Archive of Our Own

When the drifting gray of the vesper shadow

Dimmed their upward path through the midmost azure,

And the length of night overtook them distant

              Far from Olympus;

– Sappho

The stairs creaked. They always did, but Yeonjun really hoped they wouldn’t on his day off. He wasn’t busy in particular; what was there for him to do? Dressing up for himself, getting dolled up for a walk, making sure everyone knew where he was from. He’d been lazing around his box, bored out of his skull. Still, despite this boredom, he had no will to resolve it. Instead he waited for the hours to tick by. He’d already watched the sun shift in the sky, from east to the west. 

The creaking stopped, followed by hushed whispers. Yeonjun couldn’t make out what they were saying. He played with the chest on his bedside. It was worn, lock broken off. He hadn’t looked into it since forever. He didn’t think he ever would. It was there, existing to catch dust, but he didn’t have the heart to toss it out, either. A slave to his sentiments, chained up by his emotions.

A knock bounced on his door. Sighing, Yeonjun pushed himself up. Painting on his best smile, he opened up. “Hello, hello.”

“Oh, hello there, neighbor.” A boy kicked himself off the wall, hands in pockets. 

He was younger than Yeonjun, though not by much. His shaggy hair covered his eyes, a tan on his skin Yeonjun had only ever seen in the countryside, where the people had more time to spend under the sun. 

“Next door?” Yeonjun frowned. “Room 17?” 

“Bingo!” The boy grinned, flicking the hair out of his eyes. “I’m Beomgyu.”

“Yeonjun.”

“Yeonjun, hi! I was wondering if… you wanted to help me out. Also because I really need to know how the practices here work out.” 

With that Yeonjun found himself back in room 17, a place he never thought he’d ever step into. It was as plain as it was back then, covered in white paint and faded wallpaper, once pink and green. There were tears in the walls, scratches on the ceiling. 

“First day here?” Yeonjun said, more as a way to break the silence. It was a poor attempt, but Yeonjun would save up the conversationalist skills for when another client came in.

“Pandemos,” Beomgyu said. “‘Pertaining to all people’, it means. Derived from Aphrodite Pandemos, you think?” 

Yeonjun crossed his arms. “I only serve here.” 

“She was the goddess of sensual pleasure,” Beomgyu continued. “Clever name. Makes it seem like a place of intellect.” 

He didn’t look at Yeonjun, unpacking the little amount of belongings he’d brought. Yeonjun noticed the fine weaving of his clothes, the delicate material they were made of. Beomgyu carried himself with a sense of pride, one that differed from Yeonjun’s. It was one a child was raised with; the inborn arrogance Yeonjun never got. 

“You’re educated,” Yeonjun said. 

Beomgyu hummed, bouncing back on the bed. “You could say that.” 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun pressed on. “You have a future.” 

“Do we need reasons?” Beomgyu raised a brow, popping an eye open.

“Of course not.” Yeonjun ran his fingers over the dressoir. They were whitened with dust. It’s been a while, after all. “Reasons, what have they ever justified?” 

For a split second Beomgyu grew quiet, light dimming down. Yeonjun’s heart sank to his stomach. The denial was on his tongue, ready to switch the subject. However, Beomgyu seemed to forget quickly. Not one for grudges, Yeonjun observed. That was fortunate. 

“We all have our reasons, though.” Beomgyu brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Say, Yeonjun, do you ever regret coming here?” 

Yeonjun’s mind traveled back to sunshine smiles and constellations of moles. “No. I’d never regret it.” 

<><><>

Yeonjun had heard of the new boy down the hall. He’d heard the commotion as he snuck back into the bordello after an outside service. He was too preoccupied hiding his bulging pockets to care. He kept his gaze ahead as he stumbled through the narrow halls, squeezing past strangers and familiars. He smiled a forced smile at the suggestive comments, interlocked a finger with the hands trailing his body. 

“Yeonjun, darling! Where have you been ?!”

“A little field trip.” Yeonjun giggled some more, letting a kiss be pressed to his cheek by a drunk regular. “But next time, sir.” 

The man struck up a conversation. Dear Lord in Heaven, Yeonjun loved the attention, but now he wanted nothing more than to just get in, tuck away his extra savings before he’d get caught. His hand twisted around the knob, chuckling as he slipped through the door. 

In all truth, he was dead tired. He usually was after being out; the clients requesting his presence weren’t all too considerate. It was quite the walk, too, and at this time it was dangerous. Especially since he looked more than inviting. That’s the job. Anything for a few stashes more. It wasn’t that he needed the money per se; it brought a sick satisfaction to see how much he could milk from these guys who had it all. 

Doing a little dance he pulled a chest from his closet, key around his neck. He twisted the lock, rolling up the bills. He looked over his shoulder, careful as to not get caught. Yeonjun lived for thrills. He loved the rush of adrenaline, the freeing feel of going against rules. 

There weren’t many to begin with, but there were guidelines. However, Yeonjun had never been one to be confined. It was one of the reasons he ended up in a place like this, slaving away until his body gave out. One of the reasons. Yeonjun liked to think there was a lot more to him than what people thought of him. 

His boss would usually come by and check him, check what he was worth and then taking half of it–if not more. Yeonjun had become quite good at hiding. He could only do it when he was away from the brothel, however, when there were no eyes on him. He loved the place, don’t get him wrong. The company was great, all of them sharing a twisted understanding with each other, but affection should never overshadow business. Yeonjun knew it all too well. 

He sighed, staring at the tin can in his hands. When the thrill died down, the weight was heavy. However, only on his shoulders. The weight in his hands remained too light. It was never enough. He always strived for too much before reality came crashing down. 

Coat still on, he took it as a sign. He squeezed his way through the crowd, excusing himself through the masses. 

The outside air gave him a sweet welcome, finally allowing him to breathe. Inside tended to get stuffy, and though Yeonjun didn’t enjoy heading out all too much, he didn’t mind heading out to his regular spot. Didn’t fate like to play with him; he arrived to see his spot already taken. 

The boy was long limbed, curled up into himself. His arms were bare, stripped to his undershirt. It was ridiculous, considering the weather. No matter how warm the days were, the nights would always be cold. When the day was over and the bodies were gone, Yeonjun found himself curling up in the sheets, remembering what it was like to be alone. 

“You can take your time leaving, you know?” Yeonjun said. A little too snappy, he would admit. “You don’t have to rush out. You’ve got a set time.” 

“I just wanted—“ The boy was broken off with a shudder. “Just wanted some fresh air.” 

“Take a whiff of fresh air with a coat on next time.” Yeonjun sighed, slipping the thick fur off his shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; his baby, his leopard print. He laid it over the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll be heading in first.” 

The boy looked up, eyes big enough to reflect the universe. “This is yours…” 

“Return it to me.” Yeonjun waved at him over his shoulder. “I’m just down the hall. Last door.”  

<><><>

“Who lived in my room before me?” Beomgyu would ask him shortly after packing away his meager amount of belongings. 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Who didn’t live there?” 

Beomgyu groaned, over the top as he was with most things. He threw himself on the bed, kicking his feet. Yeonjun didn’t think he was actually like this all the time. He could see it in his eyes, the desire for peace. Yeonjun wondered what it was that drove him out. 

“Now’s not the time to be emotionally tortured,” Beomgyu said. “I’m serious! I need to know if it isn’t possessed or something. Maybe someone died in there!” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Yeonjun sighed out. “Well, he… Boy, was he lovely…”

<><><>

His name was Huening Kai, half a foreigner, though unfamiliar with his father’s side of the family. Yeonjun heard some circulations. Of course; no one could keep their mouths shut around here. Yeonjun, too, which is exactly why he knew all the latest details. However, no one ever truly minded the past. They lived in the moment, then and now. 

