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Changbin asked him out properly six days after kissing him in his kitchen.
Not because he waited on purpose, at least not entirely. Seungmin knew enough by then to understand that Changbin’s life didn't bend easily around wanting. There were rehearsals, interviews, tour promo shoots, recordings that ran late, dance practices that left him texting pictures of his wrapped ankle with captions like, ‘Before you ask, yes, I iced it’, and video calls that lasted eight minutes before someone called his name offscreen and he had to leave with apology already written across his face.
Seungmin tried not to hold any of that against him. He really did. He had known what Changbin’s life looked like before he ever stood across from him in a convenience store and judged his groceries. He had known the stages, the lights, the noise, the people pulling at him from every direction.
But knowing didn't make missing him less annoying.
Which was why, when Changbin called him on a Thursday night and asked, “Are you busy Saturday?” Seungmin nearly dropped the dish he was washing into the sink.
He caught it, just barely, the plate slipping against his wet fingers before he shoved it into the drying rack with more force than necessary. “Define busy.”
Changbin laughed softly through the phone. He sounded tired, because he almost always sounded a little tired now, but there was something brighter underneath it. Nervous, maybe. “That means no.”
“That means define busy.” Seungmin asked, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear
“You are impossible.”
“You knew this before you called.”
“I did,” Changbin admitted, and Seungmin could hear the smile in his voice, which was unfair because he had gotten too good at hearing Changbin’s smiles without seeing them. “I still called.”
Seungmin turned off the water and leaned back against the counter, drying one hand on the hem of his shirt so he could hold the phone better. His apartment was quiet around him, the kind of quiet that used to feel empty and now felt like a place Changbin’s voice could fill too easily. “What happens Saturday?”
Changbin took a deep breath, “I want to take you on a date.”
Seungmin went still.
It was ridiculous, because technically they had already eaten together several times. They had met in restaurants and walked through parking lots and sat on Seungmin’s couch with Changbin’s arm around his shoulders, both of them pretending the television being off didn't mean anything. They had kissed in his kitchen, then kissed again slower and deeper until Seungmin had spent the rest of the night pretending he didn't keep touching his mouth after Changbin left.
But those had all happened in the spaces between other things.
This was different, there was no accidental almost-meeting. Just Changbin asking for something intentional.
Seungmin looked down at the floor, his fingers tightening around the phone. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Changbin’s voice softened. “I’d like to.”
Seungmin swallowed. “You know we don’t have to make it a thing.”
“I want to make it a thing.”
“Why?”
The question came out before he could stop it.
For a second, Changbin didn't answer. Seungmin regretted asking immediately, because why was too honest. Why invited too much. Why made space for answers Seungmin was not sure he could survive hearing while standing barefoot in his kitchen with wet hands and a plate still dripping beside him.
Then Changbin said, “Because I like you. I like the way I feel when I’m around you.”
Seungmin closed his eyes.
Changbin continued, voice quieter now, but steady. “Because I’ve been taking whatever time I can get with you, and I’m grateful for it, but I don’t want all of this to feel like something squeezed between the rest of my life. I want to choose you on purpose. With time. With planning. With…” He stopped, then laughed once, a little embarrassed. “With better food than convenience store porridge, or some shady hole in the wall.”
Seungmin tried very hard not to let his chest ache. It did anyway.
“You practiced that,” he said.
Changbin groaned. “I didn't.” there was a small pause “You make me nervous.”
The honesty landed too softly for Seungmin to make fun of it the way he wanted to. He opened his eyes and stared at the sink instead, at the water sliding slowly down the edge of the plate, at the absurd normalcy of his own kitchen while THE Seo Changbin admitted he had been nervous to ask him on a date.
“I make YOU… nervous?” Seungmin asked, quieter than he meant to.
Changbin’s answer came immediately. “Yes.”
Seungmin didn't know what to do with that.
He had seen Changbin command stages like the entire world existed to move when he told it to. He had watched him in performances where he looked untouchable, bright, and larger than anything ordinary. He had heard his voice cut through noise like it was built for it. That man didn't look like he got nervous asking someone to dinner.
But this Changbin did.
This Changbin waited on the other end of the phone for Seungmin’s answer with too much silence in his breathing.
Seungmin rubbed his thumb over the edge of his phone. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Changbin asks shocked, after a moment of silence.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Changbin asked again
“Are you going to make me say it more than once?”
Changbin laughed, and the relief in it made Seungmin’s face heat immediately. “No. No, I heard you.”
“Good.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.” Changbin sounded amused now. “Wear something nice.”
Seungmin looked down at his shirt, which had a wet patch near the stomach from dishwater. “How nice?”
There was another pause, and then Changbin, with the kind of false casualness that immediately made Seungmin suspicious, said, “Just… nice.”
Seungmin narrowed his eyes at the wall. “Changbin.”
“What?”
