Chapter Text
Myungjun first met Bin on a rainy day, huddled in the back of a cafe.
He would have preferred it if a meeting with his one true love wasn't with Dongmin and Minhyuk by his side, but he supposed he couldn't have everything he wanted. As such, he was forced to be seated next to two extremely handsome men (causing heads to turn in the cafe – and Myungjun knew the other customers were not looking at him) as Bin hurried forward, tussling his damp hair and grinning widely at the other three.
“It's wet out there!” he announced. He sat across from Myungjun, and his smile turned wider as Myungjun stared at him. “Hey, you're Myungjun, right? Dongmin's told me a lot about you. You're opening up your own vet practice?”
Myungjun's mouth was dry. Bin's smile was sweet; it was toothy and it pushed up his cheeks and reached to his eyes. His happiness must have been contagious, because Myungjun had smiled shyly back.
“Yeah,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “S-So, um, you're Bin? Moon Bin?”
Bin nodded his head enthusiastically. “Have Minhyuk and Dongmin ever talked about me?”
“Sometimes,” Myungjun offered, because even if neither of the two ever discussed their elusive Binnie friend in depth, Myungjun had definitely heard his name before.
(He wondered why they never filled discussions with Bin's name. Myungjun just met him, and already he decided he could write a book about how amazing and perfect Bin was.)
“What do they say about me?” Bin asked, a devious grin now plastered onto his face. He leaned forward, as if prepared to hear some sort of highly important secret, which just gave Myungjun a chance to admire him up close.
He looked even more handsome up close; Myungjun usually assumed everyone (save for Lee Dongmin) looked ugly up close. He know he did, at least, and so he cleared his throat and leaned back into the seat, averting his gaze and praying that he didn't have dark circles under his eyes or a blush on his cheeks.
But he wasn't sure how to answer the question, anyway. He racked his brain for things that Dongmin or Minhyuk might have mentioned, and the only thing he could really remember was, “You're strong, I think. Minhyuk said that once.”
Bin laughed, a little high-pitched, a small squeal at the end as he leaned towards Minhyuk in order to shove him. “He's just as strong as I am! And Dongmin would be, too, if he ever bothered to work out with us.”
“I have my own schedule,” Dongmin complained.
(All Myungjun could take out of the conversation was that Bin worked out with Minhyuk, and Myungjun needed to find a way to do the same thing.)
“Your schedule is being boring, I guess,” Bin sighed. “And being boring involves not coming to work out with your best friend in the entire world. Or...” He glanced at Myungjun, then back again to Dongmin, “have you replaced me with your new boss?”
“I'm not going to have a battle over who my best friend is,” Dongmin responded, seeming exasperated. “We grew up together, Bin, so obviously I'm closest to you. It's just...Myungjun and I have gotten close, too, since he's been helping me out with this job and with...with a bunch of other stuff. Which he does in his spare time when you're off gallivanting with some guy.”
Bin laughed again, a light giggle this time, and Myungjun perked up in his seat.
“He's gay?” Myungjun asked out loud, causing Bin to laugh even harder.
“He's always been gay, he always will be gay.” Dongmin sipped at his tea and added, “But he's never been in a relationship.”
Bin rolled his eyes, leaning forward again to snatch a piece of Minhyuk's bagel. Minhyuk weakly slapped at his hand, but it didn't seem to deter Bin at all, whose gaze was hungry as he popped the small bite into his mouth. “Dongmin, see, he's the more conventional sort. He thinks life should revolve around love and adoration and relationships.”
“And...you don't?” Myungjun asked.
“Nope! I mean, maybe for other people it should. But I'm not-”
“Why are we discussing your personal business when we're trying to eat breakfast?” Dongmin asked, his nose scrunching up in disgust.
“You mentioned it,” was Bin's haughty retort, and he then stole Dongmin's tea, taking a few sips from it before smacking his lips in appreciation. “Anyway, Myungjun, it's really nice to finally meet you! Dongmin likes to talk about you – I think he's very grateful you gave him a job. He always says you're this short, loud-mouth that likes to be bossy.”
Myungjun shot a glare in Dongmin's direction; Dongmin pretended to not notice.
“But I don't think you're much shorter than Minhyuk, are you?” Minhyuk gave a noise in displeasure as a reaction to Bin's words. “And you don't seem like the bossy sort.”
“Because I'm not.”
“No, he is, Binnie,” Dongmin assured. “You just haven't gotten the chance to know him.”
“Dongmin, who offered you a job in my new vet clinic?” Myungjun's words were kind, but a thin veil of an underlying threat hung right over their heads. It caused Bin to smile widely, and it caused Dongmin to duck his head and clear his throat.
“It, um, it was you, Hyung.”
He had never minded showcasing his power over Dongmin, if only for the jokes and laughter, but he actually enjoyed it for that time upon hearing Bin clap for him. It was just three quick claps and a thumbs-up, but even that made Myungjun's heart race.
“Way to put him in his place, Myungjun! Dongmin, I really like your friend. Where did you find him? Can we share? Myungjun, do you mind being my best friend, as well?”
Myungjun didn't mind, and he shook his head in enthusiasm, his eyes wide as he stared upon Bin.
“Then it's settled, Dongmin! I'm stealing Myungjun from you. Now he's my new best friend.”
“He can have more than one best friend, right, Myungjun?”
It was difficult to speak much when Bin had suddenly declared the two of them to be best friends. Bin did so on his own free will – Bin, who Myungjun found ridiculously attractive and sweet and handsome. Myungjun was now friends with Bin, after only having known him for a few minutes.
He was so lost in his own happiness that he didn't even notice Dongmin staring at him in confusion. “Myungjun? You can answer me, you know.”
“Oh!” Myungjun swallowed thickly, and he heard Minhyuk snort. “Um, yeah, I have a lot of best friends, so Bin is just another one, uh, another one added into my list of friends!”
If he placed Bin on too high of a pedestal, everyone would notice. If he acted as if Bin was special, everyone would catch on.
Minhyuk appeared to have already caught on, a knowing glance sent towards Myungjun as the older boy had stumbled over his words. But Minhyuk was quiet and kept things to himself, so Myungjun wasn't too concerned. It was Dongmin he worried about, because Dongmin, despite keeping secrets well, was about as subtle as an elephant in a kitchen. Not only that, but Dongmin was prone to panicking and blurting things out when he wasn't quite sure what else to say. Myungjun had many a secret spilled simply because Dongmin grew too nervous to say anything else.
“Yeah, but your other best friends look like losers,” Bin stated, gesturing over towards Dongmin. “I mean, have you seen him?”
“What?” Myungjun laughed loudly and shoved Dongmin's shoulder. The boy looked affronted, which Myungjun took great delight in. His favorite activity, after all, was getting under Dongmin's skin. If Bin's favorite activity happened to be the same thing, Myungjun knew they would get along in the coming years. “Dongmin looks pretty when he bothers to sleep more than three hours a night. Otherwise, he has bags the size of Seoul underneath his eyes.”
Bin leaned in close, examining Dongmin's face, ignoring the exasperated sigh. “Looks like today was a three-hour-sleep night, Myungjun.”
“Does it? Ooh, you're right. Dongmin, you look like a loser today.”
“Yeah!” Bin giggled. “You look so awful sitting next to Myungjun! Look at him, he's shining!”
