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It’s just shy of ten p.m. when Anton slinks down the stairs to the communal twenty-four-hour laundromat on the bottom floor of his apartment complex. The elevator is broken- again- but he hoists his cracked white laundry basket along with ease; there’s never much to wash mid-semester, not when he’s too far in his head to do anything outside of study, smoke, sleep, repeat.
He kicks the door open and surveys the tiny room quickly, instinctively checking for other night owls when he knows there aren’t any- probably because, as his roommate Sohee says, only someone as lame as Anton plans laundry time specifically to avoid even the slightest level of human interaction.
Sohee doesn’t get it. He’s introverted too, but confident in a way that Anton doesn’t get, never will get, and on the rare days he does manage to drag Anton along for a morning wash, he strikes up a conversation with whoever happens to be there. Whatever. Anton shouldn’t complain, not when his roommate acts as a walking small-talk shield who incidentally happens to be invaluable on their late-night munchies snack runs.
He tosses the last of his shirts in the front-loader and slams the door shut before sliding to the floor, leaning back to listen to nothing but the transition of rushing water to the thud thud thud as the washer kicks into gear. It’s a moment of peace he’s been longing for this past week, his anxiety at full throttle despite exams being weeks off, but like Sohee says, Anton has perfected the art of pre-stress stress.
Easy for Sohee to say, when he’s the one who smoked the last of Anton’s carefully rationed bud before taking off to his friend-slash-crush Seunghan’s for the weekend just to do some more in-person pining. Never mind that Anton couldn’t sleep a wink last night and just as he finally began to drift off his cat, Goldfish, decided to knock his favourite bong off the coffee table and into smithereens.
He glances down mournfully at the bandages on his hands. Cleaning up glass shards with bleary eyes and bare hands wasn’t one of his better ideas, that was for sure.
Maybe Anton’s lured himself into a false sense of security with this seemingly infallible routine, because somewhere toward the end of the cycle the door swings open, startling Anton enough that he whacks his head against the cold metal of the payment slot.
“Ouch,” he mumbles, eyes squeezing shut as he brings his hand to his skull, but his hand lands on top of someone else’s- someone’s very large hands- already vigorously rubbing at the now throbbing spot on the crown of his head.
“Ohhh my god, Anton, I’m so sorry, here, let me-”
No. it can’t be.
Anton’s eyes fly open to confirm his worst fears: big round eyes filled with concern set in a handsome face and damp hair coloured somewhere between honey and mouse-brown- Sungchan Jung, the boy in the apartment next door, who unknowingly is the cause of another of Anton’s routines (smoking on the balcony after 7 p.m. because that’s when Sungchan sits down for an hour long episode of whatever dramas he’s into. Romance, Anton thinks, if the faint music that tinkles through his cracked window is anything to go by.)
Sungchan Jung, who’s friends with Anton’s friends (all two of them) and everyone else’s friends, who plays basketball and studies in the centre tables of the library (unlike the corners Anton frequents)- the one who moved in to the same off-campus accommodation as Anton just two months ago. He’s tall and charming and Anton has a giant crush on him.
He blinks rapidly, trying to Be Normal as Sungchan continues to pat his head a little too roughly. Sungchan’s wearing an apple green sweater with ‘wonderboy’ emblazoned on it in blue block letters. Anton suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. God, he’s such a loser. He’s soooo hot.
“Can you say something, Anton? Please? Do I need to call for help?”
The fear of any further public embarrassment is enough to shock Anton out of his current daze. He jumps to his feet immediately, too fast for Sungchan’s liking apparently, because amidst his anxiety-induced thumping heartbeat Anton can vaguely register the older boy pleading with him to slow down or something.
Or something. “’m sorry, ‘m fine, thanks,” Anton mumbles, certain his face must be an embarrassing shade of red by now. He can feel his throat start to close up and forces himself to shove past Sungchan and out the door, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to make it back to his apartment without any tears falling. It’s fine, it’s cool, he’ll just curl up on the couch and wallow in self-pity while he waits out the wash cycle and then-
“No, no, no,” panic swells in his chest. He pats his pockets frantically to no avail: no keys. This can’t be happening. He doesn’t recall setting them down on the washing machine and his basket was definitely empty. So, fuck. The keys are inside and Anton is outside and he kind of wants to die. He briefly entertains the thought of going outside and walking into traffic until the idea of becoming a grisly public spectacle fills his brain. He decides to simply despair for now instead and slides down his door and starts to cry.
“Anton.”
Sungchan is there, looking down at him with his brows creased and his big brown eyes all wide and worried. Seemingly realizing that Anton isn’t going to speak, Sungchan clears his throat awkwardly. “You forgot this.” He holds out one of Anton’s socks (one half of the pair of his marijuana socks, a gag gift from Sohee) and tilts his head to assess the disaster that is Anton. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Maybe it’s the genuine concern in Sungchan’s eyes or just the knowledge that he’s probably already embarrassed himself too much to worry about looking cool now, but Anton finds everything spilling out.
