violet night lights

by ErodedEdges

Summary:

“Answer my question: do you harvest organs?”

McDimples made a show to pick at a piece of tripe with his chopsticks. “Only those served hot on a dish,” he grinned, and popped the meat into his mouth, munching smugly. His answer should have unnerved Seokjin, but all he could focus on was the shadows contouring his dimples as he chewed on.

Kim Seokjin, you clown, this is how you’re going to die.

✨🔮✨

Alternatively, reserved former actor Seokjin who just wanted to go home and cool down ended up spending a dream-like night instead when an elusive stranger with ridiculously cute dimples asked to accompany him for his last evening in the city. Said dimpled stranger, who turned out to be a writer with questionable flirting skills, may or may not have known more than he let on.

Seokjin used to have vivid dreams.

When he was younger, he would dream of a multitude of different lives, living each of them as if he were on stage. One night he would dream of flying high above the clouds, in another he would dream of being tethered to the core of the earth. Some nights, he dreamed of someone’s large hands, long fingers intertwined against his. The hand would be tanned and veiny and warm, and it would melt all of Seokjin’s worries away.

Perhaps that was how he came to a realization that he was into men before having his heart pound at the sight of a handsome actor on television. But it was a combination of that charismatic man, valiantly brandishing his sword to slay his enemies, and his desire to live out his larger-than-life dreams, that made Seokjin want to act on stage.

Any stage, really, Seokjin thought, as he grew older and became the star of his high school’s theatre club. Seokjin was content, basking in the applause of audiences as he shed his skin for another man’s before going to perform. His dreams had developed into aspirations, with every compliment praising his silver screen-worthy good looks and special knack for the performing arts.

But his hopeful dreams surely had to stop at one point. Seokjin’s small world grew with adulthood, complete with new revelations and experiences. No education in the world would be able to prepare Seokjin for the reality check he had received, that he was just another fish in the pond.

He had the talent, he definitely had the looks, but he just… wasn’t what they were looking for. There was nothing more devastating than knowing you were adequate but unwanted. He felt helpless and wronged; how unfair it was that the only thing he was lacking in was dumb luck.

What Seokjin was told instead, though, was that he had an eye for talent. That indie project he’d helped casting with was greeted with rave reviews and even made it into the national film festival. Which was sad, really, considering that no such opportunities were thrown his way. He made the hard decision to switch majors and change career paths.

These days, Seokjin didn’t dream anymore. Not even his best kept secret, one of the most constant dreams of all; an exciting romance with a man who would sweep him off his feet.

Not that it would happen. Seokjin was resigned that he’s destined for a life of loneliness and the casual quick hook up. If he was brave enough, his best friend Yoongi would often remark.

It’s unfair how sometimes dreams materialize when it’s least expected, and Seokjin would really like to curse the gods when a large, warm hand clasped itself in his and pulled him towards the opposite direction of his apartment. In thirty-eight degree weather, no less, when his hands were clammy and gross and not optimal for hand holding, especially with tall, well-built weird strangers. Emphasis on weird.

Seokjin just wanted a drink and a shower.

“W-wait! Stop!” Seokjin halted, trying to pry his hand away from the stranger’s firm grasp. Their hands were still glued together, but the other man stopped and turned around to face Seokjin properly for the first time.

As a man who was still working in the entertainment industry, Seokjin had had his fair share of pretty faces. Hell, he woke up every morning staring at the fairest of all men through the bathroom mirror.

The usual doe-eyed, straight-nosed, teen girl dreamboat combo? They were like seasoned beans in a side dish plate Seokjin would like to call his casting pool. He screened pretty faces and recruited them for a living, after all.

So trust Kim Seokjin when he said very little fazed him in terms of physical beauty.

But hot damn.

The man looked around his age, maybe older, and had bespectacled clear almond eyes, currently widened, and small yet thick lips, also widened. His skin was smooth and glistening under the summer evening sun, honeyed and peppered with several moles. Seokjin’s eyes caught one right under his pink lips and he thought he might have evaporated from the heat.

He took a quick scan of his faded purple hair, long and artfully pushed back, down to his pronounced cheekbones to his simple black shirt that showcased tanned, sinewy forearms and jeans that were tight enough to define his long, toned thighs. Those thighs.

Hot damn.

Seokjin needed to stop.

The man pulled Seokjin out of his musings by speaking out. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice deep and husky. “I was going too fast, huh,” he stated more than asked, and he threw a half-smile half-wince at Seokjin.

Of course, he just had to have dimples. Two of them, to be exact, and a set of straight, pearly white teeth. Seokjin may have looked at their joined hands in silence, but he inwardly groaned and shook his fists to the sky in frustration. The one time he met someone who was 100% his type and it had to be like this.

McDimples shot Seokjin another apologetic look, dimples deepened as he smiled more sincerely. “Sorry,” he chuckled guiltily, hand letting go of Seokjin’s and going up to rub at his nape sheepishly.

Seokjin tried his best not to look at his toned biceps and gawk. He did not want to get caught thirsting over this guy. “N-no, it’s fine,” he answered weakly, cheeks hot.

“Oh,” McDimples simply uttered, looking like he’s planning his next move, and his hand shot up to hold Seokjin’s again like there’s nothing wrong with it.

Before Seokjin had the chance to let his jaw drop and sputter his protests, McDimples continued, “It’s just, I just saw that guy hitting on you at the bus stop and you didn’t look interested…”

Seokjin‘s brain short-circuited, not knowing how to deal and function properly. “So you think I can’t handle my own problems?” He finished McDimples’s sentence for him instead. That had a lot more bite than Seokjin intended. Wow, Seokjin thought, he was really bad at flirty banter.

McDimples gawked and sputtered, clearly not expecting Seokjin’s reactions. His flustered reaction was kinda cute, Seokjin was tempted to play with him.

He really needed to snap out of it and reassess his priorities. Priorities being, in order: go home, shower, grab a drink. This stranger was making it hard to.

“That’s not what I meant,” McDimples said weakly. “I just saw you and you’re my type, so, uh, and I guess I was bummed that guy beat me into it,” he confessed softly, eyes trained to his shoes.

He looked up to Seokjin, and despite his mature appearance Seokjin thought he looked like a child. “Do you wanna come with me instead? I promise that you’ll have a good time,” he offered, maybe a little too eagerly.

Of course, Seokjin sighed inwardly. It was too good to be true.

Despite his annoyance at the sudden turn of events, Seokjin looked at the man in pity. “Look, sorry, man, but I’m not interested in your services.”

Seokjin saw McDimples go slack-jawed, and used his moment of vulnerability to yank his hand away in one swift motion. He stumbled forwards a little in shock, and Seokjin felt even more pity at McDimples looking down at his now-empty hand, frozen.

“I understand the things we need to do to survive,” Seokjin patted him in the shoulder sympathetically. Wow, firm he thought, hand gripping at the taut muscles, before scolding himself and jerking his hand away like he’s holding a hot potato wedge.

Shit, he thought, fearing that McDimples may understand and think he was grossed out from touching a sex worker. Not cool, Seokjin. We respect sex workers in this household. “You look like you’re new at this, so I’m just gonna say it: I don’t think this is a good way to find customers, man. Maybe you should, uh, find someone else. Sorry.”

“I- what-,” he looked at Seokjin in horror, fumbling to get his words out. McDimples looked like he was not used to his job yet, poor guy.

“I’m not a prostitute!” He shouted, maybe too loudly. Definitely loud enough to earn questionable looks from other passersby. The chirping sound of cicadas synonymous with the peak of summer could be heard in that brief moment of silence.

Seokjin wasn’t the one who made the claim but it sure felt like one. He felt his entire being turning cooked-shrimp red, already backing away as his flight or fight defense mechanism kicked in. If things weren’t clear enough, he undoubtedly chose flight.

“Please,” McDimples pleaded, arm reaching out to Seokjin. He must have unnecessarily long arms since he managed to grab Seokjin’s wrist in one try. “You’ve misunderstood. I’m not that kind of person, I swear.”

Seokjin bit his lip and did something he was sure he’s going to regret. “Then what kind of person are you?”

“I’m a writer, and I’m leaving this place tomorrow, and I am into you and would like to ask you out to this summer festival they’re holding near the river. Would you like to come with me?” McDimples asked, hopeful. The fingers on Seokjin’s wrist felt almost uncomfortably warm.

“Please at least give me a chance over dinner. I’m buying,” he offered.

When in doubt, Seokjin would typically weigh in a potential decision’s pros and cons. It was imperative that he made the best decision possible, especially when he was younger. The least image damaging ones, to be exact. The habit of maintaining a clean reputation stayed with him even years after abandoning his budding acting career.

As soon as the words of invitation left the (hot) stranger’s mouth, Seokjin had already started to compartmentalize the pros and cons of accepting his offer.

Cons:

1. Get home later, shower later, crack open a cold one later.
2. Unconventional way of asking him out implies that this guy’s probably not normal.
3. Possibly a creep or worse, a serial killer out for exceptionally handsome gay men.
4. He’s a huge introvert and not a good conversationalist, a two-strike combo for a lot of awkward moments.
5. Even if he’s neither a creep nor a serial killer and they get along well together, McDimples’ leaving tomorrow.

Pros:

1. Free dinner from a ridiculously sexc guy.

On a normal day, Seokjin would only choose to go with it if the pros weigh the cons, and looking back to the tally he set up in his mind, things were not looking good for his dimpled pursuer, who’s looking at him hopefully with a tight-lipped smile, body swaying from the balls of his feet.

If McDimples thought he could win Seokjin over with free dinner, he was… probably right. It may have been the summer heat, or the hazy lilac-tinted afterglow, or the fact that he had had a borderline depressing, rough workday, but Seokjin felt the words bubbling in his throat and flowing through his lips before he could pause and rethink the consequences.

“Fine. But only if you promised not to shout like that.”

✨🔮✨

Seokjin may have to get rid of his prejudicial habits because he judged McDimples from his simple yet undeniably designer clothing and thought he would take him to some trendy, casual but posh Western restaurant.

Instead, he settled his work bag on the spare chair of a homely Korean-Chinese restaurant. It was rather small, and packed full to the brim with people in semi-casual business attire. He was not complaining, as he’d been fine with any place with a working air-conditioning system. He was just wrong.