Myungjun's heart skipped a beat. It was so cliched, too, to get all worked up over such a simple phrase, especially something that Bin didn't even mean for Myungjun to take romantically. Still, it wasn't too often that he ever heard someone as beautiful as Bin proclaim that he was shining. Such a casual compliment, and yet it had Myungjun trying to reign in his blush.
“You can't really compare the two,” Minhyuk suddenly blurted in, breaking his silence. All eyes turned to him, and he smiled politely. “Dongmin and Myungjun, I mean. There's not much of a comparison, is there? One is obviously far better looking than the other.”
“Minhyuk-” Dongmin started, but Bin cut him off.
“It's Myungjun, isn't it?” he teased.
Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked. “You really think Myungjun looks better than Dongmin?”
“Why is that such a hard thing to believe, Minhyuk?” Myungjun snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in mock anguish. “I see myself in the mirror each day! I think I look damn fine!”
“But compared to Dongmin, does anyone look fine?”
Minhyuk had a point there, but Myungjun scoffed anyway, then gestured over to Bin. “He does!”
Minhyuk was a devious little bastard. The moment Myungjun accidentally said those two words, Minhyuk smirked and returned to his drink. “Fair point,” the boy murmured. Myungjun needed to kill him later.
Dongmin, catching on, blinked in confusion. “You think Bin looks fine? You don't think anyone looks fine.”
“Oh, come on, Dongmin.” Myungjun needed to catch himself, to save his own ass, before Dongmin managed to uncover the secret. “I think you look fine. And...and that new bartender looked fine! Until he spilled my drink all over me, that is. And Bin looks fine, too. I mean, probably not as fine as you, but, um, like Minhyuk was getting at, no one is more fine than you.”
“Except for Myungjun,” Bin interjected once more, laughing at the spectacle unfolding before him, at the boys arguing over who looked the best. “You can't deny it, he does look the best out of the four of us!”
Myungjun wasn't quite sure what he did to enjoy such praise from Bin. He knew he didn't look any better than Dongmin did. It was quite impossible to look better than Dongmin. And yet, Bin sat there, praising Myungjun's every move.
Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe Bin was being sarcastic. In which case, he was funny, and he still managed to make Myungjun's heart race more than any guy ever had before.
Myungjun had to remind himself to calm down, to stop crushing on Dongmin's best friend, that it would never work out, and that even if it managed to work out, he would much rather have a soft, steady friendship before any romantic feelings came out of it. But he still couldn't stop staring at him as the conversation moved onto his career, and he still couldn't stop those feelings from pushing against the prison of his heart.
************************
Running a business was harder than Myungjun assumed it would be. He thought he was prepared for whatever economic downfalls might come his way, but as he crunched numbers and budgeted his bank account, he realized that there would be no way he could continue to pay his rent. The thought terrified him, and he tried looking into cheaper housing options.
“The thing is,” he explained to Dongmin as they closed up the vet practice after yet another uneventful day, “I'm already living in the cheapest place around. Even the places farther away are too expensive for myself.”
Dongmin turned off the lights, scanning the lobby one last time before he was satisfied. “Why don't you get a roommate?” he suggested.
Myungjun scoffed, stepping outside and locking the door behind both himself and Dongmin. “Do you know how shady people are?” he asked. “If I put out that I'm hunting for a roommate, I might have a murderer come into my room one night and just stab me in the chest. People online are weird as hell, Minnie. I'm not going to risk it.”
He lingered on the sidewalk; he and Dongmin lived in separate directions, and as nice as it would be to have someone to walk home with, he couldn't really justify walking an extra mile just to drop Dongmin off at his place.
“You wouldn't have to find someone online,” Dongmin said. “I could ask Minhyuk and Sanha and see if they have any friends who might be looking for a roommate.”
“I doubt they would. And, besides, even if they did, it would have to be someone who would be alright with moving into my place. I'm not going to move away, not when I already put up all my decorations.”
“I want to believe posters with those UFOs don't really count as decoration, Myungjun.”
“I only have three. You're making it sound as if those posters are my only form of decoration.”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot about the one of the astronaut cat.”
Myungjun scowled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fine, then. Mock me all you want. It's more homely than your boring place ever will be.”
He had assumed the roommate conversation would end there. Besides that, he wasn't sure if he would want to share an apartment space with any friends that stemmed from Sanha or Minhyuk. He didn't know them, and he automatically didn't trust strangers. However, a week later, Dongmin greeted him as he arrived for work, then said, “Are you still looking for a roommate, Myungjun?”
“Yeah. It's tiresome. I'm browsing the Internet, but I'm pretty sure half the people I saw are serial killers. Or, at least, messy college kids.”
Dongmin seemed nonchalant, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, um, Bin is looking for a place to stay.”
Myungjun could have sworn he heard that wrong. He could have sworn that he heard Bin's name spoken, and he could have sworn that it was in regards to roommates and moving in. He spun around from his position, letting his coat drop to the floor instead of the coat rack he had been at. “Wait, what?”
Dongmin blinked. “Bin,” he repeated, “needs a spot.” He seemed to recognize that Myungjun wasn't going to respond, because he expanded on his original sentence. “Bin was living with a roommate, but his roommate is moving away, and Bin can't afford the spot on his own. He just told me last night he was looking for a new place to move into with someone else, and I told him that you two would be a perfect math.
“Y-Y-You told him we'd be a perfect match?” Myungjun squeaked out, and he covered his mouth with his hands in order to ward off any other unnecessary sounds. As it was, he didn't blame Dongmin in the slightest for looking so confused.
“Well, I think you two would be, anyway. You got along well enough when we met up, and I know that was your only time meeting him, but – come on, he's close enough to me that you should trust him, right?”
Myungjun definitely trusted Bin. He would trust Bin even without Dongmin's assurance of Bin's upstanding character. And, honestly, it would be a dream come true to sleep in the same house as Bin. He wanted to get closer, to maybe strike up a deep friendship that could possibly turn into a soft romance. He wanted to sit on the couch and watch television with Bin, feet tangled together, arms wrapped around each others' bodies. He wanted to go on cute dates and win fun stuffed animals at carnivals. He wanted to share food and drinks and kisses.
But for now, he needed to focus on the roommate aspect of it all. He needed to open his home to Bins' arrival and to make life comfortable for him. He needed to prove his worth, show that he was more than capable of being a great roommate and a fantastic friend and an affectionate lover.
Dongmin, still looking at him with interest, coughed once, and Myungjun glanced up, brutally torn from his thoughts and plans. “Should...should I tell him you're interested?”
Myungjun nodded his head in enthusiasm. “Very interested,” he admitted. “Tell him I'm, um, I'm very interested. Maybe we can schedule a day for him to come by and check the place out? I should, uh...get his number, right? Can you give me his number? I'd love to have it – for roommate purposes, really, that's all, Dongmin.”
Once again, he couldn't blame Dongmin's suspicion as he passed over a sheet of paper with Bin's number written out. It wasn't often that Myungjun lost his cool over a guy, and Dongmin had yet to see Myungjun flustered because of someone. He just hoped that Dongmin's inability to gauge emotions would save him from his inner secrets being spilled.
More important, though, was setting things into motion with himself and Bin. Myungjun would only focus his efforts on that for the time being; Dongmin and his curiosity could wait.
************************
+82-5-345-XXXX
hello bin! this is myungjun, dongmin's boss.