There was an odd sense of unity in this place. Of course not with all — it was impossible to get along with everyone, but Yeonjun had shared laughter as well as burdens with some of the people in this odd get-together. No one pried, but they would tell what they knew, what they’ve heard from clients. Some swooned over them, over their lies, coated with the truth — if it were impressive enough. Yeonjun didn’t care much for his clients. 

He’d let them speak, were it vents or rambles to impress him, then responded with something appropriate to the mood. He liked to get it done and over with, using the least amount of words, if possible. He used to be talkative, but somewhere along the way it had been dimmed out of him. There wasn’t truly the need to connect with people who came and went like the clouds in the sky. 

He sighed, playing around with his bedpost. The cracks ran down it.  

There was a timid knock on his door. 

“Come in,” Yeonjun grunted. 

Kai’s head peaked around the corner. “I… Your coat… I’ll just leave it—”

“Come in,” Yeonjun repeated, a little softer this time. “Please.” 

“Oh. Okay.”  

Kai draped the coat over the chair. The one by the dresser. Yeonjun could see the sharp angles of his features from the reflection. His long, black hair framed his face, curling up at the edges. It must be soft. 

He was broader than most Yeonjun had seen, shoulders stretched in width, arms and legs long and gangly, a head taller than Yeonjun. 

And he was goddamn pretty. 

“Are you shaken up?” Yeonjun asked. 

He sat down on his windowsill. Kai’s eyes wandered, playing with the loose threads on the fauteuil. It was beaten down, Yeonjun had to admit. He didn’t know how long it had been there, but definitely longer than his three years. 

“By?” Kai asked. 

“You’ve never been in a place like this before.” Yeonjun crossed his arms, letting his head hit the wooden frame.

He could see the uncertainty rolling off Kai in waves, the foggy and oversaturated idea he had of this place, only to be shocked by the reality. Kai had only heard of brothels through word of mouth, and probably only from those trying to lure him in. How could they not, when Kai was young and pretty enough to have men fall at his feet. 

“It’s definitely not something I expected, no,” Kai admitted. 

“Are you staying long?” 

“Who’s to say?” 

“You. Only you.” 

Kai pushed himself up his seat, back fully pressed against the rest. “Have you been here for long?” 

“Long enough to get used to it.” Yeonjun tilted his head, corner of his mouth pulled up. “I hope you don’t.” 

Kai swayed around in spot, hands clasped together, unclasped. Fidgety, especially now he had nothing to fumble with. His eyes looked anywhere but Yeonjun. Even when their gazes brushed, Kai would twist his head away, sweet pink spreading over his cheeks. 

Yeonjun sighed, forcing himself into Kai’s vision. Perhaps he was pushing Kai’s buttons, trying to get him out there , trying to see just what this boy was, what this boy could be. Hands in his pockets, leaned just so that he invaded the corner of Kai’s eyes. 

Kai gasped, shooting back. “I’m sorry, I—“ 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

Kai tilted his head, pink lips set in a pout. Oh god, Yeonjun realized just how pretty those were, too. He’d never inspected anyone close enough to notice the details, had never cared enough to want to remember anyone. What was the point, if he were stuck here when they would eventually move forward in life. A world outside, one Yeonjun wasn’t part of anymore, one he didn’t want to live in. 

But this boy in his room, awkward and tall, had done nothing to impress, could barely look him in the eyes; he’d only stood there, waiting. A boy like him… what was he doing in a place like this?

“Was yesterday your first day?” Yeonjun knew, of course, but for the sake of conversation he could be clueless. 

Kai chuckled with no humor to it. “Is it obvious?” 

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” 

“I never knew there’d be… so many.” Kai looked down at his feet, eyebrows furrowed. His hands clasped around the bottom of his shirt. 

Yeonjun pulled out his packet, setting a cigarette between his lips before offering. 

Kai shook his head. “I don’t smoke…” 

“Suit yourself.” 

The match sizzled, leaving a burning scent to linger around the room. Yeonjun tossed it away in his ashtray, letting a puff of smoke slip from his lungs. They remained in a mutual silence, though Yeonjun could feel Kai’s gaze on him. 

“Come on,” Yeonjun muttered. “Spit it out.”

“How do you do it?” Kai’s voice was small as the question slipped. Yeonjun almost took pity on him, but then again, such places weren’t known to be kind, even to the faint of heart. 

“Don’t think too much.” Yeonjun’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And a piece of advice. Don’t get attached.” 

<><><>

“You aren’t much of a talker, are you?” Beomgyu slipped down into the seat next to Yeonjun. 

He was still so fresh, starry-eyed about all that was to come. He didn’t know how the world works yet. He thought he knew, but he was naive, a child away from home, a stray by choice, because it was exciting, because it was new. Yeonjun used to be like that too, in a time he can’t remember. 

Beomgyu nudged his side. “Come on, what are you so hung up about?” 

“Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?” Yeonjun bit. He was sure the boy didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t make friends. Not anymore. 

“Oh,” Beomgyu giggled, swirling his glass, “countless times. It’s my charm, blabbing. Keep ‘em busy and interested, ya know?” 

“Why do it to me?” 

“Because you seem like you could loosen up. You’re always so grumpy.” Beomgyu held up his hands when Yeonjun glared. “I’m not judging, some people are into that. No pull, all push.” 

“Don’t you have other people to please?” 

“Not until 10, no. Can’t believe people are looking for all that in the morning. Shouldn’t they be in bed?” 

“Some people like to go the extra mile for a little pleasure.” 

Beomgyu hummed. He spun around on the chair, before coming to a halt with his entire body facing Yeonjun. “So what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Yeonjun, if he were to be honest, didn’t think he’d end up with a job as a nanny, yet life enjoyed taking turns for the unexpected.

“Laying with someone you don’t love,” Beomgyu said. 

“It’s just something you do. You’ll forget what it’s like to care sooner or later.” 

“Like you?” 

“Aren’t you getting to know me so well?” Yeonjun jumped from his seat, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips. “I’m gonna step out for a bit.” 

Beomgyu followed his step. “Let me come with you.” 

They wandered through the front. Yeonjun only shook his pack as an explanation of his whereabouts, Beomgyu trailing his tail like a yappy puppy. He tossed a cigarette in Beomgyu’s direction, chuckling to himself when he watched him fumble around to catch it. It’s the joy in the little things, he remembered someone telling him. 

“You don’t seem like the type,” Yeonjun said.

“The type?” Beomgyu echoed.

“To smoke.” 

“Well, the more you know!” Beomgyu nudged Yeonjun’s arm. “Besides, you didn’t finish your story.” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “What story?” 

“The boy before me?” Beomgyu reminded him. He twirled his hand, as if it would help Yeonjun’s mind start up, like he was winding up some rusty, old motor. “The one who was so lovely it made you lose your words?” 

“Don’t expect much of a story. Some things you shouldn’t stick your nose into. It’ll get you in trouble.”

“Trouble? No big deal.” 

Yeonjun sighed. He settles down on the edge of the sidewalk. He watched Beomgyu mess around with the stick. He could tell the kid had never touched one before, much less seen one. He held the thing between his fingers like it was something foreign, an oddity. 

“Does… does this help?” he asked, voice the softest Yeonjun had ever heard from him.

“Help with?” 

“Help with forgetting?” 

Yeonjun pulled up his shoulders. “Hm, I’m not sure. I sure think it does. Helps clear my mind.” 