“I’m tired and stressed and it’s not exam season yet but I’m already stressed just thinking about it and- and-,” he hiccups- because of course he does- “and Sohee smoked the last of the weed two days ago and I can’t afford more and- I- I just get so anxious without it. Self-medicating, I guess? And now I’ve locked m-my fucking keys inside and Sohee’s not gonna be back until tomorrow night. So I’m stuck...”
Anton trails off, waiting for Sungchan to say something.
Sungchan stands there stupidly.
“Well?”
“Uh,” Sungchan says intelligently. He rocks back and forth on his toes. “I have some bud if you want.”
Tears well up again in Anton’s eyes as he recalls last night’s events. “My cat broke my favourite bong.”
“Oh, kid,” Sungchan’s mouth crooks up, and it’s like a switch flips, his usual charm replacing the brief awkwardness. His eyes are fond when they meet Anton’s, and he extends a hand to Anton to pull him up off the fraying carpet. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
Anton would like to think he would’ve got his shit together this evening regardless of whether Sungchan helped him or not, but he’s honestly not sure. Sungchan ended up taking him back downstairs to move their clothes into the dryers. He didn’t speak, just hummed to himself quietly. Maybe he’s being presumptive, but Anton can’t help but think Sungchan just gets him.
They’re in Sungchan’s kitchen now, where Sungchan had promised to make Anton a homecooked meal only to realise all he had was ramen. Apparently his roommate Shotaro was the household chef, and he tended to stay with his family on weekends, so the fridge was a wasteland. Not that Anton really cared, given a fancy meal for Sohee and Anton ranged from actually cooking vegetables to switching out chicken fillets for their dinosaur nuggets.
Sungchan’s bent over the stove, intently stirring the pot while seemingly staring into nothingness. He’s facing away from Anton, and Anton decides this is the perfect time to ogle him from the safety of his seat at the counter. He’s still wearing that fuck-ass wonderboy sweater, but the width of his shoulders and his casual grey sweatpants have Anton practically foaming at the mouth anyway.
It’s nice watching someone that isn’t Sohee cook for him. Most days their schedules are so out of sync that they either eat dinner while watching tv, tucked up under a blanket on their shabby brown couch, or it simply becomes a case of shoving food down in front of their laptops in their separate rooms, staring at their screens hoping the essays will write themselves. And Anton can’t count the number of times the pot has boiled over while he and Sohee have been filming tiktoks or teasing Goldfish with her laser toy.
This silence is peaceful, comfortable. The sort of silence Anton doesn’t usually feel with people who aren’t Sohee or Wonbin. It’s not that Sungchan is a stranger in Anton’s life- he’s a constant, in many ways really, but it’s all at arm’s length: a fleeting pass in the hall, a glimpse across campus, or the occasional times where Anton’s meeting up with Sohee and Wonbin after class and they’re waiting with Sungchan’s group. They party together too, and sometimes when Anton’s opens the door at 3 a.m. to a stumbling Sohee, he peeks into the hallway to make sure Sungchan makes it safely inside too.
It takes Anton a long time to let people in. Sohee’s there because he’s never not been there. Their mothers are best friends, and they’ve been together every year from kindergarten to school to university. And Wonbin, well, he’d gone from Sohee’s Hot and Mysterious One Night Stand to rounding out their little trio for movie night hangouts and nagging the two into eating a proper meal every once in a while. And while it could be Wonbin and Sohee’s pre-existing friendship with Sungchan that sets the groundwork for this rare sense of comfort, Anton mostly puts it down to Sungchan being Sungchan.
It's funny being in Sungchan’s apartment. It’s identical to his own, only mirrored, and it reminds Anton of Alice stepping through the mirror in Through the Looking Glass. A little odd, but nothing he can’t handle.
He notices that Sungchan’s height causes the same problem he has in the kitchen, observing Sungchan almost knock his forehead on the stove fan for the third time in minutes. They’re practically the same height, though Sungchan’s got a couple of centimetres on him. Anton likes it though. Now he thinks about it, he doesn’t think he’s ever hooked up with anyone taller than him.
What the fuck? Talk about jumping the gun, jeez.
“What’s that?”
Anton cringes. “It’s nothing, just thinking out loud.” Fucking hell. He pulls his phone out, hoping an update to Sohee will distract him from any further irrational horny thoughts.
anton
hey i kind of locked myself out and had a breakdown but it’s ok i fed goldfish before i shut the door so she won’t starve
and can u swing by eunseok’s before u come home i will literally die if i go another day without my nightly smoke ok
my very sanity hinges on this
sohee
on it boss
how’s sungchannie ;)
Anton’s head snaps up. “You texted Sohee?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sungchan nods, scratching his head sheepishly. He switches off the stove and walks over to the fridge where he becomes seemingly engrossed in the top shelf and its contents of three red bulls and a half-eaten punnet of strawberries. He grabs two of the red bulls and shuts the door. “Just in case you sleep late and he comes home early. You know. Something like that.”