Moon Bin
the one from the cafe!! hi! how are you. dongmin told me you are looking for a roomate, and i am interested
+82-5-345-XXXX
im interested too
in being your roommate!!!!\ (•◡•) /
can we meet up? i need to make sure you are roommate material
Moon Bin
and what is roommte materiaal?
because i am probably your type
+82-5-345-XXXX
yes
my roommate type yeah
my type of roommate is someone who wont kill me
Moon Bin
then i am the man for you
+82-5-345-XXXX
yes
i know you are
************************
They ended up in Myungjun's apartment. Bin wanted the chance to look around and to see exactly what it was like, and Myungjun certainly wasn't going to pass up a chance to have a cute guy over at his place. He cleaned the two bedrooms and scrubbed all of the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom, and he puffed out with pride when Bin commented, “This place is really nice, Myungjun! Would the first bedroom down the hall be mine?”
“Yeah.” Myungjun nodded his head and gestured over to where Bin was referring to. “I have the master bedroom. You'll have to fight me to the death for that.” He picked two cans of beer from his fridge and passed one over to Bin.
(He was a little upset that Bin somehow managed to take the offered drink without their fingers brushing up against each other – he had always read about touches and electric shocks in his stupid romance novels, and he had seen it portrayed on television quite often, but he had never really experienced it himself, not with any of the short-term relationships he had been stuck in. He wanted to see if Bin was different.)
Bin sipped at the beer and then smacked his lips in appreciation. “I think I might be able to take you on,” he said. “You're definitely not an intimidating soul.”
“Really? Ask Dongmin – he's taller, and he still wouldn't want to be stuck in a duel with me.”
“I can see his point. Smaller means quicker, and you also seem to have a good brain. You might win.” Still, Bin was grinning, and he quickly flexed his arm muscles. Myungjun liked the view; he tried not to look too pleased by Bin's biceps. “But I don't think you can go up against these guns, Myungjun.”
Myungjun scoffed, taking a seat at his small table that was positioned in between the kitchen and the living room. He pulled out the chair beside him and gave it a pat, waiting until Bin was sitting as well to keep talking. “I have my own muscles, Bin. It's not like I need to show off, either. They're hidden, but if it comes down to a fight, trust me, I'll definitely be a match for you.”
He liked seeing Bin laugh, he decided. The boy's eyes twinkled when he found something funny and his lips curled up to reveal his teeth. He had a high-pitched giggle and he jumped slightly in his seat when he found something exceptionally brilliant, and Myungjun found it all adorable and precious. His heart hammered in his chest, watching as Bin found his words so delightful, so hilarious, and wondered if there was a chance they could always be like this. He wanted to be the reason Bin smiled.
He was falling way too hard for someone he was only meeting for the second time.
“We'll have to see,” Bin finally said, holding his beer up to Myungjun as some sort of toast. “When I move in with you, we'll have to get in a fight and see who wins.”
Myungjun blinked. “When you move in?” he repeated.
Bin seemed to understand where the mistake was in his words, and he quickly backtracked, stammering out, “I-I mean, if I move in. I mean, I like it. I love it, honestly, it's a nice place and you're a nice person, and I don't think I'd mind living here at all, but that's only if you mind it. Because, in the end, it's your decision.”
All was quiet for a second. Myungjun was trying to process exactly what it was that Bin was saying. Bin liked him? Or, at least, Bin liked him enough to want to move in together, after just a few hours of knowing each other properly. It was the sort of trust that Myungjun expected from maybe Sanha, who was young and stupid and liked everyone who held similar interests. It wasn't what he expected from a grown man.
“Myungjun?” Bin's voice, soft and inquisitive, broke Myungjun out of his thoughts. He glanced up rapidly, locking his gaze with Bin.
“Huh?”
“If you don't want me to move in, you can just say it. We can still remain friends. I won't hold it against you. I mean, a dashing, good-looking man as myself? I can compete with your good looks. You've never had that before, have you? How will you ever get dates if I'm with you? All eyes will turn on me, won't they?” Bin giggled again and leaned forward, setting his beer can on the table. “You can use that excuse if you want to turn me down.”
Turn me down. It sounded like a rejection for some sort of date, and Myungjun would never reject Bin, not for any reason. He wouldn't reject Bin's date, and he wouldn't reject having Bin move in with him.
“You have a job, right?” he questioned. “The dance studio?”
Bin looked excited, and he nodded his head in enthusiasm. “Yeah! My parents opened it, but I mostly run it now. We have a new kid class starting up in the fall – I might have to get Minhyuk to help out with that. He sucks at teaching kids, but he's the best tap dancer I know.” He noticed Myungjun smirking, and he added, “I mean, if you're asking about my career because of rent, then I can pay rent on time every single month. We make enough money at the studio for me to split rent with someone.”
“Lucky you.” Myungjun snorted and rest his elbows on the table, letting his chin dip into the palm of his hand. “The vet practice hasn't brought in much money so far.”
“You just have to get your name out there!” Bin assured him. “Maybe we can hang up some fliers at my dance studio, and other places around town. I think if we plaster your face on them, people will be more likely to come. Wow, a hot vet! they'll say.”
Myungjun tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but based on the pleased look on Bin's face, his friend caught it, anyway. “We'd get better results if we put Dongmin's face up there.”
“Dongmin? Gross.” Bin stuck out his tongue. “I think you're the true model, Myungjun.”
“You're just trying to make me agree to you being my roommate, aren't you?”
“Not really, but if that's a side effect, I probably won't complain.”
Myungjun smirked. “We'll have to make you a key, then.”
************************
It didn't take very long for Bin to move all of his belongings into Myungjun's apartment. He didn't seem to have that much, anyway. Myungjun was shocked as to how someone could live with so little personal trinkets.
“No action figures, or plushies, or accessories for your clothes,” he said, appalled, as he rifled through the boxes Bin had lugged upstairs. “Just boring, monochrome shirts and workout shit and – oh my god, Bin, is this a box of manga?”
Bin didn't seem perturbed by Myungjun's shock. If anything, he looked proud of his collection of weird comic books and graphic novels. “These are brilliant manga, Myungjun. You should read some of them.”
“You don't have those porn ones in here, do you?”
“It's hentai. Why, do you like that sort of thing?”
Myungjun slapped him, but Bin just chuckled and resumed setting up his bedroom.
“We really have to take you shopping, Bin,” Myungjun mumbled, giving a loud sigh as he hung up some of Bin's nicer pants. “I mean, look – your entire closet is just neutral colors.”
Bin glanced over and shrugged. “I don't know why you have such a gripe with neutral-colored clothing. It goes well with anything, and for any occasion. I mean, just think – I could probably wear something like that shirt and some gray jeans out to eat with friends earlier in the day, and I could also wear it maybe to a nice recital at the studio in the evening. What's that called, when something doubles in usefulness?”
“Duality,” Myungjun offered, and then he continued, “but when all of your clothes can double as casual and formal wear, you're doing something wrong. You don't even have a nice suit. I mean, at most, this would be semi-formal wear. And, at most, people would regard you as mysterious.”
“Maybe that's the plan. I'm an enigma.”
“You're boring. You need a pop of color every so often.” Myungjun snapped his fingers and gave Bin's arm a pat. “Wait right here, alright? We're going to test it.”