“Okay…” 

Yeonjun didn’t dwell on it too long, pulling out a match and lighting the flame. The tip sizzled into a puff of smoke in his lungs. He offered the rest of it to Beomgyu, who clumsily stuck his own end into the fire. He sucked in, a little too eager. Immediately he coughs out, patting himself on the chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. Yeonjun watched from the sidelines, having a hard time containing the amusement in his eyes. 

When Beomgyu finally came back to earth again, he narrowed his eyes into a glare. “Not a word.” 

Yeonjun held up his hands. “I’m not saying anything.” 

Beomgyu cleared his throat, pulling his shirt straight and loosening his collar. “So, will I get the story?” 

“This is going to bite you in the ass, darling,” Yeonjun warned. He rested his arms on his knees, looking ahead over the streets. Just another day, with everyone rushing off to wherever they had to be.  

“A risk I’m willing to take.”

“Hm. Well, let me tell you one thing.” Yeonjun blew out a cloud of tar. “Don’t fall in love. This job won’t allow it to end well.”

Beomgyu huffed out a laugh. “Has anyone told you you’re a bitter old man?” 

<><><>

“You’re not one to mingle, are you?” Yeonjun dropped down on the sidewalk next to Kai. “What are you doing out here? You’re not a smoker.”

“Oh, Yeonjun, hello.” Kai curled his arms around his knees. “Just catching some fresh air and sunlight. I’m gonna be locked inside all day, so I figured…” 

“Smart move,” was all Yeonjun said. He patted his pockets for a cigarette, lighting it with a match. 

He could’ve done this inside just as well, or out of his window like he usually did, yet how could he, when he could see Kai sulking on the streets like this. He didn’t know what exactly spurred it, didn’t want to linger on the question for too long either. He sighed out a puff of smoke. 

“Enjoying your time here?” he asked. 

Kai sniffled, something like a giggle. “No one ever told me how sore it would make you. I don’t think I can handle much more. No one told me you need stamina for this!” 

“Getting many clients?” 

“I think so. What do you consider many?” 

Yeonjun paused his movements. “You’ve never laid with a person before?” 

“Do I look like the type to be experienced?” Kai’s eyes twinkled. “I’m flattered. Honestly, I’m glad the clients take the lead or I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

Yeonjun stayed silent, gaze narrowed like he was trying to look through Kai’s mind, see everything that went beyond those youthful features, glimmering with a sense of youth Yeonjun hadn’t seen around for a while now. He looked at Kai and saw the boy in the night, shivering in the wind. He knew he was timid, navigating his way around, but he couldn’t imagine just how it would be to have something like that be taken so carelessly. 

Yeonjun didn’t put much meaning into sex. It was his job, a way of business. He gave himself in exchange for a good earning. However, he’d already lost his innocence by then, already knew the height of the thrill and the ease in which it died down. How short-lived the high was and once gone, how he always wished it had been more, a longer sense of euphoria where he could fly. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun found himself saying. He threw the burned out blunt on the cobblestones, running his heel over it. 

Kai looked at him, face full of curious expectation. Those doe eyes, Yeonjun had a feeling he would come to keep them forever. They were golden in the early sunlight, shadows of his lashes spread out like thread on his cheeks. 

Yeonjun turned his body to fully face him. “Why don’t you come over to my room later? After our shifts are finished.” 

His heart thumped in his chest, heavy as a prisoner rattling their cage for freedom. However, Kai’s lips spread out into a smile of pearls, eyes like crescents in the setting sky. He leaned back, stretching out his leg. He threw his face to the sky, cracking open an eye in Yeonjun’s direction. “Why don’t I do that? You asked me so nicely.” 

<><><>

They fell into a routine like that. Yeonjun never realized how easy it was to lose a heart, but he couldn’t imagine it going any other way. Every day, when their hours were spent up with strangers with familiar faces, they’d come to one another, start quiet conversations, or perhaps just stay by each other in silence. If they hadn’t already done it, they’d go and get washed up together. There was no shame in nudity, not between people like them who spent most hours of the day undressed rather than covered. 

Yeonjun knew that no matter how spread thin, he would always come back to Kai and his golden smile, his soft voice. He’d come back to his animated stories, often about whatever the hell he went through that day, what new exciting story he’d heard–most likely untrue. And Yeonjun would let his heart soak it up, soak up Kai’s presence and his unshaken ability to bring him nothing but warmth. 

More than anything, Yeonjun hated feeling like nothing. He hated to be the one tossed aside, to be forgotten. He hated being a nameless face, just another way to pass time. A fun thing to mess around with until something more exciting came their way, something that would last. He never minded being a mistake, as long as they would remember him. As long as he would haunt them for the rest of his life. 

Don’t get attached, he wanted to laugh. He doesn’t get attached to people, he gets attached to feelings. He gets attached to standing on top of the world, to being the thrill and the rush, sugar in their veins. He gets attached to their lies, when they tell him he’s the only one when in all truth he knows there are others. There is always someone else, someone they come home to. 

He didn’t care about his clients and what they told him. He didn’t care about their jobs and their names, and blocked it all out. He let it wash over him in waves. They were all lies, or a way to save face. After all, he could see the golden bands slipping off their fingers, laid on his nightstand before they pushed themselves inside him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

However, more than anything, Yeonjun wanted to be something. He wanted to be seen, the center of someone’s world if only for a second. Even if it was fleeting. Pretty lies were still better than harsh truths. Yet, when the dulled dreams bleed into vivid realities, the honesty of his heart gets violent. 

Yeonjun didn’t intend for it to happen, but everywhere he looked, Kai was there. If not from a distance, Kai was stuck to his side. ‘Junie’ is what he’d started calling him. ‘Junie’, spontaneously. It had caught Yeonjun by surprise, though of course he tried masking it. 

Feigning annoyance never failed to keep others at a distance. After all, no one willingly wraps their hands around a rose with thorns. Those are only to be admired from a distance; stems stripped from their spikes are what made roses gifts of love. 

However, Kai wasn’t cautious nor did he heed warnings. He draped himself around Yeonjun like his skin wouldn’t bleed even with the deepest gashes twisted into it. Yeonjun could bite all he wanted, but Kai would cuddle him as if he were nothing but a puppy teething. Ironic, truly. 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have clients?” 

Kai jumped around Yeonjun’s room, admiring everything, but never touching. He crosses his hands behind his back, tilting his head in Yeonjun’s direction. “Not as of now? You?” 

Yeonjun clicked his tongue. “ Obviously not.”

“So grumpy,” Kai giggled. “‘M just askin’.” 

He continued his journey, then dropping himself into the only chair Yeonjun owned. He scooted his seat, wiggling it until he was facing him. His grin could break his face, bright as the sun rays after a monsoon. He cupped his cheeks, leaning close. 

Yeonjun turned his head. “ What ?”  

“You’re really, really beautiful, Junie.” 

“What…?” 

“You heard what I said.” Kai smiled, wide, full. 

“No, no,” Yeonjun’s lips parted in his daze, “what did you call me?” 

“Beautiful?” 

“No, no…” 

No. Not that. It wasn’t the words, per se. Pretty words didn’t move Yeonjun the way they used to. He’d been called beautiful countless of times, muttered through clenched teeth, spat into the air like they were pointing out dirt on his face. 

But Kai looked him in the eyes, made sure to see Yeonjun, through his facade, past all that is mundane and mortal, and took him in for what will remain once beauty is not something pointed out when seeing a pretty face. 

“Oh! Junie?” Kai’s face fell, twisted into panic. “You don’t like it?” 

“No, Kai, no,” Yeonjun said, though it was more of a whisper. “No one’s ever called me that before.” 

No one’s ever called me that and meant it. 

<><><>

The knock was a warning, not a question for permission. It rasped against the door before it flung open wide. Kai’s singsong voice filled the space. 

“Junie, Junie, good morning!”

