Archive of Our Own

It starts out as a failure. 

At least it is on paper. Most business endeavors do anyway. So Donghyuck doesn’t worry. 

They lose a lot of money in the first month. And the second month. And—Donghyuck shudders thinking about it—the third month. And then, at Chenle’s insistence, they hire a college freshman named Sakuya to put in ten hours a week for social media. Within seven days, the coffee shop begins to see an uptick in daily customers.

“What’s that look on your face? You act like I’m new to this.”

“You are,” Donghyuck quips, giving Chenle a defensive look. “We both are.” 

It’s true that Chenle comes from the restaurant world, and that his grandparents have been successful restaurateurs for decades. But what he and Donghyuck are trying to pull off is a lot more risky than a family-owned, hole-in-the-wall dumpling joint.

A new coffee shop in an up and coming neighborhood rapidly filling with yuppies isn’t an easy sell. You walk long enough and you come across at least three other spots with the same dream.

But Chenle’s optimism isn’t completely unfounded. There’s considerable buy-in for this project. There’s the hefty loan from Chenle’s uncle, Kun. And Donghyuck’s business degree. There’s the unbelievably enthusiastic landlord who shaved a few hundred dollars off the rental deposit after hearing Donghyuck's charming business pitch. And the contractors they’ve been sealing deals with over the last almost-year. 

It’s true that they’re young and a little inexperienced, but Chenle was right. They’re not completely new to this. They have their education and just enough naivety in their hearts to pull off opening a coffee shop before thirty.

The failing part is inevitable, sure. But hopefully temporary.

Beside them, Sakuya blows a fat, pale pink bubble with his chewing gum. He’s comically underpaid considering his marketing push boosted their sales by nearly 200 percent. But he’s not in it for the cash. “I need to add stuff to my resume,” he’d said plainly during his interview last month. 

The shop is closed now, short hours on Sundays until they grow their staff. Chenle asked the kid to come in so they could thank him in person. He looks younger than he is, with his big cheeks and round eyes. The bubble gum doesn’t help. 

“I had faith in us the whole time,” Chenle shrugs, under eyebags doing nothing to deter his smugness.

“Anyways,” Donghyuck continues. “Thank you.” He makes sure to look Sakuya in the eyes.

While Chenle handles the contracts and accounting, Donghyuck leans into operations. Which includes overseeing their staff. He’s the acting manager for now, not just a co-owner. So he tries to make a habit of nurturing his employees’ creativity, or whatever. He attended a webinar about this last month. It was boring as hell but also—well—informative. “The Instagram tag was a great idea, Sakuya. We can roll it out biweekly, for the BOGO offers.” 

The boy nods, taking the compliment without showing much emotion. He’s not impolite with it, so Donghyuck doesn’t mind the lack of fanfare. 

“I sent over the contact info for all the businesses on this street and the next one over.” This is no longer about digital marketing. The kid could technically go home, but Chenle forgets to dismiss him before beginning his ramble. Sakuya stays put as Chenle and Donghyuck rally through the remaining open items.

It’s dark outside by the time their meeting ends. 

“I know you volunteered to talk to the businesses,” Donghyuck starts. He looks ahead at the long line of brick storefronts as he walks, trying to keep casual by avoiding eye contact. The webinar guy had said too much eye contact, although conveying confident leadership in smaller doses, could also come off creepy. “But I think it’d be better if they heard from me, the owner, you know?" He looks at Sakuya's ear. "Not our…intern.”

“Hey.” Sakuya pops another piece of gum into his mouth. Donghyuck doesn’t remember when he threw out the first. Maybe it’s still in there, latching on to the new wad and doubling in size. “Chenle says I’m the social media coordinator now. Not an intern. Plus, it’s cool. I need the experience.” He’s nonchalant with it. Donghyuck thinks he might even be high. The boy is chronically unbothered. Definitely too relaxed for a sales assignment. 

Donghyuck clears his throat. “No offense, but I’m not asking for your thoughts. I’m telling you I’m doing it. I appreciate your, um, willingness to take on more responsibility. But I got it.”

Sakuya blows a bubble half the size of his face. It must be a kids’ brand of gum. Adult gum is nowhere as conducive to bubble-blowing. Donghyuck isn’t sure why that is. “Aiight, cool.”

They walk to the train station together but they part ways once they find their respective platforms. Donghyuck waves goodbye and Sakuya nods, dark eyes boring into his up until an arriving train cuts him from Donghyuck’s line of vision.

+

The next day, when it’s 9:30am and Donghyuk has only crossed four businesses off his list, he starts to hate himself for not taking up Sakuya on his offer.

Soliciting sucks.

Doing elevator pitches over and over is exhausting. Never mind that Donghyuck is damn good at it. 

The first place he hit was a women’s gym with sleek floors and potted plants all over the lobby. The receptionist refused to ring up the manager without chatting him up, walking him through their sign-up deals as if he hadn’t just introduced himself as the owner of the new coffee shop at the end of the block and not, say, a new member prospect. 

“Classes come in bundles of five. And we offer remote lessons. So if you have a special lady who’s looking to start her pilates journey from the safety of her home— ”

“I have no lady,” Donghyuck interrupted, declaring himself girlfriendless. Which made her blush. Donghyuck ignored that and cleared his throat. “I’m one of the owners of Elzee’s Coffee. The new cafe down the street. Just thought I’d pop by and introduce myself.” Mind you, he’d already said this. He smiled at her and made a point to look around, beyond the small reception desk. “Your manager…”

She came down from her office eventually. Took the complimentary bag of ground coffee Donghyuck offered her and half-listened to his and Chenle’s business origin story. 

The whole ordeal took longer than Donghyuck hoped it would. But she seemed interested in collaboration and laughed at Donghyuck’s terrible pi-latte pun, so it wasn’t a complete waste.

The second business visit was a flop. Well, a partial flop. The owner reacted to Donghyuck’s pitch with a blanket refusal to drink coffee. 

Yeah, I weaned off years ago. That stuff really affects your synapses, man. A total disruption of our circadian rhythms. But props for the idea and congrats on the opening. There’s money in coffee, man. That’s irrefutable for sure. 

It wasn’t a total miss, though.

Donghyuck had the forethought to switch gears and pivot his approach. We’re gonna hire a pastry chef. We plan on pushing our bakery offerings in Q3, so look forward to that. And once we finalize our juices we’d love to collaborate on a healthy drink menu.

The guy had visibly perked up at that, muscles flexing attractively as he reached over to show Donghyuck their locally-sourced protein powders. The shop was like an herbal apothecary for fitness fanatics, boasting a wide selection of home remedies like pee-colored drinks Donghyuck was pretty sure were just dupes for Gatorade.

He suggested Donghyuck come back once they had a solid pastry and fitness drink menu. Basically anything that isn’t coffee, haha! Which was ridiculous. They were a coffee shop, after all. But Donghyuck saw potential in it anyway. They swapped business cards.

That was at 8:30. The third local business took an hour of his morning. It was a jewelry store that also hosted jewelry-making classes and functioned as an event space. The owner herself greeted Donghyuck, ushering him to the back and bombarding him with a presentation of what felt like every single product in their inventory. Donghyuck’s stomach rumbled, loud and unignorable. The lady, hair dyed a shiny red, barreled on unperturbed. 

What’s the best coffee you’ve ever had?

That was the question that hooked their top investor, Kun Qian. Kun had stopped to think about it, and then smiled.

Assisi, he’d said. A local brew. Donghyuck had asked him more about the weather that day, who he’d been with, how he’d felt. He asked the same question to Paola, the jewelry store owner, which successfully derailed her rambling. Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, openly curious, and watched the way the question transported her. She started, then, to talk about coffee. About turbinado sugar and foam. Her daughters were too young for coffee but loved Coca-Cola. 

So yeah, that took an hour. But he gets her to agree to a collaboration. Donghyuck booked a follow-up meeting for the end of the week. When he told Chenle, he replied with ten fire emojis and an animated kissy sticker.

It’s now 9:30 on a Monday morning and according to the annotated list on Donghyuck’s notes app, he has twelve businesses left. Fucking damn. He decides to take a break to buy some hash browns at the Burger King next to the gas station. It starts raining while he’s in there and Donghyuck laments the fact that he’s wearing sandals. Birkenstocks, so they’re sturdy and ideal for a day of door-to-door salesman-ing. But still, irredeemably, sandals. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. He returns to the register and buys an overpriced bottle of water, tries waiting it out. He could reroute and hit the shops on this side of the block. According to Google, there's only one. East of the gas station—the flower shop. “But it’s closed,” he whines, talking to himself. 

He could uber back to Elzee’s and accept defeat. But he thinks of his baristas, currently working hard to sell the coffee Donghyuck helped develop for the past two years of his life. Two years of tastings, and sales pitching, and painful conventions. Two years of failing to juggle work and a shitty relationship with a guy who hated to see him so determined, so hungry for success. They’d broken up because of that, because Donghyuck was work-obsessed.

It was a tough lesson to learn. But he learned it. If Donghyuck wants to succeed, he has to focus. There’s no room for distractions.

It’s true that today isn’t an important day. He could technically do all this tomorrow. But Donghyuck likes to complete tasks. He likes to end his days being able to say he did what he set out to do when he began them. 

When he broke up with his ex-boyfriend, and moved here with Chenle, he made a promise to himself. Elzee’s Coffee will succeed. And if that meant sacrificing other parts of his life—dating, drinking, hell, even sex—for a few years, then so be it. 

It starts out as a failure, sure. But success comes to those who fail right. 

Donghyuck chucks the empty water bottle and walks out into the rain.

+

We moved locations! We are still open! [QR CODE]

Donghyuck stares at the sign in front of Flowing Flowers Inc. Well, what used to be Flowing Flowers Inc.

He’s got his contacts in today, so he doesn’t have to wipe his glasses to keep them dry in the rain. Instead, he squints furiously at his phone, following the walking route to the new location even if it means he’ll leave the neighborhood entirely. Oh well. He’s determined now.

So, eyelashes already clumping together from the rain, Donghyuck walks.

And walks.

His sandals get soaked. Dirt collects between the humid crevices of his toes and the rough cork of his shoes.

After twelve minutes of this, regret seeps into his bloodstream the same way rainwater sinks into the fibers of his short-sleeved shirt. It’s summer. Donghyuck isn’t wearing a jacket. His arm hairs stick to his skin as rain pelts him. An old lady in a polka-dot dress offers to share her umbrella and they walk together for a full five minutes until she gets to her bus stop. Donghyuck considers taking the bus, too. Not because it’ll take him to the flower shop but because he’s getting tired of the torrential rain. And, this old auntie seems sweet. She doesn't speak, but she holds firm to his arm the entire walk. Like one of those angel guardian character from the lofi PC games Soobin likes to play. He thanks her solemnly when they part ways. 

He doesn’t risk his phone getting any more wet than it already is, so he keeps it in his damp pocket. He’s not sure he’s walking in the right direction. The morning rush hasn’t completely died down yet, but there aren't as many cars on the road as there were earlier in the morning.

Thunder rumbles up ahead and Donghyuck’s frown is so deep he feels the drag of it in his neck. 

After a long stretch of time, the sidewalk gets progressively more empty, as everyone settles into their morning routines indoors, deterred from walking by the rain. When the Flowing Flowers hanging sign becomes visible, bright white and cursive lettering on a steel sign, Donghyuck audibly sighs in relief.

And when the door doesn’t budge when he tries opening it, and his eyes land on the CLOSED sign, Donghyuck curses under his breath. He tries opening the door again, pushing instead of pulling. And then pulling again. It’s locked shut. The door is frosted a dull, mysterious grey and he can’t tell if there’s anyone inside. Not that it mattered.

“Damn it! Fuck!”

He kicks his stupid, wet sandal against the stupid, wet sidewalk beneath him. 

And to make matters worse, his phone won’t turn on. He doesn’t have Chenle’s number memorized. Hell, he doesn’t have anyone’s number memorized. Except for his mother’s, who lives in another country. “No, no, no, no—”

“Hey, you alright?”

At the sudden voice, Donghyuck startles. The tone is low, masculine. And when he turns towards the deep sound of it he finds a short man standing inside the flower shop, round eyes staring curiously at him. He’s amused.

The sight of Donghyuck standing soaking wet, cursing at a broken phone, brings an almost-smile to this stranger’s face. He’s handsome. Clean-looking. And kind of beautiful. Strangely, Donghyuck’s heart crawls all the way up his throat. 

“Wanna come in?”

“Please, thank you,” he says, immediately looking self-consciously at his soggy toes.

The small man pulls the door further open to let him in. 

“Sorry.” Donghyuck drips onto the floor, a sad puddle forming underneath his ruined sandals. 

His savior, who Donghyuck guesses must be around his age, smiles at his apology, and waves it off with a dainty hand. “I’d offer to dip your phone in rice but I’m not sure that actually works.”

“You have uncooked rice here?” Donghyuck blurts, foregoing his proud-owner-of-a-new-establishment persona. It’s surprising, is all. Why would there be rice in a flower shop?

He looks around and sees a large chart on the wall to his left. It’s a decorative poster with all types of flowers illustrated on it, their names in cursive print beneath each drawing. To his right, there’s some shelving with planters and vases and other flower arrangement things Donghyuck doesn’t know the names of.

“I do. I have a small rice cooker. Make rice for lunch. I’m Renjun Huang, by the way. Welcome to Flowing Flowers.” He hands him a towel, and when Donghyuck hesitates to take it, Renjun Huang begins wiping it over Donghyuck’s exposed arms himself, like a responsible older brother. Or a cool mom. 

“T-thank you.”

Donghyuck hasn’t stuttered in years. It’s partly due to the rain, sure, the cold way it settles on his hair and penetrates past his scalp and seemingly into the membranes of his brain. But it’s mostly Renjun.

Renjun moves slowly, casually. Completely unperturbed by the way Donghyuck had been banging on his front door earlier, screaming at his phone, and now standing at a complete loss for words under his confident hands. Renjun rubs the towel over Donghyuck’s wrists and then drapes it over his head, the gesture almost playful despite his stoic face. 

“You alright?”

Donghyuck clears his throat. “Yes, sorry. Thank you. Ah. Are you the owner of this shop?”

“I am.”