“What kind of nice? Red Carpet kind of nice, because I don’t own those kinds of clothes”
“A date nice.”
Seungmin’s stomach dropped. “Changbin.”
“I’ll see you Saturday,” Changbin said brightly.
“Seo Changbin.” Seungmin scolds lightly
“Goodnight, Seungmin.”
He hung up before Seungmin could threaten him properly. He stood in his kitchen with his phone still against his ear and stared at nothing.
“I’m going on a date with Seo Changbin” Seungmin said out loud to his empty apartment. He couldn’t help but smile, biting the near corner of his lip “I’m cool” he said refusing the excitement to cloud anything in his mind.
He set his phone facedown and turned back around to the sink, turning the water back on, finishing his dishes.
Saturday arrived too quickly but also, not quickly enough.
Seungmin hated that he cared what he wore. He hated that he spent too long standing in front of his closet, rejecting things for reasons he would have mocked in someone else. Too casual. Too formal. Too much trying. Too homeless. He changed shirts three times. He fixed his hair, then messed it up because it looked too fixed, then fixed it again because apparently he had become someone with no dignity.
By 5:47, he was dressed in dark slacks and a soft button-up he almost never wore because it made him look like he had somewhere important to be. He had spent the last ten minutes sitting on the edge of his bed telling himself that this was fine. A date. People went on dates. Normal people. Adults. Adults who didn't have photocards hidden in a binder on the top shelf of their closet and were not about to be picked up by the man on most of those photocards.
His phone buzzed at 5:58.
Bad Groceries: I’m downstairs.
Seungmin stood.
Then immediately sat back down because standing that fast felt humiliating.
He waited exactly thirty seconds so he didn't look desperate, then grabbed his jacket and left.
He made it to the front entrance of his building before he saw the limousine.
For one full second, Seungmin stopped walking.
It was black, sleek, and parked along the curb like it belonged outside a hotel or an award show, not in front of Seungmin’s apartment building beside a slightly crooked street sign and the neighbor’s car with a dented bumper. A driver stood near the back door. And beside him, dressed in a dark coat with his hair styled away from his face and a bouquet so large it looked almost offensive in his arms, was Changbin.
Seungmin stared.
Changbin smiled like he knew exactly what he had done.
Seungmin turned around.
Changbin’s voice came quickly, laughing and panicked all at once. “Wait, wait, don’t go back inside.”
“You. Are insane.” Seungmin says turning around to face Changbin again “I said if you brought something ridiculous, I was going back inside.”
“I thought you were exaggerating.”
“You brought a limousine.” Seungmin said, his arms raising slightly.
Changbin looked at the car, then back at him. “It has privacy.”
“It has a zip code.”
Changbin laughed, but his eyes were bright and nervous in a way that softened some of Seungmin’s horror despite himself. He shifted the bouquet in his arms and stepped closer, careful not to crowd him. “Too much?”
Seungmin opened his mouth.
The correct answer was yes. Obviously yes.
The limousine was too much. The coat was too much. The flowers were definitely too much, a huge arrangement of soft colors and greenery wrapped in paper and ribbon, so large Changbin had to hold it with both hands. It was the kind of bouquet people received when someone was trying to apologize for destroying a family business or propose marriage in a public square. It was not first date flowers. It was theatrical. It was absurd. But god was it beautiful.
And Changbin was looking at him like he genuinely wanted to know if he had misjudged, like beneath the celebrity-sized gesture there was still the same man who had felt so excited to tell a stranger that he bought the porridge again.
Seungmin exhaled through his nose. “It’s extremely too much.”
Changbin’s face fell a fraction.
Seungmin took the flowers before he could look too wounded. “I didn’t say I hated it.”
The change in Changbin’s expression was immediate and devastating. Relief softened his mouth. His eyes dipped to the bouquet in Seungmin’s arms, then back to his face. “You look beautiful.”
Seungmin’s grip tightened around the flowers. “You cannot keep saying things like that in public.”
“No one heard me.”
“The driver has ears.” The driver, to his credit, stared very intensely at the opposite side of the street.
Changbin smiled, stepping closer until his voice could drop between them. “Then I’ll say it quietly.”
Seungmin hated him, no he didnt, not even a little.
He looked down at the flowers because looking at Changbin directly felt like a mistake. “I need to put these inside.”
“I can wait.”
“I would hope so. You brought half a garden.”
Changbin’s laugh followed him back into the building.
Seungmin put the bouquet in the largest vase he owned, which was not large enough. He ended up splitting some of the flowers into a glass pitcher, muttering the entire time about celebrities with no understanding of proportion. His hands were being more gentle than his voice.
When he came back downstairs, Changbin was still waiting, hands tucked into his coat pockets, looking almost too polished under the streetlight. It made the distance between them flicker for a moment, that strange remembering. Changbin as the man on screens. Changbin as the voice in songs. Changbin as someone with limousines with drivers and a life full of doors Seungmin had never expected to stand near.