“Sleep late?”
Sungchan stiffens, standing up straight. “Yeah? Like… it’s just, you’ve had a stressful day, maybe you’ll need it. No rush. I’ll take the couch, of course,” he tacks on, eyes suddenly going round, and Anton realises he’s kind of nervous, though he can’t pinpoint why.
“I should take the couch. This is my fault, anyway.”
“No, no, this is great! No- I mean, not great, but it’ll be nice to hang out, right? I know your friends, but I don’t really know you.”
Anton stares. There’s something unnerving about the way Sungchan’s looking at him, and now his neck is prickling with embarrassment and he’s sure he’s slowly turning into a tomato. “Well, it’s not exactly like we talk.”
Fuck. Why does he sound so defensive?
“Yeah,” Sungchan offers a wry smile, “hard to do when you duck your head every time I try to catch your eye.”
Okay, what the hell. Anton’s face is definitely flaming now, if Sungchan’s amused expression is anything to go by, and he doesn’t even know how to respond. He waves his hand around, flustered. “You gonna actually serve me dinner tonight or should I try my luck on the streets?”
Sungchan barks out a laugh. “Demanding,” he snorts, opening a cupboard to grab mismatched bowls. One has a big chip on its edge, and he draws it closer to himself as he ladles the noodles into the other before sliding it toward Anton. “Luckily for you, I live to serve.”
Anton rolls his eyes. “Let’s go sit down, Casanova.”
“Casanova, huh?” Sungchan grins wolfishly, scooping up his own bowl and two sets of chopsticks before heading to the couch. His couch is bigger than Anton’s, a drab green velvet that is exactly the type of hideous Anton would expect from someone wearing that sweater.
“Is green your favourite colour?”
“Yep.” Sungchan side eyes him as he turns on the television, then pats the space next to him for Anton to sit. He fiddles around with the remote for a moment before Adventure Time fills the screen. “How’d you guess?”
“I don’t know. This couch. The painted frogs on your kitchen windowsill. Your sweater. Just a hunch, Wonderboy.”
“Wonder-? Oh.” Sungchan glances down at the sweater in question. “Casanova, Wonderboy, what’s next, baby?”
Aaand Anton’s cheeks are on fire again. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’m pretty self-aware.”
“How freeing.”
Sungchan shrugs, smiling easily. “You joke, but it is. Weight off my shoulders and all that.”
He’s watching Anton again, perceiving him. Too much perceiving for a sober Anton.
“Let’s just eat.”
Anton doesn’t care what it says about his standards that watching Sungchan roll up joints on his old teak coffee table is getting to him more than any of his past sexual or romantic experiences. He’ll admit it. He’s having a blast.
He’s blasted, actually.
They’ve been smoking for the past half hour, Adventure Time playing quietly in the background. Sungchan had gone hunting for snacks in the kitchen at Anton’s behest after becoming genuinely concerned at Anton’s sorrowful rendition of ‘bacon pancakes’. No pancakes found, but he declared the dry Milo cereal to be a hit if the way Anton was inhaling it was anything to go by. He’d also halved a brownie edible from a leftover batch Shotaro had cooked before leaving and boy is Anton feeling it. Sungchan’s coffee table is the most interesting thing in the world right now.
Anton reaches for his glass of water, swirling the ice cubes before taking a long swig of it. He holds the glass to his cheek and closes his eyes, relishing the cool against his warm skin. Refreshing. Each time Anton so much as takes a sip, Sungchan fills it up again with the striped glass pitcher he seems so proud of (his and Shotaro’s first Mundane Adult Purchase, he calls it). Honestly, Anton kind of can’t get past how well-prepared Sungchan is for a simple smoke session. Smoking with Sohee tends to end up with the two getting extremely comfortable and only then, throats raspy and dry, would they remember to get water and then proceed to have an argument over who has to go get it.
He says as much to Sungchan.
“Oh yeah. I don’t play about weed.” Sungchan says seriously, getting to his feet to do a full body stretch. He walks over to the kitchen while Anton continues to stare at the table. When he returns, he’s cradling one of his painted frog figurines from the windowsill in one hand, the one with a red toadstool for a hat. He tilts it toward Anton. “This is me. If you even care.”
Anton looks from Sungchan to the frog, the frog to Sungchan, Sungchan to the frog. He feels dizzy. “You guys have the same nose.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” is all he can manage before collapsing into giggles. Sungchan’s couch is sooo comfy and everything feels so light. There’s a dip in the couch as Sungchan sits back down. He sits closer now, and Anton tips into his side, going easily.
Resting his head on Sungchan’s shoulder, Anton takes the opportunity to properly study the boy he’s watched from a distance for so long. His hair is shorter than Anton’s used to, so he must’ve cut it sometime this week when Anton was too busy having a mental breakdown to notice. It’s less elfin and more conventionally stylish now, curls gone in favour of straighter hair with just a few strands framing his pretty face. More golden than brown… Anton wonders if he dyed it again or if he just doesn’t remember how it looked. And Sungchan’s lashes are long… so long… and they cast shadows onto his cheeks in the dim yellow light in the kitchen that flickers every ten minutes.