“Right, um.” Donghyuck steps aside, bends over a bit, and shakes his hair like a wet dog. He uses the towel to catch the drops of water that go flying in all directions. Once he deems himself dry enough, he straightens up, keeps the towel around his neck. “I’m Donghyuck Lee. I’m also a business owner. I wanted to introduce myself.” He reaches a hand out and shakes Renjun’s notably smaller one. Which is saying something, because Donghyuck has always been on the smaller side. Smallest in his family, smallest in his friend group. 

This man, Renjun, is a few inches shorter. 

“Nice to meet you, Donghyuck.”

“I sell coffee. I mean, we’re a coffee shop. Oh—I just realized we’re not neighbors.” He decides to forgo the elevator pitch. “I was going to give you my whole spiel… But.” He sighs, resolute and a little defeated. “Congrats on the new location.” 

He takes a seat at a stool by Renjun’s POS station and tries not to look as disheveled as he feels.

Renjun isn’t much of a talker. But he stares. He stares at Donghyuck openly, curiously, studying his face and body like someone would a large statue in an art museum. But it’s not creepy or judgemental. Renjun offers him tea and tells him they’re closed today and that he wasn’t planning to come in at all. You’re lucky, he muses. He’d left one of his purses here so he came by to pick it up. 

He puts Donghyuck’s phone in some rice.

“Do you like coffee?”

Renjun purses his mouth as he mulls over his answer. It’s thick. Donghyuck thinks it might be filler. It looks nice. Not overdone. But maybe it isn’t filler. Renjun has a tiny t-shirt on and loose jeans that sit just below his belly button with the help of a brown leather belt. His ears aren’t pierced and he wears no jewelry. He doesn’t seem like the filler type.

“I do. Sometimes. I try not to build a habit.”

“Habits can be bad, yeah.”

“A coffee habit is bad? Is this how you promote your business?” Renjun asks, words a bit demanding.

Donghyuck grimaces. But he likes Renjun’s tone, can recognize it for what it is. Teasing. “I’m not selling coffee right now,” he says, slow and tentative. Renjun watches him as he sips his tea. “Just getting dry. Talking to a new friend.”

Renjun says nothing. Donghyuck sits in the silence and acknowledges that it isn’t uncomfortable. Despite that, his heart races, as if it knows something his brain is too slow (or too wet) to register. “Habits can be bad,” he repeats, intent on keeping the conversation going. “You don’t like being dependent on something.”

“Does anyone?”

“You’d be surprised.” Donghyuck wasn’t always addicted to coffee. But then business school happened. Coffee became a crutch, his stained coffee mug a ritual object. It was mostly mental. Even the cheap, watery kind helped keep him awake during exam season. But outside of that, coffee was also a special luxury. An experiential thing. At least, it could be, if done right. Donghyuck wholeheartedly believes that.

Behind Renjun, a cooled storage room holds large buckets of flowers. Donghyuck can see them through the small window on the door. They’re organized on the floor and on tables and shelves, like a forest of buckets with colors spilling out of them. “People like routine," Donghyuck says. "But they also like a small treat, a break from the usual. We offer both. We’re starting to get regulars finally. But it’s mostly new faces craving a sweet treat.”

“Dopamine,” Renjun says, knowingly.

Donghyuck sips his Earl Grey. “We offer tea, too.”

“I don’t trust tea from a coffee joint.”

Donghyuck can’t help it. He rolls his eyes.

Renjun, clearly not easily offended, laughs. It takes over his face and shoulders. Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the inside of his mouth, pink and white and wet.

“I’m joking. I’d buy your tea, sure. I’m not picky. Generally, I try to make everything at home, to cut costs.”

“Sensible.”

“I have a shopping addiction, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

It’s just like the other shop owners from that morning; they open up to Donghyuck. They see that he’s a good listener, has a good-looking face and a polite enough smile, and start rambling. Renjun isn’t rambling, though. He’s talking, bantering. There’s a glint in his eye that makes Donghyuck feel naked. Or maybe it’s because his shirt is still wet and sticking to his skin like glue. 

“My ex-boyfriend said it was a shopping addiction. I still think it’s just a hobby. Speaking of, do you want to borrow a shirt? I keep my stash here so my roommates don’t bug me.”

“Your stash?” Donghyuck asks, standing.

“Of my purchases. There’s a mall five minutes away. It’s dangerous. I keep my bags here sometimes, after I go shopping. Give me a second.”

It sounds like a shopping addiction. But considering Donghyuck has a caffeine addiction, and makes money off people equally addicted, he keeps his mouth shut. Maybe later, once they get to know each other more, he’ll tease Renjun about it. 

He’s not sure why he’s thinking about later already.

Renjun comes back with a white shirt in his hands. The tag is still on it.

“Oh. I couldn’t. It’s new—”

“That’s okay. Here.”

Frazzled by his generosity, Donghyuck immediately begins taking off his shirt. The tips of Renjun’s ears go red. He swivels around on his feet, giving his back to him and pretending to study a calculator by his iPad. The back of Renjun’s neck is red, too. The flush goes down to the collar of his shirt and possibly touches his shoulders. Curiosity makes Donghyuck stare, actively wondering what shades Renjun’s skin takes under his clothes.

Refocusing, Donghyuck dries himself one more time and slips the newly-purchased shirt on. It’s snug. It’s Calvin Klein and soft. “Done. Thank you.”

Renjun peaks over at him and once he’s sure he’s fully dressed again he walks over, shoulders relaxed once more. “You’re almost as small as I am.”

Donghyuck snorts. “I’ve been teased all my life about that.”

Renjun looks like he wants to say something, but then stops. Instead, he adjusts the shirt by tugging the front of it off Donghyuck’s neck, a bit to the side. Renjun, expectedly, smells like flowers. Donghyuck can’t tell which kind, but it’s powdery and mossy. Inviting.

Once Renjun is satisfied with the way the shirt sits on Donghyuck’s body, he returns to his spot behind his iPad.

“I’ll wash it, and return it,” Donghyuck offers. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

It’s his cue to leave, probably. For the first time since stepping through the door, reality catches up to Donghyuck. Renjun had only come in to grab his bag. His business is closed for the day. Donghyuck, by being here, is keeping him from continuing with his day. But Renjun doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. And although just a half hour ago, Donghyuck was determined to get through his notes app list as best as he could, he’s not in a hurry to leave either. 

He’s been told in the past that he’s a pretty face. That part of his successes in school and in his post-graduate endeavors are due to his good looks and decent people skills. All of his exes came to him first, attracted by his physique and drawn to his relaxed attitude. Even though Donghyuck gets in his head about his imperfections just as much as the next guy, he’s lived his life doing very little pursuing. 

Right now though, staring at this man, at Renjun Huang, at the lick of hair that curls around his ear and the clean sideburns that accentuate his soft cheekbones, Donghyuck can’t help but to linger.  

Donghyuck wants to stay. Wants to stay inside the shop and exist under the floral canopy of Renjun's company for longer. 

And so, instead of leaving, he asks: “How did Flowing Flowers start?”

Renjun looks over at him. For a second, his gaze drops to Donghyuck’s chest, before returning to his face. “When I was a kid. It was my mother’s store. Are you hungry? Will you stay for lunch? Is it too early for lunch? I’m gonna start the rice cooker.”

“I can grab food for us, if you like.”

The moment he offers, a loud clap of thunder rumbles loud enough to shake the windows. 

Renjun chuckles. “It’s fine. Do you wanna see my tiny kitchen?”

Donghyuck considers joking, As long as you don’t kill me back there! 

But the joke isn't funny enough. Plus, Renjun is a small guy. Doesn’t look like the violent type. Donghyuck eyes some trimming scissors and makes a mental note of their location just in case. “Sure.” 

Renjun’s right. It is tiny. But there’s a mini fridge and a portable stove and a three-legged table with an air fryer and a rice cooker on it. Off to the side, there’s a window facing a back alley. It’s raining just as hard as before, and by the looks of it, it’s not gonna stop any time soon.

“This new location is technically a downgrade, because it’s smaller. But it’s better for business because of the area. There are two bridal shops on this street, and they refer their customers to me. We did the owner’s son’s wedding.” He shrugs. Donghyuck thinks there’s more to it, but he decides not to pry.

“So your mom started it?”

Renjun nods, face thoughtful and bird-like. Donghyuck notices the shape of his lips again, the pretty outline his mouth makes. He’s been here long enough to admit to himself he wants to kiss him. If Renjun was into it, Donghyuck would definitely go for it. But Donghyuck isn’t sure if Renjun’s thoughts have gone that route. If he’s willing, and single enough. For some reason, imagining Renjun unavailable makes an ache form near his ribcage. 

“She died five years ago. My sister helped at first but she’s not cut out to run a business. Apparently, I am.”

“Your Google reviews are fantastic.” Donghyuck is sorry about his mom, but he’s been told saying sorry doesn’t really help.

Renjun laughs. “Oh yeah?” He’s rifling through his shopping bags again. “Do you want to wear a bathrobe?”

“Huh?”

“Your pants aren’t getting any drier. I’d offer you some jeans to change into, but I think my size is too small.”

“Oh…It’s okay—”

“The stool you were sitting on is drenched. And your jeans are sticking to your thighs. I bought this bathrobe. It’s long and, you know, modest.”

It’s not supposed to be a joke, but Donghyuck finds himself biting back a smile anyway. “Sure?”

Renjun blinks at him. His cheeks are flushed again and he looks a bit sheepish. Like he knows how ridiculous he sounds, but is offering it anyway, at his own expense. It’s surprisingly touching. Tentatively, Donghyuck takes the robe. It’s pure cotton. Light blue, not too short. Renjun doesn’t offer him any underwear and Donghyuck fears that if he asks, the delicate moment brought on by the thoughtful gesture will break. So he doesn’t. He nods his thank you and holds the robe to his chest.

Wordlessly, Renjun leaves the backroom-turned-kitchen to give him some privacy. It’s not until the robe is comfortably tied around his middle that Donghyuck starts to think he’s making a mistake.

Chenle expects him to be building relationships, out on the field creating a brand to their shop. Poor Sakuya worked so hard to get the young, easily influenced crowd on their radar. And here Donghyuck is, half-naked in a flower shop, doing what exactly? Letting himself be seduced by the owner?

Lightning strikes again and the flash registers in the corner of his eye. It's like another divine omen, similar to the sudden appearance of that sweet old lady in the polka-dot dress. It’s hard to have discipline when the weather is all gloom and doom. And something about switching into dry clothes after being soaked for so long brings Donghyuck’s guard down. He abandons thoughts of leaving.

When Donghyuck walks out into the main room, he finds Renjun sorting a pile of hydrangeas by the front display. Donghyuck knows they’re hydrangeas because of the helpful chart on the wall.

The windows are drawn, so the outside world is out of view. It’s just the two of them inside a jewel box of flowers. The main room is dimly illuminated by a standing lamp near his POS counter. While he changed, Renjun lit a candle and placed it on a table at the other end of the room. “Here, I think your phone is working again.”

It lights up when Donghyuck taps it, unlocks when it reads his face. “Oh thank god.” Once he’s done sending a few messages he faces Renjun again. “Thank you, really. You’ve been amazing.”

Renjun smiles. And for the first time, he looks uncertain. “It’s nice to have company. I’m actually stuck here, too.” He pulls a curtain aside and points to a bike locked to the lamp post by the storefront. “I biked here.”

Together, they stand by the large window, looking out at the gurgling flood drains and strong winds. It’s a proper storm with lightning and hail and everything. More than a summer rain shower. “Do you have a TV?”

Renjun chuckles. “No.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Only cigarettes. But I don’t have any on me.”

“Hm.”

For some reason, Renjun chuckles again. Donghyuck realizes he’s nervous. It makes something flutter in Donghyuck’s chest. Donghyuck is nervous too, in a way he hasn't been in years. It’s a feeling that settles somewhere near his stomach, maybe lower in his abdomen. It’s not unpleasant.

“I have wine. Come. I’ll put something in the air fryer. Make some rice.”

Like a dog following the scent swirls of a fresh pie, Donghyuck trails after him once more. 

“Sit.” Renjun motions to a couch Donghyuck hadn’t noticed before. 

Obeying, he falls onto the cushions, making sure to keep the thin fabric of Renjun’s robe covering his crotch. Donghyuck isn’t wearing underwear.

“My sister gave me this two years ago,” there’s a split bottle of red wine in his hands, dark against his pale fingers, “And I still haven’t opened it. God.”

“I’m sure you’ve been busy.”

Renjun sighs. “I have. Where are you from?”

“LA.”

“Really? And you’re here?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I know, it’s strange.”

“Are you a real person? Let me see your ID.”

“Why wouldn’t I be a real person?”

“Because you fell from the sky? Banging on my door and cursing like a gorgeous maniac?”

As he speaks, Renjun puts some spring rolls in the air fryer. He mutters something about his air fryer being shitty. While he flits around the small space, resembling a nervous bird peeking into cluttered drawers and used bags and small boxes, Donghyuck openly stares. Renjun’s hair is short, nowhere near shoulder length. But it’s long enough to get messy by the sides of his face. It’s thick and dyed a light pink. Donghyuck wonders if he’s single. If he bottoms. If he’s clean. If he’ll let Donghyuck kiss him. He wonders about what type of cigarettes he smokes and what else he bought when he went shopping.

He hasn’t had thoughts like this in months.

“I’m a real person,” Donghyuck defends, belatedly. “I can prove it.”

Renjun freezes by the rice. He glances at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

In all honesty, Donghyuck isn’t sure if Renjun is open to a sudden hook up. He’s never gotten with a stranger outside the context of a party, or a nightclub. But, the facts are: Donghyuck is half naked and draped over the loveseat in Renjun’s flower shop, and he hasn’t been kicked out yet. 

Renjun pours wine into a paper cup and downs all of it in one sip. He’s jittery, like he wants to do eight things at once. In quick increments, as though infected by Renjun’s nerves, Donghyuck’s heart rate picks up. He knows because he can feel his pulse thumping by his ears. He’s waiting to see what Renjun will do, how he’ll interpret Donghyuck’s ambiguous words, and how much he’s willing to pick up what Donghyuck has begun to put down. 

Renjun grabs another cup and fills it halfway with wine. He brings it to Donghyuck’s mouth. It takes a moment for Donghyuck to realize he’s feeding it to him. Oh. 

Without thinking, Donghyuck parts his lips. It’s dry and nonsweet. How he likes it. Donghyuck takes two large gulps. Renjun finishes the rest with a smile.