He left Bin alone for a second, the younger looking very confused at Myungjun's sudden change of attitude, as Myungjun scurried back into his own room. While Bin had just moved in, and while they probably weren't the best of friends just yet, Myungjun felt as if they knew each other well enough for him to make clothing decisions for Bin. Besides that, sometimes he had to offer his expertise even when it wasn't asked.
He rifled through his closet before giving a small, “There we are!” and pulling a pale green sweater from his own stash of colorful shirts. It was soft, pretty, and expensive – all things that might help draw Bin into the appeal.
“Here!” he exclaimed when he rushed back into the room. He showcased his sweater, holding it up cheerfully, and said, “Try this on. We can put one of these gray jackets on over it, and you can just stay in your black pants because this will look nice with basically anything.”
“It's summer, though,” Bin moaned, but he still accepted the sweater from Myungjun, though he looked far less enthused. “And your air conditioning isn't on.”
“It's literally for a minute or two, Bin. Stop complaining.” Myungjun grinned widely and gestured at the article of clothing. “Go! Put it on!”
Once more, Bin pouted. “Is this yours?”
“Obviously. Why else would I have a random sweater in my bedroom?”
“Then do you know how small it might be? You're a tiny guy, Myungjun.”
Myungjun glowered. “I'm only short compared to you.”
“Me and everyone else in the world.”
“You're trying my patience. Look, I bought it online but it came in the wrong size, okay? Too big. And they don't accept returns, so I just kept it in my closet in hopes I might one day come close to fitting it.”
Bin ran his hands over a sleeve of the sweater, muttering, “You have unrealistic hopes, Myungjun.”
“If you don't try this on, I will ban manga from our household.”
His threat seemed to have work, though not without Bin damning him to hell. And before Myungjun could move from his spot, Bin suddenly tore off the shirt he was wearing, pulling it straight over his head with little regard as to the company he was with.
Myungjun's eyes widened, and he stammered out a small, “I-I-I meant...maybe in...the bathroom, um-”
Bin shrugged his shoulders. “We're roommates now. We'll probably see stuff we won't want to, so might as well get started. Besides, I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't want to see this.” Bin ran his fingers down his chest and gave a playful moan. “God, Myungjun, I'm so sexy! Everyone wants a piece of this!”
Typically, whenever Bin acted like a complete idiot, Myungjun liked to mock him. Usually, whenever Bin acted like a complete idiot, Myungjun was there to knock him back to Earth in the form of well-timed remarks and sarcastic comments. However, when Bin looked over, Myungjun couldn't hide his alarmed expression. He couldn't hide his open staring or his open mouth or his flushed cheeks. He scanned Bin's body once, maybe twice, appreciating all the sharp edges, the muscles in his forearms and up to his shoulders, the six-pack he most definitely kept up with. His gaze trailed over Bin's chest and then dipped down to his belly-button. His pants were slack on his waist, underwear barely peeking out, a thin line of hair that trailed downwards visible only slightly, maybe if Myungjun squinted – which he definitely was not doing.
Bin put on the sweater far too soon, and Myungjun blinked, refocusing his eyes onto Bin's face.
Bin didn't seem really perturbed by the staring. In fact, he barely seemed to notice, only mentioning, “I sleep with my shirt off more often than not, so it's something you'd better get used to, Myungjun. I know you probably don't have a god in your presence so often.”
“No,” Myungjun squeaked out. Bin glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, and Myungjun cleared his throat. “Something, um...got caught. In my throat. Sorry.”
“I hope you're not getting sick. Hang in there, Myungjun!” Bin gave him a fist, the typical fighting pose, and a wide grin to accompany it. Myungjun had to blink a few times and fan his heated face once Bin turned around to find a gray jacket.
With the entire outfit ensemble complete, Myungjun was finally able to get a good look at Bin, to see what he was like wearing something of color, something that popped. Bin didn't look too impressed, only muttering, “It's different, Myungjun. I look like I'm trying to make a statement. I look like some sort of fashion guru.”
Myungjun cleared his throat, still struggling to find his voice. He didn't want to seem like an idiot; he didn't want to seem flustered, god forbid, from seeing his brand new roommate without a shirt. He was a strong man, a few years older and more mature, and he wouldn't let something this simple make him such a nervous wreck all of a sudden.
“You look...good, though. I mean, it fits. You look good wearing my...wearing a green sweater. Wearing any color, probably, but green really, um...it fits, Bin.”
“You think?” Bin clicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth and smoothed out his sweater. “Whatever. Maybe in the fall, I'll wear this again. Mind if I keep the sweater? Since it's too big on you, anyway.” Bin giggled and took the gray jacket off. “It's not like you'll miss it. It still has the tags and everything.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you can keep it,” Myungjun assured, nodding his head. “Here, take it off a-and give it to me, and I can hang it up for you.”
“Sure!” Bin did as requested; Myungjun only allowed himself a sliver of a second to glance over Bin's toned body before turning around and hanging the sweater up, taking his time to straighten out all of the clothing near it so he wouldn't make the mistake of ogling at Bin's naked chest anymore. “I hope it's not weird to you that your roommate will be wearing your shirt in the fall.”
Myungjun shook his head, and he was glad he was turned around so Bin couldn't see him smile. “No. No, not weird at all.”
He liked his roommate wearing his shirt.
************************
Bin's advertising idea had worked brilliantly. Myungjun placed fliers out in as many places as he knew. He advertised his vet practice as much as he could, contacting local news and media, even, to report on a new practice that opened up. It seemed to do the trick, and soon enough, Myungjun had a steady influx of clients that kept his business running.
“I suppose you have me to thank,” Bin mentioned to him once as they sat in the back room eating lunch together. “After all, without my advertising idea, I don't think anyone would have ever come.”
“You're far too vain, Binnie,” Myungjun snapped, biting into his sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully for a bit, adding, “The advertisements helped, but also making Dongmin my receptionist was the best idea possible. And putting his desk up front, right near those big windows, so that way people can see him as they walk by and think, Wow, I need to take my pet here where this super hot guy works!
Bin shook his head and wagged a finger. “No, no, it's not Dongmin. He's just the receptionist.”
“And do you know how long they all spend staring at him? I think I have, like, ninety more female clients than I do male clients.”
“And I bet all of those girls are coming here for you.” Bin grinned and he reached out to poke Myungjun's nose.
Myungjun tried not to blush, but it was difficult when Bin made any sort of contact with him. Even now, even though they were clearly friends, even though half their movie nights ended with them cuddling together for warmth, Myungjun still couldn't cease the light beating of his heart whenever Bin was in close proximity to him.
“Trust me, they're here for Dongmin,” Myungjun responded. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Little good it'll do them. All he does these days is stare out at the window, you know? He just stares and stares at that stupid billboard.”
“Oh! The one with the hot guy modeling underwear?”
Myungjun gave him a scowl. “He isn't hot,” he reported. “I've seen him. He looks like every normal guy in this world.”
“He has a nice body. You can't really deny that.”
“So do I!”
Bin snorted, and he had to lean even further to poke Myungjun's nose again. “Dream on, Junnie. You're too soft and squishy to model underwear.”
Myungjun rolled his eyes, tossing the crust on his sandwich away in the trash and mumbling, “You called me hot five minutes ago, and now you change your mind since I don't have abs.”
“I never said you weren't hot. You're just not exactly what a model would look like!”
