Title: Say it’s infinitely true
Fandom: The Time of Fever/Unintentional Love Story
Rating: M-rated (soft M)
Length: 7864 words
Notes: Post-Canon, Pretend Relationship, Three Times, Internalized Homophobia, Bi Erasure, Kdrama Gangsters, Gay Nightclub, Mild Jealousy, Epiphanies, Get-Together, First Time. Title from Bic Runga’s “Sway”. A thousand thanks to teaotter for beta. <3
Summary: Donghee glared at Hotae. “We are never doing that again. No more pretending to date to get you out of trouble! Stop using me.”

(AKA Three Times They Fake Dated.)

1.

Donghee finished filling an order for four iced Americanos and was just resigning himself to leaving the café unattended to deliver them when Hotae walked in.

“You’re here? Great timing,” said Donghee. “My part-timer’s off sick today, and I’m rushed off my feet. Deliver this order for me.”

Hotae might grumble or try to make inappropriate bargains, but he was always obliging about helping out with things like this. Donghee started to turn back to the coffee machine. Then, belatedly, he registered that Hotae wasn’t alone.

A tall, pretty woman in a strappy top and a leather skirt, with a rose tattoo on her bare arm, was hot on his heels.

Donghee’s stomach flipped. Hotae being Hotae, he was always dating one woman or another; even after spending the last three weeks naging Donghee to go out with him, that was no real surprise. But did he have to bring her here?

Luckily, Donghee had the perfect excuse to leave them to it. “Actually, forget that. I’ll take the delivery; you keep an eye on the café. Okay?”

“I can take the delivery.” Hotae reached for the drink holder just as Donghee did.

Their fingers touched.

“Go Hotae,” said the woman, and Donghee snatched his hand back. “Go Hotae, don’t just walk away from me. I said I want to try again.”

“And I told you, I don’t want to.” Hotae picked up the coffees and asked Donghee, “Where’s the order for?”

“The fish shop ahjumma.” Now Donghee knew to look for it, it was obvious Hotae was feeling harassed. A flush had spread all the way up his neck, turning the wing tattoo bright pink. Was he about to get smacked around again? Should Donghee intervene? “Who’s this?”

“I’m Lee Miyoung.” The girl pushed up next to Hotae at the counter. “You’re Hotae’s friend, right? Pleased to meet you. Maybe you can help me convince him. I’m still mad about how he treated me, but I think I could forgive him if he’d just say we can get back together.”

“And I told you I don’t want to,” said Hotae loudly, rounding on her. Now his ears were pink, too. “You can hit me if you want, but stop following me.”

Lee Miyoung stepped back, eyes flashing. She adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag, but said, evenly, “I want us to date again. Why would I hit you right now? No, really, explain it to me. In fact, you can explain it to me over dinner.”

Hotae looked down at her. Donghee was too caught up in their drama to remind him about the coffee order. Hotae was weakening, wasn’t he? He was going to date this cool, tough woman who said exactly what she wanted and went after it relentlessly. Why wouldn’t he? She was just like him.

Moving on autopilot, Donghee turned back to the coffee machine and wiped it down. The ice in the Americanos was melting, but he couldn’t interrupt Hotae because he didn’t think he could speak right now. It would come out hoarse and wobbly. He’d have to make a new batch and give the fish shop ahjumma a voucher for the delay.

“I can’t date you,” said Hotae. Was he talking to Lee Miyoung or to Donghee himself? Despite himself, Donghee looked over his shoulder.

Lee Miyoung was right in Hotae’s space. She was gripping her bag in both hands now. “Can’t? Why? Go Hotae, I swear to god, if you’re jerking me around again after last time—”

“I’m not.” Hotae backed away. Holding the coffee order like a shield, he retreated behind the counter. Donghee scowled at this invasion of his private space, but Hotae didn’t notice. “I can’t date you, Lee Miyoung. I’m seeing someone else.”

Donghee’s heart sank. Of course Hotae was already seeing someone. For all his nagging Donghee to go out “for one month”, he wouldn’t have stayed single when Donghee kept saying no. Hotae probably hadn’t been without a girlfriend for more than a few weeks in his life.

Donghee wished he were anywhere else in the world. He tried to grab the coffee, muttering, “If you’re not going to deliver these—”

“Already?” said Lee Miyoung, suspiciously. “Who?”

Hotae sucked in a loud breath and put his arm around Donghee’s shoulders. “This guy. I’m dating Kim Donghee.”

“What?” squawked Donghee, trying to push him away without spilling the coffee order. Rage, confusion, alarm, and elation flooded his veins, like a drink with too many kinds of syrup. “Ya, Go Hotae!”

How dare Hotae out him in his very own café? How dare he tell outrageous lies and—and out himself? What if Auntie heard about it? And how would Hotae ever get another girlfriend if word spread? This was a disaster! He gave a harder shove, and coffee slopped onto the floor.

Hotae let him go, casually brushed a spill from his tracksuit top, and leaned over the counter. He said to Lee Miyoung, in a lowered voice, “We’re not telling anyone yet. He’s shy, and you know, the gay thing.”