Donghyuck pulls him onto his lap. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Renjun breathes out, obviously winded by the maneuver. He’s sitting with his legs together, thrown over Donghyuck's thighs, and face inches from Donghyuck’s. 

“For not being able to wait.”

He usually can, is the thing. The two of them quite literally just met. Donghyuck, as if illustrating his impatience, puts a hand on Renjun’s waist.

Renjun flicks his gaze between the fingers at his waist and Donghyuck's eyes. 

“You’re adorable.” Renjun makes sure Donghyuck is looking back at him when he leans in to kiss his cheek. He trails his mouth along Donghyuck’s jaw, ghosts over the corner of his lips. “You can kiss me.”

Donghyuck, despite finally having him where he wants him, is slow to react. But once the words register, a spark flashes down his spine. Pools between his legs. You can kiss me. Donghyuck springs into action, grabs the side of Renjun’s face and slots their mouths together.

Immediately, a rich, desperate sound falls past Renjun’s lips. It’s deep, like his speaking voice. And it makes a fire burn in Donghyuck’s belly.

Hoping to hear the sound again, Donghyuck touches him more. At the back of his neck, his shoulders, his soft arms. In no time, he’s fully hard, and Renjun might be too but Donghyuck is too busy staring at his face to turn away and check. Renjun licks into his mouth, pushes his nose into his while rising to his knees to properly straddle him. He looms over him, smiling into the kiss as Donghyuck pants. 

The air fryer dings while Renjun rubs his crotch onto Donghyuck’s thigh. Donghyuck wants to tell him to forget the food, but he moans instead, sensitive to the cool air around his bare legs. 

Renjun breaks away first. “Let’s eat.”

Or I can eat you.

But he’s not sure Renjun would understand his humor, it’d be only half-serious, because Donghyuck is doubly aware of how bad the pick up line is. He bites his tongue, and Renjun smirks at him like he’d heard the joke anyway. Donghyuck’s breath hitches. 

“I have rice.” He’s back by the three-legged table. “Leftover noodles and strawberries. Oh, and spring rolls.”

Donghyuck doesn't pay attention to what he’s saying, to what he’s being served, to the taste of anything. Renjun’s body is flushed again. And he keeps laughing at everything. 

“You have such a nice smile.”

Renjun stops chewing. He’s blushing again. He clearly liked the compliment. After collecting himself he says, “I’ve never had such a pretty boy be into me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s usually the big dude-bros that fall face first.” He looks at him searchingly, hoping Donghyuck will understand. And he does. But Renjun continues anyway, not yet able to read Donghyuck’s mind, “You know how masc men go for fem guys.” He bites into a strawberry, completely disregarding the hot food he’d spent so long preparing. His lips flatten around the curve of the fruit. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks the juice. And then he breaks away and chews. “Not that you’re falling face first. It’s just funny. Different.”

Donghyuck knows what he’s talking about. The men he’s been with have all been twice his size. Donghyuck stares at him instead of thinking of a response. Renjun looks delighted, knees bouncing. He can see why he likes smoking, there’s so much restless energy in his small body, hands moving around like bees jumping from one flower bud to another. Donghyuck stands and grabs the bottle of wine. Renjun picks up another strawberry while Donghyuck pours himself more to drink. In the distance, thunder claps again. 

“What’s the best coffee you’ve ever had?”

With a spring roll in his hand, Renjun closes his eyes. “My grandmother’s. She used to add cinnamon to it.”

“When you make your own coffee, do you make it the way she made it?”

“I can never get it right. But I try.”

There’s more Donghyuck usually asks. He wants to know the blend she used. If she made it over the stove or with an electric machine. That way he could find a connection to his own coffee and drive in his pitch. It’s what he did with Kun, and his other investors. But none of that matters at the moment. “I have my mentor in my ear telling me my coffee needs to have a story attached to the brand. But I think the memories we have around coffee are really not about the coffee. It’s about people. People leave impressions. People make memories.” 

“You sound like a humanities major.” He’s laughing again. It’s an ugly laugh. Donghyuck likes it. His stomach twists, churning with something that feels overwhelmingly grander than lust. “I’m sorry, go on.”

“We’re called Elzee’s. ‘El’ for L and ‘zee’ for Z. My last name is Lee and my business partner’s last name is Zhong.“

“That’s fun.” But he doesn’t seem interested. It’s refreshing. Instead of asking more about Elzee’s Coffee, Renjun finishes his spring roll. And when he catches Donghyuck looking, he opens his mouth. Offers his own morsel of a backstory. “The name Flowing Flowers was my mom’s idea. She was an elementary school teacher before I was born, and I’m pretty sure one of her students came up with it. A lot of them showed up at the funeral. It was nice. Are you a coffee addict?”

“Sometimes. I wean myself off every few months when my eyelids start twitching.” It sounds absurd, considering. The irony of selling a product that fucks with his nervous system is not lost on Donghyuck.

When he chuckles, Renjun looks up from his food to watch him. Still standing, Donghyuck serves himself some rice, grabs some sauce to give it flavor. The pitter-patter of rain has been constant this whole time. It’s like a white noise machine that drowns out the sounds of Donghyuck’s never-ending to-do lists, of his mentor’s voice in his ear pushing him to take more risks, to work longer hours. It's all been dimmed down and muted. It’s nice.

The flower shop is cozy and the cramped backroom smells like powdery petals and old perfume. Donghyuck wants to suck Renjun off and hear his moans ricochet off the sturdy walls. Instead, he shovels rice into his mouth and listens to Renjun explain his business’s org chart. 

“So you’re the boss, now,” Donghyuck says, summarizing what Renjun just finished explaining.

“Pretty much. I don’t have a business degree but I’m good with people, and my accountant double checks everything so it’s all okay, so far. I like flowers.” He’s cleaning up, putting stuff back into the mini fridge between sips of wine. Donghyuck envies him a bit. Wishes he inherited a business with a client base already secured and in place. But the envy doesn’t sting. Something about the way Renjun carries himself, not taking up too much space, not too boastful or pushy or greedy, makes him seem deserving of everything he has, or will have. 

When he turns to face Donghyuck again, he kisses him on the cheek, smiles when Donghyuck sputters. His teeth are tinted wine purple now. It’s strangely alluring, like a painting colored by an artist who purposefully chose all the wrong colors. Renjun’s teeth are purple and his hair is pink. Donghyuck turns his face, dips his head, and brings his mouth to Renjun’s. Immediately, he registers strawberry juice. Donghyuck moans, so voraciously hungry all of a sudden. 

At his wanton, needy sound, Renjun brings his arms to circle Donghyuck’s neck, reassuring him. Grounding him. Renjun tastes like fruit and saliva and something clean and elemental. He touches the back of Donghyuck’s neck with fruit sticky fingers and pushes his hard chest into his.

It’s been a year since Donghyuck has kissed anyone, let alone had sex. He’s been too busy with his business. Too focused on mitigating the unavoidable failures that come at the start of every business venture. Right now, Donghyuck’s mind becomes radically blank. Empty of everything that isn’t the sparkling feel of Renjun pressed against him. 

On the couch again, Donghyuck helps Renjun onto his back. It’s not big enough for both of them to lay on, but it doesn’t matter. Renjun takes off his shirt, ignoring the creak of the frame, and Donghyuck gets to trail his mouth down his chest and listen to Renjun’s hiccuping breaths as he approaches the front button of his pants.

He’s good with his hands, he’s always been, but this time Donghyuck uses only his mouth to mess with the metal of Renjun’s belt buckle. Puts the leather between his teeth and licks at the warm skin of Renjun's stomach beneath all the material. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the way Renjun’s lustful staring registers so heavily. Whatever the reason, Donghyuck feels playful. It’s a heady feeling. He keeps his hands at his sides and uses his nose to nuzzle into the dip of Renjun’s hip bone.

“D-donghyuck.” Renjun’s hips jerk, desperate to get Donghyuck where he needs him, and not at all hiding how eager he is for it. 

It’s surprising, and Donghyuck isn’t sure why. He expected Renjun to put up more of a wall. To hold off and make Donghyuck guess if he’s enjoying it as much as he actually is. Some men were like that, protective of their egos, by hiding their lust. Especially the first time.

But Renjun isn't like that at all.

Beneath Donghyuck, he rubs at his own erection over the fabric of his jeans. Donghyuck looks up just in time to see how Renjun’s face contorts with arousal, with pure want. Emboldened, Donghyuck scrambles off the couch, sets his knees on the linoleum floor, and pulls Renjun closer to the edge of the cushion. Together, they get Renjun’s belt, pants, and underwear out of the way. When he's completely bare, Donghyuck’s heart skips. It’s been so long. Renjun is already leaking from his tip. 

“Touch me,” Renjun urges. “Please.”

His voice is strained and deep. For a moment, Donghyuck thinks it’d be nice to kiss him again, to feel the tangible quality of his voice on his tongue. But he's done teasing. Instead, he wraps his lips around him and sucks. Almost immediately, Renjun’s thighs begin to tremble and Donghyuck tries to take him deeper, tries relaxing his throat, but ends up choking. 

He’s out of practice. 

He coughs and feels a furious blush take over his face. Renjun begins to say something but Donghyuck doesn’t catch it, too busy wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Renjun palms himself, sits up and feeds his cock back into Donghyuck’s mouth. “I’m c-close. Open…” 

For a second Donghyuck thought he’d ruined it. But Renjun’s eyes are hungry and determined. Donghyuck looks up at him as he takes him in his mouth again, and making eye contact makes his stomach drop. Renjun’s gaze is penetrative and erotic, like a vulture who’s caught scent of a prey. Donghyuck knows he’s going to keep struggling, but he takes him deep again anyway.

This time, when he chokes, Renjun’s hand is there, a solid weight at the back of his head. Donghyuck's gagging—the vibrations of it, the gurgling sounds—sends Renjun over the edge.

“I’m usually a lot better at that,” Donghyuck croaks.

Back slumped over the back of the couch, Renjun gasps out a single laugh. “That was perfect.”

He doesn’t sound like he’s lying, which pacifies the nervous adrenaline buzzing just beneath Donghyuck’s skin. Donghyuck wants to come, too. He wants Renjun to touch him again. So he climbs onto the tiny couch, crawls onto Renjun’s dirty lap.

Renjun, despite his eyes being closed, is ready for him. Smoothly, his arms loop around him and bring him closer. When they kiss this time, it’s slow and languid. As if Renjun’s nervous energy was tamed by his orgasm. It’s interesting, and Donghyuck finds himself categorizing him as the type who needs sex to release the restlessness from his body. It's endearing. Donghyuck would be happy to help with that.

Arms still circling him, Renjun pulls his robe off. He ogles Donghyuck’s dick for a second before wrapping a hand around it. Before he can get a single stroke in though, a phone rings.

Like, a real phone. A landline.

For a few seconds, Donghyuck ignores it. He kisses down Renjun’s neck, by his ear. Renjun gasps, sensitive. And then screws his eyes shut. “Wait. I…I should get that. Hold on.” He presses a sweet palm to Donghyuck’s face in apology. Then he lets his legs take him to the front of the shop.

While he takes the call, Donghyuck eats a strawberry. After ten minutes, he puts the robe back on. After fifteen, he walks over to the front of the store. 

When Renjun sees him, he smiles. Sorry, he mouths. He’s wearing his jeans again.

It’s a client call. Donghyuck gawks at the black, blocky phone. He hasn’t seen a corded telephone in years. For a moment, Donghyuck feels eight, nine, ten years old again, young and chronically offline. No smart phones, no instagram hashtags. No products that need to tell a story. For a moment, Donghyuck is a kid again. A kid with a crush. Renjun nestles the phone between his face and his shoulder, uses both his hands to make notes on a ledger as the client talks.

I see. Two additional tables, twelve arrangements total. And no baby’s breath, got it. He walks into the flower cooler and continues the conversation once he’s back outside the freezer.

Donghyuck isn’t hard anymore but his heart is racing again. 

The call ends five minutes later. Renjun places the phone in its docket. Then he returns to the cooler and begins rearranging a few buckets, like a nymph in a forest. When he’s done, he sighs. 

Outside, the rain continues falling. A reminder that the moment is ongoing. Which is nice, because Donghyuck, despite the untimely interruption, really doesn’t want to leave.

“If I asked you to pick up where we left off, would you laugh at me?”

Playing with the ties of his borrowed robe, Donghyuck quirks his head and pretends to think about it. “Where did we leave off?”

Renjun immediately hears the smile in his voice. He grins. Places a hand on the counter. “I was going to ask if you bottom.”

Donghyuck can’t help it, he gasps. Renjun laughs again. It’s his ugly laugh. Donghyuck, through his own mortification, briefly imagines taking a plane somewhere with Renjun in the seat beside him, laughing into his ear. “I do… I do, but. I haven’t in a while. I—”

“God, you’re so cute.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Donghyuck walks over to him and hooks a finger into his belt loop. “Are you fucking with me?” He repeats, this time in a low whisper. “You want to top me?” To drive in his point, Donghyuck circles both his hands around Renjun’s ass and squeezes.

“I would, if you let me.”

“Not today.”

“Mmm. Shame.”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Donghyuck kisses him. Just talking about sex makes him hard again. Which is crazy. Maybe it’s Renjun’s ass in his hands that makes him like this. Or the way Renjun drops his mouth open for him. No resistance whatsoever. 

It’s Renjun who shoves a thigh between Donghyuck’s legs first. Who arches so their crotches rub against each other. The friction burns. Donghyuck isn’t wearing underwear and the denim of Renjun’s pants is rough against the skin of his cock. Strangely, it’s incredible. Renjun enjoys it too, if his airy breathing is anything to go by.

They do that until Donghyuck’s balls grow thick. And then Renjun decides to pull his own pants down and free his cock again. “Let me…” There’s spit in his hands and he’s palming himself. And then Donghyuck. And then their dicks are touching and Donghyuck moans, caught off guard. “Yeah, like that,” Renjun murmurs, sultry. “C’mon. Look—yeah.” It’s a handjob. Sort of. Donghyuck, shamefully, has never tried this. Renjun jerks them both off at the same time, uses a mix of his precum and spit to ease the slide. And with his free hand, he touches Donghyuck’s chest. 