“Ready?” Changbin asked.
“No.” Seungmin admitted
Changbin laughed softly and opened the door for him. “Come anyway.”
The limousine was, unfortunately, comfortable. However, Seungmin refused to say so out loud.
It smelled faintly expensive, leather and something clean, the windows dark enough that the city outside blurred into light and movement without ever fully looking in. Changbin sat across from him at first, which felt ridiculous because there was too much space between them and also not enough. For the first few minutes, Seungmin busied himself pretending not to be impressed. There was water already waiting in a chilled compartment. Small snacks. Soft lighting. Enough room for six people and all of Seungmin’s panic.
Changbin watched him with barely concealed amusement.
“If you say anything,” Seungmin said, “I will get out at the next red light.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Changbin says, throwing his hands up in defence
The car moved smoothly through the city, then toward the water. Seungmin noticed the direction before he admitted he did. He looked out the window, watching buildings give way to darker roads and the gleam of the harbor in the distance. The sky was heavy with clouds, bruised purple and gray, though the rain had not started yet. Streetlights reflected in the damp pavement like the city had been polished for the evening.
“Where are we going?” Seungmin asked.
“Dinner. On a boat.”
Seungmin turned to look at him slowly. “A boat?” Seungmin questioned.
Changbin’s lips pressed together like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Well, its technically, a yacht,” Changbin corrected, then winced as if he heard himself. “That sounded bad.”
“It sounded exactly like something a person in a limousine would say.”
“I wanted somewhere private.”
“So, you rented the ocean?” Seungmin asked
“That is not how yacht’s work” Changbin said leaning forward, elbows on his knees now, expression softening beneath the teasing. “I know it’s a lot.”
Seungmin didn't answer immediately.
Changbin continued, quieter. “I know. I just wanted…” He looked down at his hands, thumb rubbing over one knuckle. “Every time we eat somewhere, I’m thinking about who might walk in. Who might notice. Whether you’re uncomfortable. Whether someone is going to take a picture. Whether my manager is outside counting minutes. I wanted one night where I didn’t have to look over your shoulder while you were talking to me.”
Seungmin’s irritation folded in on itself, underneath the limousine and the flowers and the yacht. There wasn’t some grand celebrity gesture. Instead there was privacy, unlimited time, and a space where Changbin could sit across from him without bracing for the world to intrude.
Seungmin looked down at his own hands. “You could have said that.”
“I thought the flowers said it.”
Seungmin look over him.
Changbin’s coat was expensive, the car around them was absurd. But his hands were still the same hands that had held a convenience store basket full of bad choices. His eyes were still the same tired, careful eyes that had asked if Seungmin wanted him to come over. He was trying, Seungmin realized. Too hard, maybe, but trying in the only way he knew how when normal was not easily available to him.
The thought made Seungmin’s chest ache. “You’re still insane,” Seungmin said.
Changbin smiled. “But?”
Seungmin looked back out the window. “But I understand.”
The yacht was a lot smaller than he expected and still far larger than anything he had ever casually stepped onto for dinner.
Changbin helped him aboard with one hand offered carefully, palm up, like even now he was asking. Seungmin took it because refusing would have been childish and because the dock shifted slightly beneath his feet and because, apparently, he liked the way Changbin’s fingers closed around his.
The air smelled like salt and rain. The city shone bright behind them, while the yacht rocked gently against the dock. It was not the kind of giant, ridiculous vessel Seungmin had imagined when Changbin said yacht, but it was still polished and private, with a small dining setup under a covered deck, candles shielded from the wind, flowers that were much more tasteful than the ones currently overwhelming Seungmin’s apartment, and enough quiet to make the whole thing feel unreal.
Seungmin stared at the table.
Changbin stood beside him, suddenly nervous again. “Too much?”
Seungmin sighed. “Yes.” he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Changbin’s cheek, “But I love it”
Dinner was warm and slow and better than Seungmin wanted to admit.
The food came out quietly, placed in front of them by one of the crew with a practiced discretion that made Seungmin understand this was probably not the first time someone had paid very good money to be left alone. Then the door closed, the deck settled around them, and it was only the two of them beneath the covered portion of the yacht, candlelight trembling behind glass while the harbor stretched dark and glittering around them.
Seungmin noticed the way that Changbin relaxed.
It the way he noticed too much about him now. The gradual lowering of his shoulders. The way his hands stopped fidgeting near his silverware.
It made something in Seungmin ache, because he had seen Changbin tired before, seen him worn thin by schedules and practice and whatever strange pressure came with being known by millions of people, but this was different. This was Changbin slowly remembering what it felt like to sit somewhere without preparing to be interrupted.
For a while, they kept the conversation light.