“Oh, really? Do tell, then, Binnie, what the hell should a model look like?”
Bin thought for a second; based on his amused expression, he was obviously enjoying making Myungjun miserable and leading him on in such a manner. “Well,” he started, “maybe someone with some defined muscles in their arms. Maybe someone with a more toned stomach, some abs to show he works out. Someone who can deliver a good sultry expression, someone who makes both women and men weak at the knees. Someone-”
“Like you?” Myungjun blurted out.
He hadn't meant to say such a thing. The words had spilled out before he could stop them, and he only caught Bin's wide eyes for a second before he stood from his chair and began tossing the rest of the food away. “I just – I mean, you told me you could be a model, and-and it sounded like you were describing yourself, because you're just a vain asshole, so it made sense that you were trying to talk about yourself, and- god, Bin, you should leave. Stop forcing Minhyuk to cover for you at the studio. I can buy my own damn lunch.”
Bin stood from his seat and cocked his head. “You're the one who called me and asked if I wanted to come eat with you,” he pointed out. “Like you always do.”
Myungjun grit his teeth down and began to push Bin to the door. “And now I'm busy. Thanks for the food, Binnie, but it's time for you to leave.”
“Alright, fine.” Bin scoffed and maneuvered away from Myungjun's hands. “I'm going, you little demon.”
“Tell Dongmin to come inside on your way out. Tell him to stop getting off to the sight of Mister Underwear Model.”
“I'll do that.” Bin nodded his head, but before he left, he spun around and grinned. “Just for the record, I could totally be a model.”
“In your dreams, you ass.”
“I'll do some underwear modeling when we get home. You make your decision only after you see that, alright?” He laughed at the thought, clearly joking, and saluted once to Myungjun before sauntering out of the back office.
And Myungjun sat back down, enthralled with the idea of Bin modeling underwear for him, slapping at his own cheeks and trying to calm his own breathing.
Dongmin was right- he had a huge, stupid crush on Bin.
************************
Myungjun wanted to kill Lee Dongmin.
As tipsy and possibly drunk as he was, as difficult as it was to even sit up straight, Myungjun knew he wanted to kill Lee Dongmin.
He wasn't quite sure why. He didn't really remember what it was Dongmin had done. He tried to think, to recall the events that had taken place just an hour previously, but everything seemed rather muddled together. It was an outing with him, and with Dongmin, and then suddenly he remembered Jinwoo and Bin. Had he called them? Had Dongmin called them? Did they normally come to these sorts of outings?
Myungjun stumbled in his steps, and a hand came to steady him.
The hand was warm and strong. It wrapped around his arm securely before suddenly being released, lingering slightly for a minute.
“Myungjun,” a small voice spoke, unsure and nervous. Myungjun recognized it, and he glanced beside him. “Myungjun, you, um, you drank a lot.”
His eyes were unfocused, but even he knew who it was. Even in his drunken state, Myungjun was aware that it was Bin walking alongside him, making sure he didn't fall, monitoring his every move.
Bin was so sweet. Bin was so hot. Bin was absolutely perfect, and Myungjun sighed loudly.
He had tear streaks on his cheeks. He wasn't sure why. He didn't quite remember, but he wiped at them anyway and hiccuped. “Binnniieee,” he whined, and he leaned into the younger boy.
Bin must have been cold, because he stiffened as soon as Myungjun touched him.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “you should try to stand up by yourself.”
“I can't,” Myungjun responded, and he wrapped his arms around Bin's waist. Bin tried to ply his fingers away one by one, but Myungjun wasn't having that. “Bin, I might-I might be sick. Binnie, please-”
“Turn away, then, and puke in the grass,” Bin ordered.
Myungjun tried that, but as he let go and as he spun, he felt he knees shake, and before he knew it, he had fallen to the ground. It hurt a little bit, he thought; his hand was scratched up and he could see blood on it, but he laughed anyway, loudly, and splayed his limbs out across the sidewalk. He closed his eyes, feeling that the world was too dizzy right then and there for him to look at, and instead focused on breathing properly. “I haven't had anything to drink,” he assured Bin.
“Bullshit.”
“I haven't had more than Dongmin.”
“Also bullshit.”
Myungjun moaned and rolled over, curling up in the fetal position. “My stomach hurts,” he murmured, “And...and my stomach hurts. Bin, it hurts.”
“Because you drank too much. Get up, Myungjun. I want to go home.”
Myungjun didn't move for a second, though. He had to think things through. He wasn't sure where they were, but it appeared they were heading home. He remember Dongmin ordering drinks for them. He remembered Jinwoo inexplicably showing up. Maybe he had called Jinwoo. Dongmin had a crush on him, after all. Myungjun picked his head up and wiped off drool from his chin. “Binnie, Binnie, Binnie,” he called.
“I'm here.” Bin sounded exasperated; Myungjun couldn't really tell, though.
“If-if Dongmin is drunk, and if Jinwoo is drunk, then they might fuck.” He rolled over again, then pushed himself up to his knees, swaying gently where he sat. “Binnie, are they going to have sex? Will they fall in love?”
Bin cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at Myungjun. “Jinwoo is straight,” he said. “And...and I'm not interested, Myungjun. I can't – I don't think I can do it.” He bent down, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground, but now, at least, he was on Myungjun's level.
(Now, at least, Myungjun didn't need to keep craning his head to stare up at him.)
“Can't do what?” Myungjun asked, trying to keep his eyes focused properly on Bin. Bin was cute. Bin was hot. Myungjun loved Bin so much, he decided, and he reached a hand out, sloppily patting Bin's cheek. “What is it, Binnie?”
Bin sighed. “You're so fucking drunk,” he mumbled. “How much of this will you remember tomorrow?”
Myungjun just giggled and let his hand drop to his lap. “I'm going to remember all of it!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “Everything! I should drink more! Binnie, let's go home and drink more!”
Bin didn't look as enthused as he should have. In fact, despite being drunk, Myungjun couldn't remember Bin ever looking so disappointed and upset with him. It was a strange expression to see on Bin's face, and Myungjun cocked his head in confusion. “Binnie?” he whispered, “What's wrong?”
“It's...” Bin blinked. “Myungjun, you confessed to me. You...told me you like me.”
“Ohh.” Myungjun didn't remember that, but Bin never lied. It must be true. Myungjun grinned and nodded his head. “Yeah, I like you!” he confirmed. “I like you all the time! I like you with all my heart! I like to stare at you without a-a shirt on, and I like to stare at you when you curl up on me on the couch, and when you cook for me, and when you look at me, it's all my favorite parts of you, and I think I like you more than anything!” He gasped suddenly, an idea brewing in his brain, and then he tugged on Bin's sleeve. “We could kiss!” he exclaimed. “Sometimes, kisses help us decide! Let's decide, Binnie!”
Bin pulled back from him, now sitting on the sidewalk as well. The street was empty and it wasn't lit very well. Myungjun liked to admire the shadows on Bin's brooding face. Myungjun decided Bin looked sexy when he was so serious.
“You know I never get in relationships,” Bin mumbled, playing with his fingers. “Ever.”
“You...you kiss all the guys you bring home,” Myungjun accused. He was confused now; Bin usually came home drunk at least once a week with some guy attached to his lips. Sometimes Myungjun would be in the living room, finishing up reports or trying to budget out expenses for his business, and two men would stumble into the apartment, hands running up and down each others bodies, guttural moans loud and prominent. Sometimes, Bin would meet Myungjun's eye and giggle to his partner, loudly whispering, “My roommate is here, we'll have to do it in my bedroom.”