“Someone should replace that bulb.”
“Probably.”
“You should. Don’t make poor Taro pull out a step ladder just because you’re too lazy!”
“Okay, okay.” Sungchan holds his hands up in a surrender motion. He closes his eyes solemnly. “Your wish is my command.”
Anton feels fuzzy. And warm. A little overwhelmed too, but in a good way. The kind of overwhelmed where all his senses are engaged, but dulled; he’s there but not there, and he’s perfectly content with that. He wonders if Sungchan’s stuff is stronger than he’s used to (unlikely: Anton also does not play about weed) or, Anton is properly overwhelmed at the prospect of being close to Sungchan in more than just proximity (likely: his heartrate is up and his crush is set to full throttle).
He finds himself staring at Sungchan’s mouth now. He should probably get a hold of himself, but he’s beyond caring now. Sungchan’s lips curve into a smile and Anton’s studying them- the pretty pink shade and the fullness in the centre and the cute indents of the corners of his mouth. With his eyes still closed and a few stray locks falling over his forehead, he looks a little younger.
Sungchan cracks an eye open. “Whatchu looking at?”
“You,” is Anton’s honest answer. He’s thankful for the joint, for being able to express himself without anxiety clouding his answer or tightening his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t need it, but he’s grateful anyhow. Maybe, he thinks, smiling up at the older boy, just maybe… Sungchan could become one of Anton’s people, like Sohee or Wonbin. Someone who falls between friends and family. Someone who Anton can tell anything to, without a drug to open up. Something about the way he feels now makes him believe Sungchan really could be someone to him.
In the silence, Sungchan lights up another joint, drawing it to his lips and inhaling deeply. And Anton watches, transfixed, as Sungchan tilts his head, a question in his eyes when he dips his face close to Anton’s. Closer.
He exhales in Anton’s face.
“Jesus, Sungchan!” Anton splutters, coughing and waving the smoke away with his hands. “You’re so annoying!”
Sungchan’s faux pout gives way to one of his stupid, goofy grins, the kind where his eyes turn into crescent moons and he laughs with his full body. He throws his arm around Anton’s shoulders, and again, unable to resist, Anton goes easily.
“Did you want something else?”
He’s teasing, Anton knows. He’s teasing, but two can play at that.
“Yeah, give me a hit, you selfish bastard.”
Sungchan laughs again, but rather than pass the joint over he brings it to his own lips again, watching Anton watch him, then juts out his chin at Anton in a come here motion. So Anton leans in, feeling brave, and it takes everything in him not to die when Sungchan’s fingers push lightly against his neck, steering him closer as he just barely brushes their lips together, Anton’s own parted and ready and wanting, but he settles for just the smoke. They exhale together, unmoving, twin smiles on their faces.
Anton keeps waiting for Sungchan to pull away or take his hands off his neck at some point, but all Sungchan does is shift his hand to the dip in Anton’s shoulder, mindlessly rubbing his thumb in slow circles over a knot Anton didn’t know he had. He can’t tell what Sungchan’s thinking about right now.
“What do you think water tastes like?”
Anton groans. Christ, he’s an idiot. Anton wants him so bad.
“Okay, fine, just know you wouldn’t last a day in a philosophy class, mister,” Sungchan frowns. He purses his lips up cutely, focused on coming up with a new question. “First kiss?”
“Generic!”
“Then it should be easy enough to answer!”
Anton sighs. “It was Sohee, and it was on my sixteenth birthday. We both hadn’t kissed anyone yet so we figured why not.”
“How romantic.”
Anton snorts. “If only it was that easy.”
“If what was easy?”
“Romance. Love. I don’t know. Like… Sohee and I love each other, we always have, obviously… but it’s not that type of love. We tried. We even fought about it.” Anton giggles, shaking his head as he thinks back to high school Sohee and Anton- smaller and scrawnier and figuring out who they were going to be. “I think we just thought- everyone thought, really- that two childhood friends who both ended up coming out as gay and bisexual kind of had to fall in love. Why wouldn’t we? But we didn’t.”
Sungchan chuckles. “The way Sohee used to talk about you, I thought that too, honestly. But then I met Wonbin, and he spoke about you in the same way, and I realised people who know you just really love you, and I thought wow, how nice to be loved like that.” He smiles, gentle. “And I get it. I wish we’d hung out sooner.”
There’s a building warmth emanating from Anton’s chest, as warm as his stoner-red cheeks. He feels fuzzy all over, and happy and safe, and now Sungchan’s looking at him the way he’s been praying for and for once Anton doesn’t feel the urge to flee from this type of conversation.
“I wish that too.” He watches Sungchan’s smile broaden, then asks, “And what about yours?”