Seungmin complained about the flowers again, mostly because Changbin’s embarrassed smile made it worth repeating. Changbin defended the limousine with the increasingly weak argument that it had tinted windows and snacks. Seungmin told him that kidnapping vehicles also had tinted windows sometimes, and Changbin laughed so hard he had to put his fork down for a second. That laugh settled between them, warm and easy, and for a few minutes the whole thing almost felt normal. Ridiculous, but normal. A date with too much money behind it, maybe, but still a date.
Changbin asked about work. Seungmin told him about the printer again, because the printer remained his enemy and deserved to be discussed like one. Changbin listened with the seriousness of a man being briefed on an international incident, nodding along as Seungmin explained that no, the machine was not simply broken, it was malicious. When Changbin suggested that perhaps the printer was also tired and misunderstood, Seungmin stared at him until he apologized to both Seungmin and office equipment as a concept.
Then the conversation softened, not all at once, but slowly.
It happened somewhere between the second course and the wind picking up over the water. Seungmin looked out toward the city, at the lights blurred by distance, and Changbin followed his gaze.
“It looks smaller from here,” Changbin said.
Seungmin glanced at him. “The city?”
Changbin nodded, but his eyes stayed on the shore. “Everything.”
There was something in his voice that made Seungmin set his glass down.
Changbin seemed to realize he had said it too honestly. His mouth curved faintly, almost defensive, but he didn't take it back. “When I’m in it, it feels like there’s no space. Buildings, schedules, people, cameras, managers, fans, staff, cars, practice rooms. Everything is close. Everything wants something. Out here, it looks…” He paused, searching for the word. “Manageable.”
Seungmin watched him across the candlelit table.
Changbin’s profile was softer like this, half-lit by the small flame between them, hair moving slightly in the damp wind. It was strange seeing him in a place so expensive and private and still noticing the same tiredness he had first seen in the convenience store. The same humanity beneath all the polish.
“Is that why you like places like this?” Seungmin asked.
Changbin looked back at him. “Private places?”
Seungmin nodded and Changbin went quiet for a moment. Long enough that Seungmin wondered if he had asked too much.
Then Changbin said, “I don’t know if I like them, exactly.”
Seungmin frowned slightly.
“I like what they give me,” Changbin continued. His fingers moved over the edge of his napkin, not nervous exactly, but restless. “Privacy. Control. A little time where I don’t have to think about how I’m sitting or who is behind me or whether someone is pretending to text while actually taking a picture.” He let out a small breath, not quite a laugh. “But sometimes it feels strange. Like the only way I get normal things is by making them abnormal first.”
Seungmin’s chest tightened.
Changbin looked down at the table. “Dinner has to be on a yacht because a restaurant might not stay just dinner. A car has to be a limousine because privacy matters more than looking ridiculous. Flowers have to be delivered by someone who knows how to avoid cameras, and suddenly even trying to be romantic feels like a security plan.”
The humor in his voice was thin enough to break.
“That sounds lonely.” Seungmin said gently
Changbin’s eyes lifted to his, he didn't smile. “It is,” he said.
Seungmin’s throat tightened.
Changbin breathed out slowly and leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting toward the dark water before returning to Seungmin like he had to make himself do it. “I’m surrounded by people all the time. That’s the part that’s hard to explain without sounding ungrateful. I’m never really alone. There’s always someone. The boys, managers, stylists, staff, fans outside buildings, people online, people waiting, people needing me to be somewhere or be something. But being surrounded and being known are not the same thing.”
Seungmin went very still.
Changbin’s mouth tightened faintly, like saying it hurt but keeping it in had started to hurt worse. “A lot of people love me,” he said, quieter. “Or they love what they can see of me. I don’t think that’s fake. I don’t want to make it sound fake. I’m grateful for it. I really am. Fans gave me more than I can ever repay. But sometimes there are so many people looking that I feel like no one can actually see me.”
The candles flickered between them.
Seungmin looked at him and thought of all the times he had been one of those people. One of the distant ones. One of the fans with playlists and favorite clips and saved interviews. He had never thought of it as taking, not really. Loving an artist from far away felt harmless, private, one-sided in a way that asked nothing from them directly. But sitting here now, across from Changbin as he peeled back the shining edge of fame and showed Seungmin the raw skin beneath, Seungmin felt the discomfort of recognizing himself somewhere in the crowd Changbin was talking about.
“I was one of those people,” Seungmin said softly, shifting his head to look out at the waves hitting the shore, and feel the soft push and pull of the boat.
Changbin’s expression softened immediately. “That’s not what I meant. You’re not just that.”
“Maybe not now.” Seungmin looking at his glass, rubbing his thumb against the side, watching the light bend through it. “But before I met you, I knew you the way everyone else knew you. Songs, clips, interviews. Secret videos, and photos. Backstage moments there were meant to stay backstage. Things you chose to show and things maybe you didn’t choose at all.” He swallowed. “And I liked you before I knew you.”