Yeonjun pushed. He always pushed, set up barriers, built walls reaching the heavens, yet his bricks were nothing but sand beneath Kai’s touch, crumbling to dust in the wind. When his words were covered in ice, Kai melted them with a smile. 

“You’re chirpy,” Yeonjun commented, brows raised in amusement.  

Kai stretched out, throwing his arms over Yeonjun’s shoulders. “Because we’re free!” 

“Don’t get too excited,” Yeonjun said. Always the killjoy. Someone had to keep dreamers’ heads chained to their heads.

“Think about all the things we can do, though.” Kai rubbed his cheek against Yeonjun’s. “The options are infinite!” 

“What is there to do for us? What would they allow us to do?”

Yeonjun wiggled himself out of Kai’s hold, walking over to his closet. He pulled out some garments, appropriate enough for a regular day out, enough to blend into the crowd. He didn’t want to be bothered on his day off. 

“You think too big,” Kai grumbled. “It’s not like they’re gonna chase us off the streets.” 

“Well, what do you have in mind, then?” 

“Can we go to the market, Junie?” 

Yeonjun stiffened up. “The market? To get what?” 

“Oh, we don’t have to get anything!” Kai exclaimed. “We’ll just walk around, see the sights. Go around the city, maybe. If our feet will let us.” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, come on! Don’t be such a grouch!” Kai jumped up at him, taking his wrists and pulling him to his feet. “Come on! Think of all the fun things we can do!” 

He spun them around, shaking their arms and twirling Yeonjun like he was at some town’s dance. Yeonjun was going cross eyed, world turning, but Kai’s screeching laughter bubbled a fit of his own in the pit of his stomach. He threw his head back, tears springing in his eyes. 

In retrospect, it wasn’t all that funny. There was no joke being told, nothing he should be losing his mind over like he was doing right now. It was all Kai. It was all Kai with his warmth and his sunshine, with his springtime vigor. 

“Fine, fine!” Yeonjun exclaimed. The stars danced in his vision. “I’ll come along!” 

Kai’s chest was heaving, the aftermath of his boisterous glee. He fell backwards into the chair, limbs spread out. His eyes were shut, breathing coming down to a calm. He cracked open one eye. “So, whenever you’re ready.” 

“Let me get ready! I’ve got to look tip-top!” 

“You always do.” 

Yeonjun’s movements stilled, frozen over the piles of clothing he was going through. It wasn’t the words; Yeonjun has heard those a thousand times before. It’s the fact no one made Kai say them. He wasn’t some customer in the night, paying and expecting something in return. 

Shaking his head, Yeonjun pulled out some linen garments, the one fancy enough to have some lace detailing by the sleeves and collar. He held it in front of him. “What do you think of this one?” 

“Gorgeous. Always.” 

Yeonjun tried not to let the words sink too deep, pulling his clothes on, fixing himself up. Kai dragged him along into his own room, to fetch his own coat. Yeonjun only realized then how he’d never been in Kai’s room before. They always met up in Yeonjun’s room, stared out of Yeonjun’s window over the dead streets in the late night. 

Kai’s room was bare, as much as Yeonjun’s. However, Yeonjun made up for it with material possessions. Dozens upon dozens of clothes, bags, jewelry. Anything to fill up the space, in the room, and if he were going to be honest with himself, to fill up the space in his heart. Kai’s room was a breath of fresh air, on the west end to see the sunset over the high buildings. 

Kai quickly shooed them both out, pulling the familiar leopard print over his arms. They blow the clerk, Jiseok, downstairs a kiss and tell him a vague description of their whereabouts for the day, give him an estimate of when they’ll be back. He only smiles and wishes them all the best. 

Yeonjun has been around quite some places, never staying long enough to build up anything. Pandemos was different in that sense, made him feel welcome, though never getting too close. An odd sense of community, where the fun never quite ended. Yeonjun’s moods may dim, but the chatter never died. It was festivity and sin, where lust ran free and love lingers. 

Love was the least of Yeonjun’s concerns. He knew of clients falling in love with prostitutes, as did he know how it goes the other way around. He’d seen it coming from miles away when he saw Beomgyu drag his own loverboy into his room. Lips on lips never lie. Yeonjun could tell from the way he’d kissed him, the frown between his brows, the grip with which he was holding the man. Beomgyu would say it wasn’t love, and it wasn’t at the time, but Yeonjun could see its roots, planting themselves into his heart. 

“Isn’t this nice?” Kai linked his arm with Yeonjun, taking in a deep whiff of city air. “It’s definitely not fresh, but it’s better than those dusty rooms we stay in.” 

“The sun’s shining,” Yeonjun commented. 

Kai bumped into his shoulder, nothing but a tap. “Come on, don’t talk to me about the weather.” 

“Then what do you want me to say?” 

“Hm, anything you mean.” 

Yeonjun snorted. “What’s that supposed to be?” 

“Anything.” Kai’s nose scrunched up. “Ah, you’ve been holed up for too long. You don’t even know the joy in the little things. Clear your mind, change of environment!”

“What if I enjoy being holed up?” 

“You know, Junie?” Kai’s tone faltered, dropping into something more serious. “The thing is, you’re an island. You stay away, all on your lonesome. Even when you’re close, you seem so far away. But you’ve gotta realize, no man can survive that way. We’re not made to be on our own, not for too long.” 

Then what about you? Yeonjun wanted to ask. Kai, his open book in a foreign language. Always so bright, seeing the good in everything when this world was nothing but rotten and twisted and filled with filth. But, Yeonjun was a coward. He was a coward to the brim, always too afraid to speak his mind, playing the part because it worked, because that’s all he knew to do. 

Though, he wasn’t granted the time to dwell on it; Kai tugged him forward by the arm. The city’s square was overflowing, a sea of people moving like the ocean waves. 

“Let’s go over to the fruit stand!” 

“What fruits do we need?!” 

Kai winked. “Window shopping. We don’t need anything, but we can always look.” 

Yeonjun didn’t need to see anything lying around there; Kai had blossoms on the apples of his cheeks, reddened by the cold wind. His eyes were richer than any of the jewels lying around, hair softer than any of the silk they were trying to sell them. It was all an exaggeration. The reality is never as rose-colored as the poets make it seem, an image taken from the stills and saturated to fit the viewer’s perception. That’s the art of romance, to lie and lie and then ask the sky why such feelings have ever misled us. 

Kai glowed in the crowd, despite not saying much. He stood out, in his fur coat and long stature, his features unique only to him. The bridge of his nose high, a bump lying in the middle of it, leading to a turned up tip. Yeonjun followed him around every step he took, clinging onto his hand like some lost stray. Kai never let go, not once. They walked the long way back, with the sun setting into the river, spreading out like broken glass of orange. 

“I had fun today,” Kai said, eyes down to his feet. “I’ve never thought such simple things could be so… exciting.” 

“Weren’t you the one to tell me about the joy in the little things?” 

“Sometimes we make up things, just so we can feel a little better.” 

“If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?” 

“In this city? I’d love to go to the ballet.” Kai let out a loud sigh. “Ah, yeah, the ballet. If I listened closely enough, I could hear the shows from my bedroom window. Entertainment is a luxury, isn’t it?”

“I enjoyed today too,” Yeonjun said. He held Kai a little tighter, pulled him a little closer. “This city was never too exciting, but I’m glad I got to see it with you today. I’ve never been to the market before. Not in my three years here.” 

“I’m glad I could show it to you. They come here every Thursday, in case you ever want to go on your own.” 

“Why would I go alone, when I’ve got you to drag me along?” 