There’s a beat of silence before Sungchan’s reply. “Similar situation to yours, in a way. My friend Jimin, when I was fourteen.” He sighs. “And then she promptly realised she was a lesbian.”
Anton dissolves into giggles. “Congratulations to Jimin,” he coughs out, his throat far too dry for him to be cackling like this, “you did a beautiful thing.”
“Settle down or I won’t give you water.” An empty threat from Sungchan, already reaching for Anton’s glass. He shakes his head reproachfully as Anton tries to rearrange his features into a more serious expression. “It’s fine, really. What can I say? I’m a man of the people.”
“That typically implies you either have zero game, or you’re a total slut.”
“What an extremist outlook. Can a man not be both?”
Anton arches an eyebrow, looking Sungchan up and down. Sungchan’s goofy grin is back, and Anton’s heart starts doing flip-flops, but he’s made it this far into the conversation without clamming up and he’s determined to see it through now.
“Oh, sure they can. Are you arguing your case now? Because I’ll admit, I can’t tell with you. Everyone on campus loves you and you always have someone on your arm, so you’re charming, but… you’re also kind of a loser. You tell me.”
Sungchan’s palm flies to his chest. “You wound me. Nice to know you’re paying attention, though.” His grin turns smug when Anton rolls his eyes. “It’s true that I’m always with different people, I suppose. I’m tall and play ball. Comes with the territory.”
“I’m tall.”
“And you talk to all of two people.”
“Ouch.”
“Join the team?”
“No.”
“Then lower your expectations,” Sungchan says dismissively, lightly smacking Anton’s thigh.
Anton almost whines at the contact.
Sungchan lights up another joint. It’s just after midnight, according to the yellow analog clock up above the television. Anton would check his phone, but he’s not even sure where it is. Possibly down the side of the couch. Kinda wild for Anton. He smiles, thinking about how strange it is that he hasn’t felt the need to be glued to his phone while hanging out with someone who isn’t Sohee or Wonbin.
“Whatchu smiling for?”
Anton hums. “Nothing.” He takes the joint from Sungchan. “So. Are you a slut or not?”
Sungchan erupts into a cough so hard he doubles over, his hands flying to his thighs to steady himself, and Anton begins to thump him on the back in shock, reaching for a glass of water with his other hand.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer! It’s not that serious!”
Sungchan is still bent over and shaking, and it takes him a moment to realise Sungchan is laughing. He hits his shoulder. “Not funny!”
“C’mon, it’s a little funny.” Sungchan wipes a tear from his eye. “The question was just so aggressive!”
Anton feels himself pouting instinctively. It always happens when he sulks. “Well, I wanted to know.”
“You’re so high right now.”
“And? So are you. Answer the question.”
“Do you always whine this much?”
Anton fixes him with a glare. “Do you always avoid answering questions?”
“Touché.”
“Sungchan.”
“Okay! Okay.” Sungchan leans back into the cushions, facing away from Anton now. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t do anything with most of those people, you know. Not the way you’re thinking anyway.”
“And what am I thinking?”
“That I sleep with them.” Sungchan looks at Anton again, challenging. There’s an air of seriousness to him that Anton isn’t used to. “And I don’t.”
“Can you blame me? I’ve been to all of two parties this year and both times you spent the entire time sucking face with some girl on the sofa.”
Fuck. Why does he sound so accusatory? Maybe there are limits to how high Anton should be in a conversation with his crush after all. Apparently an unchecked High Anton with Sungchan Tunnel Vision is prepared to hijack their comfortable talking with barbed accusations at a boy he’s never even kissed.
“So at the only two parties you actually attended- in the same month, mind you- you saw me kiss my girlfriend of four months.”
Fucking fuck fuck.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s cool,” and Sungchan chuckles under his breath. His body relaxes again, and his arm snakes around Anton’s shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze. “After Jimin, I did the usual high school dating. Dumb makeouts at parties and messing around in the bleachers after basketball practice, and then in my last year of high school I had my first official girlfriend. We broke up before college started.”
Anton just nods, not wanting to open his seemingly uncontrollable mouth now that Sungchan is no longer messing around. He fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, focusing on the tiny hole on the wrist of the left sleeve.
“First year of college I started seeing this boy, Donghyuck. He was my first everything with a guy, and I was a little in love with him. We made it to about six months before I broke it off.”
“If you were in love with him, why?”
“I said only a little,” Sungchan corrects. “And if I didn’t, he would’ve. He was in love with someone else. It was only a matter of time.”
Anton frowns at the coffee table. “That’s sad.”
“Nah, it was for the best. We’re still friends now, so.”
Sungchan shifts a bit, reaching out to stub his finished joint in the hand-painted ash tray next to their glasses. It’s green, too, Anton notes with a small smile. He wonders if it came from the same place as the frog figurines.
