love you later | yeonbin ✓

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Soobin is just barely catching his breath when there's a knock on the door. His head snaps up, eyes wide, and his heart stops beating for a second. His member is still out, he hasn't moved one bit, stomach covered in a mess.

"Soobin?" Yeonjun's voice sounds muffled through the thick wooden door, but Soobin picks up on his concern anyway.

He wants to chase it away, wants to reassure Yeonjun that he's fine. So fine in fact, better than he's felt in ages, even if the afterglow would have been a little nicer if he actually had the time to bask in it. Instead, he finds himself fumbling for tissues somewhere in his nightstand drawer, wipes himself down as quickly as he can. In his haste to make himself look presentable and tuck his thing back into his pants, he forgets to say anything at all.

"Soobin? Everything okay?"

"Fine!" he yells loudly, hoping that his verbal confirmation is enough to calm Yeonjun's nerves. "I'm fine."

He's not fine. It's ironic that his zipper would get stuck right this moment out of every other occasion when it really wouldn't have mattered. He curses under his breath. "God, fucking move you dumb piece of shit."

"What was that?"

Soobin freezes. "Oh um. Just hit my toe on the bed." He winces, fully aware that it is a weak excuse.

"Okay.." Yeonjun says, but it sounds more like a question than anything else.

Soobin gets up from his bed completely, hopping around the room as he struggles with the zipper. He looks ridiculous and he's painfully aware of it; he can tell that his hair is probably all over the place and that his face must still be flushed and a little sweaty, but he doesn't have the time to fix himself up right now.

"Can I come in?"

"No!" Soobin yells through the door and immediately feels bad. It's pretty obvious that Yeonjun is clueless, that he's probably just concerned for Soobin's well-being and he feels like an ass. Although that's possibly still better than being caught with his pants open, tissues scattering the floor. Yeonjun isn't dumb, he would be able to put things together before Soobin had even had the chance to say a single word.

"Just- Give me a second?" he adds a little more softly.

"I'll be right there."

"Yeah, sure."

A sigh of relief leaves Soobin's lungs in a rush and finally, the zipper goes up. In a haste, he stumbles through the room, grabs the soiled tissues from the floor, and throws them away properly. Then he straightens out the covers on his bed, hoping Yeonjun will simply assume he'd been lying down for a moment. For a heartbeat, he wishes he had enough time to do something about his heated skin and disheveled hair, but he's just going to have to hope the messiness of his usual will conceal his little secret.

With one last deep breath, he swings the door open.

And immediately wishes he could just throw it shut again.

Fucking hell.

Yeonjun is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His black shirt is tight, a few too many buttons undone, and Soobin has to gulp as his eyes scan the lines of his muscles underneath the sleeves. He can't help himself. He knows he's supposed to look at Yeonjun's face, but his mind is still a little numb, gets stuck somewhere around Yeonjun's chest, and the only thing it provides is there is a piercing there.

If all of this isn't bad enough already, Yeonjun seems to have jumped out of the shower quickly, barely gotten dressed before he ventured down the hallway to check in on Soobin. A few stray drops of water trickle down his neck, disappearing somewhere underneath his shirt, and Soobin's fingers are twitching by his side, aching to reach out and follow their paths.