Kai’s smile was the sunbeams from the east when the heavens turned dark. He laid his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, and though it was an impractical way to go, they kept walking. Their laughter was hushed, a secret fun they shared. Yeonjun wondered just how much Kai had come to mean to him, how hard it had become to imagine his life without him in it.

“Why the hell should we go to the market?” Beomgyu would ask later on. 

Yeonjun would never tell. 

<><><>

Kai was beautiful. An angel. And angels like him weren’t supposed to be basking in a pit of sinners. He looked out of place, with the light from the heavens finding his skin at any time of day, night. He glowed, shone like he was a celestial body, the sun and the moon and all the stars. 

It was in Kai’s room, them laying together until even the greatest strays had found their ways back home. Kai’s edges glowed silver as the moon kissed his skin, eyes drooping. 

“How did you get used to this?” he asked, voice raw and worn. 

Yeonjun shook his head. “I just did. There’s no trick to it. Sometimes things happen so often you don’t question them anymore.” 

“Was it hard for you?” 

There was something so small about Kai’s tone, something defeated. He shrunk into himself, burying his face in the crook of Yeonjun’s neck. They didn’t speak. The room was heavy with silence, nothing but them and their heavy beating hearts. Yeonjun’s fingers ran through Kai’s hair, a steady rhythm to help him sleep. 

“I wouldn’t say it was,” Yeonjun said. “It’s business. I give them what they want, they give me what I want.” 

“But being that intimate with people, doesn’t it change you?” Kai asked. 

Yeonjun shook his head. “Not if I don’t care about them.” 

He ran his finger down Kai’s nose, starting high between his eyebrows and down the bump. Kai’s eyes started drooping. 

“How do I become like you?” he murmured. 

Yeonjun’s heart clenched. He pressed his cheek to the top of Kai’s head, eyes squeezed shut. “You don’t. You have to promise me that.” 

<><><>

More than a hopeless romantic, Yeonjun had been a fatal one. He’d never be able to fill the shoes of a lover, never too keen on the thought of keeping a person close. It would only hurt, when he couldn’t give them himself fully. His heart would always be half-filled, his body always given away, used to fulfill the pleasures of strangers. Being a lover never fit Yeonjun’s books. He was too rational for that, and too afraid to give himself away in that way. 

Yet, love does odd things to a person. His mind had been muddled up, filled with rose gold ideas, all not for his own benefit. Yeonjun didn’t know when he started thinking this way, when he started putting someone else’s dreams ahead of his own. 

Yeonjun sighed out when, watching his client come down from his high, deep groan shuddering his body. Their time wasn’t up, not by long. His client looked down at him, brushing Yeonjun’s bangs out of his eyes like some act of chivalry. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Hoseok–now Yeonjun remembered–said. He pulled Yeonjun close to him, running his fingers through his messed up hair. 

“Am I?” Yeonjun was testing the waters. 

“You’re the most beautiful. Knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, I had to have you.” 

Yeonjun pressed his lips into a tight smile. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word of it,” his client denied, every word heavy. 

Yeonjun could feel it in his grip, firm, yet not tight enough to cling on. He knew from the way he spoke, too mesmerized by Yeonjun’s every move, stuck in a fantasy. 

“You know,” Yeonjun murmured against his client’s chest. He ran his fingers down their chest with a heavy sigh, “I’ve always wanted to go to the ballet.” 

“The ballet?” Hoseok echoed. 

“I’ve never had the chance to…” Yeonjun exhaled when Hoseok started trailing kisses down his neck, eyes falling shut. “I can hear the shows from the streets sometimes, when leaving clients during the later hours.” 

“You want to go to the ballet?” Hoseok asked. 

Yeonjun shook his head. “It won’t ever be possible. They won’t let us in.” 

Hoseok’s laughter hit his skin like ripples. “Sure they will. You just need the right people.” 

“Then I’ll have to wait until I meet them.” 

“Who says you didn’t meet them already?”

Yeonjun blinked, brows furrowed. Half the job is to be an actor, something he would tell Beomgyu later on as well. Pretend and reap the benefits. 

“Have I?” 

“What if I told you I could fix you up something?” Hoseok eyes glimmered with pride. Yeonjun knew that look all too well, he’d seen it worn by every boastful man he’d come across. 

“Are you able to?” Yeonjun might be pushing the limits, but he loved teetering on the edge, dancing around a sleeping beast with satin slippers. 

“Of course I am!” Hoseok exclaimed. He cleared his throat. “I’m quite the man in these parts of town.”

“Are you?” 

“You don’t know much of the world, do you?” Hoseok ran his fingers down Yeonjun’s jaw, tipping his face into his direction. “Darling, I’m quite famous. The ballet you want to go to, I’ve performed there myself. In fact, I will be there tomorrow, performing.”

“I don’t go out much.” Yeonjun pursed his lips. “I can only dream from my window.” 

“Let me show you an inch of the world, then.” 

“But I can’t go alone.” 

“I’ll be with you.” 

“I’ll only be anxious there.” Yeonjun sighed, intertwining his hands with Hoseok’s. “I’ll be sitting around in the crowd.”

Hoseok hummed. “Then… why don’t you bring along a friend?”  

<><><>

The sun shone on Kai features the moment he’d told him of their plans for the night. He’d tackled Yeonjun in a hug, his face hidden away in the curve of Yeonjun’s neck. He’d been a fit of shrieking laughter, thanking Yeonjun a million times over. 

“How did you even manage this?” he’d asked, voice raw with laughter. 

“Well, I’d call it connections.” Yeonjun had kissed the top of Kai’s head. “Don’t you worry about it.” 

So there they were, in Yeonjun’s room as Kai plowed through Yeonjun’s dresser. It looked as the streets after a storm, with Yeonjun’s clothes scattered everywhere as Kai had deemed them all too informal. Yeonjun let him rummage along, leaned back with his arms crossed and honey dripping from his eyes. 

“Junie,” Kai called, grinning. He twirled around in the fur coat Yeonjun had draped him in the first time they’d met. “Don’t I look pretty? Like this?” 

“You do,” Yeonjun said, not an ounce of hesitation. 

Kai faltered, apple blossom lips falling open. “Oh… really?” 

“Of course, Kai.” Yeonjun’s eyes melted into pools of gold. “You’re so pretty.” 

“You’re making my heart flutter, stop it,” Kai giggled. He ran his fingers over the layers of fabric hanging from racks. “You have so many clothes.”

“Investments,” Yeonjun said. “Why don’t you have any?” 

“I have the necessities. That’s enough for me.”

“You’d look gorgeous in anything you put on, Kai-yah.” Yeonjun stood up, brushing some stray strands back. Kai’s hair was soft, too long. It hung in his eyes usually, softly curled at the ends, though it was mostly the aftermath of having it rest on his shoulders for that long. 

Kai looked down, lashes fanning out on his cheeks. Yeonjun’s heart tightened in his chest before it fluttered. He cup Kai’s cheeks, running his thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. “Hey, what’s on your mind?” 

“It’s surreal,” Kai whispered. “I never thought… This is more than anything I could’ve dreamed.”

“It’s true, Kai. It’s all real.” 

Kai leaned into Yeonjun’s touch, laying his hand over Yeonjun’s as he held onto it. He smiled, luminescent as fireflies in the fields. 

“Where are you two headed to, all dressed up?” Jiseok asked. There was a glint in his eyes Yeonjun didn’t understand the first time he’d seen it. 

“The ballet!” Kai giggled. “We’re gonna watch a show!” 

“The ballet?!” Jiseok laughed along. “Oh, you two… You really know how to play the cards.” 

“We’ll be back after the show. I hope.” Yeonjun waved over his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon, Jiseok.”