“Ya!” yelled Donghee again. “We are not dating! There is no ‘we’!”

“It’s okay.” Lee Miyoung hooked her bag back on her shoulder, looking defeated. “You can trust me. I won’t tell. My cousin’s gay, too.” She’d clearly bought Hotae’s story and thought Donghee was only upset because he was in the closet. At least she was being nice about it.

Donghee actually felt sorry for her, especially when she sighed and added, “So I guess you were just using me all along then? You ratbag.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hotae, not denying it or even trying to soften the rejection with a compliment.

An old, painful memory surfaced: Hotae saying he wanted to learn to kiss to impress his new lover, and asking Donghee to teach him. The incredulous perfect wonder of the act itself, and how dazed and stupid Donghee had felt afterwards. What it was like to want someone with all your heart when they could only think of you as a friend.

Donghee took the dripping coffee holder from Hotae. Most of the drinks were still intact. “Here, have these on the house,” he told Lee Miyoung. He grabbed a double handful of individually wrapped chocolate biscuits. “And these, too. You deserved better.”

She didn’t politely protest or anything. Still subdued, she took the offerings and left.

Vicariously unsettled, Donghee turned on Hotae and shoved him out from behind the counter. “This is all your fault. Wait while I make more coffees, and then deliver them for me.”

“Okay.” Hotae’s flush was subsiding, but he didn’t look triumphant or even relieved to have extricated himself from an awkward situation. He just leaned against the counter and watched while Donghee re-made the Americanos, his gaze searching and curious in a way that Donghee did his very best to ignore.

2.

Donghee was leaving Auntie’s soup shop after lunch one day when he heard someone at the end of the lane shout Hotae’s name. It was a man’s voice, loud and commanding, and something about it kicked Donghee’s pulse into his throat. Despite his full stomach, he took off running to see what was happening.

He wasn’t the only one. Some of the ahjummas had left their stalls to watch three hulking, black-suited men get out of a shiny black SUV. A fourth was already prowling towards Hotae, calling him names in a bossy but genial way. Tattoos peeked out from the open collar of his black shirt, and he had gold rings on his fingers. He was in his forties, clearly the leader.

Hotae held his ground. His brows were lowered, giving him the mulish air Donghee knew so well, at odds with his formal way of speaking. “I won’t do it.”

“Ah, come on, you rapscallion. You’d fit right in with us.” The fourth man had a smile like a lazy wolf. “Look at you, young and fit and strong. You were born to be in our little brotherhood. We’ll take good care of you.”

“I don’t want to,” said Hotae clearly. “And my mum would be furious.”

Donghee thought the gangster might be offended, but his manner didn’t change. “Your mother will be proud when she sees how much money you bring home. From what I hear, you’re wasting your life washing dishes and making food deliveries when you could be earning some real money. You could give her a great life—buy her a big house. Trust me, we have a good business model.”

Hotae’s face was unreadable. “I don’t want to. Please leave now.”

“Ha, I know you don’t mean that. Why get all that ink if you weren’t thinking about it?” The gangster looked around at the dozen or so people watching. “These people already see you as a thug, so what difference would it make?”

The other three gangsters were standing by their car, smiling at Hotae and beckoning. But their attempts to appear welcoming couldn’t disguise the fact that everything about them was designed for intimidation.

Donghee’s heart hammered so hard it was difficult to breathe, but he made himself speak up. “Go Hotae, don’t you dare!”

At this, Hotae’s head whipped around. He met Donghee’s eye, and a wild mischief lit his expression. He nodded, as if a secret message had passed between them, but Donghee had no idea what it was. He only knew that Hotae was about to do something reckless and quite possibly get himself beaten to within an inch of his life.

Donghee couldn’t let that happen. Feeling sick, he pushed past some of the bystanders to get to Hotae’s side. “Leave him alone,” he told the head gangster.

“And who are you?” The man assessed and dismissed him with a glance, turning back to Hotae. “I’ll make you a one-time offer, a starting bonus of—”

“I can’t,” said Hotae, clearly. “And you don’t want me.”

“Oh, really?” The man folded his arms, pretending to be amused and good-humoured, even though he was obviously getting annoyed. “And why’s that exactly?”

“Because I have a boyfriend.” Hotae put his arm around Donghee and pulled him in to his side, taking Donghee completely off-balance. Hotae smiled down at him fondly, then shrugged at the head gangster. “You understand, right?”

Donghee spluttered—he had no idea what to do with his hands. A ripple of surprise and interest was spreading through the small crowd, but the gangster’s attention was fixed on Hotae. “You’re boyfriends?”

Donghee felt Hotae tense and knew what he had to do. If anyone was getting beaten up today, it wouldn’t be Hotae. So he slipped his arm around Hotae’s waist and hugged back, side-on, then for good measure gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Sweetie, if you become a gangster, I’m going to be so mad with you.”

Hotae met his eye. “Don’t be mad, babe. I won’t do it. I know you wouldn’t like it.”

His voice was low and warm, as if this was more than just a performance for the gangsters. For a moment, Donghee couldn’t see or feel or think about anything but Hotae’s unwavering gaze and the feel of their bodies pressed together.