“I tried to go no-strings-attached after that. Couple girls, couple guys. It just wasn’t for me. I don’t think I can really do one-night stands. I get attached. Seunghan says it’s the same reason I have so many friends, or something, like I just need the emotional connection. It’s natural to me.”
“Makes sense.”
“Does it? I don’t know, Hani’s the psych major.”
Anton plays this information over in his head. Everything Sungchan’s saying makes so much sense. So how did Anton get him so wrong? So much for priding himself on being a quiet observer.
“And then there’s Yunjin, who you seem to remember vividly enough.”
Anton scrunches his nose. “Yunjin as in Jennifer Huh? That was her? I thought she was a lesbian.”
“Well.”
Anton slaps a hand over his mouth, trying to stop his laughter. “Twice?”
“Look. She thought she was bisexual at the time.”
“You really have a gift.”
“Enough!” Sungchan pulls Anton to his chest in a headlock, ruffling his hair while Anton kicks in protest, still giggling in defiance. “So now you know!”
Anton flails about in an attempt to free himself before using the full force of his body to kick off the couch and tackle Sungchan onto the cushions. Sungchan doesn’t fight it, just flops back onto his elbows, letting Anton fall over his leg to end up laying on his torso, cheek resting on Sungchan’s toned stomach. Anton’s beyond shame at this point.
“One more?” Sungchan cocks an eyebrow in question, already reaching for one of the two remaining joints by the ash tray. He picks up the lighter. “Now that we’ve established I have zero bitches and zero game, let’s talk about you.”
“Me?”
“I thought we weren’t avoiding questions?”
“Touché.” He peers up from his place on Sungchan’s stomach, watching as Sungchan takes another drag. Even from this angle there’s not a flaw to be seen. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Or girlfriend.”
“Really?”
Anton frowns at Sungchan’s open-mouthed surprise. “Does that not seem on brand?”
Now it’s Sungchan’s turn to frown. “I’ve seen guys going in and our of your apartment who aren’t Sohee or Wonbin.”
“I could have friends you don’t know about.”
Sungchan smirks. “The walls here are thin, you know.”
“Oh, god,” Anton covers his face with his hands. When he peeks through his fingers, Sungchan’s grinning. “Fine. But they don’t like me. And… I don’t like them, either.”
There’s fingers running through his hair now. Anton doesn’t want to look up at him again, shame seeping in fast. This is one of those things Anton tries his best to hide even from Sohee and Wonbin. Low success rate, sure, but he tries- it’s one of the only things they argue about.
“Anton.” And instead of letting it go, Sungchan pushes himself up further onto the cushions, almost sitting up, before leaning down to drag Anton up into his arms. “Up here, big boy.”
Big boy, Anton’s brain echoes dully. He flops onto Sungchan’s chest, feeling like jelly inside and out. Everything feels soft- the cushions, Sungchan’s sweater- but Sungchan’s body is hard beneath him. Grounding him. He tucks his face into the crook of Sungchan’s neck, closing his eyes when Sungchan resumes carding his fingers through his hair.
Anton mumbles, “the meaner they are, the more they ask to see me again.”
“Oh, kid.”
“I think people just… don’t see me. Not the way I want them to, at least. I don’t know.”
“I see you,” Sungchan’s tone is urgent, and he shifts up straighter on the sofa again, forcing Anton out of hiding. He cups Anton’s cheeks in his hands. “I see you, ‘n Sohee ‘n Wonbin see you, and I promise you other people do, too. You just gotta let us.”
And yeah, Anton is too into his own head, he knows this. And Sungchan wears his heart on his sleeve- he knows that, too. “I’m sorry,” Anton whispers, hating the way tears are beginning to prick at his already red eyes.
“Please don’t apologise.” Sungchan’s eyes are wide, imploring. Sincere. He tilts Anton’s face up, catching his chin between his index finger and thumb. “C’mere.”
He guides Anton properly into his lap, not bothered at all by Anton’s almost equally long limbs and the way they have to move around a bit to find a position that fits both on them together without falling off the couch. Anton’s strong, sure, he’s got lean muscles and a strong core from years of competitive swimming, but Sungchan’s jacked, and fuck, is that clear by the way he’s able to manhandle someone of almost the same size. Anton runs his fingers over Sungchan’s biceps, unashamed to admit his tears are all but forgotten.
“Wanna shotgun it with you,” Anton mutters, eyes darting to the joint still loosely between Sungchan’s fingers.
The way Sungchan’s looking at him now makes Anton feel like his skin is on fire. He inhales slowly, never breaking eye contact, and lets Anton guide them this time, hyper focused on the feeling of Anton’s plush lower lip catching softly against his own, the way Anton breathes it all in and then out and then they’re staring at each other.
Anton grabs the joint and tosses it into the ash tray.
“There was a good half left of that,” Sungchan comments, eyes never straying from Anton’s. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Please.”
