed by their argument. His eyes lit up when he asked, excited.
That made the Japanese stop mid-lecture and put on an overly polite smile, completely opposite to the feral look from seconds before.
‘Ok, fine. You can survive this.’ His mind tried to reassure him while he sighed, exhausted.
“It’s Shotaro-hyung to you… He’s older, show some respect." Wonbin grumbled, only to get a flick to the forehead in return.
“Don’t treat my guest like that.” But as absurd as it sounded, he didn’t even get the chance to panic. His friend simply ignored him entirely and continued as if his presence didn’t matter much. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Anton. Let’s go in and have some coffee.”
Coffee?… Wonbin’s eyebrows furrowed deeper as the man beside him smiled charmingly before glancing at him and teasing,
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Shotaro-hyung. And as you can see, he flatters me far too much.”
…
Of course. A total idiot.
Wonbin would definitely grab those neatly styled dark strands of Anton’s hair and mess them up in every direction later, out of pure spite.