Myungjun would still hear them. Drunk people were loud.
He would cry himself to sleep on those nights. He would imagine he was someone who could be in bed with Bin, both sexually and romantically. He would imagine that it was him Bin would come home with, and it was him that Bin would stay with.
In the mornings, Myungjun would make himself coffee, and Bin's one-night stand would creep out of the apartment, bowing quickly to Myungjun with a red face.
Bin would appear shortly later; sometimes he had on a shirt, and sometimes he didn't. While Myungjun appreciated the sight of a shirtless Bin, he always felt a lurch in his stomach when he noticed hickeys lining Bin's collarbones and bruises high up on his arms where fingers had dug in harshly.
Jealousy always reared its ugly head. Myungjun tried not to speak to Bin much on those days.
And now, sitting here as drunk as could be, Myungjun could remember all that. Nothing else made sense to him, but images flashed in his mind of all of Bin's partners, the ones that came and go, the ones whose names Bin might not even be aware of.
“Why?” Myungjun asked, suddenly growing somber. “Why them? Why...why not me?” He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “I'm not really good-looking,” he admitted, and finally Bin glanced up at him. “I know y-you say I am, but I also know it's all a joke.”
“Myungjun...”
“I-I always agree that I'm better looking than Dongmin, but y-you know I'm joking, too, right?” Now Myungjun looked down, feeling his eyes turn watery. “And...and no one really thinks I-I'm a good fit for anyone. I'm short. I'm ugly. I'm stupid.”
“That's-”
“But sometimes I th-think we'd be good. Y-You're better at me than everything, Binnie! You're tall an-and you work out and you're handsome and smart and talented. I wouldn't drag you down, I promise. I-I'd try better. Plastic surgery works, right?” Myungjun felt tears drip from his eyes and splatter onto his pants. “I-I'd spend all my money to look good for you, Bin! I promise! I won't make you ashamed if you date me!”
He sobbed to himself, wrapping his arms around his sick stomach, and gasped out, “I-I just want you to love me like I love you!”
He thought he would have to be alone, to suffer through his heartache by himself, but Bin suddenly pulled him forward, embracing Myungjun in his warmth and rubbing a hand up and down his back. “Sometimes,” Bin whispered, “I think we'd be good, too.”
“Wha-What?” Myungjun couldn't believe he had just heard that correctly. He tried to pull back, but Bin held him still.
“Just stay here, Myungjun. For a second, okay, just let me hold onto you.” Bin sighed and rested his head down on Myungjun's shoulder, his breath hot on Myungjun's neck. “I used to have a few serious relationships. They lasted a few months. But they all ended, and they ended badly, and I think true love for me is a farce.” He ran his fingers through Myungjun's hair. “My mom always had different boyfriends. There was always someone new where we lived. It wasn't ideal, Myungjun. It wasn't fun, to never know who your dad would be on that day. True love doesn't exist, I don't think, for me, and I don't want to lead anyone on.” Myungjun could feel him swallow thickly. “I don't want to lead you on, especially. I don't want us to maybe feel like we have something, and...and I don't think I could handle being away from you if it ends.” He pulled back and Myungjun, despite his tears, could detect regret and longing written all over Bin's face. “Myungjun, this is for the best. You want a relationship that will last, and I'm not the person for you. Just...remain my friend, okay? Just, please, Myungjun, please say that you'll forget about this night, forget about confessing, and just be my friend. Nothing more. Okay?”
Myungjun knew it would be easiest if he agreed. They could return to being friends. They could continue the relationship that they had going on.
But then he remembered the jealousy and the unrequited feelings. He remembered crying himself to sleep at night and giving Bin the silent treatment during some days. Could he really force himself to continue all of that, to forget he ever confessed and to live a life in loneliness, knowing that the one man he found he loved so much would never treat him the same?
So Myungjun shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “No. I'm going to remember, even if I have to drink water all night in order to do so.”
Bin looked pained, and he quickly stood up. “We're going home,” he snapped, “and you have to forget. I won't help you remember.” He held out a hand for Myungjun. “Come on.”
Myungjun didn't want Bin's help to get up, and he didn't want Bin's help to remember tonight. He slapped the hand away and wiped tears from his eyes. “No,” he repeated, gasping it out and working hard on pushing himself up once again. “I'll do it all myself.”
He would walk home. He would go to bed. And, when he woke up, he would remember his feelings and his confession and his not-so unrequited love.
************************
Myungjun hung up the phone with shaky hands, wide eyes boring holes into his bedroom wall.
He didn't remember a thing that happened last night. All he knew was he went out with Dongmin, ended up inviting Jinwoo along, and, somehow, Bin had been there later, as well. He remembered drinking a lot, fueled by anger and desperation, and then, from there on out, it was a hazy memory, pieces maybe of Bin walking him home, of sitting on the sidewalk, of puking in the bathroom all by himself.
His head hurt. He cursed and let the phone drop onto the bed sheets. He was still dressed in his work clothes and he knew they were more than wrinkled and ruined.
According to Dongmin, he had confessed. He had expressed lust and love all at once, all while drunk. According to Dongmin, that was probably the reason why Bin hadn't spoken to him.
Bin had woken him up, setting out a bottle of water on the bedside table. Myungjun had moaned and blinked open bleary eyes, trying to shy away from the light.
“Binnie,” Myungjun moaned; he swore he saw Bin jump. “Binnie, holy fuck, why did I drink so much?”
Bin shrugged and turned away, but before he could move to leave, Myungjun reached out and grabbed onto his t-shirt. “Binnie,” he pouted, tugging at the fabric. “pamper me, please, I'm so sick right now.”
Bin tore out of his grasp. Myungjun's hand remained outstretched, fingers uselessly grasping at thin air, blinking in shock as his roommate had hurried out of the bedroom.
One phone call to Dongmin made it all very clear exactly what had taken place.
He had confessed.
And Bin was rejecting him.
His throat felt sore and his entire body felt weak. A lead weight seemed to drop down into his stomach; now instead of feeling ill, all he felt was a wave of disappointment. It truly had been unrequited this whole time, and it would have all been much easier if he could have never gotten drunk, or at least if Bin had never been around to hear Myungjun's untimely confession.
“Oh, god,” he whispered to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. It was matted, possibly with sweat from the previous few hours, and he tried to comb it down as best he could.
He wanted to ask why Bin didn't like him. He wanted to ask why it couldn't work out between the two of them. But embarrassment was eating at him alive, consuming all of his emotions and thoughts, and he struggled to pull himself up out of bed.
He packed a bag. Running away was stupid and beneath him, something children did, but there wasn't much of an option at that point. Bin probably needed space; Myungjun knew he definitely did, just enough time and space to sort out his own feelings and to figure out what steps to take to ensure he didn't lose one of his best friends.
But, he wondered, would it be too bad if Bin was gone? Myungjun was in love with him, and he didn't know how much it would hurt to watch as Bin continued to sleep with other men and continued to ignore Myungjun's affections. He didn't know if the pain in his chest would only strengthen as Bin cuddled during movie night and cooked him dinner on those days he felt sick.
He didn't know, either, if Bin could ever look past the confession and pretend as if things were normal.