McDimples was already flagging down the lone waitress, making eye contact with Seokjin before he could read the large menu plastered on the wall. “The jajangmyeon here is the best,” he suggested, just as the waitress rushed down to their table. Seokjin nodded lightly and McDimples ordered two bowls, a few sides, and two pints of beer for both of them.

As soon as the steaming bowl of noodles was placed in front of Seokjin, he picked up his chopsticks and dug in immediately like it was a knee-jerk reaction. He slurped the chewy, rich noodles, humming and moaning at the savory taste of the black bean sauce.

Someone cleared his throat, and he looked up to McDimples smiling smugly at him, albeit the slight dusting of red on his cheeks. One of Seokjin’s few vices was being a loud eater, something he hadn’t even bothered to correct. He felt a little sense of pride, even, whenever he flustered someone with his pitchy moans and oil-slicked, thick lips.

It was part of his charm.

He settled his chopsticks down, dabbed at his lips delicately with tissue, and regarded McDimples again.

McDimples didn’t look perturbed, only looking at him with that strange amused gaze of his. He dipped a piece of pork in sweet and sour sauce and placed it in Seokjin’s bowl. “Eat lots.” He sounded pleased.

That made Seokjin blush again, and he picked it up and popped it in his mouth. His eyes widened in delight as he munched on the food in seconds.

“I told you this is worth coming with me,” he grinned, leaning towards Seokjin with his forearms resting on the table. Thinking that he had won Seokjin over with his alluring dimples and mad taste for Korean-Chinese cuisine.

Seokjin’s not that easy to be bought over.

“Not so fast,” he warned. “It’s not like we’re eating jajangmyeon all evening. Fess up, McDimples, what’s your motive? You’re not an organ harvester, are you? Please tell me you’re not an organ harvester.”

McDimples barked out a flustered laugh, and the sound stirred and shook something in Seokjin’s stomach. “McDimples?” He chuckled in amusement, an eyebrow quirked, in lieu of answering Seokjin’s questions.

Seokjin felt his cheeks heat up, but ultimately schooled his face to one of composure. “I like to give nicknames to strangers that I have to refer to for a prolonged amount of time. It’s a habit I had back when I had to act alongside unnamed characters; gives them a bit of a personality,” Seokjin explained like it was rehearsed hundreds of times. “Now answer my question: do you harvest organs?”

McDimples made a show to pick at a piece of tripe with his chopsticks. “Only those served hot on a dish,” he grinned, and popped the meat into his mouth, munching smugly. His answer should have unnerved Seokjin, but all he could focus on was the shadows contouring his dimples as he chewed on.

Kim Seokjin, you clown, this is how you’re going to die.

“Very funny,” Seokjin deadpanned. “Now let’s rewind and do this like civilized adults, shall we? Nice to meet you, I’m Seokjin,” he outstretched his hand. “And you?”

McDimples took Seokjin’s hand, grinning wider. His dimples were now twin deep slits going down his sun-kissed cheeks. “You can call me Love, Honey, Dear, whatever you like,” he said, shaking Seokjin’s hand with a slight squeeze. “But no need to be so formal. We look the same age, don’t we, Jin-ah?” Seokjin flushed pink at the sudden friendly nickname. “I like McDimples, though.”

“Introduce yourself, Dude,” Seokjin demanded, with less composure than he would have liked, exasperated and unwilling to refer to McDimples as such out loud for the rest of their time together.

“As I said earlier: I write for a living, I’m leaving tomorrow, there’s this festival I’d like to go to before I leave and I’m really into you.” Seokjin’s ears burned red as he looked away,. “As for what you could call me, I’m partial towards McDimples. And please don’t call me Dude.”

“Why should I go with you when I could stay home and enjoy temperature-controlled, recycled air?” Seokjin pressed on unrelentingly. “And your name, please.”

“Have fun? Summer memories? A short escape from the stifling corporate environment?” McDimples listed, thoughtfully chewing on his food.

Seokjin wolfed down a huge portion of his food, leaving barely a third aside. “Tell me your name or I’ll leave you now.”

“Fine, fine! You can call me Joon, it’s part of my real name, I swear,” Joon added when Seokjin continued to eye him.

“Figures,” Seokjin sighed, “Knowing your name isn’t actually that important.”

“It’s not that we’re going to forge relations that would last more than a day.” Seokjin added, when Joon didn’t respond and kept on looking at him with… amusement? Adoration? Seokjin couldn’t tell. It made him self-conscious, though.

“Ah, of course,” Joon straightened, like he just remembered something akin to an afterthought.

“Why did you ask me out when you’ve only got a day left in this place?” Seokjin tilted his chin, plump lips pursed. “Am I just something to pass some time with?”

Seokjin didn’t care if he sounded defensive. Although he didn’t expect anything from Joon either, he thought they needed to be on the same page. He had a constant need to know everything, so he could anticipate and take measures for each possible outcome. That way, he would feel safe. That way, no one would get hurt.

If Joon felt Seokjin sounded that way, he didn’t show it; the pleasant, gentle smile gracing his lips and lighting up his face. “Depends on what you consider a past time,” he answered. “Isn’t every relationship you have throughout your life is built to pass time as you await your inevitable end?”

Seokjin let out a noise that was a cross between a scoff and a snort. In conclusion, it did not sound graceful. “Smartypants,” he childishly retorted.

“It may sound superficial considering we just met,” Joon continued, not taking offense in Seokjin, at all. “But I’m not looking for something meaningless with you, if that’s what you’re concerned with. I just saw you there, and thought it would be nice to spend my last day here with you.”

“And not the friends you have here?”

Joon shook his head. “I could always contact those brats later.”

“You don’t plan on contacting me once this day ends?” Seokjin simpered.

“You want me to?”

Seokjin huffed and crossed his arms again. “Of course not. I’m not interested in contacting someone I would only see once. ‘cause if we did, maybe we would exchange messages several times before things would start to feel like a chore, and then you’d just become another contact saved that I forgot to delete. Things are going to end very blandly, the exciting memories that came before would be forgotten easily. None of us would like that.”

That was, decidedly, a bit much to dump on someone new. But Joon seemed unaffected; he even lit up a little. “Does that mean you’re going with me to the festival?”

The slip up caught Seokjin off guard. “Hypothetically.”

“So you write,” Seokjin reiterated, swerving the conversation into another direction.

Joon had already finished his food. He had his arms propped on the table, and used one of his hands to support his cheek, watching Seokjin languidly, like he’s in a dream state. Seokjin did not know if the pinky finger placed near his lips was on purpose. “That I do,” he confirmed.

“If I google your name, would any of your works show up?”

Joon shook his head. “Nothing substantial yet.” His smile was tight-lipped, mouth pulled taut. “But enough about me. You mentioned something about acting before; is that what you do?”

Seokjin knew when someone didn’t want to be prodded over something. He’s been through that many times before. Moreover, the person in front of him was a virtual stranger, which was more reason for him to drop the topic. Instead, he humored Joon.

He made a face. “Eh, did. Used to until halfway through college.”

This seemed to spark something in Joon. “Why did you stop?”

“Things just didn’t pan out,” Seokjin shrugged. “Besides, wouldn't want to share this face with the rest of the world.”

Joon seemed to fall silent as he contemplated his response, bottom lip chewed. “So, you’ve completely given up on acting, then?”

“Yep. The most I’ve done these days is reading bedtime stories,” Seokjin nearly snorted out loud at the thought of his tiny nephew, jumping around in his rabbit onesie whenever he visited his brother’s at night, shouting, “Uncle Jin! Uncle Jin!” as he waved the storybook of choice above his head.

“Ah, to your nephew?” Joon looked shocked when he blurted the words, mouth gaping and closing repeatedly.

Seokjin felt his heart drop. “How do you know I have one?”

“You… look like... an uncle type…?” Joon struggled and winced.

“An uncle type?” Seokjin parroted back, offended.

“No- uh, I,” Joon stuttered, rendered speechless. “Your lockscreen is a picture of a child.” Joon pointed to Seokjin’s phone, facing up on the table and continuously pinging with notifications. Joon’s words rang true; a picture of his nephew sloppily kissing his cheek stared back at him. “And you look a bit too young to have a kid that big. Didn’t mean to peek into your phone, I’m sorry.”

Seokjin waved his hand, relief washing over him. “It’s fine. But I’m gonna ask you something one more time: are you a stalker and/or organ harvester?”

“No!” Joon denied, maybe a little too loudly, earning several questioning looks from other customers. He seemed to be more self-aware this time, seeing how he buried his face in his hands in embarrassment.

Seokjin could only look at him, at the chain bracelet adorning his wrist, veins crawling up from his forearms to the back of his hands like vines embedded into his skin. God, he’s so hot.

Seokjin should stop.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, eyes peeking from the gaps between his fingers. “If I may ask, what made you think I’d do you harm?” He sounded so careful and wary with his head slightly bowed, tendrils of purple hair falling over his eyes. Seokjin’s heart just clenched a little, like he just accidentally stepped on a dog’s tail.

“Stranger danger,” Seokjin admitted, “You come off kinda weird sometimes.”

Joon looked crestfallen, looking in disbelief like Seokjin had accused him of bloody murder. “I’m not…” he mumbled with slightly puffed cheeks, looking even more like a kicked puppy. He looked so young, even younger than Seokjin.

Seokjin took a long swig from his pint. “Hey, you wanna hear how I read to my nephew?” He offered instead, because confrontation and resisting cute puppy types were two of his great weaknesses.

Seokjin didn’t wait for Joon’s answer. “Please save me!” He wailed exaggeratedly, startling Joon and a few patrons sat nearby. He sounded wobbly; his cadence fell and rose drastically with each syllable.

“The rain has rusted my tin body, I cannot move!” He continued to wail and sob, shaking his fist in the air and completely disregarding the judgy looks thrown at him. “Help oil this poor tin man!”

Joon was keeling with laughter, giggling as he ducked his head down low. Seokjin stopped and smiled, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“That’s just a sneak preview, you’ve got to pay up for full access.” He straightened up and puffed his chest when Joon lifted his head to look at him. His cheeks were flush from laughter; Joon’s entertained smile was so warm Seokjin contemplated on embarrassing himself further. Maybe not.

“Wow, you’re so good.” Joon wiped the tears from his eyes. “Amazing.”