Sungchan dives forward, one hand back to cupping Anton’s cheek, the other flying to the small of his back, fingers pressing into him but not the way he’s used to, not the usual cold possessiveness and mean bruising. Their lips crash together and it’s not particularly gentle but it’s full of want and Anton has never felt so truly wanted in his life. Sungchan’s hands both go to his waist next, encircling him easily as he licks into Anton’s mouth like he’s been wanting this just as long as Anton has.
“Can I take this off?” Sungchan’s playing with the hem of Anton’s hoodie, and Anton nods, lightheaded, realising he never put on anything underneath it this morning. He moans as Sungchan starts trailing open-mouthed kisses down Anton’s neck and down to his broad shoulders, occasionally scraping his teeth in a way that makes Anton’s hips jump.
“W-wait.”
Sungchan stops, wide brown eyes blinking. “Is everything-”
“No, yes- I mean, it’s fine. But can you take your clothes off? I need you to lose the sweater, Wonderboy.”
“Say no more,” and Sungchan’s tearing off the sweater, tossing it behind him with a flair that has Anton giggling again. He resumes kissing Anton with renewed enthusiasm, hands roaming everywhere before he cups the back of Anton’s head and holds him in place, sucking on his lower lip before slipping his tongue back into Anton’s mouth.
Anton whines at the feeling of pure want. He slides his fingers into Sungchan’s hair and tugs a little, liking the way Sungchan moans quietly and leans into him all the more. Anton opens his eyes, lips still on Sungchan’s, admiring the cute slope of his nose and how pretty the older man looks with his eyes closed and his brows creased in concentrated desperation.
As if sensing Anton’s changed focus, Sungchan pulls back. “Everything still okay? We can stop if you’re feeling overwhelmed?”
“I’m fine. I’m not that fragile.”
“Really? Because earlier-”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Anton threatens, kissing Sungchan hard to wipe the small smirk off his face. His hand toys with Sungchan’s waistband, but Sungchan grabs his wrist.
There’s a question in his eyes, and Anton thinks back to their conversation earlier and Sungchan’s aversion to one-night stands and his heart goes soft. “Bedroom?” He climbs off Sungchan as best he can, barely managing to stop himself tipping over as he finds his feet before leaning back down for another kiss. “We can talk later, I promise. But I’ve wanted you for so long I’m gonna go crazy if we wait any longer.”
That’s all it takes for Sungchan to jump up and drag Anton away into his bedroom. They fall onto his queen-size (it takes up a ridiculous portion of an already small room), and Anton’s more than ready to continue when Sungchan stands up and pulls his phone from his pocket.
“Wait.” He slides his phone open and passes it to Anton, chewing on his lower lip- Anton doesn’t think he’s ever even seen Sungchan nervous before tonight, and now he’s seen it several times.
It’s texts. Texts to Sohee, to be specific, not that Anton’s surprised.
sungchan
sohee
sohee sohee sohee
hey hey
lee. so. hee
sohee
what’s up :D
sungchan
so anton’s locked himself out
sohee
r u fuckin w me
im getting somewhere w seunghan rn he cant do this to me
Anton scoffs. “Wow, Sohee. I’m gonna kick his ass tomorrow.”
Sungchan smiles, silent, and waves at him to keep reading.
sungchan
wow ur terrible
it’s ok u don’t need to rush home. he’s here at my place now
u do need to get some more weed from eunseok tho
he’s pretty stressed out
sohee
he’s IN UR APARTMENT ???
sungchan
yes :D <333
sohee
omg
r u gna
talk
?
sungchan
i hope so
if he’s feeling better
i want to
sohee
go for it !!
trust me :D
Anton feels like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him. He takes in Sungchan’s careful gaze, the small distance he’s put between them in case Anton reacts badly, and worries his heart is gonna hammer all the way out his chest. He’s trying to think of what to say when his pants pocket starts vibrating.
“Thought I lost this down the side of the couch.” He fishes his phone out and it’s Sohee, with about ten messages sent at rapid fire and counting. “Oh.”
He holds his phone out to Sungchan. “Just the last ones will do, I guess.”
sohee
how’s the love of ur life
yo
why aren’t u responding to meeee
since neither of u r responding im gna assume one of u two losers has finally made a move
best of luck best friend
Sungchan’s jaw slackens as he stares at the screen, eyes darting between Anton and the phone as if waiting for Anton to come out and say it was all a big joke.
“Cat’s out of the bag. I don’t just want you for your body.”
Sungchan barks out a laugh. “Funny,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “So… that’s real.”
Anton nods.
“How long?”
“About two months, maybe?” Anton swallows, trying to remember there’s nothing to be embarrassed about when Sungchan clearly- insanely - feels the same way. “I mean, I always thought you were handsome but I didn’t see much of you until you moved into this building. Happened quickly.”
Sungchan finally sits back down on the bed, looking at Anton earnestly. “I wasn’t messing around when I said I try to talk to you. Truthfully, I ask about you all the time.” His words bleed with sincerity, eyes hopeful, and Anton feels the urge to cry. “I noticed you during your first week of college, but I didn’t know who you were for a while after. ‘N then I made friends with Sohee in one of our music classes and hoped he’d bring you around. When he said you were a homebody, I didn’t quite understand the magnitude of what he meant.”