Then Auntie’s voice broke his trance. “What’s going on here? You! What are you doing? You leave my son alone.”

The gangster looked chagrined, but he accepted this. Maybe it was because Hotae was claiming to be gay, or maybe he hadn’t realised Hotae had so many people who cared about him. Either way, he apparently knew when he was beaten. He signalled to the other men, and they all got into the car and drove away.

Donghee immediately shoved Hotae away, adrenaline and relief making him shaky. “Are you completely insane?! Do you know what could happen if you go around telling gangsters you’re gay?”

“It worked.” Hotae shrugged. He looked completely unconcerned, even smug. “I bet they won’t come back now.”

Auntie strode over and smacked Hotae on the back. “You fool! They could have killed you. Why do you insist on playing with fire?”

“I’m going to kill him!” Donghee told her, but with her there, he backed off. She’d seen them together, pretending to be boyfriends, and he didn’t want to add any more fuel to the rumour. “We’re not really boyfriends. It was just a ploy,” Donghee told the watching crowd. Then he pointed at Hotae. “I have to go, but you, make sure you explain it well to Auntie!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell her everything,” said Hotae.

“I think I saw enough,” said Auntie. “Thank you for keeping my boy out of those gangsters’ clutches, Kim Donghee. It means a lot.”

“Of course.” Donghee nearly added any time, but he managed to bite back the promise. Instead, he glared at Hotae. “We are never doing that again. No more pretending to date to get you out of trouble! Stop using me.”

“We could—” started Hotae, and Donghee knew what we was going to suggest—that they could date for real. He couldn’t say that in front of Auntie!

“Never again!” repeated Donghee firmly, and hurried back to the café before Hotae could argue.

3.

Donghee met Yoon Taejoon and Wonyoung on the corner across from the club at 10pm as planned. There were a dozen or so people clustered outside the club’s entrance, and the thumping music was audible even from here. In Donghee’s university years, when he’d first arrived in Seoul, that music pumping through his veins had meant life. He’d been thrilled and amazed to be in a space with hundreds of other queer people unselfconsciously dancing, flirting and enjoying themselves. It had been like a loud, sweaty dream with a techno EDM drum track.

Now he wished he was home with a cup of coffee and a good book. But it was important to support new local businesses. This club would mean a lot to young queer people in the neighbourhood—those that couldn’t escape to the big city for one reason or another. Adults, too.

Wonyoung was looking around. “Where’s Go Hotae? Didn’t he come with you?”

“Why would he?” Donghee widened his eyes, pretending his heart hadn’t thumped at the sound of his name. “Ah, you’re confused because the four of us hang out sometimes. Hotae isn’t really gay.”

Wonyoung blinked and looked to Taejoon as if for confirmation, then back at Donghee. “But—hasn’t he been asking you out for weeks?”

“He thinks he has a crush on me, but really he’s just curious,” explained Donghee. “He’s never—”

Yoon Taejoon raised sardonic eyebrows.

Donghee mentally replayed what he’d said and winced. “Okay, yeah, that sounded really bad. But this is Hotae we’re talking about.”

Hotae had experimented with Donghee before, when they were kids, and it hadn’t changed anything—he’d apologised the next day and moved on. He’d always had a string of girlfriends. What more evidence did anyone need? After all these years Donghee should have accepted this state of affairs, but for some reason, tonight the thought of Lee Miyoung and the others who’d come before her was just depressing.

He tried to shake it off. “Let’s just go in—”

“I think Hotae would want to come.” Wonyoung took out his phone. “I’m going to call him.”

“Don’t—” said Donghee, but Wonyoung had already dialled.

“I told him not to interfere,” Yoon Taejoon muttered. “He just wants to help.”

Donghee was torn, half dreading Hotae entering this last corner of his world, so there’d be no refuge anywhere; half wishing he were here. It always felt good to have Hotae at his side. But he didn’t belong. Anyone who “came out” as flippantly as Hotae did couldn’t really mean it.

“He didn’t answer.” Wonyoung lowered his phone, a picture of disappointment.

Yoon Taejoon took charge with casual authority. “This is boring. Let’s go in.”

Donghee shot him a grateful look. “Let’s. I need a drink.”

Inside, it was busy but nowhere near as crowded as a Seoul nightclub. The music wasn’t as deafening as Donghee had feared, either. They skirted the dancefloor and found a table by the wall. Wonyoung offered to get drinks and hared off to the bar as if his months of working at Donghee’s café had made delivering drinks second nature.

Yoon Taejoon leaned back on the built-in red padded vinyl seat. “You know, you don’t get to decide.”

Donghee raised his eyebrows enquiringly, but Taejoon was surveying the bar and watching Wonyoung thread his way through the crowd—either keeping a protective eye on him or appreciating the view.

Donghee suppressed a pang of envy. “What? What can’t I decide?”

“Whether Go Hotae is gay.” Yoon Taejoon looked at him then, almost expressionless. “You can date him or not date him, but the rest of it has nothing to do with you.”

The truth of that knocked Donghee off his stride for a moment. But Taejoon’s cool attitude still made him want to argue. “He’s never been interested in men, not once. Eventually he’ll get bored of asking me out and go back to dating women.”

