guys my age | yuta/taeyong

if you don't get it, then forget it

It's really strange, honestly. It's not a small neighborhood, and it's definitely not a small city, but somehow, later that next week, Taeyong sees Yuta again. This time, they're at a bookstore—Taeyong is on an errand for one of his supervisors, and Yuta looks like he's just browsing. He catches Taeyong's eye, and gives him an amused smile.

"Are you following me?" Taeyong asks.

"Maybe I should be," Yuta says, somewhat severely. "You scared me the other night."

"I'm sorry," Taeyong says. Why is it that every time I see him, I'm apologizing? "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"I don't mind. I mean, you're lucky it was me," Yuta says. "You have to be more careful, though."

"I know." Taeyong sighs. "It was just... a combination of ill-thought-out decisions and unfortunate timing."

"Maybe you should give me your mother's contact information or something," Yuta says. He's got the same unreadable expression hidden under a thin layer of politeness, and Taeyong doesn't know what to call it. He does know it makes the pit of his belly burn. "So I can help her keep an eye on you."

Taeyong blanches, for multiple reasons. "Oh, please don't."

Yuta laughs. "I'm just joking." He reaches out and smoothes Taeyong's shirt collar, which Taeyong only just realizes is sticking up. He keeps his hand there longer than he really needs to, pressed over the line of Taeyong's clavicle. "Aren't you in the middle of your workday?" he asks.

"Yes, I'm just here on an errand," Taeyong explains, trying not to gasp a little when Yuta finally draws his hand away.

"Well, I won't keep you then," he says. "See you around, Taeyong."

Is it odd to say Taeyong feels giddy? But he does, and he can barely hide it even after he steps foot back in the building. His neck burns next to where Yuta touched him, and he can't explain it, but it's like his fingerprints sear themselves into Taeyong's skin. He might be delusional, but he swears Yuta is doing it on purpose. For all his guardian-like care, he doesn't miss the way Yuta's eyes flick over his face and his body when he sees him. He tries to hide it, but Taeyong can tell he's looking, and Taeyong might be going to hell for it, but damn it, he likes it.

Taeyong doesn't have the highest self-esteem, but he also can be objective, and he knows he's pretty. He knows guys like him because of it, and he adores it when men fit their hands around his tiny waist and call him beautiful and delicate, like a perfect little doll. He likes it even better when they treat him like it. And Yuta, with his big, mysterious smile, his lingering touches, his sharp eyes—he's everything Taeyong could ask for. Taeyong knows he shouldn't— there's plenty of guys my age around here , he thinks as Jaehyun waves in greeting, giving him a sweet, dimpled smile—but he can't help it. It's Yuta he wants. And all he needs is a little encouragement for him to take.

His birthday passes inconsequentially. Some of the guys take him out drinking that night, even though they have work the next morning. He takes it easy this time, and wakes up without the trace of a hangover. It's not out of self-preservation, though; all night, he has his eyes peeled for Yuta. But if he's out, he doesn't see him. Still, he knows it's only a matter of time before they run into each other.

"You're smiling at the air again," Jaehyun informs him the following Friday. "What're you thinking about?"

"I'm not allowed to be happy for no reason?" Taeyong asks. "I just love work so much."

"Don't be a jackass," Jaehyun snorts. "Seriously, what is it?"

"Nothing, I'm just in a good mood," Taeyong says. "Don't ruin it."