“Be grateful. I don’t do this to just anyone.” Only then had the belated embarrassment washed over Seokjin, the heat coming off his brain to the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Seokjin couldn’t believe he had just done that for someone he just met. Was he really that lame, he wondered. He took a quick look at Joon’s dimples. Probably.

“I’m serious. Please at least reconsider going back to acting,” Joon continued, eyes shining with something like passion.

To say that Seokjin wasn’t weirded out would be a complete lie. “Are you being sarcastic right now?”

Joon shook his head and flailed his hands around in semi-awkward gestures to defend himself. “There’s talent in acting funny too. If you’re this good when you’re fooling around, then… wow.” He looked somewhere between speechless and mind-boggled and Seokjin really wanted to dig a hole and hide there from the sudden burst of compliments. He wasn’t used to them anymore.

“Stop it,” he said firmly. The remainder of their untouched food had gone cold.

“Your pronunciation is really clear, too. And your microexpressions…” Joon made vague hand gestures, face going about animatedly. “They made you look so much more believable. And don’t get me started on your face; you could bring nations to ruin with that face.”

“Okay man, please stop.” Seokjin was beyond confused to mind the compliments anymore. “You’re not a sham agent trying to trick me into signing with your company, are you?”

Joon shook his head fervently, face scrunched up in worry. “No- I,” he searched around his pockets for his phone, fumbling on it for a bit. He practically shoved the thing right at Seokjin’s face, and he had to squint to see the multitude of documents on his phone.

“I’m a writer and I don’t mean any frisky business!” He exclaimed, exasperated. “You can open one if you’d like.”

Seokjin, still squinting, clicked on one. He looked at several stanzas typed in there and read some of them. Seokjin may have known next to nothing about writing, but he could tell Joon was good.

“You’re my love, my person, my pride,” he unconsciously read one that struck the most to him out loud. Joon snatched his phone back, and Seokjin had to squint and close his eyes at the sudden lack of artificial light shoved right at his eyeballs. Goodness.

“So you’re a poet?” He guessed.

“Songwriter,” Joon corrected. He was shaking his legs under the table; their empty plates shook a little. Seokjin lifted a brow but didn’t say anything.

“You’re so good.” Seokjin still had those three words playing continuously in his head. My love, my person, my pride. Who prompted Joon to write something so simple yet profound? But he didn’t ask him that. “Why didn’t you say so from the start?”

“Cause then I’d have to show you that,” he confessed sheepishly, rubbing at his nape. Seokjin stared at the defined bicep before shooting his head back up when Joon continued, “That’s still a work in progress.”

“You ended up showing me anyway,” Seokjin laughed, amused, totally unaffected by some arm muscle like he’s some starved Victorian era man. “You sound kind of shady at times, you know that? I wasn’t sure if going with you is a good idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Joon chuckled, looking down. His dimples were on full display, the light and shadows emphasized the depth further. Seokjin just noticed a mole on his cheek. He maybe wanted to kiss it or poke his finger on it, god. Seokjin did not like what they did to him.

“I thought I was being smooth and, uh, charismatic.” His face pinkened with every bit of truth tumbling out of him. “I’m a little out of practice, you see,” he admitted timidly, not fumbling for once since he’d known Seokjin was just teasing him.

Seokjin did a once over on Joon, from his pushed back purple hair to his veiny forearms to the outline of his chest visible through his shirt, and cleared his throat. “Hmph, I could see that.”

“Another reason why is probably because I’d just gotten out of a relationship.” His hand shot up to rub at his nape, and his smile looked more like a wince, face contorted in discomfort.

“That sucks,” Seokjin replied carelessly. “Or probably not. Why did you two break up?”

Joon looked rueful, and Seokjin bit his lip for being insensitive. He was about to tell Joon to forget about it when he answered, “I’m sure there are a lot of reasons, but I think I wasn’t giving him enough attention when he needed me to.”

“I see. Have you gotten over him?”

To his surprise, Joon threw him a smile. “Enough that I’m over here mooning over you instead.”

Seokjin could simply gape at him. Unbelievable. “Warning: that’s another sleazy answer.” He shook his finger at Joon. “But I’ve gotta come clean too; I haven’t been on a date in years. So maybe you should stop this casanova act and we could be awkward together. For the greater good.” Seokjin nodded like he was convincing himself instead of the man in front of him.

Joon’s laugh was a pleasant, tinkling sound as he made a show to agree with him. “So I take that you’d join me?”

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin refused, corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “I need more persuading than that. Try harder.”

“Jin-ah,” Joon called out sweetly, voice dripping with honey.

Seokjin pretended that he was not affected by the nickname. “Hm?”

“You’re really handsome.”

Seokjin pushed away the thought that he sounded genuine. “I know.”

“Really, drop dead gorgeous. I’m starting to believe you’re not going on dates because people cower from intimidation. Statue of David could never.”

Seokjin fought the urge to snort and raised an unimpressed brow. “If you wanna impress me, you should try harder.” He threw Joon a derisive look, hands folded on his chest and body leaned forwards.

“You know the goddess of love & beauty Aphrodite?” Seokjin could only nod at the sudden change of topic. “It is said that her face morphs into the most beautiful person you could ever imagine, depending on the person.”

Seokjin looked at Joon, face schooled into nonchalance. He could see where this was going. “You’re so beautiful that, if I were to meet the goddess, I’d see your face looking back at me.”

Joon looked down and snorted from the cheesiness, but when he looked back up he’s surprised to see Seokjin looking down, his whole face crimson in the yellow lighting.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seokjin mumbled incredulously, eyes trained at his fingers fidgeting on his lap. “Did you know Aphrodite was born from the sea foam produced by Uranus’ severed dick?”

Joon choked before laughing hard in pitchy staccatos. His mouth was opened wide as his eyes screwed shut in amusement, his whole body shaking as if it couldn’t handle the sheer hilarity that had just came out of Seokjin’s mouth.

Seokjin huffed in response instead, not wanting to get caught reveling in the sound. “You’re not the only one who’s been reading up on Greek mythology.”

Seokjin quietly gathered his belongings and stood up, tilting his head when he saw Joon just sitting there like he’s processing.

“Get a move on, now,” he asked when Joon still looked like he was still trying to turn the cogs in his brain. “I thought you’re gonna take me to a festival. You’re paying, no?”

✨🔮✨

It was evening when they stepped out of the restaurant. There was then a slight breeze in the air, a reward after a full day of scorching heat. Seoul’s night sky was hazy and polluted, and when Seokjin looked up, the only twinkling lights were from commercial airplanes flying above.

He let himself be led by Joon, a little giddy from the alcohol he drank earlier and laughing the entire way as they shared more outlandish anecdotes of their lives.

Seokjin said he’d never believed in Santa, his best friend was a grouchy but caring coworker from the producing department, which should sound a little sad, but it’s really not, and that he used to have a family dog that would bite him whenever he tried to feed him from his hand.

“I used to feed him by putting the treat on the floor and back off at least three metres away,” he said, thinking of the childhood trauma his bitchass dog had put him through. “I loved him, though.”

Joon held his hand and gave it a little squeeze as they walked, not letting his hand go when they tapped their transport cards on the gantries. It was cute, and probably a little obnoxious as they raised their hands above the machines.

“Y-you could let go of my hand, now,” Seokjin stammered reluctantly once they were waiting on the platform. Joon looked a little disappointed but let it go nonetheless.

Seokjin wanted to hold his hand again, but that would be too weird, wouldn’t it?

Their conversations flowed along. Joon revealed that his dad used to call him ‘Joonie Bear’, and that he had a hip hop phase that lasted an entire year where he would walk around in sunglasses and chains attached to baggy pants. Or that two of his other friends fought over a banana; the height of said fight happened when one threw an unpeeled, warm banana straight to the other’s face.

Seokjin burst into carefree laughter, thinking that it was something Jungkook and Hoseok would do. But he didn’t comment anything about that, or about how he would like to meet Joon’s friends too.

“There’s this one time where two of my friends,” Joon said through his giggles, continuing while Seokjin still had his stomach in knots from wheezing. “Got into this fight so bad they didn’t speak for a whole month. They ended up apologizing in tears, and one of them actually wrote a song for the other. It was so dramatic. And all of that over king-sized dumplings. Dumplings.”

Seokjin wheezed out an embarrassingly loud and squeaky laugh, wiring his mouth shut with knitted brows once he’d realized what he’d done. His head snapped his head to see Joon’s reaction, only to realize that he had been gazing at him like an old flame.

“I like your laugh,” he said as an explanation without breaking eye contact.

Seokjin could only avert his eyes.

Joon was infinitely endearing when he talked, expressing his thoughts and emotions with his entire body. He would sometimes flail his arms and Seokjin had to pull his arm away when he almost hit another passenger in the train.

Joon bowed apologetically to the passenger before he turned and beamed at Seokjin, nose scrunched a little and eyes turned to two tiny crescents. It was like he was acting cute to avoid being chastised, and Seokjin could only huff out a laugh before looking away over the window.

When Seokjin and Joon arrived at the festival venue, the last wisps of purple-tinted clouds had dissipated away, turning the sky into a dark, starless blanket looming over the ground. The large park by the river was transformed into a large carnival-like venue, complete with a carousel and ferris wheel. Seokjin could spot the bright, rainbow-colored lights from the entrance.

The entrance was two pillars covered full of advertisements for attractions; Seokjin saw pictures of street food, and he felt his mouth water. People were already flocking in, and Joon took Seokjin’s hand in his. It was pleasantly warm, since night had fallen and the temperature dropped. There was a cool breeze blowing against Seokjin’s neck, the ends of his hair brushing against his ears.

Joon beamed radiantly, as warm as the summer sun. It was nothing short of dazzling and Seokjin was grateful he had agreed to ditch the borderline fishy, suave act. He was a little childlike, excited and giddy, when he asked, “What do you want to do first?”

✨🔮✨

Seokjin cursed and moaned loudly when none of his bullets had made their mark.

“Seokjin, you might want to tone it down a bit,” Joon muttered through gritted teeth beside him, looking down at the curious children and shooting their offended parents an apologetic smile. “There are kids over here.”

The gaming stalls were right by the entrance, placed there to attract children with short attention spans and their parents who still had it in them to comply with their kids’ tantrums. And Seokjin, apparently.

