The sun wanted to kill Alex. Harsh spears of light pierced his lids, shaking him awake from a year long slumber, melting the ice he’d been trapped and conserved in. His head buzzed, his limbs stiff and aching, his shoulders were freezing cold, yet his shirt stuck to his back with sweat.

What the fuck was going on?

He felt something move beside him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes just yet. He had to think back first. Where was he? Why was he here? How did he get here?

He searched through hazy memories of- something, a party. Yes, right, the party. Min’s party. Okay, what else? Drinks, music, more drinks, more drinks, the basement, more drinks, a walk home, then-

Youngbin. With his face close, his hands on his neck, then around his waist.

Wait, what? No, wait, that must’ve been a dream. Go back, back to the basement, more drinks… Youngbin on his lap. Youngbin holding his face. Youngbin taking off his belts? Youngbin in a tight shirt? Youngbin kneeling- Now what the fuck.

Alex ripped his eyes wide open, and temporarily turned blind. He grunted, maybe a bit too loudly, throwing his arm up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, good morning to you too.” Youngbin’s voice was painfully gentle and calm and kind and a bit lower than usual. That perfect kind of morning voice. That kind of voice you’d want to wake up to every day. Holy shit. What the fuck. “How are we feeling?”

“What the fuck,” Alex groaned, hesitant to take his arm away and assess the situation. Did he even want to assess anything? “What’s going on?”

“Oh, forgotten all of it?” God, how could he sound so relaxed? So stupidly chill, and yet something within his voice seemed almost… disappointed? Alex finally moved his arm away from his face, pried open one eye, then slowly the other.

Oh, gorgeous piece of shit. Youngbin sat next to him, phone in his hand, glasses a little crooked on his nose, hair messy, in his stupid little pyjama set, the top button undone, part of his collar bone exposed. Like he was doing this on purpose. Alex wanted to- kiss him, probably. And also punch his stupid grinning face. Punch it with his lips.

“What the fuck,” Alex just repeated.

“Do you actually not remember or do you just need some time to wake up?”

“I genuinely-“ Alex rubbed his face, then his neck, it hurt, then his shoulders. He was wearing a shirt. Okay. Fine. Alright. He was wearing clothes. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Oh, I just picked you up yesterday.” Youngbin’s eyes were fixed on his phone again. “From a party at Min’s. Had to tuck you into bed.”

“Right. Yeah, it’s coming back.” It wasn’t really coming back, but there wasn’t much else he could say. He certainly couldn’t tell Youngbin that, for a second or so, he’d honestly believed that the two had slept with each other for some reason. And that the whole idea wasn’t even as bad as it should’ve been.

“How’s your, uh… your knee, by the way? You fell yesterday.”

His knee? Well, now that Youngbin had brought it up, it hurt. Aside from the fact that his limbs felt like they hadn’t moved in a million years, his knee particularly just hurt. In a different way than normal. In a ‘I fell on my face and got hurt’ kind of way.

“It’s fine,” Alex decided to say eventually. He finally sat up as well. His body- well, there wasn’t much more to say, other than, it was so fucking stiff. He rolled his shoulders back and forth, deeply inhaled. “I’m sorry,” he then let out. Really not sure why he did it, though.

What should’ve followed was a ‘for what?’, but instead, Youngbin stayed silent, just let out a tiny sigh. Apparently he should’ve been sorry. He’d figure out for what exactly later.

“How’s your head? Your stomach?”

“Spinny, and empty.”

“Got it.” Youngbin rubbed over his face, rolled out of bed. “I’ll get you some water. Hungry for anything specific?”

“Oh, uh- Not really. Not yet. Let me just, like, wake up first.”

Youngbin nodded, slowly, smiled at Alex in such a painfully sweet way. Disgustingly loving. Way too fucking caring. And then he left. Holy fucking shit.

Alex blinked, rapidly, maybe he’d been dreaming after all. His head was spinning, his eyes hurt, because of course everything in Youngbin’s room had to be white, his knee- ah, Jesus, his knee. He moved his legs, and hissed. There was a bandaid on there, he knew, because it was strangely and painfully caught on a single hair on his leg.