“I don’t think so.” Yoon Taejoon nudged him and nodded towards the bar.

Wonyoung must have caught the bartender in a lull because he was already coming back with three glasses of beer. Why was—? Donghee looked at Taejoon, confused, and Taejoon pointed meaningfully at the other end of the bar.

Donghee’s heart jumped into his mouth. A tall familiar figure was leaning casually, one elbow on the edge of the polished bar top, wing tattoos on the back of his neck clearly visible. He was deep in conversation with another man. As Donghee watched, the other man laughed and touched Hotae’s upper arm, then caught the bartender’s attention and ordered two drinks.

“That’s not—” Donghee shook his head, slowly. It wasn’t possible. What was Hotae doing here? “Who is that?”

“Who’s who?” Wonyoung carefully set three glasses of beer on the table and followed Donghee’s gaze. “Oh! It’s Go Hotae. He came after all. I guess he couldn’t hear his phone over the music.”

“That jerk!” Anger flared in Donghee’s stomach, burning behind his eyes. He grabbed one of the beers and chugged it down, but it didn’t help. “After everything he said to me, what the hell does he think he’s doing with some stranger in a nightclub—”

“How do you know he’s a stranger? They could know each other,” suggested Wonyoung, as if that made it better.

Donghee looked again. It bore all the hallmarks of a classic club meet-cute, and Taejoon must have thought the same.

“He’s a stranger. But that’s not the point. Kim Donghee, how many times has Go Hotae asked you out?”

“I don’t know. Hundreds! I’ve lost count. And now he’s here flirting with some random guy? How dare he?” Donghee jumped to his feel, unable to contain the annoyance welling up. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, right now.”

Yoon Taejoon caught his sleeve and pulled him back down. “Leave him alone. You just said you’ve turned him down hundreds of times. If it’s that many, you must have meant it. You should be glad he’s moved on.”

“Sajangnim,” protested Wonyoung, under his breath.

“Glad!” Donghee gaped. “He was never supposed to move on to other—”

“What happens next isn’t up to you,” Yoon Taejoon reminded him, cool and relentless, making Donghee’s hands tighten into fists.

He was losing his mind. He stole one of the remaining beers and gulped that down, too. He really wanted to punch something. And what was worse was that Yoon Taejoon was unarguably right, damn him. Donghee might be Hotae’s friend and his senior, he might have been in love with him for as long as he could remember, but as much as he nagged and threatened, in the end he didn’t get to decide what Hotae did with his life. He couldn’t mould him into the shape he was “supposed” to be, the one that would make Auntie happy and give her a daughter-in-law and grandkids. The only choice Donghee had was the one he’d already made, over and over. The one that, going by the cheerful conversation happening at the other end of the bar, was no longer on the table.

“I’m going crazy.” Adrenaline and beer were surging through his system. His heart roared like a caged tiger. The guy was showing Hotae something on his phone now. They must be exchanging numbers. Donghee couldn’t breathe, and if he didn’t do something, he might just burst into tears. “I have to get out of here.”

“I’m sure it isn’t—” started Wonyoung, but then broke off. “Do you want us to come with you?”

“No, no, I just have to—” Donghee swallowed, not sure what it was he had to do. He stood up again. “I’ll see you another time.”

The club seemed busier now, and louder. The whole place swayed around him like a funhouse mirror as he pushed his way to the exit and out into the cool street.

It was a warm night. More and more people were arriving to celebrate the opening of the club—people Donghee might have danced and flirted with if he’d stayed. People Hotae might flirt with. Donghee moved down to the neighbouring building and steadied himself against a wall, its old brick rough against his palm. There was still a rushing sound in his ears.

Dimly, he heard footsteps approaching behind him, and he whipped around.

It was Yoon Taejoon and Wonyoung. As grateful as Donghee was to have friends who cared enough to check on him, he couldn’t help a devastating pang of disappointment, as if something precious had slipped through his careless fingers and shattered on the floor.

“Are you okay?” asked Taejoon.

Donghee shook his head, only half in reply. “That guy.” A series of vivid images played in his mind’s eye—the stranger smiling at Hotae, the flash of even white teeth as he laughed, the confident way he’d ordered Hotae a drink, the glint of gold on his wrist. Wait— “He was wearing a lot of jewellery. Did you see? What if he’s another gangster sent to recruit Hotae? I should have known they wouldn’t give up.”

Shamefully, Donghee wanted it to be true. If that was what was happening, he’d have an excuse to shut it down. He’d know exactly what to do.

But even Wonyoung looked doubtful. “I’m pretty sure gangsters are usually homophobes. I don’t think they’d go to a gay club.”

“He barely comes up to Go Hotae’s shoulder,” said Taejoon, “and that was not a gangster haircut. Anyway, even if he is a gangster, he’s just one guy. Go Hotae can take care of himself.”