On a normal day, Seokjin wouldn’t be caught dead cursing his lips off at a shooting range because he’s done multiple rounds and he just wanted the alpaca plushie, tied to a pole with string and mocking him with its dead, black beady eyes, dammit. But then again, on a normal day, Seokjin wouldn’t have spent too much energy and money winning a stuffed animal that’d cost him less if he’d bought it instead.

Moreover, on a normal day, he wouldn’t have been with Joon.

When Seokjin’s eyes brightened at the fluffy white alpaca, Joon just laughed and let his hand go, letting him go and play. He even paid the middle-aged stall keeper when Seokjin admitted he’d never played shooting games before. Joon made Seokjin want to win all the stuffed alpacas in the world. It had been a mistake.

Losing was one of his few vices, and Seokjin was a sore loser, as he slammed the money on the counter, asking the less-than-happy keeper for one more try. “One last time!” He shouted, although it felt more like an empty promise for himself.

Seokjin blew his bangs away from his forehead as he got into position, tongue peeking out as he got ready to shoot the moving targets. By then, he was only at least half guilty for letting Joon carry his bag for at least fifteen minutes. He watched the bullets fly as he pulled the trigger, only for them to clang against the metal targets weakly before falling to the ground.

Seokjin groaned in defeat as he ran out of rubber bullets.

He lifted his head up with a new sort of resolution. “This.” He waved the plastic rifle around like a madman. “Is rigged!”

Maybe the beer he had for dinner was stronger than he thought.

Seokjin had snapped, Joon seemed to realize quickly, as he near-slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth before he could create a bigger ruckus. The stall keeper was already giving Seokjin a hostile glare. Things were heating up, in appropriation to the weather.

Seokjin shook Joon’s hand off his face. “I have played at least five rounds and I couldn’t even get one of those puny little keychains!” He pointed at said puny little keychains with his rifle.

He snatched one of the rubber pellets off the box and squeezed it between his fingers. “These can’t shoot down anything; they’re practically marshmallows!” He waved said marshmallowy rubber at the stall-keeper’s face, taunting him. “Mister, don’t you think we should earn our money a bit more honestly?”

“H- Seokjin, please.” Joon’s little worried plea was left unheard.

The stall-keeper looked around at the small crowd gathering and threw Seokjin a nasty glare. “Leave before I call security on you,” he barked.

Seokjin eyed the large alpaca ruefully; somehow, in his slightly inebriated brain, that cotton-loaded animal was the most desirable thing he had ever laid his eyes on. He retreated slowly, with Joon’s hands resting on his shoulders, whose touch somehow felt like an act of unspoken encouragement in his mind.

Seokjin had a playful glint in his eyes as a half-baked plan formed in his mind. Something in him might have tipped Joon off, as he whispered, “Oh no, what are you gonna do?”

But Seokjin’s reflexes were faster. He had already snatched the damned stuffed alpaca in one hard yank and made a mad dash northwards, with Joon inadvertently dragged by his other hand.

The sudden sprint must have evaporated all the remaining alcohol in Seokjin’s system, as if he had been running on some hijacked, autopilot mode and the wooly camelid body currently squashed under his arm served as a bridge back to his consciousness. “Oh no,” he gasped, although his feet were still moving. “I just committed theft.”

“Too late to mull it over, don’t you think?” Joon’s hurried voice was right by his ear, stable even as they’re running. Seokjin’s not even sure if they were being followed. Joon tugged Seokjin’s hand towards an attraction queue, stopping to catch their breaths.

“This way they won’t find us,” Joon explained, as people began to line up behind them. “I don’t think they’re onto us, either.”

None of Joon’s words registered in Seokjin’s mind. He could only think of the alpaca toy on his hands that he illegally stole, and his blood ran cold.

“I- I just stole something.” Seokjin was breathless, his knees wobbly as the adrenaline wore off. He lightly grabbed onto Joon’s shoulders for support, chest heaving in panic more than exhaustion. “Joon, I just committed a felony. The police will find me and I will have to go to jail. This face can’t survive jail. What am I supposed to do?”

“You won’t go to jail. I doubt security’s gonna create a ruckus over a stuffed animal. You’re going to be fine,” Joon assured matter-of-factly, his hand steady against Seokjin’s back. “Besides, theft is not a felony.”

That seemed to calm Seokjin’s errant moral compass down. Somehow, taking one look at Joon and his kind eyes and dimpled smile made him let go of his inhibitions.

Perhaps it was due to the way they met, or the fact that he didn’t need to hide anything from him, or make a good impression, or maybe a good mix of the three, but Joon had this air of comfort around him that encouraged Seokjin to let loose and enjoy himself more. It felt liberating, as if he was cut free from the proverbial strings holding him straight all his life.

Seokjin ended up giving the stuffed alpaca to a kid in front of them who kept on eyeing it. Seokjin waved at him when the little boy used one of the alpaca’s arms (legs?) to wave at him in thanks. He was cute, with almond eyes and pouty lips.

“Joonie says tank yew,” he beamed up to Seokjin and Joon, front tooth missing. His distracted guardian finally turned around and bowed at the two after piecing together what had occurred.

Seokjin nudged at Joon’s side. “Look Joonie, another Joonie,” he teased.

Joon ignored him. “Would it ease your mind knowing that you didn’t profit off the theft you just did?” Joon nudged at Seokjin’s side in retaliation, grin so wide he was on the brink of showing all of his pearly white teeth. Not that Seokjin minded, shit-eating grin aside.

But, of course, he wouldn’t admit it out loud. “I’m sorry for going apeshit on the shooting range,” he apologized instead.

Joon’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t had that much fun in a while!” He laughed in disbelief, raking fingers through his hair. “Besides, I know what I’ve gotten myself into once I laid my eyes on you.”

Seokjin noticed the mischief in Joon’s eyes and scrunched his eyebrows. “What?”

“You look like you’d have a competitive streak in you.”

Seokjin’s minds flashed to his past theatre auditions and that one time he almost had to wrestle another agent for Jungkook, their company’s star trainee, and his cheeks rosied. “No I don’t,” he denied, arms folded and lips pouted, piqued. “Besides, what are we queueing for?”

Joon cocked his head towards a ride, and Seokjin felt his core temperature drop, chills creeping on his skin, despite the near-suffocating, humid air in the cramped queue lines.

The ride was a contraption that launched passengers in an endless loop, spinning around the circle-shaped track forwards and then backwards. Seokjin felt his dinner rise to the back of his throat. “We are not riding that.”

“Too late to back out,” Joon shrugged, looking like he had zero fear and back at the growing line behind them.

✨🔮✨

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Seokjin stated emptily, voice hoarse, as soon as they got off the ride. He had to hold onto the handrail on his way out, his vertigo was worsened by the flashes of rainbow colored lights surrounding the vicinity. It felt like a mix between a bad trip and a hangover, not that Seokjin would know.

Joon looked none the better, previously artfully tousled hair sticking out in at least three different directions. “I second that.”

✨🔮✨

Not five minutes afterwards, they were standing near the snack stalls, sharing a piece of steaming hot hotteok. The decision to get one was unanimous once they both tugged at their joined hands once they spotted the hotteok stall, hard to miss with its bold ‘Hotteok’ sign.

“You sure you don’t want more?” Joon was the one holding the hotteok, only because Seokjin was paying--a decision made after a heated debate, and, according to his logic, it was only fair to do so.

He shook his head resolutely. “Sharing makes room for more snacks,” he said as if it was a mantra.

Seokjin was taken aback when Joon opened his mouth wide to chomp on the fried pancake. His eyes widened with determination in tandem with his mouth, making his round nose extra boopable. Joon’s eyes shot down to the hotteok and took another, smaller bite. Steam from the treat had condensed on Joon’s glasses, adding another reason to Seokjin’s demise.

His cheeks looked impossibly round, like he’s a hamster or quokka or other cute, fuzzy animals. Maybe a koala, or a red panda. Either way, it was the most adorable thing Seokjin had ever seen. He wondered if they were close enough to boop his nose. Probably not.

And because Seokjin had shown exemplary skills at self restraint throughout the evening, he booped Joon’s nose with a finger as he was still chewing on his food.

Joon’s wide eyes directed themselves to look at Seokjin in question, cheeks full and rose-tinted.

Seokjin flushed at the prospect of being caught, and he quickly swiped the finger he used on Joon along his own nose. “Got some sugar on your nose.”

“Oh. Thwanks.” The sound came out muffled as Joon’s mouth was full of pastry. Fortunately for Seokjin, he didn’t seem to notice his terrible lying skills, passing the hotteok right in front of Seokjin instead.

He bowed his head slightly to take a bite from Joon’s hands, and felt an explosion of honey melting in his mouth immediately. The syrup was sweet, gooey, and delectable, rivalling Joon’s pleased look on his face when he heard Seokjin hum in delight.

“Eat lots,” he said, smiling softly at Seokjin. “The honey filling is the best, right?”

It was then Seokjin realized Joon had bitten into the pastry first to let him eat the syrupy bit. Seokjin’s ears burned hot at Joon’s eyes watching him in that open, honest way, like he had absolutely nothing to hide. He looked away once they made eye contact, but the image was burned into Seokjin’s mind.

Seokjin could only nod timidly, hoping the summer heat would be enough an excuse for his rosy cheeks.

He must’ve had something on his face, because Joon was looking at him funny. “What?”

It happened in a blink of an eye. One moment Seokjin was staring at the freckle under Joon’s plush lips, another he had those lips pressed against his skin as Joon gave his cheek a chaste kiss.

Seokjin’s hand shot up to cradle said kissed cheek, all the blood in his body flowing to his face. He was sure he was glowing red at this point. “Wha-?“

Joon pointed at his own cheek, finger poking right on his dimple as he snickered. “Got some sugar on your cheek.” He turned around and started to walk away.

Seokjin balked, poor hand still resting on his cheek. He could feel how soft Joon’s lips were against his skin and flushed deeper. Joon definitely looked through his (terrible) lie.

Joon looked over his shoulder. A halo of different colored lights backlighted his figure, but nothing was more resplendent than the smile gracing his lips, sweet as honey.

He reached out his hand for Seokjin. “What are you waiting for?”

Seokjin took it.

✨🔮✨

The rest of the night went progressively better. They watched a karaoke contest, with Joon shaking in laughter when Seokjin danced along goofily to a trot number, roamed the stalls for more street snacks, Seokjin bouncing in place as they waited for their food, and avoided the gaming stalls completely for good measure.

