(Koreatown chapter 1)

The city lights bleed green and gold over the floor of their new loft. It had taken a fucking lot to get here.

“You’re sure they can’t find us?” Jisoo asks.

He wasn’t going to lean against Minjae—keeping that space between them; he’s not a baby. But Minjae loops his arm around Jisoo’s chest, warm and steady and perfectly heavy-strong, and pulls him closer.

“Absolutely sure,” Minjae says, pressing a kiss to the side of Jisoo’s face. “I swear on my life,” he says, kissing his way across Jisoo’s temple, fluttery across his eyelashes, and then down to his nose. “Absolutely no one is going to find us here.”

The final kiss lands on Jisoo’s mouth.

The loft inside is still dark. They haven’t called to hook up the electricity yet. Candles line the counter, melting down into warm puddles and casting everything in a warm and ghostly glow.

They would call it romantic.

“Don’t say that,” Jisoo says, twisting around in Minjae’s arms.

“That they won’t find us, or—”

“On your life,” Jisoo says, twisting his hand around Minjae’s finger. “Don’t ever say that.”

* * *

They’re like nominal refugees—that’s what Chaeyong says, cheerfully on the phone.

“When are you guys gonna make it out here?” Jisoo asks, the phone tucked into the crook of his neck.

On the other end of the line, Chaeyong scratches the back of his neck. From the shady little payphone stall, he watches Harin and Siyeon bicker like small ducklings.

“Dunno, couple more days, maybe? Three, maybe four tops? Hold down the fort without us, I—shit, I gotta go—”

“Chaeyong? Chaeyong?”

Minjae holds out his hand for his turn at the phone.

“I dunno,” Jisoo says. “He hung up.”

His brow is furrowed a little in the middle, making him look a little brat. It goes that way, on such a pretty face. Minjae wants to press his thumb between his brows and smooth it out.

“Did he sound okay?”

Jisoo shrugs. “As okay as ever. He said they’ll be here in four days.”

“That means I get you all to myself until then.”

Jisoo’s face does something. It pulls into something like a smile.

It’s four days that they have to settle into the space on their own. They stock the pantry with things from a grocery delivery service, until the third day when Minjae finally convinces Jisoo that it’s safe to come outside.

They walk to one of the little Koreatown shops down below their loft apartment, with Minjae leading Jisoo by the elbow like the blind.

“I don’t know. I think we should go back inside.”

“No, really,” Minjae tells him. “It’s okay.”

The doorman downstairs gives them a weird look as Jisoo keeps up his best impression of a skittish dog; retired from service, hates loud noises.

The weather-worn fabric of Jisoo’s ratty old hoodie is soft beneath the pinch of Minjae’s fingers, and Minjae leads them outside for the first time in days.

The sunlight isn’t threatening. The trees rising up from the patches of dirt squared into the sidewalks are just trees—threadbare, just like Jisoo.

“You don’t have to hold onto me like that,” Jisoo snips. “I’m not going to run away.”

Minjae doesn’t answer except to say, “Hey, they have ice milk!”

He pulls Jisoo into the store by the elbow, and Jisoo looks over his shoulder at the parking meters casting long shadows over the street.

They get back inside before the sun starts to set, arms full of daikon radish and deulkkae and sin choy. Minjae loads the goods into their still-sparse fridge as Jisoo taps out something like morse code along the chipped dining table they got for a steal.

“I was thinking we could have jeongol tonight. What do you think?”

Jisoo is staring off into space, looking across the street. Their loft is on the third story. There’s a fire escape that Jisoo could run down. Leaves blow across the street.

“Jisoo?”

“Huh?” Jisoo asks, his eyes rabbit-wide.

“Want jeongol for dinner?”

“Yeah, hyung. That sounds great.”

He slithers his body off one of the tall stools and goes to see if he can help Minjae in the kitchen.

The shadows are still upsetting.

* * *

Their beds haven’t shown up yet. They’re coming along with Chaeyong’s family money. But it’s kind of nice, to lie with Minjae on the floor of the master bedroom. They have a blow-up mattress and a whole nest of blankets and sheets.

“What do you think Mr. Bao would think of us now?”

Jisoo reaches his arms out. He’s smaller than Minjae, but the mattress is so small that he can reach from end to end if he stretches out his fingertips. Starfishing this way gives Minjae only a little sliver of space to curl up at Jisoo’s side. He’s sitting up, so Jisoo can just see the seashell-curve of his ear from behind the curve of his shoulder.

Jisoo huffs. “That we turned into a couple a’ hooligan bums?”

Minjae tilts his head back until it’s leaning on Jisoo’s shoulder. “He already thought we were hooligan bums.”

“Yeah, see? We proved him right.”

Minjae laughs, and the low sound of his voice starts a little fire in Jisoo’s chest. Just—glowing and warm. Like a little ember in the cold, dead heart of it.

The insulation in this place is good, on account of Chaeyong’s family’s money. From the inside, you can’t even hear the cars go by.