When he feels the warm, mischievous press of Renjun’s finger on his nipple, pleasure erupts within him like hot gas bursting from a geyser. It’s a lot. Renjun’s cock is hot against his. Stiff and warm. And on top of everything, they’re kissing.

“Renjun…” 

Who is this guy?

“Mmm,” Renjun moans, right into his mouth. Donghyuck comes like that, with their jaws and cheeks touching, intimate and real in the sobering daytime hours. And when Renjun comes soon after, teeth digging into his lower lip, Donghyuck starts to think he might be in love. 

Wait, what?

Suddenly, Renjun pulls his pants back on. 

“I—I actually have to go soon.”

Donghyuck can’t help it, he frowns. It makes something in Renjun’s eyes shift, nervous again. Immediately, Donghyuck steps back, rearranging his face to a more neutral expression. “Oh, yeah. For sure.” His clothes are in the back room, he should get his things. 

“Right.” Renjun stares at him, raking his gaze up and down his face the way he’d been doing when Donghyuck first stumbled in, curious and observant. Only this time, Renjun’s cheeks are flushed and his mouth is swollen from Donghyuck’s fervent kissing. Another voice takes over Donghyuck’s thoughts, louder than the one telling him to gather his things and leave as quickly as possible. This voice tells him to take a risk, to open the little door in the muscle of his heart he’d locked shut after his last break up, after Elzee’s went live. To open just enough for a Renjun-sized breeze to be let in.

“Can I have your number?”

+

Donghyuck returns to Elzee’s wearing his own, damp clothes again.

“You look like you just came from a triathlon. With extra swimming parts,” Chenle greets, mouth in a confused almost-grin. 

Donghyuck can still hear Renjun’s kitten mewling in his ear. His deep laugh. Wordlessly, Donghyuck unlocks his phone and checks the new contact saved under Renjun (Flowing Flowers). “Got rained on,” Donghyuck says, looking up from the screen. “Stormed on, more like.”

He makes his way past the cafe floor and to the back hall where they keep their inventory. He takes a picture of the three different blends of ground coffee they sell. He’s going to send it to Renjun later, and ask him to choose a freebie.

“The flower shop moved locations. But the guy has a lot of clients all over town. You know that highrise next to the train station downtown? There’s a law firm taking up five floors, and he has a contract with them. Works their events. He says he can introduce me to their events manager. Maybe we can cater, you know?”

“Like coffee catering?”

Donghyuck smiles. “Exactly.”

A low whistle falls from Chenle’s mouth. “Not bad, Lee.” He pats him on the back, following him as he makes his way to the small room next door. They share a desk back here, one desktop and one laptop. Two uncomfortable rolling chairs. “So,” Chenle says after a few minutes. “What else did you do for five hours?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talked business for five hours? That must have been torture.”

Before Chenle and Donghyuck were business partners, they were classmates. And before they were classmates, they were friends. They have history together. And no matter what reservations Donghyuck may have about what’s about to unfold, he knows keeping secrets from someone as astute (and annoying) as Chenle never actually works. Donghyuck opens his laptop and signs in. While the programs start up he clears his throat. “We had sex.”

“What?” It comes out like a screech, high-pitched and gremlin-like. A little bit like a banshee. It’s grating, but ever since Donghyuck heard Chenle’s mother use the same high tone whenever disbelief makes her slow to process something, Donghyuck thinks of it as an endearing genetic trait. Like screechy mother, like screechy son. In a considerably lower voice, Chenle adds: “When you say sex, do you mean, like…”

“Your continued interest in my sex life is fascinating.”

“You’ve been abstinent for over a year.”

“By choice.”

“By being boring.”

“I’m not boring!”

Chenle simply laughs, clearly telling himself a joke Donghyuck can’t hear. “So he was your type? Let me guess, tall. Shoulder-length hair. Small waist and broad shoulders, big hands.”

“I don’t have a type. You know this.”

“He broke your dryspell. He must have been extraordinary.”

“He-he… Well, yeah. He…” He hears Renjun’s laugh again. Sees his keen, bird-eyes as they trailed over Donghyuck’s face. There was something curiously feminine about him. But also inexplicably manly. “He wasn’t tall. He’s beautiful.”

“Woah.”

“It’s whatever.” They have a follow-up meeting set for next week. Renjun offered to make some flower arrangements for Elzee’s window display. Donghyuck swore off dating until the coffee shop began making them money. His mentor gave up drinking during his initial years as a business owner. Success stands on the cliff of failure, Lee. And discipline removes your vertigo. Look down all you want, peer over the precipice if you have to. But you don’t have to fail completely for it all to work. 

As far as extended metaphors go, it was surprisingly impactful in the moment. Apparently, it’s all about discipline. Over the last two years, Donghyuck came to see it for himself. His last relationship was a textbook cautionary tale. And so, he knows right now isn’t the time for romantic commitments.

Renjun could only really be something casual. 

Which is why a rush of excitement takes over Donghyuck when Renjun’s casual solicitation (read: booty call) comes in days later. 

It’s nighttime.

10:28pm, to be exact.

If Donghyuck were to take Renjun up on his offer, he’d be arriving close to 11, depending on where he lives.

Renjun (flowing flowers)

Wanna come over?

Tonight

You can totally say no btw

I know it’s late 

Donghyuck

hello 

It falls snugly within the strict confines of what Donghyuck is allowing himself to have. Something casual. Just sex. Which is probably why his heart starts to beat so fast, immediately latching on to Renjun’s obvious interest. It survived a full week of post-hookup clarity.

Donghyuck

I’d love to

send me your address

is 30min okay?

Renjun

It’s perfect 

I’ll see you here 

;)

+

One of the walls in Renjun’s apartment is pink.

It’s the only thing Donghyuck really has a chance to take in—it isn’t a hot pink or a pastel pink, but one of those in-between shades that feels muddy and toasted—before Renjun dives into his face.

He breaks away fast, laughing at the surprised sound that bursts from Donghyuck’s throat. “Hi, welcome.”

“Renjun, hey.” Donghyuck already said hey when he first walked in, but he says it again to give himself time to assimilate the sight of Renjun again after eight days. He’s in a light orange baby tee and gym shorts. Impressively, Donghyuck is already getting hard. 

But it’s not a problem, really. Renjun doesn’t bother offering him anything to drink or showing him around. He looks down at Donghyuck’s growing bulge and his mouth twitches with the flicker of a smile. Donghyuck can’t help but to mirror it. He grins. Pulls Renjun back in and kisses him squarely on the mouth. 

Inside Renjun’s bedroom there’s more of those muddy tones, mustard yellow and eggplant purple. A dark wood dresser and a small window by an expensive-looking table lamp on his nightstand. It’s the only source of light in the room. It casts Renjun’s face in shadow, his lips full even as they thin out into a smile. 

“I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad you texted.”

Donghyuck is already on his bed. They’ve already started making out, have been at it for over ten minutes. Renjun lays on his back in a moment of respite, hands folded on his stomach as he regains his breath. Donghyuck partly thinks this conversation should have happened out by the front door. Twelve minutes ago. But Renjun looks like it’s only now occurring to him to address the nature of Donghyuck’s visit. 

“I was thinking about you, while doing the dishes, and thought…” Renjun bites his lip and stops to think, as if trying to pull up the exact transcription of his inner monologue from the files in his mind. He shrugs. “I should just invite him over. What the hell.”

It’s refreshingly honest. Impulsive. Maybe even a little self-deprecating. It’s cool coming from someone as attractive as Renjun. Donghyuck decides it’s okay to push. “You were thinking about me… It’s been eight days.”

Renjun hears the edge in his voice and narrows his eyes. He’s annoyed. Donghyuck knows because he looks annoyed, not at all hiding it on his expressive face. It’s disarmingly alluring. Reclined on the bed, he looks up at Donghyuck, completely at ease with a near-stranger on his bedsheets. Renjun opens his mouth. “You’ve been counting?” He’s pushing back.

“Of course, I have. You made me come like three times. Can we kiss again?”

“Do you want something to drink? Or, I have edibles.”

Donghyuck lowers his head, brings his mouth to hover a centimeter above Renjun’s. “I’m fine.” And then, with his tongue and his teeth and a deep lust that stirs him into action, Donghyuck kisses him again, firm, wanting to make a point about not needing any of that shit to make it good, or less awkward. Donghyuck is fine with awkward, anyway. 

Renjun gasps, the sound trickling past the enamel of his mouth in an unrestrained breath. He’s fine with awkward too, it seems. He kisses him back like he’d done back at the flower shop, eager and wet. It doesn’t matter that it’s late and that earlier in the week, they both commiserated over text about being overworked and exhausted. Right now, Renjun arches his back and uses his nails to dig into Donghyuck’s shoulder as they start rutting together. Nothing about the movement of his body seems exhausted now.

“I’m—ah—fuck…” Renjun is trying to say something, but the fluid, downward grind of Donghyuck’s hips prevents him from getting it out, which naturally goes straight to Donghyuck’s head. Yeah, Donghyuck wants to fuck him. Like, really bad.

“What, hm?”

“I’m prepped. If you…” As if thinking he has to persuade him, Renjun opens his legs seductively. The move jostles the way Donghyuck’s weight distributes, makes his knees spread. 

It’s the type of messaging that switches on the old, primitive part of his head. The sex-eager part that goes berserk at the prospect of a consenting partner. Donghyuck nods, scrambling for his wallet in the back pocket of his pants. He has condoms in there. But before he can finish pulling a packet out, Renjun is grabbing his hand and sitting up. “Wait.”

Donghyuck scans his face. Feels his chest tighten as he takes in the pretty lines of it. Renjun’s eyes—narrowed and thoughtful—are so expressive. Donghyuck obeys and waits, heart in his throat.

Slowly, Renjun trails a hand down Donghyuck’s front. His eyes flicker between both of Donghyuck’s, skittish and indecisive. Donghyuck leans in. Renjun slips his hand into Donghyuck’s jeans. They’re big on him, so he’s able to slide his fingers in before getting impatient and fully unzipping. Offhandedly, as if remembering he should be saying things and perhaps asking for them, Renjun murmurs, “Wanna blow you…”

Donghyuck blinks. He doesn’t really need it. It’s hard for him to set aside time for oral sex once he’s thinking about putting his dick somewhere. He had a girlfriend once that resented him for it. But it’s true. He’s about to decline the offer but then Renjun speaks again. “Teach you.”

“Teach me?”

“How to deepthroat. Since you almost died last time.” He’s looking up at him, a mean glint in his eye.

Donghyuck’s dick twitches. He could be into this. Donghyuck scoots back on the bed, gives Renjun room to crouch in front of him.

“You’re not going to defend yourself?” Renjun questions, grinning.

Donghyuck shrugs. In front of him, Renjun’s eyes flash. He’s into it, too. Into the easy way Donghyuck takes his taunting. Donghyuck gets that feeling again, the one he felt at the flower shop, the feeling of wanting to be anything Renjun asks him to be. He doesn’t mind playing along, not when the chemistry between them makes everything electric.

Renjun takes his cock in his hands and starts mouthing at it. “You have to keep yourself relaxed.”

He’s slicking him up with his spit, spreading it with his fingers. Tentatively, Donghyuck brings a hand to Renjun’s hair. It’s silky and thick. When Renjun brings him inside his mouth, Donghyuck keeps his hand light, not wanting to hurt him. But then Renjun leans forward and opens his jaw.

“Shit. Re—”

Immediately, pleasure surges through Donghyuck, emanating from the searing warmth of Renjun’s mouth and directly through Donghyuck’s cock. Renjun takes him in all the way. His eyelids flutter shut as his chest heaves with slow, deep breaths. You have to keep yourself relaxed. Renjun’s gag reflex doesn’t seem to exist. Testing it, Donghyuck gives a tentative thrust. And then another.

“Nnngh,” is Renjun’s response. But he doesn’t get off and swat him away. He takes it like a champ. And so, Donghyuck fucks his mouth. Relentlessly. Joyfully. “Renjun.”

“Mmm.” His moan is deep and pronounced enough to vibrate up his throat. Donghyuck can easily come like this, pistoning into Renjun’s mouth. But. But he doesn’t want to.

“Renjun—” Without thinking, Donghyuck pulls Renjun off him. The man looks up at him curiously, waiting. Pliant. In Donghyuck’s chest, something flutters dangerously. With a hand on Renjun’s back and another at his hips, Donghyuck moves him. “Turn around,” he mutters. “I wanted to do this at your shop. Wanted to pin you to a wall.”

Renjun moans again, clearly on board, and scrambles to his hands and knees to comply. It’s a massive turn on, seeing him move so fast.

“Did you,” Renjun hiccups a whine, ducks his head,  “Think about me throughout the week?”

“I did.” Donghyuck lines himself up. Renjun has another birthmark on his ass, smaller than the one Donghyuck eyed on his hand. Donghyuck thought about him back at the coffee shop constantly. He’d be cleaning urns and brewers after closing and thinking about Renjun’s bird face and piercing eyes. He’d hear his laugh ring in his head and wish he could have done more. Right now, Donghyuck enters him boldly. “I—ah—thought about this.” It’d be nice to see Renjun’s face, to see how his mouth goes slack while being stretched. But this view is nice too. Renjun is flexible, back arched and legs spread. 

Because he can’t see, Donghyuck touches. As he rocks into him, Donghyuck’s hands wander. Thankfully, mesmerizingly, Renjun likes it. He melts under the glide of his fingers. Donghyuck holds his waist, swipes a hand up the curve of his back, kneads at his shoulders. When he gets to his neck, Renjun shivers. He’s sensitive there. Noted. Donghyuck threads his fingers into his hair and finds it in himself to pay attention to the little pants that Renjun emits, clearly sensitive at his scalp. God. Donghyuck tugs and, sure enough, Renjun moans loudly.

“Don’t stop,” Renjun says. And it’s not too different to how he’s been in the few days that Donghyuck has known him. Renjun gets what he wants, Donghyuck is starting to realize. And so, Donghyuck doesn’t stop. 

Donghyuck comes first.

Renjun follows after him almost immediately, making Donghyuck jerk him off and crying out when his orgasm punches through him. He’s slippery like this, moving around and putting Donghyuck where he wants him. It’s the same way he was in the backroom of his flower shop, flitting from one place to another, one thought to another. Donghyuck tries something new. He stiffens his limbs, pointedly not budging when Renjun tries to put him in little spoon position. Renjun makes a small noise of indignation. Donghyuck smiles. “I’m here.” 

