untaet
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“Hyung, you didn’t even-“ He pauses. Dongmin is barely even looking at him, his eyes hooded and unfocused. “Damn it.”
He shakes his head and gives in. He knows he shouldn’t — there’s this feeling blooming in the back of his skull… dread? Apprehension? Whatever it is, he’s keenly aware of how his own heart jumps when he settles a knee on the bed, right between Dongmin’s parted legs.
. . .
Dongmin gets drunk. Woonhak makes a choice.
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It doesn’t stop him from closing the door behind him either. Or for stepping closer- carefully, because it’s dark, and Woonhak always leaves laundry on the floor. Or for standing over Woonhak’s bed like he’d been invited. He surely hadn’t been. He hardly cares.
Dongmin just wants to look, anyway. That’s what he tells himself. He’s only there to look.
. . .
Sometimes delusion and desire go hand in hand.