“But he—” Objections died on Donghee’s tongue. His insides were being frothed by an emotional milk steamer. If the guy wasn’t a gangster, then— What if he was exactly what he seemed: a nice, ordinary gay guy? A little flashy, but so what? Maybe he’d be good to Hotae. Maybe Hotae’s happy ever after was starting tonight. It was easy to picture: the two of them dating, laughing together, making out. The guy haunting Auntie’s restaurant, complimenting her cooking, winning her heart. Auntie was so kind and generous, she’d probably give them her blessing without a second thought, and Donghee would be left— Except wait.

Why had Hotae come to the club in the first place? It had to just be curiosity, didn’t it? Kids copied their older brothers, and Donghee was Hotae’s—not his brother or his role model, but he was something like that. Wasn’t that how all this had started, years ago in high school?

Except Hotae wasn’t a kid anymore. He was sunny-natured, but that didn’t make him clueless or naïve. He was old enough and smart enough to know what he wanted. He did know. He’d asked for it over and over.

Being gay wasn’t something you chose or something you could change. You either were or you weren’t. That applied to Hotae, too.

Stricken, Donghee looked at Taejoon. “He liked me. He really liked me.”

“Took you long enough.” A faint smile touched Taejoon’s lips. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do? I can’t— Didn’t you see? It’s too late.” The realisation hit home like a fireball. If Hotae were still waiting for Donghee to come around, he wouldn’t be flirting with someone else. Fuck, Donghee had spent so long fighting his own feelings and dismissing Hotae’s, he’d missed his chance. He’d been so caught up in his own shit, so convinced Auntie would be disappointed, he’d forgotten every accepting word she’d told him. He could have had the one thing he wanted most in the world, and now it was too late. A moan escaped him. “Oh god, I’m such an—” An idiot. An asshole. He’d been pushing Hotae away all this time—for years. He hadn’t listened. All these realisations and feelings exploded, scorching every part of him. He covered his face.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung sounded worried.

Donghee moaned again.

“Calm down,” said Taejoon, with surprising patience. “Take a breath. Think. What are you doing to do?”

“I have to tell him how I feel, don’t I? Even if it’s too late.” Donghee scrubbed his face and tried to pull himself together, to quench the flames of panic. “Ugh, I feel terrible. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You can’t talk to him when you’re this much of a mess,” said Taejoon. “It’s too pathetic. And I’m not sure a club is the best—”

“It’s not too late,” said Wonyoung, suddenly. He had been wearing his thoughtful expression, the one that meant he was processing something important, and now he stared fiercely at Donghee. “Go Hotae likes you. He’s liked you for a long time. If you think meeting a stranger in a bar can suddenly change that, you don’t know him.”

It was like having a bucket of water dumped over his head, except the water was clear, fresh hope. It doused Donghee’s nerves, leaving him clear-headed and only a little wobbly. “You’re right.”

“Wonyoung, we talked about this,” said Yoon Taejoon, softly, but Wonyoung’s attention was still on Donghee.

“If you’ve changed your mind and want to say yes to him, you have to tell him now. Don’t keep him waiting any longer.”

He seemed so sure. How did he know what Hotae was thinking? What he was feeling? But Wonyoung’s words rang true, and besides, Donghee had to seize his courage before it drained away again.

Before Hotae found solace with that bar guy.

“I’m going back in. Are you coming?” Donghee was an adult, he owned a business, he could tell someone he liked them—but it would be really nice to have backup.

Yoon Taejoon laughed quietly and shook his head. “I’ve discovered something tonight, too. I’m too old for nightclubs.”

“It’s been a really long week,” said Wonyoung, leaning his head against Taejoon’s arm. “Sorry.”

Donghee sighed dramatically. “Fine, whatever. Leave me to get shot down all by myself, then.”

“If you get shot down, you’ll just have to bombard him with a thousand text messages,” said Taejoon, unhelpfully. “It’s obviously his love language.”

“That’s not reassuring! You’re supposed to reassure me,” grumbled Donghee, but his body was thrumming with purpose and determination. If Hotae rejected him tonight, it would be because, after everything, Donghee deserved it. And even if that happened, it wouldn’t be the end of their story. He’d make sure of it.

More importantly, it was time Hotae knew that Donghee had heard him. That he understood now. That he cared too.

 

*

 

The bar seemed louder the second time, and it felt like there were twice as many people packed inside. Donghee had a moment’s fear Hotae might have already left, but no, it had only been a few minutes, and surely he, Wonyoung or Taejoon would have noticed Hotae coming out into the street, or he’d have noticed them.

In fact, Hotae was right where Donghee had last seen him: at the bar, still talking to the same guy, their heads bent together over a phone screen, Hotae nodding. The two of them had something in common, then. Donghee had to move fast.

All the same, he couldn’t confess his feelings in front of a stranger. What was he going to say? He turned to the bar, meaning to order one more drink for courage, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was a message from Wonyoung: Fighting!

But that wasn’t the only unread message on his phone. He had a whole string from Hotae, too. How had he missed so many? Oh, right. Donghee had set Hotae’s texts to silent so he wouldn’t be interrupted all the time at the café. He opened the thread.