Changbin’s eyes stayed on him.
Seungmin’s face warmed, but he forced himself to continue, because Changbin had opened something first and Seungmin didn't want to meet it with a locked door. “That’s part of what scares me. Because sometimes I worry you’ll think I’m only here because of that. Or that other people will think that. Or that I’ll do something wrong without meaning to because I know too much about the public version of you and not enough about the real one.”
Changbin’s voice was quiet. “You don’t make me feel like that.”
Seungmin looked up.
Changbin leaned forward slightly, expression steady now, serious in a way that made Seungmin’s chest ache. “You don’t. From the first night, you knew who I was and still treated me like a guy making terrible choices at three in the morning. You didn’t ask for anything. You didn’t try to turn it into a story. You didn’t make me perform being Changbin.” His mouth curved faintly, soft and fond. “You just told me to take care of myself.”
Seungmin looked away because the way Changbin said it made him feel too seen. “You still don’t know how to take care of yourself”
“I know.” Changbin’s voice gentled. “That’s why it mattered.”
The wind shifted again, carrying a cool thread of damp air beneath the covered deck. Seungmin folded his hands in his lap, suddenly aware of how much of himself was sitting out in the open now. He had not meant to tell Changbin that he was afraid of knowing him wrong. He had not meant to admit that liking him as an artist first complicated the way he understood his own feelings.
“I don’t want to become one more person wanting something from you,” Seungmin said.
Changbin’s face changed slightly “Seungmin,” he said, and the way he said his name made Seungmin’s breath catch. “Wanting me isn’t the same as using me.”
Seungmin looked at him.
Changbin held his gaze. “You’re allowed to want things from me.”
“I don’t want special treatment.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean-” Seungmin stopped, frustrated because the words were suddenly harder to arrange. He looked toward the water, then back at Changbin. “I don’t want to skip lines. I don’t want backstage passes because I exist near you. I don’t want people thinking I’m trying to get access. I don’t want you to feel like being with me means handing over parts of your life just because I used to be on the other side of the screen. I don’t want people to think that im just some stupid obsessive fan, who doesn’t know boundaries.”
Changbin listened without interrupting.
Seungmin’s voice went quieter. “But I also don’t want to be kept so separate that I start feeling like a secret you’re protecting yourself from.”
His stomach twisted, but he didn't take it back. He couldn't. Not now. Not after everything Changbin had already said. The silence between them stretched, filled with water and wind and the low hum of the yacht beneath their feet.
“I don’t want you to feel hidden.” Changbin said, finally.
Seungmin’s throat tightened.
Changbin looked down at his hands, then back up. “I need you to know that. If I’m careful, it’s not because I’m ashamed. It’s not because I want to tuck you away somewhere and only take you out when it’s convenient. It’s because my world can be cruel, and fast, and loud, and I don’t always know how to let someone into it without giving everyone else a way to hurt them.”
The honesty in his voice made Seungmin’s chest feel too small.
Changbin breathed in, then continued. “I know that sounds like I’m trying to make decisions for you.”
“A little.”
Changbin gave him a sad, crooked smile. “I’m trying not to.”
Seungmin appreciated that more than he wanted to admit.
“I’m not fragile,” Seungmin said.
“I know.” Changbin sighed softly “I know, but you are new to this part.”
Seungmin couldn't argue with that.
Changbin leaned forward, elbows near the table now, his voice low and careful. “I don’t want to scare you away by showing you too much too fast. But I also don’t want to lie and pretend this is easier than it is. Dating me would not be simple.”
The word dating made something in Seungmin’s stomach turn over.
Changbin seemed to notice, because his expression changed, uncertainty slipping in around the edges. “I mean.. if we got there. If that’s something you wanted. I’m not trying to assume.”
Seungmin stared at him, “You rented a yacht and you’re worried about assuming?”
Changbin blinked.
Then he laughed, sudden and relieved, one hand coming up to cover part of his face. “That’s fair.” He lowered his hand, still smiling, but the seriousness didn't fully leave his eyes. “I want to be clear anyway.”
Seungmin’s pulse slowed into something heavy.
Changbin looked at him across the table, and for the first time that night, there was no teasing left to hide behind.
“I’m not doing this because I’m bored. I’m not doing this because I’m lonely and you happened to be kind to me once. I was lonely before you, yes. I’m probably still going to be lonely sometimes even if this becomes something, because my life is strange and I’m still figuring out how to live inside it.” His voice roughened slightly. “But I’m asking you on dates because I like you. Because I think about you when something small happens and I want to tell you first. Because I drink water now and immediately wonder if you’d be smug about it. Because when practice ends, I don’t just want food. I want you sitting across from me telling me I eat too fast.”
Seungmin couldn't breathe normally.
Changbin’s eyes softened further. “And because when I kissed you, I spent these last six days thinking about how badly I wanted to do it again.”