“Keep me warm, hyung?” Jisoo says a little plaintively.

He reaches his arms out to Minjae, and Minjae fits himself inside them. It doesn’t matter that they’re piled with enough blankets to make them sweat. That isn’t the point.

Minjae noses down the lean rope of tendon that runs down the side of Jisoo’s neck. He fits his teeth over the jut of his Adam’s apple but doesn’t bite down. His hands rove over Jisoo’s body—his chest, his stomach—with Jisoo held in his jaws.

Jisoo’s breath comes lighter, faster, with Minjae’s teeth in him. He shuffles closer and whines.

Minjae pushes one of this thick, firm thighs between Jisoo’s legs, offering delicious pressure right where he needs it. Jisoo whines more as he pushes against it, grinding himself down with choked gasps while Minjae’s teeth worry his throat.

“Warm enough yet, Jisoo-ya?” Minjae breathes, wet, beside his ear.

Jisoo thrashes a little, feeling his throat sting and hum with lingering warmth.

“Not yet. Need you, hyung.”

And in case it isn’t clear enough, he grabs Minjae’s hand and puts it between his legs, right at the place where he’s still riding the seam of his jeans into Minjae’s thigh muscle. Minjae presses up, into the denim, into his liquid heat.

Jisoo makes a choked, garbled sound. His cheeks are so hot, stray pieces of hair sticking to his mouth and cheek. Minjae rubs him, fingertips pressing into his inseam, and Jisoo spreads his legs.

“Can I get these jeans off you, pretty boy?” Minjae pauses to ask, fingers tucking into the waistband of Jisoo’s pants.

Jisoo can’t answer. He only turns his head to the side, away from Minjae. The lights are all off, but they haven’t gotten any curtains yet. The city light pours in from outside, casting long shadows of light across the room. It is nearly dark. It is nearly light.

But he lifts his hips up when Minjae unhooks his jeans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of his boxers to pull them down. The snarled nest of fabric falls with a heavy thump somewhere unseen in the unforgiving darkness of the room.

Jisoo is already leaking, wetness smeared against the insides of his thighs.

Minjae sits up to get out of his own jeans, and Jisoo looks—he looks in time to see Minjae stripping the t-shirt off up over his head, a shadow play of dark against light, every crevasse of his muscles making a new place for the darkness to hide.

Jisoo goes silent, looking at him. Mouth closed, eyes wide.

Minjae smiles down at him, warm.

And places himself back inside Jisoo’s arms, where Jisoo can hold him and touch him and feel that he’s still real; he’s still right here. He crawls up the mattress and kisses his way down the side of Jisoo’s jaw, sucking a mark into the soft spot right behind his ear, making him go verbal for the first time all night.

It’s just a small sound, but to Minjae, it’s sweet as candy.

His hand curls down between Jisoo’s legs, sweeping past dark curls and making him shiver.

“Can I get in here, pretty thing?” He kisses the side of Jisoo’s neck again, and Jisoo’s eyes stutter shut. “Sweet thing, can I touch you here?”

Jisoo doesn’t say yes or no but swallows down a pant and shifts his thighs wider, giving Minjae’s clever fingers space to settle between them.

The first touch of Minjae’s fingers against Jisoo’s hot, wet clit makes him bite back a groan—actually bite, sharp little tooth dimpling his bottom lip.

Minjae watches his expression with rapt attention, rubbing his slick, hot flesh while Jisoo tries hard not to make any noise. The slick, wet sound of his own body fills the room and makes his cheeks stain hot with embarrassment. The only sound he makes is a loud huff through his nose. He pushes his own legs wider as Minjae’s fingers dip down, down, teasing at the entrance to his hole that feels so empty.

Minjae’s face is so close like this, pretty dark eyes so close to Jisoo’s own, face so close that Jisoo can taste the sweet smell of his breath. He pinches his eyes shut tight as it starts to feel really good—Minjae rubbing him, Minjae fucking him on his fingers.

He’s going to cum soon; Jisoo’s body has always been easy.

So Jisoo talks, then, pushing at Minjae’s chest weakly, trying to push him away. “No, your cock. Your cock. Hyung, wanna cum on it, come on—”

“You can,” Minjae says, up close, eyes dark, dark eyelashes feathering against the thin skin beneath his eyes. But he doesn’t let Jisoo push him away, keeps his fingers between Jisoo’s legs, squishing into Jisoo’s aching, sloppy hole and working at his clit. “Lemme make you feel good first. Come on, cum for me, baby.”

Jisoo whines, squinting his eyes shut and digging his heels into the mattress. His back arches, and then he’s cumming, cumming. Squirting over Minjae’s fingers as Minjae works him through it, rubbing at his clit until Jisoo whines and kicks him away.

Minjae sticks his fingers in his mouth after, because he’s nasty.

“Come on, now give me your cock for real,” Jisoo says, looking up at Minjae with those dark, big eyes that could kill him, face half shadowed.

His legs are splayed open in invitation, and Minjae takes it.