The entire way, Kai was bouncing with excitement. Dressed up in the finest clothes they owned they walked down the road. That in its own was an odd sight, enough to draw attention. Kai matched it up with the jump in his steps, the skip over the cracks in the road. However, looking around Yeonjun noticed how no one looked in their direction. No one spared them any attention, too caught up in themselves and their own lives. 

Perhaps Yeonjun always overestimated how much people cared, making himself more important than he was. He wasn’t vital to anyone’s life. He was a rush of pleasure, though not something they needed. It was a blessing in disguise, the tool for detachment. 

Kai danced through the streets, long robes and clothing flowing in his stead. He jumped on benches, balanced his way down them. He looked at Yeonjun with the stars in his eyes, held Yeonjun’s hand as he rushed forward, prancing around the crowd. Yeonjun tripped along, mostly with surprise. 

“Come on, Junie! You’re so clumsy!” Though far from Heaven, Kai was an angel. Yeonjun could see the soft hues rolling off his skin, a divine aura. 

Hoseok got them seats out of view, to the side of the hall. The lights dimmed as Kai’s eyes shone. He had never seen Kai this way, content in silence. The show was something of a tragic romance, of a daughter away from home in the name of love. 

Yeonjun slipped his hand into Kai’s, giving it a slight squeeze. Kai kept his head straight ahead, watching the singer’s expression with deep focus. However, Yeonjun could see the corner of his mouth curl up. It was the most subtle of gestures, a sworn secret flying free in their little world. The music plays in the background; Yeonjun only has eyes for the sole beauty in this universe. 

<><><>

“Your hair is getting long,” Beomgyu commented, tugging at the strands. 

“So is yours,” Yeonjun said. He nibbled at the edge of his wine glass, teeth scratching. 

Beomgyu plopped down next to Yeonjun, staring over the street with him. “Difference is, I like mine this way.” 

Yeonjun had noticed it too, the way it was hanging in his neck, covering his ears and eyes. He ran his fingers through his bangs, pushing them back. “Maybe I want to grow mine out too.” 

“Hm, fair.” Beomgyu narrowed his eyes, then framed Yeonjun’s face with his fingers, one eye squeezed shut and tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. “You’d look good.” 

Yeonjun shrugged. “We’ll see about that.” 

<><><>

“Jun-ah,” Kai’s voice calls him, a whisper carried by the wind, “I want to cut my hair.” 

Yeonjun looked up from the newspaper, the one he’d snatched when Jiseok wasn’t looking. He could’ve asked – Jiseok would’ve given it – but there was no fun in that. “Oh? We’d have to book an appointment for that. And ask if we’re allowed to do that in the first place–”

“I want you to cut my hair,” Kai emphasized. 

“Oh… I don’t think I’m qualified for that.” Yeonjun looked at Kai with a grimace, nose scrunched. “I will definitely mess up, Kai. You don’t want me to do that for you.” 

“I do. Please, just a trim. I can barely see anything through my bangs.”

“Don’t get mad at me if I mess up.” 

“It’ll be all on me,” Kai agreed. He plopped down in the chair by his dressoir. “Scissors are in my drawer.”

Yeonjun scratched his forehead, before diving in. Kai’s drawer was filled, endless pamphlets picked up from the streets. They were crumpled up, torn at the edges. Some dates had passed, most were still to come. Yeonjun didn’t mean to pry. However, he couldn’t help where his eyes fell; job openings. All the ones that offered a place to stay. 

Yeonjun shook his head, pushing the drawer closed. He wondered, as he did often with Kai. He wondered about Kai too much, what he was thinking, whether he thought of Yeonjun, what the world looked like through his eyes. He wondered what Kai had been like, outside of these walls, outside of this city. Kai didn’t come from here, he knew that much. He could tell from his features, from the slightest accent nipping at his tone when it was late at night and he was too exhausted to have a care in the world. 

Taking Kai’s silky strands between his fingers, Yeonjun said, “Don’t cry when it gets too short.” 

“At least try! This is all of my assets!” Kai’s laughter died out quickly. “Junie, do you ever dream about finding love?” 

“Love?” Yeonjun echoed. 

A shudder ran down his spine, the sound of scissors cutting, the breeze of the window, he wanted to push the blame all on that. However, Yeonjun knew better. Love wasn’t something he’d spoken of often, not until he’d met Kai. The moment Kai had snuck his way into his life, when Kai’s face crossed his mind when laying with another, or when he was on his own, staring out the window as he often did to kill time. 

“Love,” Kai repeated. “Do you ever dream of finding it? Do you ever want that?” 

“I’ve never given it much thought,” Yeonjun said. “Nor have I given it much of my time.”

“But, in this moment, would you want to find love?”

“Who knows what the future has in store for us.”

It was a cowardly answer, one up for too many interpretations and shadowed in doubt. It could be anything Kai wanted it to be, anything he wished for. Yeonjun didn’t know how to love, that’s what he thought. However, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing whenever Kai’s eyes met his. 

Strands of black fell to the floor. Yeonjun could see the gold in his irises without anything holding them back. 

<><><>

As with every job, this one too had risk factors. The greatest one for Yeonjun had to be the unpredictability of his customers, and the fact that his sole role was to please them as they wished. Their every fantasy, their every will, he was to play it out. He got overzealous at times, head too far away for him to notice just how far it was going. He wouldn’t realize until later, when he was sore all over, just how bad it had been. 

“Yeonjun, Jun, Jun!” Kai knocked before entering, not waiting for a signal to go. “Sorry, I’m a bit later than usual, had some–” His speaking came to an abrupt pause. “You’re hurt.” 

Yeonjun didn’t stir, arm over his eyes. How much of a mess he must be, for Kai to see it. “They like to go rough sometimes.” 

“Yeonjun.” Kai’s voice was thin, like glass stretched out too much before hardening. Yeonjun had seen it once, such glass shattering into a million pieces as dust. So insignificant, yet they could still cut. 

Perhaps it was because it was Kai. Every fiber of Yeonjun’s being would rip apart if Kai ceased to smile. 

“Just… lie next to me,” Yeonjun murmured. “I’m okay.” 

Kai didn’t look convinced, sending him a pointed look. However, he still complied, sliding onto the mattress. He was face to face with Yeonjun, hands tucked beneath his cheek. If Yeonjun pretended hard enough he could imagine Kai like this, with the sunbeams falling through the curtains. Waking up to this, Kai already looking at him like he’s the only person in this world. 

Looking into those eyes, Yeonjun could fall peacefully. He could see a forever, those golden irises, timeless. No matter how much they’d age, Yeonjun wished those eyes would remain as they were, bright and full of splendor. 

“I… ran away from home,” Kai said, his voice a soft hum of the wind. 

Yeonjun smiled back at him. “Well, shit, me too.” 

“Why?” 

Yeonjun had always lived by his own rules, the greatest of all an oath to never let anyone get too close. Life moved as people in a crowd, as the waves in the ocean. One day they could stand the closest to one another, then the next they would find themselves on opposite sides of the world. Pristine white beaches standing against the muddy banks of a lake. 

“Why did you?” he asked instead.

“Three was one too many.” Kai looked at Yeonjun with an expectant gaze. 

It was as if he could see right through him, through his faux facades, tearing down every wall he’d ever built up. He could see through Yeonjun’s stone-hard gaze and see all beneath it, the longing for something permanent. After all, it was why he stuck around in the same four walls every passing day for the last few years. He craved something, someone, to hold onto. Craved something that wouldn’t change, something stagnant in the fast-paced world.

Yeonjun sighed. “Any place is better than hell.” 

“I love you,” Kai said. 

Yeonjun’s breath hitched. “What?” 

“I love you, Yeonjun. And I know you won’t believe me, and you’ll tell me not to be stupid, but I love you. I love you so much.” 