Seungmin’s face went hot all at once. “That,” he said carefully, “was unnecessary information.”
Changbin’s mouth twitched. “Was it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to take it back?”
Seungmin glared at him and Changbin smiled, small and knowing now, which was terrible because his confidence only seemed to appear when Seungmin was already losing control of the conversation.
“I’m not asking you to decide everything tonight,” Changbin said. “I don’t need a label before dessert.”
“That’s generous.” Seungmin scoffs playfully
“I’m very patient.”Changbin nods to himself
“You called me six days after kissing me and rented a yacht.”
Changbin grimaced. “Patient emotionally. Not logistically.”
Seungmin laughed, the sound surprising him. It surprised Changbin too, judging by the way his face softened around it, like he wanted to keep it somewhere. That made Seungmin look down at the table again before the moment could get too tender too quickly.
Changbin let the quiet breathe before asking, “What do you want?”
Seungmin’s fingers stilled. “I don’t know,” he said at first.
Changbin nodded. “Okay.”
“I mean, I know some things.” Seungmin swallowed. “I want to keep seeing you.”
Changbin’s face softened immediately, so openly that Seungmin had to look away for a second before he could keep going.
“I want to know you like this,” Seungmin said, voice quieter now. “Not just the version everyone sees. Not just the music or the schedules or the things fans talk about online. I want to know what you’re like when you’re tired and annoying and pretending an iced mocha counts as hydration.”
Changbin laughed softly, but it sounded fragile.
Seungmin looked back at him. “I want to be careful, but I don’t want to be so careful that we never actually do anything. I don’t want special treatment, but I also don’t want to act like I’m just some lowly random person in your life when I’m not. Or when I’m maybe becoming not.”
Changbin’s eyes didn't leave his face.
Seungmin rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, embarrassed by his own honesty. “I don’t know what we are yet.”
“That’s okay.”
“But I want to find out.”
For a moment, Changbin didn't move, then a smile made home on his face “Okay,” he said.
Seungmin’s chest tightened. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Changbin’s voice was rougher now. “We can find out.”
The first drops of rain began to hit the deck before Seungmin could answer.
At first, it was light enough that neither of them moved. A soft tapping against the covered glass around the candles. A few dark spots blooming across the uncovered edge of the table. Seungmin looked up as the wind carried the smell of rain across the deck, cool and sharp against the warmth of dinner.
Changbin followed his gaze.
Then a stronger gust blew spray beneath the cover, and one cold drop landed directly on Seungmin’s wrist.
He flinched and Changbin stood immediately, laughing as he reached for his napkin. “Okay. Inside.”
“You rented a yacht and forgot weather exists?”
Changbin’s laughter came easier now, bright and embarrassed, and it loosened something in Seungmin after all that honesty. They moved inside as the rain strengthened, Changbin guiding him through the doorway with one hand hovering near his back until the yacht rocked gently beneath them and Seungmin grabbed his sleeve on instinct. Changbin steadied him immediately, hand settling at his waist.
For a second, they stood too close in the doorway.
Rain drummed harder overhead.
Seungmin looked up and Changbin didn't move his hand.
The main salon was warm and softly lit, all polished wood, cream-colored seating, low tables, and windows darkened by rain. The city lights blurred beyond the glass, smeared gold and white across the water. It felt hidden in a different way than the deck had. Closer. More enclosed. Like the rain had drawn a curtain between them and the rest of the world.
Changbin’s thumb moved once against Seungmin’s side before he seemed to realize he was still touching him. He let go slowly. “Sorry,”
Seungmin hated how much he noticed the absence. “For the rain or the touching?”
Changbin’s eyes flicked to his face. Then his mouth curved slightly. “Both?”
“You apologize too much.”
“I’m trying to be respectful.”
“What if I don’t want you to be?” Seungmin asks softly
Changbin stared at him.
Seungmin realized what he had said one second too late as heat climbed up his neck.
Changbin’s smile changed, slow and dangerous in a way Seungmin had not seen much of yet. “Noted.” He moved toward a small cabinet built into the side of the salon, opening it to reveal bottles arranged behind glass. “Do you want a drink?”
Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me drunk on your yacht?”
Changbin nearly dropped the bottle he had reached for. “No.”
“Suspicious.”
“I was offering one drink because it’s raining and we already finished dinner.”
“Mm.”
Changbin turned to look at him fully, bottle in hand, expression earnest enough that it made Seungmin want to tease him and kiss him in equal measure. “You don’t have to drink. There is water. Tea, probably. Juice somewhere. I can ask-”
“Changbin.” Seungmin walked over and looked at the bottle. “What is that?”
“Whiskey.”
“Do you like whiskey?” Seungmin asks
Changbin shakes his head softly, nibbling on the inside of his lip “Not really. I only like it when it’s good.”
“And is this good?”