“That’s like, a year.”
“What can I say? I play the long game.” He moves in close, pressing a kiss to the tip of Anton’s nose. “You have the cutest nose, you know that?”
Anton giggles. “I could say the same thing about you.”
Sungchan takes Anton’s face in his hands and kisses him, hard. Whatever he sees in Anton’s eyes must satisfy him, because when he pulls away he’s smiling so hard it pulls at Anton’s heartstrings.
Anton can’t take it. He swings a leg over Sungchan’s and smacks their mouths together again. Too hard, really, their teeth clack together and he nearly topples them both over, but doesn’t care. He feels electrified, turned on by the way Sungchan’s eyes have darkened and the way his strong grip slams their hips together, moaning together, warm skin against skin.
“You’re hard.” Sungchan notes, hand snaking down to palm Anton over his sweatpants. Anton whimpers, regretting it when Sungchan gets a stupid triumphant look on his face. Anton resists the urge to kick him away.
“Of course I’m hard. You’ve effectively been edging me for hours, you fucking tease. Get on with it.”
Sungchan beams. “I mean I hoped so, but I wasn’t sure, so-”
“Sungchan. Just take my clothes off.”
“Right.”
He’s quick with it, sliding Anton’s sweats and boxers down in one go and then his own. He doesn’t even look at them before bundling them into a ball and throwing it to the floor, just looks at Anton like he’s the only thing he cares about in the moment- and Anton can’t believe he’s wasted all his time on men he’s spent carefully choosing clothes for nothing more than a sleazy late-night hook-up.
He spits into his palm before wrapping his hand around both their cocks and Anton’s eyes roll back with the first touch. Sungchan’s smearing their pre-come and spit all together as he starts jerking them off, setting a quick pace from the get-go that’s already making Anton go crazy, thinking about how much he wants Sungchan to face-fuck him when they have more time and aren’t tripping over themselves to finish like they are now.
“’M not gonna last long,” Anton admits, earlier feelings of being overwhelmed returning to him as he looks down at the way Sungchan’s large hand encircles them both. He digs his nails into Sungchan’s neck and shoulders, needing to ground himself, somehow, but it doesn’t do much when Sungchan seems desperate to keep him out of his mind. His brain is going fucking haywire with every stroke, and he’s pretty sure he seems completely incoherent to Sungchan if the constant assurances are anything to go by.
“You’re gorgeous, Anton, so beautiful, my beautiful boy,” Sungchan says over and over like a mantra, nosing down the column of Anton’s throat and pausing to suck the skin there as he goes, and then his lips are against the shell of Anton’s ear when he murmurs, “come for me, pretty boy.”
Anton comes with a cry, back arching and spilling over into Sungchan’s hand. His head rolls back in exhaustion and he’s trying to catch his breath, still trembling when Sungchan pushes him down and keeps on jerking them off, hand rough and relentlessly chasing his orgasm, and Anton starts squirming, tears in his eyes and beyond overstimulated.
“Sungchan. Sungchan. Please.”
“Just a little longer, okay, baby? You can do it,” Sungchan rubs a thumb over Anton’s cheek, kisses his forehead when Anton chokes out a sob at the aftershocks flooding through his body, “look at me, c’mon- I just wanna see your face. Fuck!”
He pitches forward, burying his face into Anton’s shoulder with a low moan as he comes, the weight of him heavy and almost entirely collapsing onto Anton while he rides it out, murmuring praises against Anton’s skin that Anton wishes he could absorb into his mind forever.
When he’s done he pushes himself back up onto his elbows, kissing Anton’s nose. “Too much?”
Anton is silent a few moments, breathing shallowly as he tries to focus. He shakes his head by way of response and Sungchan smirks at his inability to speak.
“That good, huh?”
Anton smacks him. “Get away from me.”
Anton wakes up a little too hot with Sungchan draped over him. It’s nice. A first, actually- none of the guys he’s slept with have ever been there by morning, and he’s grateful now. It’s a simple first, but he likes it that way. He likes Sungchan’s simple life and his easy love and his silly jokes and hopes there’ll be many more firsts to follow.
His phone vibrates on the messy bedside table and he stretches for it, trying his best to avoid waking Sungchan.
sohee
i’m home
goldfish is acting like she’s been starved
although … don’t hurry on my account ;)
Anton rolls his eyes. The sheets shift and he feels Sungchan sit up and wrap his arms around Anton’s waist. He leans his head back, resting on Sungchan’s bare shoulder.
“Your hair’s so soft.”
“I steal Sohee’s shampoo,” Anton confesses, trying to ignore Sungchan kissing the nape of his neck (he loves it). “I wanna dye it, actually. I want a change. Red, I think.”
“Sexy. My little firecracker.”
“Sungchan?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Don’t ever say that again.”