Alex pushed the blanket aside, woollen and soft. He was still in his ripped jeans and the sleeveless shirt he remembered putting on yesterday. He considered getting up, maybe stretching a bit, walking around the room, but very quickly decided against it. Youngbin’s bed was awfully comfortable.

So, he sat up to lean his back against the wall, pulled his legs closer to his body, resting his chin on his knee- the one that wasn’t injured. He inhaled. It smelled like… Not much, actually. Like whatever detergent the Lee family used. Faintly like the shampoo Alex had given Youngbin for his dyed hair. And a bit of alcohol, but that was probably Alex himself.

Alex took another deep breath, to take in that very light smell, that little bit of him.

God. Alex wasn’t really sure if it was harder or easier to be around Youngbin, to be in his space, to exist somewhere that had his smell and feel and aura. Now that Alex, well, knew. Understood. Now that he actually admitted to himself that he was, very much, head over heels in something with him.

Because he was honest now. With himself, at least. He didn’t have to question things, second guess himself or his thoughts, fight with himself to repress emotions that were too strong to repress. He could admire and adore Youngbin, like it’d become second nature to him.

At the same time, it’d become increasingly obvious that this wasn’t going to lead anywhere. Because all Youngbin did was touch him gently and hold his face and kiss his bruised hands and Alex had to pretend like this wasn’t a big thing. Because Youngbin was as well. He moved on from it every time like it was absolutely nothing. And Alex was lying to him, pretending for it to be the same.

Youngbin had teleported back into the room, and now held out a glass of water and an aspirin out to Alex.

“I don’t really- know what to do about hangovers,” Youngbin said when he threw himself back onto the bed. “Drink a lot, I suppose. Water, I mean. And probably eat. And sleep a lot?”

“Caffeine helps.” Alex took a sip of water, and his mouth felt like a desert experiencing rain for the first time in decades. He threw his head back and emptied the glass at once.

“You don’t drink coffee, though.”

“Yeah. I’m hooked on energy drinks instead.”

Youngbin nodded slowly, taking the glass out of Alex’ hand to put it on the floor to safety instead. Then he sat back next to Alex, staring against that same old white wall that Alex had analysed in detail before. After a couple of seconds of silence, he cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?”

The question caught Alex off guard. He blinked, tilted his head.

“I mean, my head’s already feeling a bit-”

“No, like… Are you okay? Are you fine? Is something bothering you?”

Plenty of things, yes. But right now, not really. Not when Youngbin sat next to him.

“Why are you asking?”

Youngbin pressed his lips together, then picked up his phone again. He scrolled for a bit, then read.

“Hi, thanks again for picking Alex up. Hope you got home safely. I haven’t seen him drink so much in two years or something. IDK. Was kinda worried. You know he’s drinking to get fucked up when he starts chugging down the shit he doesn’t usually like. That’s what Margo said.”

Youngbin’s voice stung in Alex’ chest. It sounded like an accusation, like something he was so disappointed in. But, no, the worst thing was how heavy his tone was with worry. How sad he sounded. And scared.

And Margo was right. He just didn’t get why she’d tell him. She knew why he wanted to just not think for a night, to just get drunk and see nothing but stars, she knew why he’d decided on not giving a fuck about taste or health or any of that shit and just tried to get as fucked up as possible. And she told Youngbin.

Alex felt sick. Like he wanted to spit out every drop of alcohol he’d drank yesterday, his head spinning, his heart threatening to just stop beating on the spot.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he blurted out.

“What? Alex, of course it was.” He didn’t know what kind of answer he expected. “You could barely walk, you were all over the place, you were drinking vodka straight from the fucking bottle, and you think it wasn’t that bad?”

Alex didn’t look at Youngbin. If he’d seen his expression, that worried gleam in his eyes, his furrowed brows, whatever face he was making to match his tone, he might’ve started to cry.

“Listen, I don’t mind taking care of you. I don’t care if I have to pick you up or take off your makeup or help you take off your complicated fashion choices, I don’t mind. I love you.” Not like that. “But there’s obviously something going on and you’re acting just so stupid about it. You’re hurting yourself. And I don’t know what to do about it. You won’t tell me.”

