Chapter Text
It happens on an otherwise unassuming Tuesday.
Keeho bursts through the front door without knocking, as usual, arms wide like he’s announcing himself to a stadium instead of a three-bedroom flat.
“Hyung is home!” Keeho sings, already halfway through the door before anyone can tell him to use his indoor voice, or better yet, the doorbell.
Jongseob, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of cereal and a controller in his hand, glances up just in time to dodge a dramatic flop from Keeho onto the couch beside him.
“You don’t live here,” he mutters, unpausing the game.
Keeho shrugs, starfishing on the couch and stretching like he owns the place. “But my heart does."
He launches into a rambling monologue about his day; something involving a suspiciously long wait at a bubble tea place, a woman who may or may not have recognized him but definitely stared too long, and a near-death experience with a rogue pigeon. Jongseob nods occasionally, focused more on dodging enemy fire than pigeon drama.
“…and then the lady at the counter tells me they’re out of tapioca! I’m like, what kind of dystopian society are we living in?” Keeho says, scandalized, arms flailing for emphasis.
That’s when it happens.
His foot, traitorous and unaware, swings up mid-gesture and makes perfect, brutal contact with the table leg. The XBOX teeters. Time slows. Jongseob’s spoon freezes halfway to his mouth.
With a crash that feels like a soundtrack cue, the console hits the floor.
The console that he just got. That he saved up for and didn't even have time to properly break in yet. It falls to the floor and crashes loudly, and every hope in Jongseob of it surviving shatters when he sees the broken pieces scattered around.
Keeho stares at the wreckage like it personally insulted him. “Oh. Uh.”
Jongseob sets his cereal down with the calm of someone who’s emotionally evacuating his body. “You didn’t just kill my XBOX.”
Keeho blinks. “I... technically– it was self-defense. It attacked my foot.”
“It’s been here for three days. Hyung, why?” Jongseob whines quietly.
"Jongseobie, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!"
"I can see that," Jongseob grumbles, massaging the bridge of his nose. He really saved up a bunch of money for that stupid console just to barely even get to use it.
"Hyung will pay for it," Keeho pouts, sinking to the floor to sit beside Jongseob and pick at the broken parts. "Or buy you a new one. Promise. How much was it?"
Jongseob sighs. "Almost 700 thousand won."
Keeho makes a sputtering sound. "Uhh... hyung will buy you a new one... in a few months?" He asks sheepishly, scratching at his neck.
Jongseob picks up one of the pieces. It's so clearly beyond repair, which – how? How can they make such an expensive machine that breaks so easily? And even if it was fixable, it's not like Jongseob has the money, not after blowing all his saved up money on the console itself.
"I'm really sorry," Keeho pouts, plastering himself to Jongseob's side. His arms encircle Jongseob's waist, and the warmth of his body, the way he nuzzles into the crook of Jongseob's neck, the way small puffs of air hit the skin there, has an idea forming in the younger's head.
A bad idea. But an idea nonetheless, and it spills out of him before he can swallow it back down.
"Hey," he starts inconspicuously. "Remember when we kissed?"
Keeho freezes like someone hit pause on his existence. "What's that got to do with anything?"
Jongseob turns his head just enough to catch Keeho’s wide-eyed look. He’s calm – too calm, considering what he just dropped like a conversational grenade.
“The other week. That night. You were drinking peach soju and kept saying everything tasted like shampoo.”
Keeho blinks. “I… yeah. Of course I remember. You were the one who said we should test the theory or whatever.”
“It was an experiment,” Jongseob says, nodding solemnly. “Very scientific.”
Keeho clears his throat. “So, uh. Why bring that up now? In the middle of your grieving process?”
Jongseob shrugs one shoulder, keeping his face impressively neutral. “I was just thinking. The XBOX cost me seven hundred thousand won.”
Keeho groans, dramatically. “I don't have that right now…”
“And I figured,” Jongseob continues, “you can start paying me back. Ten thousand won per kiss.”
Keeho stares. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Jongseob says, still maddeningly calm, infuriatingly confident. “Every kiss, ten thousand won off the debt.”
Keeho bursts into laughter, rolling onto his back. “That is so weirdly capitalist. What kind of morally gray K-drama side character logic–?”
“You broke it,” Jongseob cuts in, turning to face him fully now. “I’m giving you a payment plan. Flexible terms.”