They were almost always hand in hand; whenever they clasped hands to lace their fingers together, Joon would always brush his thumb against the back of his hand and smile at him gently like it was natural. Seokjin’s heart would jump whenever he did so, the slight touch sending tendrils of electricity down his spine.

He felt ridiculous and inexperienced at first, so it was baffling how quickly he’d gotten used to it. Holding Joon’s hand no longer felt too warm or too sticky or too uncomfortable, he noted as they walked over to an empty bench, Seokjin holding a large cup of strawberry-flavored shaved ice.

They had learned that Seokjin should be the one carrying their food the hard way when Joon dropped a whole plate of ddeokbokki to the ground.

Seokjin was unbelievably full, but Joon argued that there was always room for icy treats. “Lots of lovebirds today,” Seokjin observed the couples among them, boyfriends kissing their girlfriends’ cheeks and holding their hands together.

“I wonder if we look like one of them,” Joon mused, although his eyes were on Seokjin. He’d already had a few spoonfuls of shaved ice, lips tinted strawberry red.

Seokjin shot him a warning look, an unspoken ‘don’t’ transpired between them.

“I used to dream when I was younger, you know.” Seokjin didn’t know why he’d started, but it felt appropriate to share. At least as something to fill the silence with. “That one day I would find someone and he would sweep me off my feet and whisk me away to a place where we could kiss without consequences. There would be no space for fear. We could be ourselves, and he would shower me with love day and night, and I would do the same to him. Maybe more. Wouldn’t that be nice to have?”

Joon nodded in answer. “What’s stopping you?”

“Lack of rich men with arms beefy enough to lift all 1.79 metres of me.”

Joon snorted, nearly spitting out strawberry chunks out his facial crevices. Seokjin made an exasperated face and patted at his back.

“How about your more attainable dreams, then?”

“My what?” Seokjin shot an irked look straight to Joon. He didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“Acting,” Joon answered like it was obvious. “I’m just thinking, why throw away a perfectly good dream? You were passionate about it, weren’t you?”

It didn’t feel flirty and fun anymore, or like banter they threw at each other at the restaurant. There was conviction in Joon’s voice, a surety in his gaze that he was confident he might go and save Seokjin from his choices.

It felt pathetic.

Seokjin’s cheeks heated up, and this time, it wasn’t from nervousness or Joon’s dimples. “I’m perfectly fine now, thank you very much,” he brushed off, hostile, setting the cup of ice between them.

Joon didn’t seem to notice as he pressed on Seokjin further. “I let someone precious slip through my fingers because I didn’t do anything. Don’t let it be you with your dream.”

“What do you know about me?” He snapped.

“I’m just trying to help!” Joon exclaimed back defensively. “Before you realize things are too late.”

Seokjin seethed, feeling a cold rage wash over him. “They said I was not what they were looking for.”

When Joon gave him no response, he continued, “They said they could see I had tried my best, but I was just not ‘it’. It wasn’t that my diction was off, or my expressions were wrong, or if I just stood there like a dead fish. They just didn’t want me.”

“Don’t you know how disheartening it felt to hear that after a hundred failures? How powerless you felt when you knew there’s nothing left you could do?” Seokjin’s voice went higher as his composure wore thin. “And you talk about restarting like it was nothing--you don’t think I’ve never considered that? You think it’s that easy?”

Seokjin’s face felt hot, and his heart pounded against his chest. His hands were sweaty and trembling, balled into fists on either side. “Who are you to tell me what to do? You waltz in here with your designer things and savior complex thinking you could change my life when you haven’t had a taste of real responsibilities,” he spat as he stood up and looked down on Joon, too blinded to see the shocked look on his face. “I’m not your previous relationship you wanted to fix.”

Seokjin stormed off, leaving Joon alone with the lively revelry of the festival.

✨🔮✨

Seokjin had always avoided going to this place, so he didn’t know why his feet had brought him here instead.

It was a small deck overlooking the river, with several benches surrounding it. The place was devoid of people; there wasn’t even a lot that knew of that place to begin with. In a city as densely populated as Seoul, this place was one of Seokjin’s best kept secrets. It was also the sole witness to Seokjin giving up on his dream.

Revisiting the place after so long brought a bittersweet feeling in his mouth, and Seokjin sat on the bench he had years ago. He looked around; it was barren except for wooden benches on wooden planks and a line of street lamps leading towards more frequently visited parts of the riverbank. This place stayed the same, the air maybe a lot warmer, but Seokjin had changed a lot.

A multitude of thoughts buzzed in Seokjin’s head, Joon’s words ringing in his ear.

He may have gone too harsh on him, dumping all of his past frustrations on one person; someone who’d only known him for a short time, at that. Granted, Joon shouldn’t have butted in and assumed things about him, but he probably shouldn’t have lashed out either.

The regret came after the guilt. Despite their parting, Seokjin had never felt that much excitement in a long time. For as long as he remembered, Seokjin had always acted carefully, weighing in the best possible option when making decisions.

His choice to go with Joon had been an outlier from the beginning. He’d experienced a collection of conflicting feelings. Joon had brought Seokjin out of his comfort zone, made him laugh and run and do things he wouldn’t otherwise do. Seokjin enjoyed his company, very much so. He wanted to thank Joon for that, even though he was the one doing Joon a favor.

The near-silence amplified the sound, growing louder as footsteps hurriedly coming towards Seokjin’s direction. He turned his head to the side, watching as Joon ran towards him. He looked like a mess, purple hair pushed back as his brow bone glistened with sweat. Seokjin stood up on instinct, and was nearly pushed back to the bench as Joon’s body closed in on him.

He felt Joon’s arms secured tight around his waist, chin perched on his shoulder. “Seokjin,” Joon’s deep voice was reduced to a hushed whisper. “I thought I’d lost you again.” Seokjin felt warmth radiating off Joon’s chest, as it rose and fell pronouncedly. He must’ve ran all the way here.

“I shouldn’t have pushed my own ideas to you, no matter how much I thought it was best for you.” His voice was more stable since he’d controlled his labored breathing. “I should’ve just listened to you and I’m sorry.”

There was something in his voice that was sorrowful and incredibly regretful, and it shocked Seokjin that he could only pat Joon’s back lightly. His heart squeezed in an unpleasant sort of way as he realized there must be more into Joon’s words, feelings that weren’t supposed to be conveyed to him, but he didn’t comment on it, thinking it was a line that he shouldn’t cross.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin was the one who broke off the hug. He took out some tissues from his pocket and dabbed at Joon’s temples, tilting his head while doing so. “But how did you find me?”

“Lucky guess,” Joon answered, breathless. “Someone once told me this was a great place to be at when you wanted to be alone.”

They sat side by side, no words exchanged between them as Joon steadied his breath and Seokjin tried to compose himself.

“I went here the day I failed my last audition,” he confessed, eyes trained towards the expanse of water stretched wide in front of them. “Just like then, my feet just brought me here.”

“You remember that thing I told you earlier about dream romances?” Joon nodded, eyes trained on Seokjin attentively. “About foreign vacances, convertible rides along the beach, and the likes? Maybe I wouldn’t like it if it were to happen. Maybe I wouldn’t like open-car rides because the wind messed with my hair and dirt would get into my mouth. Or maybe I wouldn’t like to have other people watch me kiss. Living such an exciting-sounding life would eventually feel dull and boring as reality settled in.”

Joon’s silence prompted Seokjin to continue. “I think some dreams are best kept in the fragments of my imagination. It’s like that about acting, too. If my career as an actor had taken off, maybe life would be better, it may have been worse, but I would never know that.”

“It was not the life I chose to continue striving for. I don’t like how people in my past refer to my acting days as my glory days. Like my life now is a sad husk of what it used to be; it’s insulting. No, that’s fine.” Seokjin put a hand over Joon’s as soon as he saw his guilt-ridden face. “I could kind of see where they were coming from too. Maybe it was the glorification of dreams, and how I disagree with it. Maybe that’s why I don’t keep in contact with them anymore. Like I’m not worth as much anymore now that I’ve stopped.”

Joon hesitated, stressing on his bottom lip. “I haven’t thought of it that way.”

Seokjin smiled pensively and confessed, “I wasn’t always like this too. There were nights that, after busying myself joining new clubs and interest groups and any other event I could get tickets for, I would lay in bed agonizing over every single thing that I thought had gone wrong.”

His voice broke a little as he stared at the river, dark waters creating ripples as the moon shone from above, half obscured by wispy clouds. “It was miserable and even years later, after I’ve graduated and gotten employed and met people that made my life feel worthwhile again, there would be nights when I’d ruminate over my past again, thinking ‘what if’, even when it was and will always be futile. It has taken me a great deal of effort to be where I am right now, and I take pride in that.”

It feels… so constricting when I have to be reminded of my old life over and over. And I guess I was wired to mind other people’s feelings too much to voice out mine. I’m sorry I lashed out at least five years’ worth of misery at you, but it feels refreshing. Thank you for listening to me. And I’m sorry for judging you from your appearance.”

“It’s no problem.” Joon looked stunned, rightfully so. However, his recovery was near-instantaneous. “I’m terribly sorry; I thought I was doing what I thought was best for you.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and shook his head as he let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “But we’ve only just met.”

When he looked at Joon, he had an expression Seokjin couldn’t quite figure out, like he had a head full of thoughts he couldn’t voice out to Seokjin and the world. For someone whose face was a direct reflection of his heart, he could be very unreadable at times.

At last, Joon seemed to notice the silence and bounced back. “Besides, you’re right.” This time, his voice was full of mirth. “I hate to break this to you but I’m actually a trust fund kid with no clear responsibilities.” Joon made a face and shrugged with his entire body.

Seokjin’s face flushed vermilion. “I’m terribly sorry. God. I was oversharing, wasn’t I? And on your last night here, too.” Seokjin groaned and buried his face in his hands, fingers ruffling his hair. “Be you regretted asking me out.”

When he peeked at Joon from the gaps between his fingers, Joon was looking at him with a sense of clarity that was never there before. He chuckled and shook his head. “Believe me, it’s been an adventure from the moment I met you.”

Seokjin was taken aback as he felt his ears heat up for the nth time that evening. He fell silent, thought of a cheeky comeback before thinking they were past avoiding speaking the truth. They didn’t have the time to, and the smile Seokjin returned was genuine. “Likewise.”