Myungjun also didn't want to pretend. He didn't want to ignore what he had said, and he didn't want Bin to ignore it, either. He wanted the both of them to face the confession like men, to come to some sort of mutual understanding, to accept each others' point of views and continue with life, even if it meant parting ways.
He left his packed bags on his bed. He drank a few sips of water and glanced at himself in the mirror.
“Gross,” he mumbled. No wonder Bin didn't return his feelings. His skin was pale and clammy, his eyes bloodshot, dark underneath with heavy circles, and his hair was greasy and uncontrolled.
He couldn't fix himself. Not now. Not when they desperately needed to have a conversation about what, exactly, had happened.
He slowly crept out of his bedroom, first peeking into Bin's room, and when he didn't find his roommate there, he poked his head out the hallway and scanned the kitchen.
Bin sat at their dining room table, texting something on his phone, oblivious to Myungjun's appearance.
Myungjun cleared his throat, gaining Bin's attention – and then Bin quickly looked back down at his cellphone.
“Bin,” Myungjun tried.
Bin didn't answer.
“Um...D-Dongmin told me what I had said. He, uh, he told me what happened.”
Bin remained silent.
“And I understand if you don't feel that way about me. I...I don't expect you to. I saw myself in the mirror, and, um...yeah, I'm too ugly for you.”
Bin let him continue.
Myungjun wondered if he would be allowed to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to throw up. His stomach kept feeling sick, especially with Bin ignoring him.
“Maybe I'm also just, um, I'm not your type, I guess, so I was just...can we maybe discuss this, Bin? I don't want us to be like...like this. I want us, um, to understand each other, an-and to...”
“I'm going out,” Bin suddenly said, and he pocketed his phone. He didn't make eye contact with Myungjun as he grabbed onto his jacket. “I'm hanging out with, um, with someone else right now.”
Myungjun bit down on his bottom lip. Bin wasn't going to talk to him. Things were going to remain awkward between them. Myungjun hated this. He absolutely hated this, especially when Bin left without anymore of an explanation.
He hated this all.
He left a note; a childish, I'm running away to Minhyuk's place sort of note. And then he, too, left. He hadn't called Minhyuk in advance, but as he walked the long distance it took, he got a hold of his friend.
“If you expect me to hate Bin for you, you're coming to the wrong person,” Minhyuk said. “Dongmin can hate him. I can't. He's my best friend.”
“D-Dongmin will ask me too many questions and he'll try to bring it up more,” Myungjun stammered, bypassing the bus stop in order to give himself more time to think and walk. “You're quiet. You're like a rock. You'll leave me alone, won't you?”
“Yeah.” Minhyuk shuffled, as if he was moving something, then added, “You knew better than to fall in love with Bin, though, of all people. You knew better, Myungjun.”
Myungjun had known better. He was aware that Bin liked being free of relationships. But his heart had fallen, regardless, and it brought Myungjun down with it.
“Bin likes you as a friend, but you deserve someone who'll love you.”
Myungjun nodded, and then sniffed. “But, I...I l-love him.”
“That's your mistake, and that's something you'll have to live with.”
Myungjun kept the phone to his ear long after Minhyuk hung up, knowing that all of what his friend said was true.
He was the idiot. His heart had doomed him.
Bin was innocent in all of this; it was Myungjun who was aware of the consequences and took the plunge anyway.
************************
Myungjun didn't really have anywhere he called home anymore. He supposed his apartment was, in a way, still his home, but, yet, it didn't feel like it, not with Bin over there still refusing to talk to him. Bin wouldn't leave, either. Bin stayed there, even as Myungjun came to pick up extra clothes for his brief stay with Minhyuk and even more brief stay at the vet's office.
He hadn't wanted to sleep over at Dongmin's place, but there honestly wasn't much of a choice. Minhyuk's apartment was too far from the vet practice, and the chairs in the lobby of his business were too uncomfortable to actually continue getting anything close to a good night's sleep. Dongmin was nosy, sure, but he was close to the vet practice and he offered a cozy couch as a bed, and Myungjun wasn't exactly crawling with options.
He didn't expect to accidentally follow Dongmin along to a date with Jinwoo, though, and in the midst of their flirting, he felt far too awkward to stay around. Dongmin's apartment was lonely when it was empty, but at least there he wouldn't be reminded of his failed confession to Bin. At least there he wouldn't have to watch Jinwoo and Dongmin giggle and tease, and he also wouldn't be subject to so many questions about his feelings and emotions, courtesy of one annoying receptionist.
The bus ride back was long and tiresome, with a few stops to hop off at and find a connecting bus, but Myungjun didn't mind. He was always exhausted those days, regardless of how much he slept and how well he took care of himself. He was used to it.
The apartment was dark. Myungjun flipped on all the lights he could, but it still felt dark and foreboding. It didn't feel at all like his apartment, with the warmth and happiness, with the stupid paintings on the wall and the cool lava lamp in the center of his living room.
It didn't have Bin, either. It didn't have Bin's bright laughter or his piercing gaze. It didn't have the tickles he gave Myungjun when they were both feeling giggly, and it didn't have his enthusiasm for stupid anime and manga that he always forced Myungjun to consume.
Myungjun set his bags down on the floor haphazardly, not caring that Dongmin was likely to fuss at him for making a mess later on, and he rushed into the kitchen.
They needed more beer. Myungjun had taken to drinking most of it whenever Dongmin did buy a pack. It left him with a delightful buzz and sometimes, whenever Dongmin was unaware or away, Myungjun would allow himself the opportunity to get drunk and to wallow about in tears that he kept locked away through the rest of the day.
He collapsed on the couch and flipped through some of the channels. He found a movie – he wondered if it was a movie Bin would like.
He got halfway through the film before realizing Bin would have loved the crime and thrilling action scenes, and he had to find something else to watch.
Hours passed. Myungjun wasn't sure how late it was, and he wasn't sure if Dongmin was even planning to come back. He texted, but received no response, and so he deposited his phone on the floor beside him with a huff.
Midnight came, and finally, finally, the doorbell rang. Myungjun sighed, unwilling to actually get up and open the door, especially when he knew Dongmin had keys, but when it continued, he figured maybe Dongmin, too, had some drinks. Maybe he was too tipsy to remember where he had placed his own keys. Maybe, an even more awful scenario, he was holding onto an equally tipsy Jinwoo. Maybe they would force their love into the apartment, and then Myungjun would have to take his leave and find somewhere else to stay for the night.
He hoisted himself up from the couch, cursing Dongmin under his breath, and flung the door open, snapping, “What the fuck, Lee Dongmi-”
It wasn't Dongmin. It was Bin.
Bin looked as surprised as Myungjun felt, and he froze before whispering, “Myungjun?”
“Y-Yeah?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Myungjun had half a mind to slam the door into Bin's face, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when Bin was staring at him with wide eyes, and fumbling fingers. He was still so cute and so precious and Myungjun's heart tugged and ached and yearned for Bin.
Instead of closing the door and blocking Bin out, then, Myungjun snapped, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I, um...texted Dongmin. He has a blender, and I was...I was making a smoothie. Our blender – my blender broke, I mean, so I was going to borrow his. He never...he never texted me back, so I assumed...I could come and take it and leave him a note. He doesn't use it, anyway – what are you doing here, Myungjun?”