He wants to say Relax. But he says Lay back, instead. 

Renjun lays back.

Donghyuck finds something to clean them with. Tries not to ogle at Renjun’s smooth face as he moves the rag over his skin. It’s hard. Renjun’s cheeks are flushed a pretty red and his eyes are alert again. Donghyuck can feel them following him as he puts his clothes back on.

“Is that your natural hair color?” Renjun asks after a brief moment of silence.

Donghyuck’s hair is medium brown. Under the sun, it’s lighter. Like a grizzly bear, Chenle likes to say. “No. I started dyeing it in high school.”

“Hmm. It suits you.”

Donghyuck checks his pockets, makes sure he can feel the jagged bump of his keys. “Thanks.” The dangerous feelings are there, creeping in like an unwelcome swarm of ants. But Donghyuck ignores them. 

He’d like to stay. And to talk with Renjun more. Being under his shrewd gaze is addicting, the same way queuing up a new game he’s finally gotten the hang of is addicting. There’s all this anticipation about what the story holds, what the world renders like. But it’s late. And this was just a hookup. 

Ants aren’t easy to kill, he’d read that somewhere once. They’re resilient.

“I’ll walk you out.”

At the door, Donghyuck clears his throat. “This was fun.”

Renjun chuckles. “That’s one word, yeah.”

“Mind-blowing,” Donghyuck offers. He hears sincerity in his own voice, beneath the joking lilt.

“Better.” 

He can’t tell if Renjun hears it too.

But the glint in his eye is there again and Donghyuck forgets how banter is supposed to work. Instead, he stares. And he’s not sure how long they stay like that. It’s awkward, maybe. Donghyuck knows how to be social and conversational. He knows how long people like to do small talk for before losing their patience or getting uncomfortable. But this awkwardness isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged the way movies feel when a director stretches a scene for several seconds, no cuts or sound cues or lighting changes. Just a camera rolling, capturing tension and holding space. Donghyuck sits in it and feels goosebumps rise in his skin. And then the minute is over. And he blinks.

Cut.

Renjun hugs him goodbye and Donghyuck wishes him a good night.

+

They could survive an apocalypse.

Chenle once told him this about ants. He’d been summarizing a YouTube video he watched while sitting on the toilet of their shared college dorm.

Ants in a swarm are resilient and have a hive mentality.

Donghyuck thinks about this the following week. They’re short staffed, so he’s behind the counter today, taking orders and analyzing their customers. Generally, their customer base is mostly people working in the area, dressed in business casual attire with laptop bags slinging from their shoulders. There are students too and, in the afternoons, young moms with strollers. It’s interesting. Donghyuck makes conversation with them, tries to pick their brains. Late in the afternoon, with the sun blocked by four- and five-story buildings across the street, he pretends to be cleaning the glass of the display case, using the angle to eavesdrop on a couple with a dog. 

“What does learning about that man’s mother’s failed book club have to do with our business model?” Chenle interrupts, voice in a surprisingly low whisper.

Donghyuck jumps anyway. “I want to understand our client base,” he says, recuperating. 

“We sell coffee. The whole world is our client base.”

It’s true, in a sense. But not particularly useful. Donghyuck wants to learn the local neighborhood. Wants to bridge connections and build a reputation. He wants that health guru bro from a few weeks back to look at a girl holding an Elzee’s cup and wish he was a coffee drinker. Mimetic desire, is what his old marketing professor called it. 

“I was thinking more micro,” Donghyuck mutters. But he stops eavesdropping, losing interest in the book club fiasco now that Chenle is beside him.

Before he can form a rebuttal though, a young woman with straight blonde hair walks in. She’s in a trendy outfit, skin glowing and hair shiny. She has her phone in hand as she takes in the interior of their modest, but beautifully decorated (thank you Flowing Flowers) shop. She orders a dirty chai and pays with the wallet app on her phone. 

“You guys just opened right?”

Donghyuck smiles. “It’s been about 3 months since our grand opening. Is this your first time here?”

The woman nods and her bracelets tinkle as she picks up her drink. “My coworker goes to the pilates place down the street. Like, every morning. I saw your logo on the window and, like, recognized it.”

A warm feeling that can best be described as a mix of satisfaction and joy buzzes just beneath his ribcage. Brand recognition? Donghyuck can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. “She’s got good taste in coffee, then.”

The new customer takes a sip and nods, agreeing. Is this what making it feels like? He’ll have to check the /BusinessStartup reddit to be sure. It feels like they’ve made it. And it looks like they’ve made it. There’s another customer behind her. And although there’s better things he could be doing than taking orders and making drinks (like scheduling interviews so he can avoid being short staffed again), his shifts this week surely reveal one thing: his door-to-door sales pitching reaped some fruits.

Locking in works. His mentor was right. He and Chenle are on the precipice of real, tangible success. 

And with that comes another realization. 

Now is not the time for romantic feelings.

+

They sign a contract with Treon LLC, the law firm with offices in one of the high-rises downtown, right before the weekend begins.

It’s a catering contract, which they’ve never done before. But Chenle is good at last minute research, becoming an armchair expert within the hour if it means getting people to trust in his fledgling company. He throws out buzzwords like ‘vendor fealty’ and puckers his lip into a thoughtful mewl when the Treon woman walks them through the calendar for their big conference room meetings. The room gets booked weekly, sometimes several times a week. And she’s been the office specialist and events manager for just over a year, feeling brave enough to take risks with a coffee startup like Elzee’s. 

Behind the obvious excitement of being able to add We cater! to their website, Donghyuck feels antsy. It’s almost too good to be true. Their permits don’t really cover going mobile. They’re not necessarily becoming a coffee truck, but they are moving their services beyond their brick and mortar shop. They’ll also need a van, maybe. He’s going to have to check the Coffee Shop Startup Facebook group he and Chenle joined last year and see if someone has already asked about it.

“Dude,” Chenle exclaims, breaking Donghyuck from his sticky bout of doubt once the meeting ends. “We’re caterers! We owe Renjun big time.” Chenle says it with a satisfied sigh, excitement obvious in the up-and-down movement of his eyebrows. Donghyuck is not expecting to hear Renjun’s name. As if the two syllables were a spell cast over him, he immediately envisions Renjun’s mouth—specifically, the smart shape of it as he laid in bed the other night, staring up at Donghyuck as if daring him to bite. An audiovisual memory, Donghyuck hears his warm belly laugh echo in his head. Did you think about me throughout the week?

“We do,” Donghyuck agrees, licking his lips. For some reason, Donghyuck’s skin is hot, palms sweaty as his heart rate picks up. It’s not a normal reaction to a hookup’s name, let alone to the memory of someone’s laughter. And so he finds himself doing the same thing he’d done while exiting Renjun’s apartment. He stamps down the feeling, pressing a metaphorical foot directly onto the swarm over and over again, trying stubbornly not to think of how these things could be resilient, ants that never really die, even in an apocalypse. 

+

The pretense that night is gratitude.

can you come over tonight?

wanna thank you in person

At Donghyuck’s invitation, Renjun comes over Donghyuck’s studio apartment with a tote bag perched on his shoulder. He’s wet.

Inside the apartment, Donghyuck hadn’t heard any of the rain’s percussion sounds, let alone thought to check the weather app. “Oh shit, it’s raining?”

Renjun pouts. But his eyes are sharp. Donghyuck doesn’t have time to brace himself. “No, I actually took a dip in the canal by your street,” he answers, sarcasm making his tiny body seem big and imposing. “Got an urge.”

Quickly, Donghyuck’s cheeks go warm. Renjun is joking, Donghyuck is almost sure of it. And so, he allows himself to snort. “Shoulda texted me, I would’ve joined you.” Before Renjun can finish rolling his eyes, Donghyuck is already grabbing a towel from his dryer, the entire load is still in there, waiting for Donghyuck to put it away. “Here.” He drapes the newly-cleaned towel around Renjun’s shoulders and he’s unable to tear his eyes away from the way Renjun scrunches his face in relief. It makes him look softer. Sweeter.

Donghyuck’s hands have a mind of their own. They grab, and hold, and rub. And Renjun lets him. The thing is, the rain really did a number on him. It didn’t get past his jacket or drench his jeans, but it mats parts of his hair and slicks his face. It’s on his fingers and looks like sweat on his neck. Donghyuck takes a hold of the towel with both hands and brings the warm, freshly-dried fibers over all these areas. 

It’s like the day they first met.

“Are you also getting deja vu?” Donghyuck breaks the short silence.

“Yes,” Renjun says, the single word tinkling out in a breathy laugh. 

At the pretty sound, the dam breaks. “You’re so… pretty.”

Renjun freezes. His eyes go wide, clearly hearing something in the simple words and catching the unfiltered, gooey way Donghyuck says them. But Donghyuck, for some absurd reason, doesn’t take them back, or try to bring Renjun’s attention elsewhere. It’s dangerous, but Donghyuck makes Renjun sit with it for a few seconds. And then—“Come here.” When Renjun quirks a brow, he heads further into the apartment, motions to his couch. “Sit.”

Renjun sits.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

From the small kitchen, Donghyuck brings out a bottle of champagne. It’s not too large, a demie size, and the label shows an elegant illustration of a vineyard. “From Chenle. He’s excited.”

With his eyes lit up, Renjun takes the bottle. “Oh! For connecting you to Treon?”

“Yes. That’s, like, huge.” Donghyuck drops down onto the couch too, sitting at the other end of it. “Thank you.”

Renjun looks over at him, not hiding his obvious interest in Donghyuck’s body. 

Like clockwork, Donghyuck feels himself grow hot. “How are you?” He’s not sure why he says it. Renjun has already begun to look at him like he plans to tear his clothes off. There's nothing ambiguous about a late night can you come over text. And yet here Donghyuck is, stalling. Maybe he asks because he doesn’t know what to do with Renjun’s lust yet. Or maybe it’s because he does know, even if his brain hasn’t caught up to him yet.

Renjun gives him a look. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

As Donghyuck gets comfortable on the couch, Renjun stares at him, looking overwhelmingly like a hawk sizing up a new plot of unchartered land. Eventually, he looks away, taking in the decor—the hideous popcorn ceiling and healthy montsera plant by his TV stand—in Donghyuck’s small apartment. “This week has been stressful. Nice place, by the way.”

“How come?”

“Does it matter?”

Donghyuck brings his legs onto the couch. “Sure it does.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. But then, he tugs Donghyuck’s feet to his lap, absentminded and comfortable with his hand movements as he talks. “We had three weddings this week,” he wraps two fingers around Donghyuck’s ankle, gift wine placed on the floor. He softens as he answers, hawk eyes becoming more like a canary’s. “We average four a month, for comparison.” 

Donghyuck finished showering a few minutes before Renjun’s arrival, so he’s not self-conscious about his bare feet being so close to Renjun’s face. 

He is self-conscious, however, about how ticklish they are.

“It’s been hectic,” Renjun continues. “I think Jisung almost had a panic attack.” He has both hands on Donghyuck’s ankles now. “What about you?” 

“I’ve been on my feet all day,” Donghyuck blurts.

It’s not what he meant to say. In fact, he wanted to move Renjun’s attention away from his feet. But it’s too late to take his words back. Renjun tilts his head the way Donghyuck’s pet cockatiel used to when she heard an unfamiliar noise. 

“Oh yeah?” 

And then, Renjun’s hands are on him. Kneading fingers and hot knuckles right against the sensitive arch of Donghyuck’s right foot. It’s a massage. An objectively amazing one, with solid pressure and smooth, confident motions.

But Donghyuck’s nervous system goes haywire in an instant, shooting heat up his spine and making goosebumps erupt over the skin of his arms and chest. He’s ticklish there, and out of an odd sense of shame the last thing he wants is for Renjun to learn this about him. “Oh—it’s…” Donghyuck jerks a knee, effectively shoving his foot back, out of Renjun's warm grasp.

Immediately, Renjun’s eyes snap to his face. “I thought…?”

“I’m… it’s okay you don’t have to.” He’s sitting up now, supporting himself with his hands digging into the cushions behind him.

“It’s fine, I love giving massages,” Renjun says it like he thinks Donghyuck feels bad about receiving a massage when they should be having sex. Donghyuck feels bad because a pool of confusing heat has settled into his stomach. “Give it to me,” he motions to Donghyuck’s foot, oblivious to Donghyuck’s inner turmoil. 

Confusingly, Donghyuck obliges. His brain screams at him, tells him it’s a bad idea, remembers all the years of physical assault at the hands of his younger sister when they’d play fight (and sometimes real fight). His ticklishness is his Achille’s Heels—no pun intended. A point of debilitating weakness. But. But Renjun’s voice is firm and melodious. And something about his steady gaze makes Donghyuck think he’d know what to do if…if he were to find out. 

Donghyuck lets out a laugh that’s more of a wheeze. He puts his leg down. Renjun resumes the massage.

Within seconds, Donghyuck begins squirming again.

“Does it hurt?” Renjun asks.

“Huh? No.”

His whole body is on fire.

Renjun looks at his face. Then at his feet. Then back at his face.

Can he tell Donghyuck is sweating?

He spreads his fingers over the heel, watching him.

Donghyuck forces himself to go stiff and reveal nothing.

Renjun uses the big joint of his index finger to rub along the curve of his arch.

Donghyuck feels his eyelids flutter shut. 

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“It feels fine.”

“You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m not. Just.”

“Just what?”

“...Ticklish.”

Silence.

Feeling awkward, Donghyuck adds. “My feet are sensitive. I’m…really ticklish actually.”

Renjun removes his hands completely. 

Donghyuck opens one eye and peeks at him. “Sorry.”

At Donghyuck’s sudden remorse, Renjun smiles. There’s an edge to it. “It’s fine. Can I? You’re so tense, Hyuck.”

“I…yeah.” He knows he should be keeping the conversation going, but his brain stops forming sentences. The odd fluttering in his chest is still there, traveling south. “Work is…”

“You have good feet.”

“What?” He breathes out. Renjun is touching him again. The massage isn’t back, but he’s holding him lightly, hand circling around the girth of his foot. 

“Hmm. Just. They’re nice. Clean. No callouses. Good toes.”

“You’re lying.”

Renjun snorts. While he laughs, his grip tightens. “I’m not.” With his other hand, he traces a line along the length of his big toe. “Good toe proportions.”