The look they shared was of understanding, basking in the calm that surrounded them. The cacophony of sounds and laughter from the carnival felt so far away.

“Oh,” Joon was the one who broke the silence. “What’s your job now like, then?”

“I’m a talent manager,” Seokjin answered softly, hoping that Joon didn’t voice out the irony. “I recruit new talent into my company, finding unpolished gems, and the like.”

Joon did no such thing. “How does doing that make you feel?”

“I’m still new so I haven’t had any success stories yet, but pretty nice, I guess?” Now that he’d known enough, Seokjin felt safe enough around Joon to be candid. “But I have this, uh, irrational fear that maybe once I see someone I helped succeed be in the place that I yearned to be, I may feel…”

“Shitty?” Joon supplied helpfully.

Seokjin chuckled lightheartedly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“What do you feel whenever you read your nephew stories?”

Seokjin cocked his brow at the sudden change of topic, but answered nonetheless. “Happy. My nephew is thoroughly entertained, so I feel happy.”

“You’re halfway there, then.” Joon smiled. “You could extend that mentality over to your job: that person’s happiness will be derived from the success you’ve helped them achieve, and your pride and fulfillment over your work will be due to those people’s successes.”

Seokjin looked contemplative as he considered Joon’s words. “I’ll feel happy by making people happy. Like a symbiotic relationship, then. A hermit crab and anemone.” Joon laughed at that.

“Tell you the truth,” Seokjin voiced out after a bit of hesitation. The atmosphere was as quiet as the waters. “I sometimes worry about my future. I know I’ve said that I’ve moved on, but something lingers, sometimes. I wonder what would happen if I persisted. Will I regret my choices in the future?”

Joon shook his head; the look in his eyes were as clear as day. “You’ll be okay.”

✨🔮✨

Joon took a quick look at his watch and sighed. “The fireworks are taking damn long to start.”

Seokjin looked at the sky, hazy and murky from the lights emanating from the many tall buildings. The crescent moon was a glow dim from the distance, partially obscured from light pollution.

His mind wandered to the romance he’d dreamed of young ago, and thought of how flashy it all sounded. It didn’t sound like Seokjin; as life mellowed out, so did his dreams.

Call him vanilla for all he cared, but these days, he just wanted someone to love and spend some time with. It could be riding the subway home together, or preparing some dinner while some TV show played in the background.

Seokjin just craved mundane togetherness. He wanted to watch fireworks with that person in the summer, walk hand in hand on a carpet of dried leaves, be wrapped around a giant blanket burrito as they watch snow fall from the window, and brush off cherry blossom petals from their hair. He just wanted to spend a full year with a loved one, and more. It was cliched and a little shabby, but the dream was his.

His head unhelpfully noted that he’d crossed off a quarter of a season with Joon, as they stood side by side waiting for the fireworks to start.

It was an easy thing to picture Joon’s hand he was holding, or his chest against his back as they sat around and shared a blanket come wintertime. It was in the steady hold of his gaze, or the reassurance in his smile, but Seokjin felt an undeniable pull towards Joon. Perhaps it was the infallible chemistry they had.

Seokjin projected a full year with Joon, watching cherry blossoms fall into the water and warming his skin during cold nights, and willed the thoughts away in a heartbeat. It was not how things were supposed to be. It was futile.

He willed such thoughts away, arms leaning against the handrail as he enjoyed the gentle breeze caressing his cheeks. They waited for the fireworks in silence, basking in the serenity and calmness of it. They had said enough for now.

His eyes shot upwards with the first sparks shooting towards the sky. A loud boom reverberated in the air as the aureate sparks bloomed into a massive, golden starburst, glittering in the night sky. Seokjin jolted backwards at the sound, and was surprised to feel Joon’s hand on the small of his back, steadying him.

He turned to see Joon looking at him instead, again having that strangely fond look on his face. Seokjin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Joon was the one who shortened the distance between their faces, so close that Seokjin could spot his straight lashes and count every freckle on his nose, but Seokjin was the one who closed the gap between them.

Joon’s lips were soft and warm when he kissed Seokjin back, one hand keeping steady on his waist as the other cupped his jaw, long fingers resting on his ear and the back of his neck. He shivered upon contact, hands gripping at Joon’s shirt as he deepened the kiss.

The loud crackles of the fireworks grew dull in his ears as all Seokjin could hear was his heartbeat drumming against his ears. Joon tasted saccharine sweet, like honeyed strawberries. He kissed Seokjin slowly, like he had all the time in the world; idle fingers playing with Seokjin’s hair as he took great care in loving every part of Seokjin’s lips. Seokjin melted into Joon’s touch, hands clammy as they bunched on Joon’s black shirt. He wondered how Joon looked at that moment.

When they pulled away, breathing deeply into the heady air, Joon planted a quick peck to the tip of Seokjin’s nose. His shock must’ve translated well into his face as Joon was laughing softly, before smiling at him with such a luminosity that only the moonlit afterglow could replicate.

It was such a stark difference with the loud, bright bursts of the fireworks in the sky; while kissing him felt like being catapulted among the clouds, seeing his expression afterwards was like a slow drift to the ground.

The multitude of feelings left Seokjin slightly disoriented, and maybe his breathlessness was reflected in his features that Joon’s smile turned a little nostalgic, as though he was still enamored despite doing this a thousand times in a time that no longer existed.

Seokjin heard the last muted crackles of the dying fire and looked down to his feet, safely planted on the deck.

Because all of this was just that: a transient dream.

A surge of ridiculousness washed over his thoughts and Seokjin cleared his throat, peeling himself off Joon’s warmth. The evening breeze felt especially chilly, and Seokjin folded in on himself, hands rubbing at the sides of his arm.

The look Seokjin gave Joon was steady, despite knowing that looking into his sincere smile wouldn’t help with calming the phantom butterflies residing in his ribcage. He finally had a name for the feelings he’d had throughout the evening, and wished the treacherous thoughts away.

The cool wind felt like a splash of cold water straight to the face. He couldn’t fall for this not-quite stranger, not like this, not now.

“My turn,” he said, in replacement of the things he would like to convey. Stay longer. Don’t leave. “There’s someplace I’d like to go with you.”

✨🔮✨

Seokjin brought Joon to a strip of nightclubs in Itaewon, different rainbow-colored lights shining a path on either side of the street, neon signs flickering brightly. Seokjin practically dragged Joon by the hand, mind trying to remember the underground club Yoongi frequented.

“You want to go to a club?” Joon’s tone was amused but not condescending.

“Yep.” Seokjin still looked forward, eyes busy scanning different names from different signs. “Haven’t been in one. Was too obsessed with a clean image to go, am too busy and tired with work to care.”

Seokjin’s eyes lit up when he found Yoongi’s regular club; the front was littered with flyers promoting guest performances, old and new; Seokjin recognized none of the names, having a funny thought about how silly some of the names are; a headliner reminded him of ranch salad dressing, and he fought the need to snort.

“Don’t go there!” came Joon’s hurried voice as he tugged on Seokjin’s hand.

Seokjin turned around and tilted his head, not knowing that one could feel so strongly against an underground hip hop club. “Why?”

“Just… not a big hip hop fan.” Joon sucked in a breath through clamped teeth and grinned apologetically. “Why don’t we head in there instead?”

He pointed at another club right across, a neon purple butterfly glowing bright at Seokjin. Low thrums of bass-heavy music escaped through the cracks of the entrance and into the street, and people were already heading inside the club when Joon brought their attention to it.

Seokjin just shrugged and agreed with no resistance, mostly because he didn’t care about the venue, but also out of belated fear of bumping into Yoongi. Seokjin did not have the energy to face him, after how much whiny fits Yoongi had thrown into persuading him to go clubbing together, let alone introduce the two.

The first thing he took note of was the deafening music, bass vibrating against his eardrums with an increasing intensity as they head down the narrow hallway that led to the main space. Joon had led them to the bar, near to the entrance, and ordered them two glasses with ease.

Seokjin’s drink was sweet and tart, like an assortment of berries, and he rouged when he associated the flavor to Joon’s mouth not an hour ago. He proceeded to down his glass in one go, facing Joon with cherry-colored cheeks.

Joon looked at him amused, the ember liquid in his glass barely touched. “One more?”

✨🔮✨

The club was large and modern, complete with a high ceiling with balconies that overlook the dance floor and several booths to lounge on. Music was blaring from all corners of the place, the sheer volume of it buzzing in Seokjin’s bones as strobe lights danced around the room in rainbow colored hues, light bouncing off on people’s skin and crystal glasses, glimmering when one focused enough. People, youthful in the glint of their eyes and wide grins, spilled over the dance floor, moving their limbs in sync with the music like a flutter of butterflies.

Seokjin took one look at their attires, skin tight and revealing in all the right places, and looked at Joon right beside him, camouflaging completely with the crowd in his all black outfit, shirt collar low and loose to reveal a sliver of skin. He felt self aware in his business casual get up, and unbuttoned his shirt in an attempt to blend in.

“You look fine.” Joon’s voice was deep right by Seokjin’s ear and went straight to his spine, lips barely grazing the shell of his ear.

Seokjin jerked at the proximity as the alcohol warmed his body and heightened his senses; he could still feel Joon’s breath against his skin. “I know.”

The music thrummed impossibly louder on the dance floor, and usually Seokjin would have thrown a fit at the amount of sticky bodies coming into contact with him, but his inebriated self seemed to mind less. Especially when he had someone like Joon press against him.

He felt like moonshine was coursing through his body, giving him confidence that was almost dizzying as they danced, his arms draped languidly around Joon’s shoulders, hips flush against each other. The DJ was playing a remix of a Top 40 song that he couldn’t care less of, only focusing on trying to look as composed as he could.

Seokjin was not an avid dancer, you see.

The sounds and lights were overwhelming, and Seokjin’s head felt light, hands falling to clutch on Joon’s chest pockets instead. He looked down, eyes comforted by the less disorienting dark floor, and saw a glint of silver peeking from Joon’s shirt.

Joon looked at him in concern, hands supporting Seokjin’s elbows, slowly pulling them away from the thick of the party and into a spot with less crowding. “You alright?”

Seokjin ignored this, instead toying at the metal chain around Joon’s neck, touching the silver ring nestled right at the ridge between his chest before he let his fingers linger around the skin. He eyed at the simple band, wondering if it was precious enough to be kept near his heart.