Myungjun averted his gaze and mumbled, “Minhyuk lived too far for me to keep going to work, and Dongmin took pity on me when he found me sleeping at work.”
“You were sleeping at work?” There was concern laced in Bin's tone, but Myungjun didn't want to hear that. He wanted Bin to be indifferent, or to hate him. It would be so much easier to forget about his feelings if Bin just pushed him aside as if he was nothing. But, instead, Bin still seemed to care for him, even if only in a platonic manner, and Myungjun hated that.
He opened the door wider. “Just...get the damn blender, Bin. You're not here to talk to me, obviously. Just take it and go, okay?”
Bin seemed unsure at first, but when Myungjun gestured for him to come inside, he obeyed, stepping in tentatively and clearing his throat. “Is it easy to find?” he asked.
Myungjun rolled his eyes. “You're still useless,” he murmured; the words hurt him even as he spoke them, reminding him that he used to help Bin find things in their apartment. And now, suddenly, it was different. They rifled through Dongmin's cupboards together, an unspoken tension cutting off their own contact with each other. It lay heavy in the air, feelings that had yet to be resolved, events that had yet to be discussed, and Myungjun hated it.
“Bin,” Myungjun whispered, “Bin, please, let's...let's just talk, okay?”
Bin glanced up once, and then quickly returned to his blender searching. “It's late,” he commented. “I just need to find this and leave. Maybe later.”
“There won't be a later if we keep doing this.” Myungjun took a deep breath and moved forward. He grasped lightly onto Bin's arm, pulling him from his hunt. Bin still wouldn't look at him, though. Bin still kept his eyes on the floor, and Myungjun wanted to beg, to plead with him, to find some way to make it all better. “L-Look, I know what I said, and...and I get it, but I need to know where we stand now. I know you don't like me back, but I-”
“You really were drunk,” Bin breathed. “You really don't remember.”
“Dongmin told me everything.”
“There was...there was stuff that happened afterwards,” Bin murmured.
Myungjun hadn't ever given a thought to the after of his confession. He had assumed Bin took him home; he had assumed he had mostly blacked out. He didn't think anything important was said or talked of.
“What happened afterwards?” Myungjun asked. “He only told me what happened at the bar.”
Bin shrugged his shoulders, and Myungjun shook at his arm. “Don't fucking shut down on me again, Bin. Don't you do it. I'm living in fucking agony thinking about how stupid I was. I never should've confessed, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I ruined your life, and my life, with one stupid drunken night. At least let's agree to forget it, at least let's-”
“I don't want to forget,” Bin said. He looked up suddenly. His eyes weren't twinkling. He gave a somber stare, but a fire of desire burned within them. “I haven't been able to forget.”
Myungjun blinked. “What?”
“I said, I don't want to forget.” Bin stepped forward, and he removed Myungjun's hand from his arm. Instead of dropping it, however, and breaking their contact, he held onto it tightly, pulling Myungjun all the closer to him. “I had told you, that night, when you were too drunk to remember your fucking name, we'd be good together. We'd...we work well. An-And you told me you were ugly, but...” Bin shook his head and leaned in closer. “I want you, Junnie.”
The familiar nickname caused Myungjun's heart to race. He barely heard the next words, the blood pounding in his ears, but still, they were spoken with such passion that it was impossible to miss.
“Do you want me?”
Myungjun wanted to talk it through. He wanted to discover what they now were to each other and how to continue their lives now that his secret was up in the air. However, his heart betrayed him for a second time; it loved Bin when he knew better, and it made him say, “Yes,” when he knew better.
But none of that mattered once Bin's lips were pressing up against his. None of it mattered at all, because while Myungjun was frozen in shock, the tongue prodding at him to open his mouth made him finally move. He granted Bin access, tasting Bin, so unfamiliar and yet so perfect. It was what Myungjun had dreamed of, had wished for.
The circumstance wasn't the best. He had hoped their first kiss wouldn't have been so desperate and panicked, but he caved too quickly, drawn on only by sadness and love.
Bin pushed him up against the counter, and before Myungjun could react, he was lifted and set down on the marble slate. Bin pushed some utensils aside; a tin cup with spatulas fell to the ground and a few rolling pins were shoved closer to the stove, dangling precariously over the edge of the counter.
Bin continued his kiss, not once removing lips. His fingers gripped into Myungjun's waist, digging into his skin, and Myungjun moaned out when Bin's hands moved down and took hold of his jeans, tugging at them harshly.
“Bin,” Myungjun gasped, breaking the kiss for much-needed air. “God, Bin, don't stop.”
Bin's kisses trailed down Myungjun's jaw, and he sucked at a spot when he reached Myungjun's neck, causing the older boy to breathe harshly. Myungjun wrapped his legs around Bin's body, hooking his ankles together and thus pulling Bin in as close as he possibly could.
He felt strong hands dip underneath his shirt and trail up his body. It sent goosebumps and shivers down his spine and he pulled Bin off his neck in order to kiss him once more.
Now, suddenly, Bin moaned into the kiss, desire evident in every movement and every sound he made. Myungjun knew this was all wrong. It was the wrong decision to make when nothing had been discussed, when nothing had been finalized, but he couldn't find it in himself to push Bin away. He liked this, he liked all of it, and as Bin peeled away his shirt, he decided that maybe they could hold a conversation in the morning, after this all was said and done.
All of those plans, though, were dashed, because the moment Bin lifted Myungjun again to tug his pants down, he heard a voice break through their breathy whines: “Bin? Myungjun?”
Bin was the first to retreat, letting Myungjun drop to the floor and buckle his jeans once again.
Myungjun knew it was Dongmin, before even looking up, and shame overtook him. His cheeks were still flushed red from pleasure and desire, and with his shirt gone and dark spots littered across his jaw and neck, it was evident that things would have gotten out of control had Dongmin not appeared.
Bin's eyes were wide and panicked, and he glanced at Myungjun once before running his fingers through messy hair. “I-I came to, um, to pick up a blender,” he said. “This isn't what you think, Dongmin.”
Dongmin blinked. “Did...you two make up, then?”
Myungjun reached for his shirt, and as he pulled it on, he couldn't miss Bin's next words.
“It's all fine, this was just a mistake. It's a mistake, Dongmin, please don't...don't think anything more of this.”
Myungjun looked at Bin, caught his eye, and bit at the inside of his cheek, harshly enough that he thought he might draw blood.
He didn't care about bleeding, though, not when Bin's gaze held so much regret and so much fear, and especially not when the boy repeated, far more determined this time, “It's all a mistake.”
Nothing else was said. Bin bowed his head to Dongmin, offering some sort of apology to the wrong person, and then hurried off. The blender was left behind.
Myungjun was left behind.
Dongmin waited until Bin was gone, until the door was shut and things were quiet, to look back at the frazzled Myungjun and asked carefully, “Myungjun? What...what was that?”
Myungjun felt out of breath and he had to lean up against the counter again. He stared at the door, wondering if Bin was telepathic, wondering if God could somehow make Bin turn around and declare his previous words a mistake.
“It was...i-it was a mi-mista-ake,” he choked out.
And then he sunk to the floor, still leaned up against the counter, sitting in the midst of dirty spatulas and letting his tears roll down his cheeks, the same cheeks that had just been previously kissed with such passion and desire.
Myungjun first decided to stop loving Bin in the middle of the night, huddled by himself on Dongmin's kitchen floor.