Donghyuck is incredulous. And it’s good because it distracts him from the heat in his face, in his groin. “Why?”

“Skinny. Long.” Renjun shrugs. “I have an art degree. I have an eye for these things.” He scans his gaze over Donghyuck’s stiff shoulders. “Relax. Do you trust me?”

“I have a history of childhood feet torture,” he answers, only half-joking.

“Poor Hyuckie.” It’s a nickname, and it sounds warm and alluring in Renjun’s mouth, like a caramel candy he’s been sucking on for a while. “This will feel good, I promise.” And then, back to facing Donghyuck’s feet on his lap, he adds, a slight bit sinister, “It’s good to be ticklish.”

All Donghyuck can think to do is nod. He likes Renjun. So far, all Renjun does when he’s around him is make him feel good. Sometimes he confuses him, ushering in a wave of thrilling uncertainty that makes Donghyuck lose the poise and self-possession he’s been cultivating over the years. But none of this has ever made him feel unsafe. And so, Donghyuck wills himself to relax.

Taking in Donghyuck’s acceptance, Renjun begins to stroke him. He glides his hand over the pads of Donghyuck’s toes, passes onto the top of his feet, where the ridges of his bones are most prominent. He’s doing both feet at the same time, hands light as he begins rubbing his thumbs and knuckles into the flesh. 

“Ah—!”

It’s a pant. A sharp little breath that Donghyuck immediately tries to cut short. He thinks of his days as a kid, in the clutches of his grabby same-aged cousins. Remembers the mix of euphoria and frustration that came with being in a relentless tickle fight; the way the sensitivity made him vigilant and defensive and excited all at once. Donghyuck tries to cling to some control by keeping his mouth shut.

Renjun sees right through it. “Relax. You’re so sensitive here.” He pokes at a spot at the ball of his foot. “It’s cute.” Donghyuck’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. Control. “Hey, breathe.” Renjun raises his knees, increasing the elevation of Donghyuck’s feet. “Make noise if you have to…”

With some effort, Donghyuck unclenches his jaw.

Make noise if you have to.

Belatedly, he realizes it’s not just an invitation; it’s a warning. After saying it, Renjun begins kneading with intention. Donghyuck’s breaths fall from his mouth in shaky, embarrassing gasps. It gets harder to keep quiet as the seconds go by. It’s just. Renjun’s hands are small but mighty. And it isn’t just his touch that makes Donghyuck tremble. It’s knowing he’s so close to a part of his body he’s marked off limits for so many years. The anticipation fucks with his nervous system, makes him jerk and twitch even when Renjun’s hands innocently glide over his heel or lightly rub at his ankle. 

“Renjun.” It’s a full on pant.

“Feels good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Mmm.” He’s looking at him, into Donghyuck’s eyes. 

Embarrassed at the thought of what Renjun might see in them, he closes them. Takes a deep breath. 

It’s probably why Renjun’s next move tears a surprised moan from his lips. 

Renjun puts Donghyuck’s big toe in his mouth. Donghyuck stops breathing, momentarily struck by the thick, relentless wave of molten pleasure racking through him. 

“Oh—” 

Renjun keeps going. Puts two more toes in.

“Oh—”

It feels good. It feels really fucking, bewilderingly, good. Renjun’s mouth is full, he can’t enunciate with three of Donghyuck’s toes between his lips. But he hums, and even that makes Donghyuck’s dick harder.

Is this really happening?

Renjun swirls his tongue.

A pathetic whine falls past Donghyuck’s lips. He’s never thought about someone sucking his feet. Well he had, once or twice. If only because he’s not completely unaware of how pleasure and pain (and ticklishness?) can sometimes go hand-in-hand, get mixed in the crosshairs of his brain’s synapses. But this is different. This isn’t an errant thought while browsing through porn categories. This is real life. This is Renjun.

And right now, Renjun looks pleased. Determined. Definitely turned on. Seeing these emotions bend and curve the lines of his pretty face sends a jolt of adrenaline down Donghyuck’s spine. Renjun is crazy. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Your little moans.” Supporting Donghyuck’s leg up with his hands, he slips his foot out of his mouth. It’s slick with spit. “You sound nice, Hyuck, you have a nice voice. I’m hard. Look.” Gently, Renjun places Donghyuck’s leg down on his lap, makes sure his foot is right against the telling bulge in his pants. 

He really is hard. A sweeping feeling takes over Donghyuck’s body, makes his lungs feel small as he takes everything in. It’s undefined and exhilarating and surreal. He thought they’d be making out and giving each other dirty hand jobs. Instead, Renjun is rewiring Donghyuck’s neurons, playing with him. Getting off to it. The sweeping feeling fucks with Donghyuck’s breathing, makes him feel helpless and needy. And then it’s gone, and he’s back to staring hungrily at Renjun digging his hand into his own pants and palming himself. 

This time, Donghyuck doesn’t need to be prompted. He sits up, rubs Renjun’s bulge with his foot. Renjun sighs, so boldly into this.

Donghyuck short-circuits, the visual alone—Renjun with his furrowed brows and flushed face, jerking his hips at the feel of Donghyuck’s foot pressed against his erection—eradicates years of negative conditioning. It feels like magic. Like electric brain fog.

Renjun starts jerking himself off again, unaware of Donghyuck’s personal breakthrough (I like feet stuff), and the quick, desperate flicks of his wrist serve as Donghyuck’s cue to move.

He swoops in to steal a kiss, repositions himself so he can properly cage in a equally wrung out Renjun. 

As he kisses him back, Renjun speaks. There’s a laughing curve to his mouth. Donghyuck can feel it against the skin of his face. Renjun’s being funny. But Donghyuck can’t make it out over the blood pumping at his temples. “What?”

“Just. You’re hot.”

“That’s not what you said,” he says between kisses. Renjun kisses him back like he’s feeding off of it, led by a second appetite that gives his movements an eager edge. It’s infectious. Donghyuck lets his hips find Renjun’s. Doesn’t second guess himself when he excitedly presses his hard cock directly against his. Through the fabric of their pants, the friction is absurdly hot. 

Donghyuck feels high off it, off the newness of what they’re doing. And it’s not that Donghyuck has never invited people over for sex before, or that this type of set up is any different. But having his foot in someone’s mouth is. Renjun is...strange. Alluringly forward. Direct. Not afraid to show that he’s into him. It's a mirror of Donghyuck’s own desire. And the mutuality is intoxicating. 

There’s a buzz under his skin as he watches Renjun gather his things, fifteen minutes later. They made each other come like that, from dryhumping on a couch like a pair of kids. Renjun had the decency to look embarrassed. But then Donghyuck made a comment about fresh laundry. I’ll lend you some underwear, I don’t have a fancy bathrobe though. An inside joke that pulled a bright, delirious laugh from Renjun’s lungs. 

Bravely and without any of his careful deliberation, Donghyuck asks him if he wants to stay and watch something. Renjun politely turns him down. I have an early morning. But he looks torn about it. Sweeps his gaze over Donghyuck’s TV like he’s picturing the would-be hangout in his head. Donghyuck wonders if Renjun’s feelings resemble a swarm of ants, too. If it’s starting to feel, for him, mightier than the end of the world.

+

“What the hell is this.”

It’s less a question and more of a statement. Donghyuck hears the mean edge in his own voice but feels too exhausted to do anything about it.

Sakuya scratches the back of his neck. “TikTok.”

“Right…” Donghyuck gathered that much. On Sakuya’s phone screen, a video posted to Elzee’s week-old TikTok account is on loop. It’s an odd edit set to weird, ambient music.

“It’s a trending sound,” Sakuya says, by way of explanation.

It has 1,127 views. And 45 likes.

Chenle isn’t around to buffer the tension.

Donghyuck tries schooling his expression. It’s the same cool down process he began using with his younger sister during college, when he vowed to be less of a hothead around her. He remembers the professional development webinars he signed up for about learning how to manage a team. Sandwich criticism between two positive statements.

“I appreciate you taking initiative with our socials, Sakuya.” Positive statement. “But this is…not our brand’s story.” Criticism. He taps on another video on Elzee’s grid and grimaces at the equally weird CapCut edit of a dolphin taking a sip from a coffee cup before flipping around the moon. That one has 62 likes. He needs to finish the criticism sandwich, but he can’t think of anything nice to say. Donghyuck sighs. “It’s cool, but…”

“Sorry.” They’re sitting in one of the cafe tables by the street-facing windows. It’s the end of the day and Donghyuck is starving. Sakuya probably has, like, an algebra test to study for. He looks a bit squeamish, face blank but not unconcerned. “I can take them down, it’s no biggie.”

“Did they take a long time to make?”

Sakuya shrugs. He’s not chewing gum today, but he has a blue Dum Dums lollipop in his hand. “Not really.”

Objectively, Donghyuck agrees. It really is no biggie. But they’ve had three weeks straight of bad sales. And one of their new hires quit because of a conflict with her class schedule. They’re short-staffed again, and Donghyuck has begun having nightmares about failure again. 

And worst of all, Renjun ghosted him.

His last message to Renjun has gone unanswered for ten days now. 

Not wanting to think about that any more, Donghyuck presses on another video—Sakuya made eight total—and lets it play three times. “I guess I just…don’t get it. Like the humor is going over my head. Is it supposed to be funny?”

Sakuya quirks his head. “Not really. It’s, like, post-humor. Not getting it is getting it.”

A new emotion—ugly and morose—takes over Donghyuck.

Listening to Sakuya, watching his large eyes and youthful, supple cheeks as he speaks, Donghyuck feels overwhelmingly and unmistakably old.

Old and worn.

“Well shit.”

Is this defeat?

Is this the end?

Is Donghyuck jaded? And completely out of touch? And a business flop?

“I’ll take them down,” Sakuya offers, after a long and depressing silence.

“No, it’s okay, we’ll leave them up. Nobody is watching them anyways.”

“True.”

“You want to build your marketing portfolio, right? You’re doing it for that?”

Sakuya shrugs again, although this time he’s taking quick peeks at Donghyuck’s face. “Kind of.”

“That’s… Okay, you can test things out with our account. I’m not really in a position where I can afford to be...choosey. So, keep making your videos. Just be careful. No copyright infringements.”

“Got it,” he says, lollipop back in his mouth now that Donghyuck doesn’t look as constipated as he did at the beginning of their conversation.

Donghyuck sort of feels like his life might be falling apart again. But he doesn’t want to bring Sakuya down with him. So despite Donghyuck’s general dislike of the boy’s creative direction, they end the day on a good note. It’s not until Sakuya has left for the store that Donghyuck wrings his head in defeat.

He misses Renjun. And feels like an idiot for fumbling him.

Prior to being ghosted, they’d been texting pretty regularly. After the night of his feet kink awakening, Renjun had even sent him a selfie in bed. In the picture, his flimsy striped tank top fell loose against his collar bones. His cheeks were ruddy from his nightly yoga routine. Donghyuck secretly believed he’d just been jacking off. Regardless, the photo is beautiful. Donghyuck stares at it now and quietly comes to the realization that he’s completely lost control of the situation.

It doesn’t help that Chenle is panicking, too. He’s currently back home, asking Kun for another loan. They need more money to sustain the catering gig. They need more money to hire more people and offer a more competitive salary. They need more money to break-even.

Donghyuck thinks of the day he met Renjun and how victorious he felt at the end of that night. It was something out of a movie. And maybe that’s the problem. Good things usually start poorly. It’s okay when it starts out as a failure. Chenle’s boyfriend, Mark, started their first date on a terrible note; Mark had innocently insulted Chenle’s favorite basketball team less than ten minutes in.

They’ve been happily together for seven years.

Beginnings are supposed to be rocky and awkward; morphing into something tender and sweet and solid over time. The fruits of labor, and all that.

His first day with Renjun went terrifically well. The nights that followed were equally good and memorable. It wasn’t rocky or awkward. Renjun’s laugh was melodious and hypnotizing. Their bodies moved together with addicting ease. 

Donghyuck can handle shitty beginnings. Has been on survival mode for enough years to know what the protocol is for bad starts. But in the last month or so, after consecutive successes, he forgets how to handle a slump. 

“Maybe that was where I went wrong.”

In Jungwoo’s sprawling apartment, Jungwoo looks wary, like he already knows Donghyuck is going to say something outlandish and crazy. But he doesn’t try interrupting him. He waits, giving Donghyuck the floor as he sweeps up some crumbs off his coffee table.

“I was supposed to keep things casual. I got cocky with it. Lost sight of my goals.”

“Cocky? Dude, you were both hooking up with each other. You didn’t force him into this. He was clearly into you.”

Donghyuck shifts the collar of his shirt, feeling the air in Jungwoo’s living room grow stiff and thick. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but. I’m in this grind headspace where I’m used to things sucking. To delayed gratification and a series of failures leading to eventual success. You know, with my business. And Renjun was, like, the opposite of that. What we did was immediately easy, and good.” He knows what this next part is going to sound like. He’s got some self-awareness, even now as he mopes. But Jungwoo isn’t the type to hold it over his head. He can handle crazy. So Donghyuck continues, and shows him the exact shade of ridiculous his thoughts have taken. “I just—I feel like I’m getting punished. For letting my discipline slip. My mentor always said—”

“Donghyuck stop.” Jungwoo keeps his volume normal, but the harsh interruption is enough to make Donghyuck stop pacing. He freezes in the middle of the living room, turning to watch Jungwoo’s uncharacteristically stern face. “This…no offense, but this has nothing to do with your—um—business acumen. This is a guy you met who you sleep with, who you obviously like. So there’s a lull in your text messages. Who cares? Call him. He sounds like a catch. Take him out to dinner, even.”

“But. I can’t do romance right now. Not with work. I should be more focused. And—wait. No. Dinner isn’t even on the table. Renjun ghosted me. It’s been almost two weeks.”

“That’s really not that long of a break. Maybe something happened in his family. Or he had to travel somewhere?”

Something in Jungwoo’s suggestion, in the confident way he throws it out, makes it hard to dismiss him. What is he saying, really? That Donghyuck should pursue Renjun with more intention? Even in the midst of potentially going out of business?

“Even if it ends up not working out,” Jungwoo says after a crackling silence. “I don’t think you should filter everything in your life through your business philosophy lens. You…you kind of sound like a guy who’s been reading too many self-improvement books. No offense.”

“What the hell.”