You don’t have to say you love me
You don’t have to say nothing

He trained his eyes on the column of Joon’s neck, slowly tracing the mole there to the one below his mouth, upwards to the freckle on his cheek before looking at Joon’s eyes. He looked a lot less affected by their surroundings, and Seokjin envied him for that. He was always the more put together one out of the two of them.

“Can’t it be me?” Seokjin’s eyes were heavy-lidded and hazy. “Can you pretend it’s me you broke up with, whom you’re trying to win over right now?”

Joon uttered something Seokjin couldn’t hear and tucked stray strands of Seokjin’s hair behind his ear, smiling sadly.

Seokjin didn’t like to see that, watching the way the corners of his mouth slowly drooped down and his eyes mellowed, and did something his alcohol-infused conscience could think of.

The kiss tasted bitter and zesty, and there was an intoxicating quality to it as Seokjin opened his mouth to taste Joon’s. There was no progression into this kiss, no careful build up as recklessness and confidence took over with a desire to devour.

They were a tangled mess--with Seokjin’s fingers in Joon’s hair and Joon’s hands on his ass. Seokjin had his leg between Joon’s, and he could feel his hardness against his. They continued to make out, tasting each other’s mouths, as everything was too loud and too many things happening around them at the same time, that Seokjin couldn’t help but think of the quiet kiss near the riverbank.

But Seokjin was more accustomed to Joon, taking hints from their first kiss to test out what small moves Joon liked. He did that thing with his tongue that elicited a groan reverberating from Joon’s throat.

Kissing Joon the second time was more hurried, with an urgency that wasn’t there before. His time was running out, and Seokjin would like to spend their last moments not in an overcrowded club with a herd of drunk girls jumping around right beside them.

He pulled away from the kiss, both shy and turned on when he saw Joon’s hooded eyes and swollen lips. He did that, his mind uselessly noted.

“This place sucks.” His lips grazed the shell of Joon’s ear as everything was too loud and too much. “Let’s get out of here.”

✨🔮✨

The taxi ride home had sobered Seokjin, leaving only the remnants of the liquor in his system. Seokjin had barely punched in his passcode and flung the door open to his studio apartment when he was turned around by his hips and he was being kissed again, lips nipped and nibbled at eagerly, face cupped between warm hands.

Seokjin pushed the door shut, kicking his dress shoes away. Now that he only had his socks on and Joon was wearing a pair of chunky sneakers, there’s a bit of a height difference between them. Seokjin tilted his head upwards to meet Joon’s lips, feeling the tips of Joon’s fingers on his nape and brushing at the ends of his hair.

“Off!” Seokjin demanded impatiently, foot nudging Joon’s. Joon kicked them off hastily as he guided both of them to Seokjin’s bed, and Seokjin was 80% sure one of them hit his kitchen cabinet as he heard a loud, dull thud.

Their lips didn’t break contact until they reached the bed, Seokjin straddling Joon’s lap. He cradled Joon’s cheeks with both hands before he ran his fingers through his hair, tongue tasting his mouth like he was still affected by liquid courage.

Joon’s hands roamed under Seokjin’s shirt, hands reaching up to his sides. He gasped, sensitive, as if the touch had anchored him back to reality. He felt Joon’s size grinding against his, throbbing and fully clothed. And as much as he wanted to do something about that, he was suddenly hyper aware of Joon’s hands on his sticky-from-sweat skin.

His eyes shot open in horror. “I’m gonna shower,” Seokjin announced, peeling himself off Joon and getting up.

“I don’t mind,” Joon breathlessly replied, trying hard to reach and made grabby hands at Seokjin, but the latter was already walking towards the bathroom. “Don’t leave me.”

“But I do.” Seokjin held the cuff of his short-sleeved shirt between two fingers and peeled it off his body in one swift motion, tossing it into the laundry basket nearby like it’s normal, showing Joon the expanse of his smooth skin, wide shoulders and trim waist.

“Whoa.” Seokjin turned around to find Joon sitting on the edge of his bed, mouth agape and looking a little silly. He tilted his head slightly in confusion, and Joon finally found the strength in him to speak up.

“Can you do that again?” He requested rather innocently, despite the situation. “That’s so hot? I don’t think I will ever get used to that, ever.”

Seokjin looked at him blankly for at least five seconds, before shuffling back to the laundry basket, retrieved his discarded shirt, put it back on, and yanked it off again in one swift motion.

He stared at Joon again, not-so-blankly this time. His whole face felt hot. “I-I’m gonna shower now.”

Seokjin’s hand was slightly shaking when he turned his shower on. Warm water hit his skin in a familiar, welcoming way; this would be the first time for Seokjin not to feel relaxed in the cramped cubicle. He lathered soap to his hands, rubbing and massaging the foamy suds to his skin.

He thought of how he sort-of cockblocked himself, and his breath hitched as he remembered feeling how big Joon under his clothes. He covered his face with his hands, dragging them upwards to slick his hair back in frustration.

He was impatient, and he’d already delayed them with his sudden itch to shower, and he had only one night with the amazing, brilliant Joon, that he looked around for a particular bottle, clear and smaller than the rest of his bath products.

Seokjin was nothing but a time-efficient man.

Joon was sitting on the edge of the bed when he stepped out, glasses settled neatly on his bedside table. Even as he was clothed, he felt more exposed than ever when he realized Joon’s been staring. He dried his hair with a towel in an attempt to hide his scarlet ears.

“I left a towel and toiletries on the counter,” he said as Joon made his way to the bathroom, arm stopping Seokjin by the waist and kissing his temple chastely when they met in the middle.

Seokjin sat on the edge of the bed where Joon had been, feeling oddly self-conscious in his own home. He fidgeted on the hem of his oversized tee, thinking if he should take his clothes off or not. He thought of the things he did in the shower, with Joon just one door away, and flushed red again.

It was crazy how relaxed Joon had been, doing everything like clockwork. What was with that kiss earlier? Seokjin thought, as it didn’t feel like anything but a small, tender gesture done through habit.

And then the mortification hit. Seokjin didn’t leave any clothes for Joon in the bathroom. He was sent into a mini panic attack, screaming internally and pacing around the room. Thankfully, the water from his shower was loud enough to mask his rapid padding on the wooden floor.

Should he: A) take his clothes off or B) knock and give him a set of loungewear? Seokjin had no idea; he was a complete newbie at this! He then proceeded to take his sweatpants off, leaving it haphazardly on the floor; he couldn’t just shove his clothes for Joon to wear.

But then another thought hit him like a freight train; he would really like to see Joon in various stages of undress. Slowly pulling the band of his underwear for him; that sounded very, very nice.

Seokjin hurried and grabbed his largest sweats combo from his wardrobe; it was pale green and oversized and unbelievably soft. It was only courteous for him to lend a guest one of his best pairs. He shuffled quickly towards the bathroom door, his brain cells operating in such a state of mayhem that he didn’t notice the shower being turned off.

Just as his knuckles were readying themselves to rap the door, the door flung open and his fingers were almost in direct contact with Joon’s chest. His very, very naked chest, as Joon stood in front of him in nothing but his towel around his waist, hair wet and pushed back from the shower.

His grip on his folded clothes loosened, but not enough to let them fall because those were his expensive eighty five dollar lounge set, dammit. They were so close Seokjin could feel Joon’s minty breath on him, and his hair smelled like his shampoo. Despite everything, his face reddened thinking there was something intimate about sharing bath products.

“So eager?” Joon teased.

He lifted Seokjin off his feet and Seokjin instinctively wrapped his arms around Joon’s neck and his legs around his torso, with Joon supporting him by his bottom. The action made all the blood rush to Seokjin’s face as he blushed deeper.

Joon carried him effortlessly, laying him down the bed. Seokjin looked at him through his lashes, sure that even his shoulder blades were flushed at the rate Joon was making him feel. Joon propped each arm between Seokjin to bend down and kiss him when Seokjin felt metal against his cheekbone.

“Ow.” It didn’t hurt, the exclamation more like a knee-jerk reaction, but Joon caressed Seokjin’s cheek with his thumb. “Sorry.” The sheepish smile made another appearance as he took his necklace off in one swift motion and flung it towards the general direction of Seokjin’s bedside table.

“Now where were we?”

Joon littered ardent kisses all over Seokjin’s body, making his way down from his mouth, sucking marks along his clavicle, licking parts of his middle that incited soft whimpers from his mouth. Joon left his imprints on Seokjin with his lips, a smattering of tiny rosebuds blooming on his skin.

His lips fluttered southwards to Seokjin’s length, mouth pampering Seokjin there with more fervor as he heard the small voices Seokjin made. He took his time with Seokjin, pleasing him with his mouth until he was a writhing mess, hands rumpling the bedsheets.

Joon didn’t leave room for shyness as he continued to pleasure Seokjin in his most sensitive parts, focusing on places that generate the highest moans from Seokjin’s pretty, red-bitten lips.

Once he’s satisfied with the glistening mess Seokjin had made on the flat planes of his stomach, Joon’s mouth and hands roamed further down. Seokjin, flushed from the high Joon helped him attain earlier, gasped and bit back a moan once he felt Joon’s bony finger inside.

He lifted his head off the pillow and looked down on Joon. “You’re already soft,” he stated as an observation as he probed his finger inside, creating a wet sound. He took no time to press on a bump that made Seokjin throw his head back and whine.

Seokjin tried to look at Joon again, panting. “I prepared myself.”

Joon’s eyes flickered and he stopped his motions. “In the shower. I could’ve helped you.”

“Want you in me faster.” His words seemed to awaken something in Joon as he rose from his place in between Seokjin’s legs, eyeing him with a hunger more pronounced than before.

He climbed his way back, using his arms to support himself as he came face to face with Seokjin. “You impatient thing.”

“Top drawer,” Seokjin said, a little too desperately.

Joon reached over to retrieve a condom and a small bottle of lube, and swiftly prepared himself before kneeling down in between Seokjin.

He pushed himself in, inch by inch, and Seokjin gasped at the fullness, nails gripping into Joon’s skin. The little noises that his throat produced lured Joon closer and closer, and Seokjin could feel how Joon’s self control faltered whenever he thrusted in a little too hastily and eliciting sharper gasps from Seokjin’s mouth.

As soon as Joon had filled Seokjin to the brim, he paused and gave Seokjin time to adjust, planting his lips on his closed eyelids delicately, kissing the wetness forming on his lashes away. “You okay?”