I heard you were going to a club tonight. Why didn’t you invite me?
Ya, Kim Donghee, can’t I come too?
Kim Donghee…!
You’d better not meet anyone there.
Fine, I’ll go by myself.
I’ll see you there.
Where are you? Aren’t you coming after all?
Kim Donghee, I’m waiting…

The ground firmed beneath Donghee’s feet. He smiled stupidly down at the screen—that was his Hotae, always reaching out first. He changed the setting from silent, slid his phone back into his pocket, and slipped like an eel through the crowd to Hotae’s side where he belonged.

“This one’s really cool. It must have taken you ages,” Hotae was saying to the stranger about something on the phone.

Donghee slid his arm around Hotae’s waist, feeling rather than seeing Hotae’s start of surprise. Donghee answered with a squeeze. “Hi, honey. I’m really sorry I’m so late.”

Hotae blinked down at him. “What are you doing?”

His arm came up to circle Donghee and pull him close. The other guy straightened, assessing Donghee—but in a curious, friendly way. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all.

“Who’s this?” Donghee asked. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Hotae’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, Kim Donghee, right?” said the guy. “Go Hotae told me about you. You run the café in the Youth Mall? I’m Choi Seokjin. Pleased to meet you.”

“Yeah,” said Donghee. Then, “What?”

Hotae was still regarding him with a faint, confused frown. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this? Is it like the time with Lee Miyoung? Because you said never again.”

“And I meant it.” Not letting himself stop to overthink, a little drunk, a little sweaty with nerves, but deliciously aware of Hotae’s body pressed against his side, Donghee went up on tiptoe and kissed Hotae’s cheek. “I kept you waiting. I’m sorry.”

“Uh, looks like I should leave you guys to it.” Choi Seokjin retrieved his phone from Hotae’s grasp. “Hope to meet you again soon. Go Hotae, I’ve got your number. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Hotae nodded good-bye, and then, almost before Choi Seokjin had vanished into the crowd, he bent to whisper in Donghee’s ear, “What’s going on? Is someone bothering you? Do you need me to pretend to be—”

“It’s nothing like that.” Donghee tried to pull away so they could talk, but Hotae’s hold tightened, and it felt so good he didn’t have the heart to tear himself free. What’s more, he didn’t need to. Over the thumping music and his own thumping heart, he said in a rush, “Go Hotae, I—I—”

Go Hotae was looking down at him, waiting.

Why was it so hard to say? Donghee closed his eyes and forced the words out. “I like you. Will you go out with me?”

Finally admitting it was like letting golden sunshine into a dusty, neglected room. The sick feeling was completely gone now. Whatever happened next, he could take it. He opened his eyes to see the front of Hotae’s hoodie, then looked up.

Hotae’s eyes had widened, but he looked more suspicious than happy, like he expected the rug to be pulled out from under him. “Why? Why now?”

Donghee’s face went hot, but he told the truth. “I was jealous of that guy, Choi Seokjin. I saw you talking to him before, and I thought—”

“We were only talking,” said Hotae, quickly. “He’s moved here from Seoul to open a jewellery workshop. I told him about the Youth Mall and said I could introduce him to you, Han Aeri, and Yoon Taejoon. I was going to buy you one of his necklaces.”

“For me?” said Donghee, elated and embarrassed. “Ahh, I feel so stupid now.”

“You were really jealous?” Hotae’s eyes brightened. He looked delighted.

Donghee pressed his burning face into Hotae’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Hotae turned to put his other arm around Donghee, too, in a full embrace. Didn’t he care that they were in public? Well, if it was going to be anywhere, a gay club was probably the best choice.

Donghee met his eye. “I was really jealous. So jealous I didn’t know what to do. Ji Wonyoung had to talk sense into me. Now, are you going to go out with me or not?”

Hotae laughed. “Ah, Kim Donghee, I’m going to be so good to you.”

“That’s not an answer,” said Donghee, fighting a smile. “It’s a simple yes/no question.”

“Do you want a drink? I could use another drink. Here, I’m buying.” Hotae half-released Donghee so he could wave to get the busy bartender’s attention.

So exasperating! But it was fair enough—after the last month, it was Donghee’s turn to cajole. He pouted. “Go Hotae, say you’ll go out with me! Please!”

“I could get used to this,” said Hotae into his ear. The teasing note in his voice filled Donghee with happiness.

But he wanted more, and he was too impatient to fight fair. Luckily, he had some tricks in his arsenal. Slowly, deliberately, he took Hotae’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You know, sweetie, the sooner we make it official, the sooner we can do things couples do.”

Hotae’s chest expanded with his sharp inhalation. His adam’s apple bobbed. He stopped trying to hail the bartender. “I’m not thirsty after all. You aren’t either, right? Let’s get out of here.”

He moved to tow Donghee through the crowd towards the exit. Donghee didn’t budge. He pulled back. “I’m not going anywhere till you say you’ll go out with me.”

People were looking—a few at the bar, some on the edge of the dance floor. Even the bartender had stopped serving drinks to watch. Donghee didn’t care.

“You’re crazy.” Hotae started laughing. “Of course I’ll go out with you, Kim Donghee. Don’t you know? I’m in love with you, you weirdo.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Hotae hadn’t been making any effort to hide his feelings all this time. But Donghee hadn’t really believed him before, and hearing him say it aloud now made Donghee feel ten feet tall and filled with glitter.