Jungwoo grimaces. But when he looks at him, his eyes are warm and wide. “You just described a really positive consensual sexual relationship as punishment because it just so happened to coincide with a bad financial month. That’s not cool.”

Okay, maybe Jungwoo has a point. 

It leaves him feeling lost. Like he’s in a corn maze with far too many false exits. Donghyuck has been mulling over this for too many days, is the thing. He’s losing stamina. Doesn’t know how to rework it all again in his head. “I don’t know that I can date again anytime soon,” he says in a small voice. “Chenle and I spoke earlier today. Kun agreed to give another loan. We might shift to catering only. Might lose the storefront.”

Jungwoo hums, understanding the implications.

Sighing, Donghyuck pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Have I showed you our TikTok account? It’s real fucking weird. But, we keep gaining followers.”

In the last five days, Elzee’s account gained 2,000 followers. Sakuya has made three dozen videos by now. They don’t go viral, but they’re getting engagement. While Jungwoo scrolls through the feed, Donghyuck pictures Renjun inside a dimly-lit restaurant with an ocean view, glint in his eye as he peers over at Donghyuck with a champagne glass to his lips. 

Donghyuck’s ex-boyfriend broke up with him after a nice dinner out. He had completely blindsided him once they returned home.

“I can’t reach you, Donghyuck. You’re distracted. You’re always distracted.”

He can’t picture Renjun saying something like that. It’s probably because when Donghyuck is around him, thinking about anything else is impossible. 

That night, Donghyuck calls Renjun.

Renjun doesn’t answer.

Donghyuck leaves a voicemail. 

Renjun, hey. It’s Donghyuck. I hope your night is going well. I… thought maybe the next time we meet, it could be at a restaurant. If you like. Friday at 8. I can pick you up. I’m sure you’re busy. Let me know what works. Thanks. Bye.

+

Renjun

heyy donghyuck 

got your voicemail

yuore very sweet <3

I cant friday im sorry

+

Donghyuck

hey renjun, its good to hear from you!

all good

let me know if another day works 

+

Donghyuck

an old auntie complimented our flower arrangements

they love the wildflowers

thank you, rj

+

Donghyuck

I’m pretty sure one of the Treon board members just got kicked out of the board… I was setting up in the conference room and things got heated FAST. I’m trying to look up articles online lol

+

Donghyuck

[pic]

+

Donghyuck 

sorry for the pic

I shouldn't have sent that 

+

Renjun

sorry for going mia

it’s been …hectic

It’s 10:43pm. Donghyuck lays beneath a blanket fort in his couch, making his way through season 6 of Game of Thrones, too anxious to sleep despite the tiredness that sits perpetually in his bones. At Renjun’s sudden message—he never sent Donghyuck his availability, never responded to any of his pathetic conversation starters—Donghyuck sits up.

It’s been days.

Renjun

would you wanna come over tonight?

not sure if you’ll believe me with how 

quiet I’ve been but

I miss you 

I’d love to see you

At first, Donghyuck is sure of his answer.

Not getting any type of acknowledgement after asking Renjun out on a date stung. And now, seeing the notification with his name after days of agonizing over it makes his stomach churn. He’s going to say no. But then he registers that his show has been paused and that he’s made it to his bedroom, and his closet doors are slid open. 

Without realizing, he’s rifling through his clothes for an outfit to change into.

Agreeing to hang so suddenly and so soon would be ridiculous, and it goes against his better judgment. 

Donghyuck shouldn’t. 

Donghyuck

I’m on my way

+

The pink in Renjun’s hair has faded. It’s still pink, but it’s washed in a grayish yellow cast. Donghyuck doesn’t really know the chemistry of hair dye, but it looks like Renjun is due for a touch up. It doesn’t stop him from looking beautiful, though.

“Hey, Donghyuck.”

They hug. Donghyuck’s arms hesitate; he takes too long to hug back. Renjun notices and says nothing as he stares at Donghyuck, rakes his gaze over his face, does the thing he always does with his bird eyes. He scans Donghyuck from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin, gathering information within seconds and deciding by the end of it to lean in and kiss him.

Despite his misgivings, Donghyuck kisses back.

Tonight, a leafy musk sticks to Renjun’s skin, the way it had back at Flowing Flowers. It’s a powdery smell, like petals and grass and dirt. It should be distracting, but it makes Donghyuck sink further into his embrace. It’s been weeks. “Renjun…”

“Come.”

Like last time they were here, Renjun forgoes any pleasantries. He tugs Donghyuck down the hall, nails digging into Donghyuck’s palm. Inside his bedroom, the fancy lamp is the one thing he takes in before Renjun is on him again. All Donghyuck can do at first is keep up. But then, he finds his voice.

“You okay?”

Renjun, straddling his lap, trails his mouth along the column of Donghyuck’s neck. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Donghyuck doesn’t stop touching him. Nor does he stop kissing him. But there’s something in the way he says it. Like the word comes out weighed by an underline drawn under it in piercing ink. 

Yeah? As in, Are you sure you’re okay?

Renjun stops kissing him. “You?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

Slowly, Renjun’s face comes into view again.

Donghyuck stares at him. At once he takes in the redness in his cheeks and neck. Adds it to the other sensory information he’s receiving, like the weight of his body on Donghyuck’s thighs, and the hand that loosens around Donghyuck’s shoulder. Renjun doesn’t say anything.

“Do you really wanna know?” Donghyuck repeats. And this time, it becomes another question. Are we friends? Is this mindless sex? Or do you actually care about me?

Renjun tears his gaze away. He brings his hands upwards to cradle Donghyuck’s face. Looking at his mouth, and notably not his eyes, he says, “No.”

Donghyuck fucks him on his back.

They’re facing each other. Donghyuck doesn’t want to to do it like this at first, but Renjun asks with his heels digging into Donghyuck’s back. It’s hard to say no to that. 

Renjun’s ass is tight, is the thing. And while he takes it, his stomach clenches and his chest heaves with pleasure. He’s not as grabby today, not as vocal.

On the sheets, the flower scent is even stronger, as if he’d been making arrangements directly over the linens before inviting him over. Donghyuck can’t help it, he looks. While rolling his hips, Donghyuck ogles the way Renjun writhes and shakes. Pliant with his head on the pillows like some sort of princess preparing for bed.

Renjun brings his own knees closer to his chest after a moment, tries to bring Donghyuck in deeper. Donghyuck changes the angle of his pelvis, knows what it’s like to be in Renjun’s position, stretched and breached and so stimulated. He concentrates on the tells of Renjun’s body and when he moans, Donghyuck looks at his mouth and the sweet line of his neck. If this is all they’re going to be, then Donghyuck vows to make it good. 

“H-hyuck, I’m—”

“I know, come on. So tight. You feel so tight.”

At his words, Renjun clenches around him. Donghyuck groans, clearly sensitive to that dirty heat, and at the sound, Renjun’s eyes snap open. It’s like watching a car accident unfold. A feeling of dread and fear and something else entirely fills Donghyuck as they lock eyes. He sees a ferocious vastness in Renjun's eyes, in the dark irises and even darker pupils. Donghyuck should look away; Renjun had said No so definitively earlier. Had effectively shut Donghyuck out. But he doesn’t look away. And Renjun stares back like he wants to swallow Donghyuck whole. Not a vulture or a canary. But an eagle or another one of those broad-chested, thick-taloned birds.

Maybe this is where the feeling of dread comes from, from feeling so preyed upon. From feeling like Renjun’s evasiveness and disinterest from the last few days means nothing because what they’re doing now—the desperation and obvious need that settles between them—is what matters most. Donghyuck thrusts into him and rides that feeling as he snaps his hips.

Renjun hiccups when he comes, as if trying to tamper down a sound from erupting in his throat or a feeling from exploding in his chest. 

Donghyuck comes a minute later, and they’re still looking at each other. He can’t remember ever sustaining eye contact during sex like this. The feeling of dread morphs into something else, like his body knows something his mind doesn’t, and it wants to erase all the trepidation and reluctance Donghyuck dragged along with him tonight. Renjun must be feeling it too. He begins to shift on the bed and Donghyuck figures he should start getting dressed again. His pants must have fallen to the floor. Maybe he should turn on another light.

“Wait.”

Renjun’s voice is small in the dim glow of his nightstand. Donghyuck, who was about to turn over and roll off the bed, stops.

“Stay. Stay the night.”

“Here?” Donghyuck realizes it’s a stupid question the moment he says it.

But Renjun doesn’t laugh at him. “Yes. If you want.”

If you want.

Donghyuck isn’t sure what he wants. Well, he knows what his dick wants. And he knows, by the fluttering in his chest, that having Renjun ask him to stay strokes his ego and makes him feel good. But is it wise to stay?

The last few days saw him licking at his wounds, admitting to himself he caught feelings after pledging he wouldn’t. He convinced himself it was okay that it happened, short-lived as it was. That he’d grow from it and move on. All because Renjun’s radio silence made him believe Renjun wasn't interested in anything romantic.

And he isn’t. He can’t be, not with the way he's been behaving. But Renjun is clearly craving company. It’s the only explanation for the mixed signals. If Donghyuck manages his own feelings, maybe he could give that to him.

And so, against his better judgment, Donghyuck nods, aware that Renjun is wearily watching him as he thinks.

They clean up together. They rescue the comforter from where it’d fallen on the floor. Donghyuck goes through the motions of preparing for bed in a haze. Renjun doesn’t talk much. But he mentions something about a phone alarm and makes a comment about brushing his teeth. The single light gets turned off and Donghyuck lets himself be tugged into little spoon position. In the darkness, Renjun’s small arms are warm and featherlight. He kisses the back of his neck, lips soft like rose petals.

Donghyuck falls asleep thinking of buckets filled with flowers held together by rubber bands, birds with their feet gripping animals they’ve hunted, and coffee. All the coffee he has to sell to make sure he’s not a failure.

When Donghyuck wakes up the next morning, Renjun’s side of the bed is cool, empty, and taunting. For a moment, it calls him an idiot for thinking he could manage his feelings and nuke the swarm Chenle had warned him was impossible to eradicate. 

But then he gets a whiff of coffee. 

It’s coming from the kitchen.

Donghyuck finds Renjun by the stove, two mugs in front of him. There’s almond milk, cinnamon, and sugar laid out on the counter. Renjun is making him coffee the way his grandmother used to.

“For a second, I thought you left for work,” Donghyuck greets. “Without saying goodbye.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Renjun sneaks a glance at him before turning back to the coffee mugs. “I’m sorry I stopped responding to your texts.” He’s wearing the robe he’d lent Donghyuck on that first day. The color matches his slippers. “Here. Tell me if you like it.”

Donghyuck takes a big sip, not at all scared of the burn of a fresh brew. “Is this your grandmother’s recipe?”

Renjun smiles. “Sort of. I can never get it exactly right.”

“How’d you sleep?”

Renjun’s smile falters. As he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, Donghyuck lets himself be ogled at. He’s almost used to it by now. “You have this way of asking me things like how are you and how’d you sleep, and making me feel like you actually care.”

“I do.”

The admission hangs in the air for a beat. Renjun turns to his fridge. “Are you hungry? Do you want breakfast before you leave?” He moves towards a cupboard, begins taking out a pot, flits around between the fridge and the stove the way he had in the backroom of his shop.

“Sure. I slept well, by the way. Felt secure in your strong arms.”

Renjun snorts. “Shut up.”

“I did! How did you sleep, Renjun? How are you?”

“I told myself I wouldn’t date for a while,” Renjun tells him, as if responding to a whole different conversation. He’s boiling some eggs. Donghyuck wants to tell him about the ants and about the apocalypse that can’t kill them. “But you…You make it so hard. You want to know how I’m doing? I’ve been missing my mom, lately. It’s been years but I just do. She was a big coffee drinker, actually. Made it in the evening while grading papers. I think she had ADHD. The coffee did nothing for her. She was always exhausted. She was doing the flower gig and teaching at the same time. And she put too much sugar in it. She knew I preferred the way my grandma made it.” He looks at Donghyuck’s cup of coffee.

“This is really good,” he offers, words light to not disturb the fragile air between them.

Renjun stares at him for a long time, fond. It makes his eyes soft around the edges, a laugh line appearing on one side of his mouth. “I kinda wanna do this for the rest of my life.” 

“Do what?” 

“Make you coffee in the mornings. Fuck you at night.” 

Immediately after saying it, Renjun turns around, gives his back to him. And while Donghyuck’s brain melts, Renjun murmurs to himself, “See this is why I need to give this a break.” His voice has gone small and flat. Donghyuck thinks he’s trying to hide a waver. “I’m too intense.” 

It’s a lot to take in. Maybe the casual rule Donghyuck imposed on himself was a setup for failure. Maybe this isn’t meant to be something quick and light. But rather, something slow and transformative, like the hours-long storm that brought them together. This thing that’s brewing between them won’t be passing any time soon. Clearly. 

Holy shit.

Donghyuck sips more of his coffee and lets it revive his dry tongue. “The day we first met I imagined traveling with you. Getting on a flight and just…going somewhere together. That was maybe twenty minutes in. So,” he shrugs. “I can handle intense.”

“A flight to where?”

“I didn’t get that far into the daydream,” he chuckles.

Renjun, a bird studying an interesting worm, quirks his head and looks at him. “Milan.”

“Milan,” Donghyuck echoes, simmering in it. For once, he doesn’t hear his mentor’s voice in his ear ranting about success and discipline and entrepreneurship. He hears Renjun’s pretty laugh. he stares at his long nose. “Sure. Well, I might go bankrupt in the near future.” It’s an exaggeration. Elzee’s is doing alright, all things considered. Kun’s new loan helped. But still. “Maybe next year. Count me in.”

In front of him, Renjun drops his gaze to his mouth. Donghyuck thinks of last night, the way Renjun stared up at him while getting fucked. “You wanna take me to Milan? After how mean I’ve been.”

“You have been mean…”

“Take me out this week.”

Donghyuck cocks a brow, gives himself time to catch up to everything. Renjun wants to make him coffee every morning? Wants to take him out on a date? 

I told myself I wouldn’t date for a while. But you make it so hard.

It’s clear now: Renjun wants to get more serious.

All the way in his throat, Donghyuck feels his heart beat excitedly. The deep and quick thrumming takes over his head, his chest. It makes him tap his foot against the tile. It’s adrenaline. The rush of a new incline after a terrible slump. 