Keeho opens his mouth to joke again, but stops. Jongseob’s face is serious, his voice steady, eyes locked on Keeho’s with an intensity that short-circuits the laughter.
“Wait,” Keeho says slowly. “You’re serious.”
Jongseob nods. “Unless you’d rather do bank transfers.”
Keeho’s lips twitch. “That’s robbery.”
“I don't think that's what robbery means.”
They stare at each other for a moment before Keeho sighs in defeat, lifting a hand lazily to point at him. “Fine. But I’m keeping receipts. I want a spreadsheet.”
“Done,” Jongseob says, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll make a Google Sheet. Title: ‘Keeho’s Kiss Debt.’”
“You’re evil.”
“I’m financially responsible.”
Keeho groans again and throws an arm over his face, but he’s smiling, somewhere between amused and nervous, like he just agreed to something he’s not entirely ready for.
Still, he leans in, planting a peck straight onto Jongseob's chapped lips. “Alright. That’s one. This is so dumb,” he mutters, eyes flicking between Jongseob’s face and his lips.
“Ten thousand won,” Jongseob reminds him helpfully, completely unbothered.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t rush me. I'm calculating interest.”
He leans in, hesitates just long enough to roll his eyes at himself, then presses another quick, soft kiss to the corner of Jongseob’s mouth. It’s barely anything, more warm breath than action, but when he pulls back, Jongseob gives him a smug little nod like he’s just updated a ledger in his mind.
“That’s two,” he says.
Keeho groans. “This is going to get so weird.”
》》》
Later, they settle into Jongseob's room with Keeho showing no signs of wanting to go back to his own dorm. They sit on his mattress with their backs against the wall, sharing a small container of banana milk between them; the silence stretches, but not uncomfortably so.
Keeho raises an eyebrow then, turning towards Jongseob. “So, hypothetically, if I kissed you ten times in one go...?”
“That’s a hundred thousand won,” Jongseob replies smoothly.
Keeho whistles. “Wow. Tempting. I could clear my debt in, like, a week.”
“Depends on how motivated you are.”
He says it so casually that Keeho’s brain short-circuits for a second. There’s an uncomfortable flutter in his chest that definitely wasn’t there a moment ago. Or maybe it was, and he’s just now noticing.
"So I'm thinking," Keeho clears his throat.
"Dangerous." Jongseob stretches lazily, climbs around Keeho's sitting form until he can lie down on his back. The way he looks up at him makes something in Keeho's stomach flip. When did Jongseob get so... big? So attractive? He was supposed to stay a cute kid forever.
Jongseob raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”
Keeho looks away from his eyes, fixes his gaze somewhere around his Adam's apple instead. “If I wanted to make a big payment tonight... like, say, clear a solid chunk of the debt...”
Jongseob shifts slowly. “How much are we talking?”
Keeho taps the banana milk container thoughtfully. “Say... fifty thousand won?”
Jongseob pretends to think it over, then nods. “That’s five kisses.”
Slowly, Keeho lowers himself so he's hovering over Jongseob, held up on his elbow, his eyes flitting down to Jongseob's lips over and over. Still, he pauses. “Five’s a lot.”
Jongseob shrugs. “You could do one per day.”
“Feels like I’m getting scammed. What if inflation hits?”
Jongseob grins, just a little. “Then kiss faster.”
That earns a laugh. A real one. Keeho huffs, shakes his head, then gently cradles Jongseob's cheek in his palm. Jongseob blinks but doesn’t stop him.
“Alright,” Keeho mutters. “Let’s get this over with.”
He leans in, slower than before. This time, Jongseob doesn’t look smug – just still, eyes searching his face like he’s waiting for something.
Keeho kisses him softly, gently, just once. And then again. And again.
By the fourth, Jongseob’s hand is on Keeho’s arm, anchoring him in place. Keeho stops short, lips barely brushing his.
“Okay,” he whispers. “That’s four.”
Jongseob’s voice is quiet. “One more.”
Keeho hesitates. “You sure?”
Jongseob nods, and for the first time, the kiss lingers, deeper, slower. Not playful. Not part of any joke or debt, just… them. Keeho moves his lips against him tentatively, exhaling through his nose. He tastes like banana milk and he leans into it like he's savoring the taste, the feeling of Jongseob against him. When Keeho eventually pulls away he hovers close, looking down at him like he's seeing him in a new light. Jongseob tries and fails to suppress the pleasant shiver crawling up his spine.
Maybe this was a bad idea.