“It better be, considering what it cost.” Changbin pulled two glasses down, then paused. “Seriously, though. Do you want some?”
Seungmin looked at him, at the way he held the bottle but waited before pouring, at the careful question underneath the casual one. He thought about dinner, about wanting and being wanted, about the strange tenderness of being asked even for small permissions.
“One,” Seungmin said.
Changbin nodded and poured just enough into each glass. He handed one to Seungmin, their fingers brushing around the glass in a way that neither of them commented on. The whiskey was amber and warm under the salon lights, catching reflections of rain as it moved down the windows.
They sat on the sofa with space between them at first.
An absurd amount of space, considering Changbin had kissed him breathless in his kitchen six days ago and had just admitted to thinking about doing it again. But the space seemed necessary for a few minutes. A place for all the dinner honesty to settle. A place for Seungmin to hold the glass between both hands and remember that his body was not only a container for nerves.
The first sip burned and Seungmin tried not to make a face.
Changbin noticed immediately. “You hate it.” he laughed, leaning back against the sofa, some of the tension leaving his body. “Do you want water?”
“Obviously.”
Changbin reached for the bottle of water already sitting on the low table and poured some into a clean glass like he had been prepared for that answer. Seungmin took it with narrowed eyes.
“You expected me to hate it.”
“I prepared for multiple outcomes.”
They sat there listening to the rain for a while, the conversation thinning into something quieter. The whiskey warmed Seungmin from the inside after a few more careful sips, less aggressive now that he expected it. Changbin drank slower than he did, his glass held loosely in one hand, head tipped back against the sofa as he watched rain streak the windows. In this light, with his coat open and his hair slightly softened from the damp air, he looked less untouchable than ever.
Seungmin watched him.
Changbin turned his head. “What?”
Seungmin looked down at his glass. “Nothing.”
The rain softened everything around them, muting the yacht, the harbor, the distant city. Seungmin could feel the warmth from the whiskey now, but he was not drunk. “I was thinking that this feels strange.”
Changbin’s smile faded into something softer. “Bad strange?”
“No.” Seungmin leaned back against the sofa, glass resting against his thigh. “That’s the problem.”
Changbin turned more fully toward him.
Seungmin kept his eyes on the rain. “I thought it would feel more…” He stopped, trying to find the right word. “Unreal, maybe. Being here with you. The car, the flowers, this place. You. I thought the whole night would feel like something that couldn’t actually belong to me.”
Changbin was quiet.
“But it doesn’t,” Seungmin said. “Not all of it. Parts of it are ridiculous.”
“The limousine.”
“The limousine,” Seungmin agreed. “The bouquet large enough to qualify as a roommate. The yacht. The whiskey that attacks people.”
Changbin huffed out a laugh.
Seungmin’s mouth softened. “But sitting here with you feels…”
Changbin’s voice was gentle. “Feels what?” he was watching him with that same careful patience, the kind that made Seungmin want to say things and resent him for making it feel safe enough to do so.
“Easy,” Seungmin admitted.
Changbin’s expression changed, almost imperceptibly.
Seungmin’s chest tightened. “That scares me too.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing about this should be easy.”
Changbin set his glass on the table.
The small sound felt louder than it was.
Then he shifted closer, not enough to touch yet, but enough that the polite space between them became something else. “Maybe not everything has to be hard just because the world around it is complicated.”
Seungmin looked at him.
Changbin’s voice was low now, steady and warm beneath the rain. “Maybe when it’s just us, it can be easy sometimes.”
Seungmin wanted to believe that.
The air shifted again, slow and unmistakable. Changbin didn't move closer right away. He only looked at Seungmin, eyes dropping once to his mouth, then returning to his face like he was giving him time to decide. The patience of it made Seungmin’s pulse beat harder than if Changbin had simply reached for him.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Changbin said softly.
Seungmin’s voice came out too quiet. “What thing?”
“Looking at me like you’re deciding whether to run or kiss me.”
Seungmin swallowed.
Changbin’s mouth curved faintly, but his eyes stayed serious. “Which one is it?”
Seungmin could have made a joke and he almost did.
The words were right there, familiar and safe, something about running being difficult on a boat or kissing being a terrible idea because Changbin had whiskey breath. But Changbin had opened himself at dinner in a way Seungmin knew had cost him something, and Seungmin had promised, in his own careful way, that he wanted to find out what this could become.
So he set his glass on the table and reached for Changbin.
Changbin met him halfway.
The first kiss was filled with all the restraint they had been carrying since dinner, warm and careful and immediately not enough. Changbin’s hand came up slowly, fingers brushing Seungmin’s jaw before settling there, his touch light enough that Seungmin could pull away if he wanted to. He didn't. He leaned into it instead, and Changbin made a sound against his mouth so quiet it nearly disappeared beneath the rain.