It’s a good feeling. Donghyuck smiles, Renjun’s homemade coffee on his tongue. “Alright, Jun. Let’s do dinner this Friday. You and me. I’ll pick you up.”

+

Donghyuck isn’t always wrong. 

When he is, it usually feels disorienting. A crushing reminder of his fallibility and always some degree of shameful.

Donghyuck finds out he was wrong today. He was really wrong. But in this case, it feels incredible.

Beside him, Chenle’s laugh sounds more like a wheeze. Even now as he reads out the little number on his phone screen. “Twenty-three point one thousand followers! This is wild. We’re viral.”

It’s true. And if Donghyuck had any doubt about the real-life implications of a viral TikTok account, he could peek out of their back office and observe the long line of customers waiting to order an Elzee’s coffee.

Donghyuck was wrong about Sakuya’s weird little videos. People watch them. And not only are they watching, they’re engaging. Even Renjun had scrolled past a video on his For You Page just two days ago, sent him a screenshot with a gasping emoji and about a dozen red question marks. 

our social media guy might be a genius

omg

show me when you come over tonight

Donghyuck doesn’t have TikTok. So when Renjun came over, he showed Donghyuck his phone, opened the app, teased him for five whole minutes—only old people refuse to have TikTok on their phones—and then, distracted by whatever face Donghyuck made at him, kissed the breath from Donghyuck’s lungs. 

Stepping out into the hall, Chenle snaps a picture of the cafe’s front room. They’ve got a good flow going now that they’ve hired more baristas. Although the line is long, no one looks upset. 

Chenle sighs. It sounds satisfied. Elated, even.

“We have five stars on Google Reviews.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “I know.” He’s the one monitoring their Google Business account. He’d broken the news to their small team that morning. 

For a moment, Chenle sits on his cheap desk chair, shoulders sagging. But then he’s up again, too much jittery energy in his calves and knees. “Did we make it?”

In his words, Donghyuck catches a hint of wistfulness, and realizes then, that it’s a rhetorical question. But Donghyuck mulls over an answer anyway.

Things looked bad for so long. They’d failed for so long. But they’ve finally carved themselves a niche in the neighborhood. 

Renjun is convinced Elzee’s future is bright, that customer loyalty is a real thing around here they can count on. (And this was before Donghyuck had eaten him out for ten minutes straight, so he likes to think these words came from a very sensible place.)

“I think…” Donghyuck glances at his computer screen, where he has a few invoices pulled up. For once, the numbers don’t terrify him. “I think we did.”

+

In a short amount of time, Renjun learns the layout of Donghyuck’s apartment. He flutters from the small foyer to the stacked laundry machines in the hidden closet—to the bathroom, to the kitchen—like a bird, moving things around and tidying up where he can. Donghyuck tells him he reminds him of his beloved childhood pet—Paulie the cockatiel. 

“Ha ha ha ha!”

It’s Renjun’s loud and boisterous belly laugh, the one that doesn’t fit the look of his small body. “My mom used to say I was like a bee.”

“A bee?”

“Mmm.” Renjun pads over from the bathroom. He’s been putting away some of the things he brought over in the last few weeks, after finally catching on to Donghyuck’s subtle hints. Donghyuck’s apartment is a mess. It’s not that Renjun is careless with all his little skincare bottles and jewelry-holding trinkets; in fact, he’s meticulous about where he keeps his things. But Donghyuck’s counter space is limited, his apartment barely has any storage space, and both of them work long days. Clutter is inevitable. 

So Renjun finally broke away from Donghyuck’s kiss-swollen lips that morning and began the daunting task of organizing his belongings. ”Because I jump from flower to flower.” He shrugs, eyes lifting from Donghyuck’s face to look off at nothing, clearly remembering something, but not saying it out loud.

Eventually, he walks over to his yellow duffel bag and puts away a pair of shoes that had been discarded by Donghyuck’s bathroom door for weeks. “Do you know what flower fidelity is?”

Donghyuck resists the urge to pull Renjun in by the waist. Funnily enough, that was Renjun’s thing—always tugging Donghyuck around like an overexcited pet owner. Instead, Donghyuck plays with the stitching on his bed covers. Keeps his hands to himself and racks his brain for a definition to the foreign term.

He has no idea what flower fidelity is.

“No.”

“It’s when a bee only pollinates one species of plant, instead of jumping around from, like, sunflowers to cherries to dandelions. Flower fidelity. It’s, like, being loyal to one flower. It’s good for the plants.”

“Is it good for the bees?”

Renjun smiles. It’s a big one, with teeth, and warmth in his eyes. “It is, yeah.”

Donghyuck can’t hold back anymore. He stretches a hand out, digs his fingers into the meat of Renjun’s waist, and pulls him in between his legs. Despite being occupied, Renjun indulges him. Although, by the eager look in his eyes, Donghyuck suspects he might also be indulging himself.

“You have a staring problem,” Donghyuck whispers.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Sorry for finding you attractive.”

Donghyuck kisses an old hickey on his neck. “I like it.”

“I like you.”

The three simple words make Donghyuck’s heart skip. It’s the type of feeling that floods his chest and makes it feel hollow. It’s the swarm again, stampeding down his lungs and changing the pattern of his breathing. Donghyuck kisses Renjun, no longer bothering to kill the ants; they wouldn’t have died anyway.

+

The bouquet of flowers looks expensive and bulky in Sakuya’s unsuspecting hands. But he’s smiling—a real, gummy and sugar sweet smile. His ears are red, which Donghyuck thinks isn’t entirely due to the sudden attention.

It’s also probably due to the boy standing beside him. He arrived a few minutes after closing, claiming he’s Sakuya’s ride home.

“These are so pretty,” Sakuya’s friend says. His name is Ryo.

“My boyfriend made it,” Donghyuck says. And then, on queue, Renjun materializes at the shop’s front door. Donghyuck can’t help it, he screams. “Renjun is here!”

It makes Renjun laugh. And so he enters the shop with his mouth open and eyes nearly closed, amused by Donghyuck’s uncontained enthusiasm. Once he gives him a quick peck on the mouth he turns to Sakuya. “Congratulations on your raise! And on, like, going viral 70 times. I hope you like hyacinths. I kind of went overboard.”

“Oh it’s… They’re sick. Thank you.”

“He loves purple,” Ryo supplies. 

Donghyuck looks at both boys. He feels like an older brother. Or an uncle. But with Renjun at his side, it doesn’t feel so off-putting. It’s kind of sweet. Like, Renjun and him could be their wise, older mentors. Or parents. In his chest, something stirs. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us at the restaurant? Chenle has been raving about you to Mark for months.”

Ryo looks between Donghyuck and Sakuya. Sakuya shakes his head. “Thanks, but. I promised Ryo I’d try his new beef soup.”

Ryo smiles. “I love soup.”

Renjun nods. “Soup is great.”

Donghyuck, who momentarily loses track of the conversation, says nothing. He’s looking at Renjun’s hair, at the way his bangs sit on his brow bone and begin to fall into his eyes.

He’s handsome with his hair growing out, still pink and thick at the sides. Donghyuck wants to comb his fingers through it and bring Renjun’s face close.

Sometimes, when Donghyuck initiates a kiss in the middle of a conversation, Renjun continues talking, stubborn words squishing together as Donghyuck pulls his mouth to his. Maybe he’ll do that now. Or maybe he’ll grow quiet and pliant. That happens sometimes, too. Depending on his mood and how willing he is to give up on the point he’s trying to make. Or how horny he is.

Renjun clears his throat, cheeks dusting pink. Judging by the glint in his eye, he knows exactly where Donghyuck’s mind went. “Right, we’re gonna head out.” Renjun looks around the front room, checking if all the lights are out the way he does back at the flower shop. He turns to Sakuya. “Put those in water when you’re home, alright?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks!” Ryo says, speaking for the two of them. He nudges Sakuya out the door, carrying his backpack with one hand and guiding him by the shoulder with the other. It’s cute. Ryo has a bright personality and a cute, lisp-y way of speaking. It’s a nice contrast to Sakuya’s deep monotone. They make a fun couple.

Donghyuck tells Renjun as much on the drive to the restaurant. Tells him he thinks Sakuya has a crush. Renjun is half-listening, distracted with his phone. It’s how Donghyuck knows he’s tired. Or hungry. He’s reading through the menu on the restaurant’s website. I want soup now. Do you think they have onion soup? And then he’s talking about work. And then about his sister. And then about the soup again. The restaurant has several sections, but it’s small, with low ceilings. Renjun has never met Mark before, and never spoken to Chenle for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s been looking forward to tonight.

Donghyuck has too. It’s funny that they’ll meet this version of Renjun, scatterbrained and restless. A bird fluttering around their table before finally sitting. Immediately, Mark’s eyes light up.

“Oh man, is that a Deathly Hallows necklace?”

It’s a Harry Potter thing apparently. Renjun smiles beatifically and Chenle, seeing the photogenic curve of his mouth, throws a glance Donghyuck’s way. He knows Donghyuck loves Renjun’s laugh, has heard him rave about it on and on for months. While Mark and Renjun launch into conversation, Chenle orders a pitcher and Donghyuck gets them started with appetizers.

They’re celebrating tonight. It’s long overdue considering they broke even a month ago. But Mark and Chenle are long distance, so getting Mark in town was a big hassle. But Donghyuck hasn’t been in a hurry anyway. He’s trying something new, at Renjun’s urging. He’s trying not to live in the future, smothered by projections, and numbers, and goals. Live in the present, Hyuck. We’re all here with you. It’s kind of a radical mindset, if done correctly anyway. So Donghyuck hadn’t pushed. He’s happy to be here now, watching a sleepy and unfiltered Renjun charm the pants off Chenle and his boyfriend. 

Back at Renjun’s place, Renjun gives Donghyuck a bouquet, small, with beautifully opened flowers Donghyuck doesn’t know the names of. There’s some feathery looking green in it, too. He’s never seen a bouquet like this. It’s thin and elegant and colorful.

“Chrysanthemums, asiatic lilies, and roses,” Renjun says, watching Donghyuck trail his gaze over it.

“Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Renjun is blushing. 

At risk of dismissing the flowers too quickly, Donghyuck forces himself to ogle at them some more before grabbing Renjun’s face and kissing him. His skin is hot. Donghyuck puts the flowers aside and slips his tongue between Renjun’s teeth. Renjun gasps. 

“You’re not gonna ask me about what the flowers mean?”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What do they mean?”

His lips curl into a one-sided smile and immediately Donghyuck knows Renjun is toying with him. “Nothing. I just like how they look together. People assign meanings to flowers. Some are appropriate for funerals. Others, apparently, for graduations. Some symbolize health or new beginnings. But that’s so…limiting. I imbue my flowers with whatever meaning I want to. A weed could be a gesture of love, if that’s what I’m feeling when I pick it.”

“What were you feeling when you made this bouquet?” Donghyuck asks, surprised to hear himself whispering.

For a moment, all Renjun does is stare at him. That owlish, blank stare Donghyuck has grown so familiar with. And then, possibly avoiding an answer, Renjun presses closer. He wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s neck and kisses him again. Once, twice, three times. 

“Tell me.”

“I’m too sleepy. It’ll come out all wrong.”

Donghyuck, thankfully, is familiar with this trick. And he’s getting a little better at resisting it. “Are you proud of me?" He suggests, a teasing lilt in his words.

“Sure. Duh. Let’s go to bed.”

“I’m not having sex with you until,” Donghyuck juts his hips forward, making sure Renjun can feel that he’s already a little hard, “You tell me what the flowers mean.”

“I like Mark. I like him for Chenle. Sakuya’s a little weird but-but I’m rooting for him, too.” He does a decent job of ignoring Donghyuck’s erection. But he’s hard too, and Donghyuck can feel it. 

Donghyuck wraps a hand around Renjun’s arm, starts stroking it. “I’m just as stubborn as you are, you know.”

They’ve been here before, is the thing. Renjun gets close to opening up, to declaring himself, and then retreats, or redirects Donghyuck’s attention with a kiss to his throat or a grip at his waist. 

This time, Donghyuck tries something different. He kisses Renjun with his mouth open, lets him think he’ll let it go completely. They kiss like that for several minutes, making their way down the hall to Renjun’s bedroom. He gets his shirt off and then asks again. “Are you gonna tell me what you wanna tell me?”

Renjun slips his hands into his pants. “I’m shy.”

Donghyuck snorts. Embarrassingly, the hand in his pants gimmick works. Donghyuck decides to let it go. Maybe this is a conversation for tomorrow. Right now, pleasure floods his veins, gets pumped into his arteries as Renjun pushes him to bed. Funnily enough, Renjun gets grabby when he’s sleepy. He makes Donghyuck climb on top, uses his legs to bring Donghyuck’s full weight against him. Donghyuck is halfway inside of him when Renjun says, “You push me to work harder. Like, you’re the real deal.” He closes his eyes and arches his back so Donghyuck can fall in deeper. “Being with you is—ah—intimidating. But I want to get out of my head. Trust my feelings.” 

“Fuck.” Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say. Actually he knows exactly what to say. He’s just not sure if he can say it. Instead, he pistons into his boyfriend and watches him scrunch his eyes shut at the drag of it. “Y-you intimidate me too.” 

“In what way?”

Of course, Renjun would wait until Donghyuck’s dick is fully inside him to talk about this. Donghyuck slows down. He leans in to lick at Renjun’s earlobe. “Well, you know what you want,” he starts, lips slick with spit. “You know the value of your time. You can decide one day you don’t want this and knowing you, you’d leave.” 

Renjun’s pulse is loud here. And for once Donghyuck feels like the one caging Renjun in. “…Maybe,” is all Renjun says. He doesn’t disagree. 

Which is nice. Donghyuck doesn’t want to argue. And refreshingly, he feels good about all this. “But…but that just means I gotta work hard to keep you around.” He tucks some of Renjun’s hair behind his ear. “And I’m good with that up and down stuff.” 

“Up and down stuff?” 

“Yeah. Overcoming slumps. It’s like my mentor always says—” 

“Oh my god—” 

“Failure stands at the precipice of—”

Renjun sits up. Smoothly cuts him off by pushing Donghyuck onto his back and sitting on him.

“—Victory.”

Renjun sinks down easily, adjusting to the stretch from this new angle with his mouth slightly parted. His eyes are surprisingly lucid when he looks down at him. 

“The flowers mean I love you.”