Seokjin nodded, and when Joon started moving, he didn’t know that when he felt such overwhelming pleasure, tears would start to flow on their own. It was like Joon knew how to angle his thrusts, where to hit the hardest. There was a quiet intensity in his movements that Seokjin could only wordlessly take them all.

It was as though he was rehearsing a dance he’s spent time perfecting, like he’d known Seokjin’s body better than himself. He could only hold onto Joon’s shoulders so he wouldn’t slip away, head buried in the crook of his neck, biting the tender flesh there softly to muffle his moans.

Seokjin’s body was pulled taunt, back arching as he felt himself tender and flush between their abdomens, tip weeping from the friction. He held him so tight it hurt, with a desperate clinginess as if Seokjin’s corporeal being would fade away, like time or memories.

Joon was warm, with a fresh, woody scent that was a mix of Seokjin’s body wash and remnants from his cologne wafting from the crook of his neck when Seokjin nosed at his skin.

Their bodies slotted together, with Seokjin’s hands encircling Joon’s biceps and his legs around Joon’s waist. It was a perfect fit, better than anything he’d ever experienced before.

Seokjin’s breath hitched, drunk from the pleasure. “Joonie,” he sighed, the voice soft and breathy against his ear, and he gasped as he felt even fuller as he felt more of Joon inside of him.

Joon angled his head to face Seokjin, the look of surprise on his face soon melted into one deeper than fancy and lust.

“Jinnie.” The nickname was uttered affectionately with an urgency and bittersweetness that, despite the overwhelming pleasure, tugged at Seokjin’s heartstrings.

He reached up to pull Joon down, sealing their lips together in an ardent kiss, both trying to drink up the other as much as they could, as they shared an unspoken understanding that things were about to end soon.

Joon groaned deeply and picked up the pace, and through their touching chests Seokjin could feel Joon’s heart beating the same errant rhythm as his as they both chased their peaks. Seokjin arched his back as he came in pearlescent ropes on his abdomen, causing Joon to piston into his twitching heat, release following Seokjin’s soon after.

Joon collapsed on the bed next to Seokjin, facing him as they shared a pillow. “Did I go too hard on you?”

“Barely,” Seokjin huffed out a reply, not wanting to admit he just had the dicking of his life. He definitely would’ve called in sick if he had to go to work the next day.

Joon snickered like he could see right through him, and Seokjin looked into Joon’s eyes, dark and half shrouded between violet tinted hair, thinking if he should sacrifice his pride to ask if there was a way for them to last longer. Joon was a little too good to be true; Seokjin felt silly for being attached over someone he just had sex with, how cliched it was.

However, despite all that, Seokjin’s feelings were true. He already felt Joon slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t like that. Joon smiled, a little melancholic, looking like he knew what Seokjin was feeling, and Seokjin knew that he couldn’t make whatever he wanted happen. So instead, he kissed Seokjin’s ruminations away and gave him something he could have once more.

✨🔮✨

Seokjin laid his head on Joon’s chest, his skin a constellation of red stars that would eventually turn violet with Joon’s departure. His finger traced languid circles around the mole on his pectoral, the tanned skin flushed and glistening but otherwise bare.

“I didn’t get to leave my mark on you,” he tried to sulk, although it sounded more like a sleepy mumble.

“You still could,” Joon chuckled, brushing Seokjin’s bangs off his forehead.

Seokjin snuggled into Joon closer. “Too tired.”

He looked up to see Joon smiling down at him. “You did all the work.”

“You’ve done enough for me.” He kissed Seokjin’s temple. “Just wanted to return the favor.”

Seokjin puffed out his cheeks. “Fine. Not that I’m complaining.”

They fell into post-bliss silence, the air conditioner whirring steadily as it blew cool air and practically froze Seokjin’s toes, because he got cold easily and Joon was hogging his lopsided blanket.

Seokjin bent his knees and pressed his cold toes against Joon’s toned, strong thighs, laughing when he yelped from the contact. “It’s too bad you’re leaving tomorrow,” he mumbled softly.

The look Joon gave him was bittersweet and wistful, but he trained his smile into a smug snicker. “What, you’re going to miss me?”

“Only because you’re hot. And you get under my skin sometimes.” Seokjin didn’t want to be sappy and dwell on his feelings. He resolved to take everything in while he could, savor every moment with this person who would soon be a stranger again.

He raised his hand to caress Joon’s cheek, where his dimple would show whenever he willed it. He poked at the soft flesh with his finger. “This will be hard not to miss. Why don’t you consider acting?”

“Oh c’mon, I’ve apologized already.”

Seokjin snorted and nuzzled his nose closer against Joon’s skin, breathing in a mix of his own body wash and something that was inherently Joon.

Seokjin glanced over his room window, curtains drawn open. It was already blue hour, the evanescent lilac hues seeping from hazy clouds have begun to bleed and blend with the blues and oranges of daybreak. “Hey,” he called out, eyes gazing at the ever changing colors of the sky. “I’m your rebound, aren’t I?”

He felt Joon draw a breath, ready to refute his claim, but he continued, “It’s alright. I’ve used you in a way too, and you’re leaving today, anyway. Thanks to you, I’ve had a taste of my dreams.”

Seokjin yawned, overtaken with slumber. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you here tonight, or tomorrow. But you.” He poked at Joon’s chest, gleaming from the light that began to seep in and brighten the room. “Have issues. And I still have stuff to sort out. We would’ve driven each other insane in a month, I think.”

Seokjin was rambling at this point, and he had a small inkling he would’ve kicked his blankets once he’s conscious enough. “So in another timeline, then. I would’ve fallen for you so easily, everything would feel like a lie.” He laughed softly. “For now, I’m going to find someone who’s going to stay.”

Joon finally responded, fingers carding through Seokjin’s hair. “Please do that.”

“Maybe you should go after that person. Or maybe not.” Seokjin’s mouth practically ran loose at this point, lids heavy with sleep. “Take a long look back and think of the thing he actually wanted you to do. Or maybe not. Maybe your presence is enough for him, maybe you should just stay.”

“Joon?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Sometimes dreams are just dreams. I think he knows that too.” Seokjin started to drift off to dreamland without waiting to listen to Joon’s reply.

✨🔮✨

Sometime mid-sleep, Seokjin could feel his head was laid down on his pillow, feeling the sheets rustle underneath him as Joon started to crawl out of bed.

Drowsy from slumber, he mumbled, “Sleep in a little longer.”

He peeked through barely-opened eyelids, seeing that Joon, already up, was gathering his discarded clothes from the floor and put them on one by one. He was so, so tired, only managing to smile a little dopily when Joon tripped over a sock.

Joon, fully clothed, crouched down and brushed Seokjin’s hair away from his face. He sat at the end of the bed, reached for his glasses and took a look at the bedside table, staring at it for a while, before shaking his head and chuckling softly. It was strange.

“This scene plays out a lot more often than I’d like,” Joon admitted sadly. “Jin-ah, you’ll find that person, and you’ll share so many seasons together, and so many different things with him—mundane ones, special ones, even ones buried deep in your past. That person will be stupid and inexperienced and ultimately useless, and you’ll be too good for him, but please...” he paused, desperation lacing his voice as fingers stroked Seokjin’s cheek. “Please find that person, because he will fall madly for you so easily it will sound like a lie. Find him so I can come find you like this.”

Joon bent down and kissed Seokjin’s forehead a final time, a cold metal band pressing against his skin when Joon’s hand cupped his cheek. Seokjin, content as he was lulled back to sleep, heard gentle whispers right by his ear. “So forget me, okay? Seokjin hyung, find me.”

✨🔮✨

Days blurred into weeks, and Seoul was well into autumn now, dead leaves falling from trees in rattled flurries.

Life was busier for Seokjin as he continued to put his all on his work. He opened up about his past to Yoongi and his friends, albeit with difficulty. It felt like a burden was lifted off his shoulders as he shared his pain with more people that genuinely cared for him.

That summer night was tucked away in Seokjin’s mind, and his memories began to fade away as he reminisced even less. It felt like an ephemeral fever dream, as he’d gradually forgotten the man’s name. His features in Seokjin’s mind had dulled, like there was a thick mist covering his face. These days, Seokjin could only remember his dimpled smile, gracing his honeyed skin.

He was sure that, as time passed by, he would’ve been convinced that that night was just a vivid dream if it weren’t for the necklace he left behind, the chain now around his neck. It was plainer than he remembered; Seokjin swore he’d felt a pendant or something hit him near the eye that night.

Seokjin roamed through the strip of night clubs in Itaewon again in the evening. He didn’t even know why; next thing he knew, he had exited through the gantries of Itaewon station and walked to the strip of nightclubs he had visited that night.

He had walked in deep enough to spot the hip hop club Yoongi was a regular patron of when he saw a man exiting the doors, wearing all black and lugging what looked like mixing equipment. The man was tall and lean, but there was a roundness in his features that made Seokjin think he was younger.

Seokjin didn’t know what had gotten into him but his feet had already been walking at a brusque pace, racing to stop the man. “Hey,” he called out when he was close enough. “You make music?”

The man turned around, and sharp eyes stared back into Seokjin’s. “Rap, too,” he answered, voice rich. “But not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Shitty boss fired me when I asked for a raise.”

Seokjin reached into his coat pocket for his business card like clockwork. “You wanna try out at our company?”

The man looked at the card, reading silently at the black letters printed there. ‘HwayangYeonhwa Ent., Kim Seokjin, Talent Manager’.

“As you’ve read, my name is Kim Seokjin,” he introduced himself, smiling warmly just like how he did whenever he was trying to scout someone. “What’s yours?”

The man looked up to look Seokjin in the eye, and he saw a flash of purple. He looked behind the man, to the purple butterfly of the establishment he once went months ago.

The man didn’t smile, but he outstretched his hand for Seokjin instead. “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

Seokjin took it.

Notes:

ah, you've finally reached the end, and for that i must congratulate you. this was supposed to be a short songfic drabble that developed a mind of its own and ended up being at least 9k words longer than intended. originally written so i could practice on my smut writing, as my namjin fic fest entry will definitely have some good ole naemjean sexy times. this fic is largely unedited, so please excuse the inconsistencies and/or errors.

please leave kudos/comments if you enjoy this fic or if you just wanna share your thoughts; i'd greatly appreciate them. thank you!