His voice had gradually become quieter with every word, more distraught, sadder and sharper and more painful.

Well, what was Alex supposed to say? Except for, I know and I’m sorry and I like you but the word like isn’t strong enough and I don’t want to think about the word love just yet so I try to stop thinking at all.

“Are you… mad?” Not that. God, why’d he say that?

“Well-“ A sigh. “Yeah. I kind of am, I suppose.” It technically should’ve felt good to hear that. To hear Youngbin be mad without taking it back. But not in this context. Not at all.

“I’m s-“

“You don’t owe me anything. No explanation. No excuse or a sorry or anything, but-“ Now Alex felt his stare. His eyes piercing him, scanning every inch of him. Alex couldn’t look away anymore, turned his head, finally faced Youngbin. God, his eyes had become so deep. A night sky had taken the place of his irises, or perhaps it was a black hole, Alex wasn’t sure, but he’d already lost himself.

“I want you to be okay.”

“I’m gonna be,” Alex lied.

“Then stop doing all that stupid shit to yourself. Stop hurting yourself.”

As if it wasn’t hurting to just look at Youngbin like this. As if that wasn’t enough to feel like he was bleeding out.

The stars disappeared. Youngbin’s eyes had become empty when he opened his mouth again to say something, empty but all consuming. They said nothing, or maybe a lot, but in a language Alex couldn’t speak. And suddenly, he could read nothing, not a single thing, from Youngbin’s face.

Like he’d been swapped out. His face changed. Worry changed into a realisation, then into desperation, then into… enchantment, almost. His features looked melancholic, these deep black eyes scanned Alex’ face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his lips, his eyes again.

Youngbin pressed his lips together, then turned his head to face away a little. He seemed as if he was swallowing whatever words had laid on his tongue. Alex leaned a little closer, tilted his head.

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice a mere breath. “To not hurt. For you.”

Youngbin turned his head back. He looked at him again, came just a little bit closer. A gesture with no meaning. Youngbin’s hand moved, as though it wanted to reach out for him, before pulling it back again. He looked at Alex. At his face. His eyes. His nose. His lips.

His lips.

Then, Youngbin moved forward.

Youngbin’s lips met Alex’, gently and carefully. Hesitantly. As if to try it out, to test the waters, to see what Alex’ answer would be.

Stupidly enough, Alex’ answer was nothing at first, except for surprise and shock. Not the bad kind. Not at all. The good kind of shock, like when you’d won the lottery, or like the most beautiful boy on the planet had just kissed you. And it took a second or two until Alex had understood what was going on, had understood that this was everything he’d been waiting for.

One or two seconds too late. Youngbin had already pulled away before Alex had the chance to beg for more. Youngbin’s eyes were still empty, his face still one of desperation, his cheeks had turned slightly pink. This wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. There had to be more.

Maybe Alex had gotten greedy. Maybe he’d just tasted blood and now thirsted for more. This couldn’t be it. This wasn’t enough. Alex moved his hand up to Youngbin’s face in an attempt to guide him back, to invite him in, to tell him to keep going, just one more kiss, just one more gentle little kiss.

The second Alex’ fingertips had touched Youngbin’s skin, he’d understood.

Youngbin closed the gap between them a second time, and this time Alex was there to catch him, to tilt his head and hide his hand in Youngbin’s hair and kiss him back. Youngbin moved further towards Alex, their lips melting into each other, and Alex wanted to pull him closer. Even closer. He wanted them to become one, to be as close as they could.

Their lips had found a steady rhythm, moved against each other in unison. Gently but hungry. Like they were finding each other, tasting just a little, as if Alex didn’t yet know he craved nothing more than him.

Oh, but he knew. He’d known for some time now. And now he’d gotten it. Warmth, no, heat rushed through his entire body, from his lips to his heart to his stomach and further. His heart beat, this blood rushing, he felt every part of his body, aware of every inch of his skin, and Alex was alive. Alive and hungry.

Youngbin deepened the kiss now, his hand wandering on Alex’ shoulder, then towards his chest. He shivered underneath his touch, moved against the hand in an attempt to ask for more. More of his hand sliding along his body, it didn’t even matter where.

So be it.