Heedless of whoever might be watching, he threw his arms around Hotae’s neck. “I love you, too. I love everything about you. I always have. And I really, really want you.”

“Kim Donghee.” Hotae caught him by the wrists. “If you mean that, take me home with you. Right now.”

“Of course I’ll take my boyfriend home with me. We are boyfriends, right?”

“That’s right.” Hotae bundled Donghee ahead of him towards the door, as a few people who’d been watching clapped and cheered and raised their glasses in a toast.


*


There were too many passersby in the street, and Donghee refused to do more than hold hands in the taxi. Even then, the driver kept glancing at them in the rear view mirror. By the time they arrived at his apartment building, Donghee couldn’t think about anything but getting Hotae’s clothes off, touching him all over and being touched. How on earth had he pretended for so long that he wasn’t dying to be with him?

Donghee lived on the third floor. They took the stairs. On the second floor landing, Hotae grabbed Donghee’s arm and crowded him against the door of a utility cupboard. Donghee was caught off-guard and stumbled slightly, but Hotae was there to steady him.

“Boyfriends,” he said, smugly. He touched Donghee’s chin with his fingertips and kissed him softly.

It started out a mirror of their first kiss, in the school infirmary all those years ago, with Hotae taking the lead. But then Donghee looped his arms around Hotae’s neck, bringing their bodies together. They weren’t kids anymore. His doubts about who or what Hotae wanted had proven false. Everything that had come before had led them here. He licked into Hotae’s mouth, moaning at the sensuousness of it.

Hotae broke away, wild-eyed and breathing hard. “Your neighbours.”

He was right. Anyone could find them here. Donghee had lost all awareness of their surroundings. He flushed and pushed Hotae back. “Come on.”

One more flight, the short hallway, the combination door lock, and they were finally alone together, private and safe. There was no more reason to hold back.

He’d never brought Hotae here before, but he just stripped off his jacket, threw it towards the couch without breaking stride, and said, “I’ll give you a tour later.”

In the bedroom, he turned on the bedside lamp and gathered the shirts he’d left strewn on the bed when deciding what to wear earlier. He dumped them on the chair in the corner and turned.

Hotae was in the doorway, warm and enticing in the lamplight. He hadn’t crossed the threshold.

Donghee made himself rein in his need. This wasn’t a one-night stand. They had plenty of time. “We don’t have to, if you’re not ready. We can just talk and kiss. I’d really like to hold you.”

“It’s not that I’m not ready.” Hotae took a step inside, but stopped again. He was holding back. “I’m ready, but—this was sudden. Are you sure you won’t change your mind? I don’t want to do it till you’re sure.”

Donghee went over and curled his fingers in the front of Hotae’s hoodie, holding on. “I’ve been running from this my whole life. I’m not going to do that anymore. I love you, and I want you. We can figure the rest out as we go, okay?”

Hotae looked down at him, fond but frowning a little. “You’re still worried about my mum.”

Hotae knew him so well, it wasn’t even a question.

Auntie was the last person Donghee wanted to think about right now. The fear and guilt that had dogged him for years, and only tonight been dispelled by a different fear—of losing Hotae to some guy in a bar—returned to loom once more at the edge of his awareness. He tried to push it away. He really didn’t want to ruin the moment. But he didn’t have anyone in the world except Auntie and Hotae—he couldn’t stand to lose either of them, and what if she—?

But Hotae’s eyes were clear, his expression untroubled, and if he knew Donghee, he knew his own mother, too.

Donghee swallowed and faced down his greatest fear. “You really think she’ll be okay with it?”

“I told her how I felt after the thing with the gangsters,” he said, simply. “She understands. And you know she already thinks of you as a son.”

“Even so—” That sounded too good to be true. How could she not have greater hopes for Hotae, her only real son? How could she accept— Donghee was fisting the hoody fabric in earnest now. He couldn’t help it.

“Kim Donghee, look at me.” Hotae took him by the shoulders. “I. Love. You. After the gangster thing, I told her you’re the only one for me. I said I’d asked you out, and you hadn’t said yes yet, but I was still hoping. Still waiting. She understood. My mum will be happy for us.”

“You told her that?” Donghee shook his head incredulously.

“Yeah. I would have told you sooner, but—I wanted you to choose me for me, not just to make Mum happy.”

Donghee stared, lost for words, lost for thoughts. His heart felt full, soft, suffused with warmth. He loosened his death-grip on the hoody and smoothed the creased fabric over Hotae’s broad chest.

Hotae slid his hands up to cup his neck, thumbs brushing the lines of Donghee’s jaw. “So we’re good, right? You’re not going to freak out and change your mind?”

“We’re good,” Donghee promised, more sure than he’d ever been.

“Okay.” A subtle, indefinable tension leached out of Hotae. He stepped back to strip off his hoodie and toss it aside, then unceremoniously lay on Donghee’s ordinary, everyday bed, in just t-shirt and trackpants, stretched out on his back with one arm bent behind his head, making himself at home. It was every dream Donghee had never allowed himself. Hotae’s eyes were as dark as desire itself. He patted the bed beside him in invitation.