Seungmin’s hand curled around Changbin’s waist tugging his waist gently. Changbin seemed to get the hint, and throw right leg over Seungmin’s lap, straddling him.
Changbin threaded his hands at the nape of Seungmin’s neck pulling gently, eliciting a moan from him
That was when the kiss changed.
Changbin exhaled into him, the careful line of his body shifting Seungmin tilted his head, and Changbin followed like he had been waiting for the invitation, mouth parting against his with a heat that moved through Seungmin so quickly it startled him. The taste of whiskey lingered between them, warm and sharp, softened by the slower drag of Changbin’s lips and the way his thumb brushed once along Seungmin’s cheek.
Seungmin forgot, for a moment, how to be clever.
He forgot the limousine. The flowers. The yacht. The carefully arranged privacy. He forgot the distance between artist and fan, between public and private, between what Changbin belonged to and what he had chosen for himself tonight.
There was only this.
Seungmin shifted without thinking, and Changbin followed him down against the sofa, one knee braced carefully beside his thigh. The movement was slow enough to stop. Neither of them stopped. Seungmin’s back met the cushion, and Changbin hovered over him, close but still careful, still holding some of his weight back like even now he was trying not to overwhelm him.
Changbin broke the kiss with a rough little breath. “Seungmin.”
“What?”
“Bed?” Changbin asks gently, resting his forehead against Seungmin’s
Seungmin closed his eyes, his breath coming out in shakes.
Changbin stared at him.”You can say not.” he reassures him. “I promise it’s okay”
Then Seungmin laughed once, low and disbelieving “Bed.”
The answer was so sure that heat spiraled in Changbin’s stomach.
Changbin got up from the couch and pulled Seungmin to his feet, guiding him through the soft rocking of the boat to the made bed.
Rain struck the windows harder.
The yacht rocked beneath them.
Changbin guided Seungmin down onto the mattress before sliding of his coat, and taking of his shirt. Smiling gently down at Seungmin.
Seungmin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process the situation before him.
He opened his eyes, hoping that it would make his brain more at ease, but it made everything worse. Changbin was flushed, breathless and shirtless.
“We don’t have to.” Changbin says, sitting next to Seugnmin on the bed, “I don’t want to make you do something you aren’t ready for.”
“I’m sorry” Seungmin whispers “I.. Fuck” he groans running his hands through his hair pulling gently at the roots, trying to ground himself.
“Hey. Hey” Changbin says grabbing seungmin’s hand “It’s okay. We don’t need to have sex. That isn’t going to change whatever is happening here” Changbin looked at him like this mattered.
“I want to keep seeing you,” Seungmin said quietly.
Changbin’s voice was soft when he answered. “I want that too. I’m serious”
“Do you want to lay down? Just cuddle?” Changbin asks and Seungmin nods gently, laying back against the mattress, pulling the pillow beneath his head.
Changbin lays beside him as Seungmin rolls his head to the left, meeting his eyes. Changbin’s hand moves gently along Seungmin’s side, grounding him. “If it’s complicated, then I want to be honest about it. I want to do this carefully. But I don’t want to pretend I don’t want it just because it might be hard.”
Seungmin’s chest tightened.
Changbin leaned forward, brushing his nose against Seungmin’s clothed shoulder before placing a soft kiss against it. “I don’t need you to call me your boyfriend tonight.” he pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “But I need you to know that’s where my head is. I’m not trying to keep this vague forever.”
Seungmin looked at Changbin, at the careful hope in his face, at the vulnerability he had been offering all night piece by piece.
“I can’t promise I won’t be weird about it,” Seungmin said.
Changbin’s smile broke open, soft and relieved. “I know.”
Seungmin’s hand slid down to lace his and Changbin’s fingers together. His voice lowered, “But I don’t want vague either.”
Changbin lifted his head and for a moment, Changbin only looked at him.
Then he leaned down and kissed him again. Moaning softly at the light friction, the warm taste of whisky still slightly there. Seungmin let himself melt into it, let himself keep Changbin close, let himself stop pretending that this was only strange or risky or ridiculous.
The kiss deepened again slowly, heat returning in waves rather than sparks. Changbin settled more fully against him, still careful but less distant now, and Seungmin let his hands wander over the solid warmth of his back, and up the curve of his neck, the soft hair at his nape.
Changbin kissed him like he had time. Like he had made time. Like the night had been built around this quiet, rain-drenched room and the two of them finally allowing the wanting to show.
Changbin pulled back, before pressing one final kiss to Seungmin’s lips.
“We will sleep here for tonight, and in the morning I will take you home. Just give me this please.” Changbin said gently
Seungmin nods silently, and closes his eyes, shifting them so Changbin is on his back and his head is resting against Changbin’s chest, listening to the soft methodical thump of his heart beat.
For the first time all night, Seungmin thought maybe Changbin had been right.
Maybe not everything had to be hard just because the world around it was complicated.