Without their lips breaking away from each other, Youngbin moved, swiftly placing himself on Alex’ lap. Both hands moved across his chest, then around his shoulders, then the neck, then they cupped Alex’ face, cold hands against hot skin, attempting to pull him even closer.

Youngbin was taking over him, he was devouring him, tearing into him like he deserved to do. His touch made him wilt. Fall apart. Like he’d been on the brink of simply crumbling for a month and now, it was Alex’ breaking point. And it felt so damn good to fall apart. An embarrassing gasp escaped his lips.

What was synchronised and gentle before had become deeper, messier, hungrier. Alex and Youngbin crashed into each other, their hands grabbing, pushing, pulling. Alex’ mouth began trailing away, towards Youngbin’s jawline, leaving kisses on his way to his neck. Youngbin’s head fell back, exposing his neck to Alex as if he was inviting him to bite him. Which he would’ve loved to do.

Alex felt Youngbin’s chest rising and falling against him, heard his breath, fast and heavy and maybe surprised. Of course, surprised. It wasn’t like this had happened before. Like anyone kissed him before, especially not like this. God. Alex slowed down, just a bit, went a little more gentle. As if he couldn’t handle heavy just yet. He sure as fuck could.

And he kept kissing him, his neck, his collarbone, staining his skin, a blank canvas on which he left his mark, traces of himself. Painted him with nothing but adoration, admiration, painted him with the passion Youngbin deserved but nobody had been willing to give him yet.

He wanted nothing else but make Youngbin feel good, feel loved, feel wanted, for once in his fucking life. And god, he was doing just fine, he knew, the way Youngbin melted against him. He guided Alex’ lips back to his own, though he’d become unprecise, desperate.

“Alex-” A whisper against his lips, shaky and desperate. Fuck. God, fuck. The way he said his name, no, breathed his name. The way he clearly startled himself doing so, a word tumbling out of his mouth, the way he sunk against Alex further to avoid it from happening again. God, this couldn’t end, ever. He loved it too much.

He loved Youngbin.

There it was. Alex loved Youngbin.

Youngbin slowed down. Then he stopped. Then he pulled away.

“Fuck.” He pulled his hands away from Alex’ body, and he was left naked. “I’m so sorry. We- we should stop.” His voice was shaking, out of breath. “I should stop.”

“No,” Alex wanted to beg, but his throat was tied. “Keep going. Don’t regret this. Not yet.” Not a word came out of his mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Alex, I’m so- I-” He climbed off Alex’ lap, hastily, scooting to the opposite side of the bed, putting as much damn distance between them as he could. “I don’t know why I- I didn’t mean to-”

Of course he didn’t mean to.

His face was still red, his breath still heavy, his lips swollen and his eyes so fucking hungry. But he didn’t mean it. Another meaningless gesture, like the way he’d hold his hands and his face and the way he’d caressed his cheeks before. He didn’t mean to. Another act. Of course it was meaningless. Of fucking course he didn’t-

“I’m so, so fucking sorry, Alex, please, I didn’t- I don’t know why I-” His words repeated, desperate to hear an answer, something to reassure him. Maybe- Oh god.

Youngbin wrapped his arms around his body. He’d seen the stains on his body that Alex had left, and decided that it was dirt. That it couldn’t be anything but that. Why did he do it? Why did Alex let him do it?

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fucking fine. Obviously. This wasn’t fine in any way, this hurt, this stung, this ripped him apart. “Don’t worry.”

“I-” Youngbin rubbed his neck, the spot where Alex had just kissed him. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know.”

“Let’s forget this.”

As if Alex was ever going to forget this. As if he wouldn’t lie awake and think about this and replay Youngbin saying his name like that again and again and then bash his fucking head into a wall knowing that it meant nothing.

“Yeah. Sure.” Alex closed his eyes, inhaling, preparing himself to finally talk, to finally be a fucking grown up and not run away from his feelings. “But- Bin, when should probably t-“

“You, uh, need to leave by eleven, by the way. M-my mom’s coming home then. I don’t want her to know you’re here.” I need you to leave, I don’t want you here. It wasn’t what he said. It felt like it.

“By eleven?”

“In about an hour.”