“Kai-yah, don’t do this to me…” 

Love was never a steady force, sometimes it grew too slow or fired up too fast. It died out quick or clung like a ghost of the past, haunting his every move, his every interaction with another person. 

“I wish I could say I was sorry,” Kai continued, “but I’m not. I will never feel sorry for loving you, because you deserve it. You deserve more than I can give you. I don’t have much on me, so all I can offer you is my heart, but I can offer you all of it.” 

Yeonjun’s thoughts were running rampant, heat surging through his veins like fire on his skin. “This wasn’t how it’s supposed to go…”

“But that's how it turned out.” 

“Why did you do this to yourself?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes were drilling holes into the floor. He wondered when it would start burning up, when it would all come crashing down on him, Kai falling along with him, left in a pile of gravel and tragedy. 

“I never did anything, Jun.” Kai leaned into Yeonjun’s line of sight. Those eyes Yeonjun had come to love were glossy with earnesty, striking Yeonjun like a knife to the chest. “It happened, and I don’t regret any of it.” 

“I can’t love you back,” Yeonjun whispered. 

“But you do.” 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened. He knew this feeling from a long time ago, that constricting of his throat as if it was clogged up by a plug he couldn’t swallow down. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to suppress the whimpers somehow. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Kai whispered. He cupped Yeonjun’s cheek, sighing out. “Will you let me kiss you?” 

The pressure behind Yeonjun’s eyes was enough to crush a skull. With that, his dams broke, kingdom lost to a flood.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Please, kiss me.” 

Kai brushed Yeonjun’s hair out of his eyes, sighing out. He wore a smile worn thin. “What do I do with you, Jun? I can’t do anything without you crossing my mind.” 

With that he pressed his lips to Yeonjun’s, a careful nip before he dove in. He breathed in deeply through the nose, hand on the back of Yeonjun’s head. Yeonjun tasted the salt on his tongue, chasing away the memories of the lips they’ve locked with countless strangers. 

Kai hummed into the kiss, tugging at Yeonjun’s black strands. He swallowed up every inch of Yeonjun, taking him in and making him his own. Yeonjun wrapped his fist around the fabric of Kai’s shirt, pulling him closer. They parted, breathless. Yeonjun let his tears run free. Kai soaked them all up, arms like a shield, keeping his weakened wooden bones sheltered from the rain of fire.

“I love you,” Yeonjun said with a shudder. “I love you, Kai, but what do I do now?”

Kai shushed him, rubbing his back with a steady rhythm. “You don’t have to change anything. Keep loving me as you did before.”

<><><>

“Do you ever dream of getting out?” Kai asked, legs up against Yeonjun’s wall. 

They were sore, he had said, and he’d heard from someone how keeping them up would help with the aching and swelling. Yeonjun didn’t know if it was true, yet here he was, in the exact same stupid position as Kai. 

“Hm, not really,” Yeonjun replied. 

“Then why do you have the stash of money in your closet?”

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, a block of lead dropped to his stomach. “How do you know about that?” 

He had been careful. No one was supposed to find out about it; he kept it in the back of his closet, hidden underneath too many layers of fabric for it to just stumble upon it.

“Hey, no need to get so defensive. I hang out in your closet a lot,” Kai said. “I didn’t mean to snoop! I wondered what was inside so I opened it.” 

“It’s not really for anything,” Yeonjun murmured. “I just have it, to feel like I have more than I do.” 

<><><>

Don’t get attached, Yeonjun wanted to laugh. He should’ve known from the moment he sat next to Kai on that cold night, he was done for. He’d already given too much of himself. Yeonjun’s heart had always been bigger than his body, his love and feelings pooling from his throbbing veins. He’d gotten good at hiding, but that was all. 

His days went on the same way, with clients coming up to him, or him having to go down to meet them. He still put on a show for extra tips, and only rarely got told to piss off. Instead, he finds himself walking down the streets on a lazy afternoon. Sadly, Kai had been booked, so he had to trudge his way through the streets alone. Yet, he didn’t mind it all too much. The city lights were up, the humming engines of cars only heard in the distance. Kai would love this scene, always one for the sentiments. 

He sighed, pulling his coat closed, smiling at all the stars he could see. The sellers were seated on their usual spots by the river, even with the sun having set. Yeonjun found his feet taking them past them, pockets heavier than his wage. It’s the usual trinkets; art, pottery, jewelry. 

In shops, they’d usually send Yeonjun a second glance. He could wear his fanciest clothes, but the aura never quite washed away. The boys from Pandemos were a sight known to all, and a shame to the fine men of society. Yeonjun didn’t think he was to blame for the men seeking him out. 

He smiled at the seller, who sent him back the same expression. It was probably out of kindness, but Yeonjun appreciated it still. His eyes ran over the supplies. They weren’t as bright as what he saw on display at the jeweler, but everything would look like solid gold if worn by Kai. 

“Anyone in mind?” the seller asked. 

“Oh, just… someone special,” Yeonjun murmured. “Someone very dear to me.” 

“A lover?” 

“If I’m allowed to call them that.” 

It was then when his gaze fell upon it, pale pink beads drowned out by all the brighter colors. The still amidst the chaos. Yeonjun held it up, watching it glimmer in the streetlights. “How much for this one?”

It was a quick deal, and Yeonjun soon found himself taking the final turn into their alleyway. He greeted their boss, dropping off his earnings before stepping up the stairs. When he arrived, Kai was already waiting for him. He was laying on Yeonjun’s bed, skimming through the paper, most likely stolen from Jiseok. As soon as he heard the door, he jumped up, throwing his arms around Yeonjun’s neck. He pecked him on the lips, and then again, again and again. 

Yeonjun grinned, cupping Kai’s cheeks. “Well, hello to you too.” 

“I’m kissing away the taste of other people,” Kai said. As if to prove his point, he pecked his lips once again. “There, are cleansed. It’s all just Yeonjun now.” 

Yeonjun’s heart thumped heavily against his ribs. He patted his pockets. “I… I was walking back and saw something along the way. Thought about you.” 

He pulled out the bracelet. He doesn’t know if the seller was telling the truth, but she said the beads were made of rocks found by the beach and carved into their shapes. He thought more than anything it was a way to get them sold. He knew those people didn’t have it easy either. 

Kai’s mouth fell open. “Yeonjun…” 

“I just thought it was pretty.” Yeonjun felt his cheeks heat up.  “It’s not much, but well, it’s the least I can do.” 

Kai looked at the floor. “You don’t have to get me anything.” 

Yeonjun shook his head, pulling out Kai’s wrist. He unclipped the bracelet, putting it on Kai. Kai admired it, playing with the beads, letting it dangle. “I love it, Junie. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

He leaned forward, breath fanning out over Yeonjun’s lips. He looked into his eyes, and Yeonjun could see his reflection, the brown deeper when it was dark, the murky waters of the night time sea. And Yeonjun drowned, letting Kai take him to his depths, hands in his hair and gasping for air. 

“Kai-yah,” Yeonjun breathed against his lips, “lay with me.” 

Kai huffed out a laugh. “Don’t we always do that?” 

“No, no, not like that. I want you to know what it’s like to sleep with someone who loves you.” 

He took Kai’s hand, tugging at it with big eyes. Kai stepped forward, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He kissed Kai again, breathy moans as Kai’s hands traveled down his shirt. Something changed in Yeonjun that night. When he touched the moon, and felt all the sky’s stars, he fluttered down from his eyes, at peace between Kai’s arms. 

He fell asleep to Kai’s warmth engulfing him, leaving kisses like flower blossoms and connecting the constellations on his skin. Instead of the sun, Kai was the moon, one Yeonjun would conjure to every night for the day to never come, so he could spend just a moment more with his heart on a silver platter. 