Torn between pure lust and something like shyness, Donghee went to him. He lay down on his side, his hand going automatically to Hotae’s hip. Hotae moved to make room, turning onto his side, too, so they were face to face.

“I can’t believe you were jealous.” Hotae smirked.

“Shut up and touch me,” said Donghee, tilting forward. The movement brought their bodies together, and then Hotae’s hand snaked under Donghee’s shirt and spread across his skin, and Donghee’s brain short circuited. “Anything. Do whatever you want to me.”

“With you,” corrected Hotae, and raised up over him, kissing him, softly at first, but with gathering intensity. “Ahh, Kim Donghee, I never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

Donghee’s heart ached with joy and need. He pushed Hotae onto his back and straddled him, taking the opportunity to pull his own shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it first. And then Hotae sat up under him, reaching for him. He smoothed up Donghee’s spine to his shoulder blades, palpably savouring every inch of skin. Donghee’s body sang with the rightness of it. He ground down greedily, seeking pressure, friction, dark and urgent, and feeling Hotae’s answering hardness.

Hotae’s mouth stilled on his neck, below his ear. He sucked hard, making Donghee moan and then laugh and push him away. “Hickeys, really?”

“Boyfriends,” said Hotae, and rolled them so he was on top, pressing Donghee into the mattress with his body. “I’ve thought about this so much. Ah, Donghee, you’re beautiful.”

“You are. You make me crazy.” Donghee craned up to meet his mouth, tugging at Hotae’s t-shirt at the same time. He was unbearably turned on, filled not just with arousal but with genuine passion. It was a new feeling, urgent, sweet, built on the solid foundation of being known. The only thing he wanted was Hotae’s arms around him, Hotae’s skin against his, Hotae’s mouth and his hands and his body, all of him—and he wanted it all so much he was almost shaking.

Between them, they got Hotae’s shirt and pants off, and then there was glorious skin everywhere. Hotae’s arms bracketed him, strong and steady. When Donghee’s eyes fluttered open he caught a glimpse of dark ink on his biceps, and made a dazed mental note to explore Hotae’s tattoos later, at his leisure. For now, all he wanted was their mouths fused together, and their bodies colliding in a helpless eager dance. Hotae reached for the button of Donghee’s jeans, and Donghee helped push them off, and just like that they were naked, legs tangling, and Hotae rocking against him, wild and desperate. So hot, so exactly right that Donghee couldn’t breathe.

Hotae’s gasps were loud in his ear. Donghee arched up to meet him, clinging as if he could merge into him and stay there, a single perfect being, aching and burning, tension building tighter and tighter till there was no way to hold back even if he’d wanted to. He vaguely thought about getting his hand on Hotae’s dick or maybe his mouth, but it was already too late for that. Hotae was quaking and coming over him, and Donghee’s orgasm was well on its way, too, building relentlessly, cresting as Donghee hitched up and up and up, his dick sliding against Hotae’s slick belly. He gripped Hotae’s shoulders and threw his head back, crying out as a rush of crimson dark pleasure overtook him.

Hotae collapsed down, half on top of him, half on the bed. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Donghee laughed, bleary and euphoric. “We have zero finesse.”

“You loved it,” Hotae told him, confidently, and Donghee couldn’t have denied that if he’d wanted to. He felt amazing—satisfied and loved, with Hotae plastered over him and nothing at all to worry about.

“Speaking of finesse, next time, I’m going to suck you,” he said, letting his eyes drift shut.

Hotae huffed and shifted against him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want you in my mouth.” It was easier to say these things with his eyes closed, but then a finger traced along his lower lip, and he looked up into Hotae’s eyes. So close. So happy.

Donghee grinned at him. It had been a torturous path to get here, and if anything this evening had gone even slightly different, they might not have made it. But they were together now, and nothing was going to change that. He was determined.

Somewhere on the floor, a phone chimed with a message. Probably Yoon Taejoon or Wonyoung checking in. Or that guy from the bar messaging Hotae—

“Wait a minute,” said Donghee. “How did that guy Choi Seokjin know I was your boyfriend? He even called me by name.”

Hotae shrugged. “I told him. He asked me to dance, and I said I was already seeing someone, and I told him all about you.”

“What?” Donghee blinked. His brain was mush, and it took a moment to process this. Hotae had used him and their imaginary relationship as an excuse when Donghee hadn’t even been there.

“That’s how we got talking about the Youth Mall.” Hotae poked him. “If you try to take any of this back, I’m going to go out with him and make you jealous again till you come to your senses.”

It was an effective threat but entirely unnecessary. Donghee ran a luxuriating hand up his boyfriend’s back to the nape of his neck, holding him close. “How can I take it back now? Why would I want to? What kind of fool do you take me for?”

Hotae laughed and kissed him, and for a long time nothing else mattered. Donghee finally managed to demonstrate some measure of finesse, and Hotae made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in skill. But in the middle of the night, as they were dozing in each other’s arms, Donghee remembered what Hotae had said. Implications unfurled lazily in his mind. He muttered, “Hey, Go Hotae! Just exactly how many times have you pretended to some stranger that we were dating?”


END