An hour left to talk this over. Come on. He could do this. He could fix this. He could tell him that maybe this wasn’t as fake as both liked to pretend and then they could just go back to kissing.

“I think we should just ta-“

“I don’t like you like that, Alex, I promise.” A promise meant to make him feel better. Something was breaking, though. “I don’t know why I did that.” That. Just say it. Say kiss. Say make out. Anything like that. Just acknowledge that it fucking happened. “I’m sorry, okay? There’s not much to say. I’m sorry. I don’t know why it happened. So just- Pretend like it didn’t.”

Fine. Of course. He could live like that, obviously, naturally. It was fine like that, it was great, it was okay. An unfamiliar numbness crept into his fingers. He moved them around, formed a fist. His nails dug into his palms.

“Yeah,” he said in a terrifyingly confident voice. “I know. You’re right. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Youngbin repeated another painful time, then he inhaled, bit down on his lips, still reddened. Alex wondered if he could still taste- no. Pretend like it didn’t happen.

“I should- probably get ready to go.” Alex stared at that same old white wall again. It was still empty and cold and so inviting to smash his head into. He didn’t want to go. If he left now, if he was alone now, if he had time to think now, it surely would lead him somewhere- somewhere bad. But being next to Youngbin, and so far away from him, wouldn’t be any better.

So he didn’t move. He stayed in place, and waited for Youngbin to throw him out, or move away himself, or to take his hand and say sorry another time and kiss him again and tell him that he did mean it.

Youngbin didn’t do any of these things, just sat still as well. His hand remained grasping his own arms, didn’t even attempt to move, to reach out for Alex’ hand and lightly brush his fingers against his skin.

“You don’t have to.” His voice had become tired. Terrifyingly monotone. “Do you want to eat something first?”

As if Alex could have a single bite now. His stomach felt like it was turning inside out. He wasn’t sure if that was the hangover or literally everything else that had happened in the time he’d been awake.

“It’s fine,” he answered, and finally his body began moving. “I’m not that hungry.”

He slowly climbed out of the bed, almost stepping into a pile of leather, the belts he’d worn yesterday. Youngbin had taken them off for him. He wished he could remember it. Properly. To recall that closeness, so he’d be able to miss it.

“Alex, please.” He didn’t turn to face Youngbin. Didn’t want to see him make his pleas. “I- really didn’t- I wasn’t trying to ruin this.” Ruin what? What really was there between them? “I don’t want to mess up this friendship.” Yeah, there it was. “Please just believe me. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t like you like that.”

“But I do. You ever thought about that? Did you even notice how much I wanted you? How much you’re making me melt? Have you thought about why I kissed you back? I kissed you too, and you think I want to hear you say sorry? Do you think it’s just pity? Or do you think I’m some horny idiot that’ll just eat up anyone that kisses him? Did you not notice? Didn’t you feel it? Is it that hard for you to believe that I’d want this, that I’d want to kiss you, that I’d want you? You don’t like me like that, but I do, Youngbin, I like you, I love you. I think I love you. I wasn’t sure before but now that you kissed me, I know. I’m sure. Youngbin, I-”

Alex didn’t say that. Not a single word of it. He bit his lip, and it hurt, and he turned around.

“Hey, man. It’s fine. I know.” He was desperate to sound confident. Like this was exactly what he wanted to say. He put on a smile, a twist of his face, and his muscles ached. “I'm just like… kind of tired. Hungover. It's fine, though.”

“Are you mad?”

Yeah, at you. But more at me. “No, not at all! I believe you. I'm just tired. Come on, dude, you said you didn't wanna talk about it anymore. So let's stop?”

As if adding that damned dude was going to make anything less awkward. Any less awful and horrible and fucking painful.

Youngbin nodded, his fake smile so obvious that it hurt. Alex would've pulled him into a hug, would've brushed his hand over his hair in comforting motions, but he wouldn't dare to touch him now. Not now, not yet, not when there was still a chance for Youngbin to do and say something worse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” So now he did want him to stay? “You could just, maybe, take another nap-”

Alex hummed, patted his pockets. His phone had to be somewhere here. He wasn’t looking forward to any possible missed messages in the group chat.