<><><>

Kai’s features looked the softest in the silver of the night. He had his eyes closed, his breathing calm. Yeonjun watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, walking his fingers over his expanse. His other hand was clutching fingers. The bracelet rested on his wrist, sturdier than Yeonjun had expected it to be. 

“Can you hear the music?” Kai’s body rumbled as he spoke. 

Yeonjun waited for some sound to fall through the room, yet was met with nothing. “What music?” 

“Shh, close your eyes and listen,” Kai said. “It’s from the theater. You can hear them laugh, too.” 

“Why do you love that place so much?” Yeonjun asked.

“Because I can dream when I’m close to it.” Kai pressed his lips together. “To be one of those people, to stand on stage, dance amongst them. To be the people clients talk about.” 

“Don’t listen to clients too much,” Yeonjun said. “They always make it seem more exciting than it is.” 

“How do you know?” Finally, Kai got up. He pressed himself up against the headrest. 

Yeonjun crawled in between his legs, pressing mindless kisses to Kai’s mouth. “They’re liars most of the time.” 

“As are we.” Kai held out his hand, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “Come on, let’s dance. Why don’t we?” 

Yeonjun frowned. “Dancing?” 

“The moon is out, the wine is good, the air is warm. Come on, why don’t we dance?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

Kai grabbed Yeonjun’s wrist, pulling him into his chest. Yeonjun let out a surprised yelp, slapping his hand over his mouth. “Fuck, Kai, warn me next time!” 

“Nothing like a little pop of surprise!” 

They danced to melodies in their head, their arms wrapping them together. Kai’s forehead is pressed against Yeonjun’s, eyes half lidded. “I’m glad I met you, Junie,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I would’ve done, had you not been here.”

Yeonjun wrapped his arms tighter around Kai’s torso, burying his face in his shoulder. He hoped Kai could feel it, the beating of his heart. 

<><><>

Wishes were something only children and fools believed in. Tossing a coin into a fountain wouldn’t return a fortune, and falling stars would still fall down to earth, become nothing but dust. 

From the first moment, Kai had always come. He’d be late on occasions, getting held up by a clingy client most of the time, but he always came. There was something off in the air that night. Yeonjun couldn’t explain it other than a bad feeling, an awful flavor sticking to his molars and spreading through his mouth. 

He ran his knuckles over Kai’s door. “Kai? Kai are you in there?” 

It remained silent on the other end. Yeonjun tried again. It couldn’t be that Kai went out. He would have told Yeonjun. He laid his ear to the door, eyes widening. He pushed the door open, the knob colliding with the wall. The force was enough for it to leave a dent. 

By the window sat Kai with the moonlight falling down his cheeks, silver streaks 

“Kai? What happened?” 

Kai didn’t move, instead squeezing his eyes shut. His lips remained sealed, though they quivered. He sucked in a shaky breath. “Don’t you ever feel it?” 

“Feel what? Kai, please talk to me.” 

“Because I feel it,” Kai continued. “Every time I let another stranger touch me I feel so… used. I feel so dirty, Jun. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wondering if this is really it, if this is all there is to me. I never expected it to be this way. Every time I sleep with another man, my mind keeps wandering to you.” 

Finally, Kai looked at him. His eyes were like stars melted into an ocean. He jumped forward, taking big strides in Yeonjun’s direction. He grabbed Yeonjun’s wrists, smiling through his tears. “Come on, Yeonjun. Let’s get out of here. We can get out of here, can’t we?”

Yeonjun’s mind ran in circles. The tears in Kai’s eyes, the crack in his otherwise clear tone, the way his features scrunched up, he had never wanted to see Kai this way. He knew it would come one day. This life isn’t for just anyone, and Kai was too delicate to be treated as something to be tossed aside. 

Yeonjun ran his thumbs underneath Kai’s eyes, taking away as many tears as he could. “Go, Kai,” he whispered, “Please. You have to go. You don’t belong here.” 

“Nor do you!” Kai exclaimed. His grip on Yeonjun tightened, lips pressed together to stop them from shaking. 

Yeonjun laughed, though it sounded drained. “Kai, I’ve not known better for the longest time. So please, save yourself. Go back home.” 

“But, Jun—“ 

“Go, Kai. I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten used to it already.” 

“Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun cupped Kai’s cheeks, pressing a fluttering kiss to his salt-coated cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips. “It’s not too late for you yet.” 

“Nor is it for you.” Kai’s tone was pleading. Yeonjun had never thought he would see the day he saw Kai’s fires washed out, a downpour from the northern hemisphere. 

“Kai, I don’t know how to live in the real world anymore.” 

That was the truth. Yeonjun had lived in his own head, in these walls and had found comfort in it. He wouldn’t call it ideal, but it was safe, and he wouldn’t know where to begin if he would leave. He’d lived playing roles, making fantasies come true, and he’d lived for his own enjoyment. 

“You can learn it,” Kai insisted. “We can learn it together! Please, I don’t want to leave you. Don’t make me leave you, please.” 

“Hey, Kai, love, it’s going to be alright. You’ll always have me. And you know where to find me.” 

Kai had taught him how to love. He had found himself through honest eyes, seen what he was like when someone saw him as himself. His bitter, twisted self, heart melted by the softest of smiles. Kai had dragged him out of his shadows, shown him there was sunlight to be found. Yeonjun let his doves rest now, come to land and let their sweat-soaked wings dry out. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Kai whispered. 

Yeonjun rested their foreheads together. “And you won’t. I will always be yours.” 

<><><>

Yeonjun thought the room next to his might be cursed. Everyone who stayed in it, always left. Beomgyu had emptied out, leaving with the client he claimed he didn’t love. He wondered if Beomgyu would also stay away, or if he would return to at least visit. 

Love was a pathetic thing, an easy trap to fall into. Yeonjun didn’t remember the last time his every step wasn’t dictated by it, always cautious, always hopeful, like a fool waiting for the sky to come falling down on them. 

He’d spent a year of his life waiting. He wondered when the torture would end, when he would be set free. Perhaps this was his true curse, to be loved by someone who would never return to him. A lie for a lie, a lie for a moment of joy. 

Without Beomgyu, Yeonjun's life went back to the dull routine he’d been stuck in. He pleased clients with his earthly pleasures and sweet words. He’d fall asleep at night, cheeks warm with wine and on Thursdays he would go to the market, just as he’d done before, when the sea around his island started drying up. 

“Yeonjun,” Jiseok called his attention. “We've got a reservation for you. New name, very foreign”

“Sure thing.” Yeonjun smiled at him. 

He took along his drink before running back to his room. He touched himself up a bit, just enough to not look too disheveled. It was late at night, an unusual time to be met. Most would’ve already headed home, far off into the world of the living. 

Then it was the waiting game. Yeonjun swirled his glass, leaning his head against the windowsill. The streets were dead, apart from a few stray souls trying to find their ways back home. He sighed, downing what was left in his glass, cheeks flushing at the heat. 

A knock broke him out of his silence.

“Enter,” he called.  

There were a thousand things Yeonjun could have used to describe the moment. The door creaked at an agonizing pace, as if the world took a step out of time. Yeonjun could swear he’d heard the pattern of footsteps before. He shook off the feeling.

“You’re making a late night,” he said instead. 

“Junie.” 

Yeonjun’s heart swelled up, growing so big it might have come bursting right out of his chest. He turned around, nearly stumbling over his feet. He froze. Eyes of precious gems painted him golden, fairy dust running over skin. In a dark room in an even darker alley, Yeonjun’s sky lit up once again. 

“Kai.”