“I gotta get home. I’ll just… ask Lani to drive me. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll walk. But I- I guess I need some time to- breathe. Relax.” He scanned the bed, avoiding Youngbin’s gaze as much as he could. His phone wasn’t there. Neither was his jacket, which he definitely wore to the party, he could remember that much.

“Right, uhm- Margo’s got your phone. You lost it. I can tell her to bring it here?”

Alex nodded, his gaze dropped towards the leather belts on the floor again. It was so strange for Youngbin to speak about Margo. For him to say her name, comfortably, like they’d already known each other. Margo, on the other hand, had talked about Youngbin plenty of times. Lani as well. They’d speak as if they’d know him. But Youngbin- it was like he was an actual part of the group. Reminded him that they were- friends. Just that, of course. How fucked up.

“Yeah. Sure. Tell her to come and pick me up while she’s at it.”

Alex heard Youngbin tapping on his phone, then silence fell between them again. Alex was still just standing there. It wasn’t really like he had anywhere to go. He could’ve sat down, somewhere, on the bed or on the floor or on that desk chair that Youngbin had thrown his jean jacket over. He could get comfortable. He didn’t feel like he should, though, like Youngbin wouldn’t have wanted him to.

“Coming in twenty minutes,” Youngbin said after a few seconds. “You sure you don’t want to lay down again? Or eat something? We, uh, have some kimchi left. Dad says it’s like some wonder drug. Might help with hangovers?” He hesitated, then some semblance of a smile, an honest one, appeared on his face. “If it’s not too spicy for you.”

Something felt lighter. More breathable. Like the window had been opened to let the fall air in, fresh and cool and pleasant. The muscles in Alex’ face relaxed a little, his shoulders loosened up. How awfully comforting his smile was, even this small, this hesitant.

“You’re still caught up on that?”

“I’ve never seen someone be so confidently wrong about their spice tolerance.”

“You watched me die and laughed about it.”

“It was quite hilarious.” His smile grew, not yet to its full radiance, but enough to ensure Alex that at least Youngbin was over whatever had happened just now. “I’d do it again.”

I’d watch you die again. Youngbin would be surprised if he knew how many times Alex had died in front of him before.

“So? You should probably eat at least something.” His voice had become gentler again, not as panicked, not as worried. The old Youngbin. The best friend kind of Youngbin.

“It’s fine.” Finally, Alex’ legs led him back to the bed, and he sat down, careful to still be as far away from Youngbin as he could. “I’m- actually, I’ll just lie down and close my eyes for a bit. Wake me when Margo’s here.”

Youngbin nodded, finally crawled off his bed, rubbing his neck, then his face, then his neck again as if he had to wipe off those kisses. As if they’d infected him with something. As if they’d stay there, visible to anyone, to his mother, to Alex, to himself.

No. Alex fell on his back. He was overthinking this. But how was he supposed to not overthink? He closed his eyes.

“Alright. I’ll go take a shower. Uh, sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. He wasn’t sure if he was going to sleep at all, not for a mere 20 minutes at least. “Thanks.”

Though, his eyes felt dry, his lids heavy. He noticed his body melt into the mattress as soon as his eyes had shut. Maybe he could just nap. If he’d manage to stop his brain from racing, that was. Both his brain and his heart. Alex pried his eyes open again, finding a better position to lie in. Just twenty more minutes and he’d be out of here.

He’d be at home again, or maybe at Lani’s home, which would be fine, because it was basically the same. He’d be able to make himself the shittiest sandwich or maybe dig out the last frozen pizza he still had, and have the worst hangover snack in the world. And then he’d lie down and sleep, forever maybe, or he’d lie down and be awake, and think.

Or he could have another drink, this time alone, so that nobody would get concerned and take care of him. Or he could smash in the windows in his apartment. Or he could take the mirror off his wall and throw it on the bathroom floor. Or he could set the whole building on fire.

Maybe he should just sleep, though. Maybe that would help. Drops of rain started knocking against the window, like the sky was trying to soothe him to sleep, singing him a lullaby. Sleep was probably the better option. Perhaps that was all he needed for now to fix his brain.

Chapter 22 - THE FOOL

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