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Hanbin should pack his stuff and go. The more he worked on his laptop to edit the photos from the night before and lace them with malware, the more he felt like he’d reached such a low point in his life that the only option was to go back to Seoul, hand in his resignation letter and hole himself up in his room until the humiliation would wear off. 

Truly, he’d gone along with Zhang Hao’s stupid suggestion because he was already out of his mind. There was no other explanation. Maybe, he’d already gone too far when he’d suggested the first round of photos. Which had then, consequently, driven him further insane. How was he supposed to be rational and fully in control after taking nude shots of the most attractive person he’d ever faced in his life? He wasn’t even a true professional photographer. Because, if that had been the case, this would have been blatant workplace misconduct. Yet, he was failing as a professional journalist, too. He wasn’t supposed to be this swayed by anyone’s looks. Or personality. Or overall nature. 

The more he took in the photos they’d taken together, the more he wanted to disappear. He should feel happy, accomplished, that they’d turned out believable. A job well done, in that regard. Something they’d collaborated on to achieve a good result, and cheers to Hanbin’s unscrupulousness, to his dedication to his job: a reporter willing to push the boundaries of what’s possible and what’s not in order to get to the truth. But there was a sense of shame in the way he wanted to skip through the photos until he reached the ones from a different day. He’d let go of all objectivity and reason while he was posing with Zhang Hao. He’d let his own hands roam too freely on his body, he’d let him grab at him and pull him wherever he pleased without any second thoughts. He’d enjoyed it. He wasn’t supposed to. 

And looking at the photos, seeing Zhang Hao’s fakely blissed out expressions, his pleading eyes constantly fixed on Hanbin’s own figure, was torture. He was an actor, and a good one. Of course, it would turn out looking this natural. But the anguished grip of Hanbin’s hands on his waist, the malleable angle of his face in Zhang Hao’s hands, between his legs, was too much. It wasn’t faked. Hanbin couldn’t face him. He would have to make up some excuse or other not to see him anymore. And goodbye to the reportage. And goodbye to the behind-the-scenes photos, too. 

*

“You look like a truck has hit you.” Thank you, Matthew. The manager was standing opposite Hanbin, on the other side of a cafè table, with two glasses of juice in his hands. He handed one to Hanbin. Hanbin downed it in one go. “Thirsty?” Ironic.

“Rough night,” Hanbin dismissed it all. Or, well, he tried to. Matthew’s raised eyebrow called for trouble. He sat down in front of Hanbin. 

“So, I’ve heard something about your nightly habits,” he started. God, please, no. “Is that perhaps why you’re looking so tired?”

Hanbin took a breath. It felt like a sigh. “I don’t know what you’ve heard. But I just had trouble sleeping. Couldn’t get any sleep. Stared at the ceiling the whole night.”

Matthew took a sip of his own juice. “I don’t want to intrude on your business,” he said, afterwards. Yet he was going to, wasn’t he? Hanbin braced himself. He did enjoy Matthew’s company, if he was honest. He liked how little he cared about what others thought. He felt like he could learn a lot from him in this regard. “But, if I’m not completely unable to interpret your moods, you should just learn that these people, actors, that is, famous ones, hardly do anything they don’t want to do.” Hanbin must be frowning, if Matthew’s laugh was anything to go by. “It’s like, you’ll be wracking your nerves trying to understand whether they really want you around or not. And then, it’s surprisingly easier than it looks. If they want you, they’ll keep you around. If they don’t, they won’t.”

Hanbin had no idea what he was supposed to say. Was he allowed to ask the question he really wanted advice on? He didn’t really think that asking hey, do you think he would hate me if I told him I couldn’t get him off my mind even after literally rubbing one off with him on my mind? was something he could do without breaking the tentative friendship he was building with Matthew. So he settled for a lame reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, really. I’ve only been working non stop here.”

Matthew sighed. “Whatever,” he shrugged. “But do yourself some good, and think back on how you weren’t even allowed within two feet of him at the beginning.” Okay. Matthew had a point. Maybe Zhang Hao didn’t hate to have him near. It still didn’t mean that he would love to know that Hanbin had lost all dignity just because they’d hugged on camera. 

“Mh-hh,” Hanbin nodded, unwilling to give out too much. “Oh, by the way.” 

“Yes?” Matthew was staring at him with an amused look. Maybe Hanbin could consider asking him out for a drink when they were all back in Seoul. It had been quite long since he’d made friends with someone this easily. 

“I’ve heard some things about you, too.” Matthew burst out laughing. “Like, from a direct source.”

“I have a right to an attorney,” Matthew laughed, and then he leaned a bit closer, conspiratorially. “Couldn’t even shut up about it for one single day, could he?”

Hanbin laughed, too. “He was kind of in a rush. I recruited him to help me with some computer stuff I needed, and he was extra nice and helpful. But then the time came when the two of you were supposed to meet, I guess. And he literally left in a half second.” Gunwook had been a life-saver, and Hanbin had spared him the well-deserved jokes he should have gotten. He’d hardly ever seen anyone so desperate. “So, I think I should know how it went.”

Matthew’s smile turned a bit dreamy. Hanbin regretted his question. “So, you know how where I’m from they allow same-sex marriage, right?” Hanbin was speechless. “If he keeps  up like that, I might consider it.”

“Wow,” he said. “You’re insane,” he didn’t mean it in a bad way, necessarily. 

“Maybe you should be a bit more insane, too,” Matthew was smiling. “But, no, really. He’s a sweet one. He’s got manners. And he’s smart. And, boy, have you seen his body? Have you heard him laugh? I’m not saying I’ll date him forever, but. You know. There’s a chance. A real one.”

“Good for you,” Hanbin considered saying something a bit deeper that was on his mind. “It’s just, you know, rare that you could just lock eyes with someone across a room and be sure that they’re the person for you. It’s never happened to me, and maybe it never will.”

Matthew downed the last of his juice. “Maybe not in this universe,” he shrugged. “Maybe there’s another timeline, somewhere, where you and your soulmate meet and immediately hit it off. Where you don’t suffer from doors shut in your face. Where you hold each other’s hand from day one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hanbin shook him off. “And it’s preposterous to think that he ’s my soulmate.”

“Is it, though?” Matthew’s smile had turned sly once again. “I mean, if you don’t believe in the concept, I can understand. But if you do, then it’s not preposterous. I’ve been observing you.”

Hanbin would’ve liked to know more about this. What had Matthew been observing? What evidence did he even have on something as ridiculous as soulmates? 

“Hanbin.” Zhang Hao was there. And he didn’t look pleased in the slightest. “I’m about to shoot, I have four scenes set on the schedule. Aren’t you coming?”

Matthew’s smirk was unmistakable. “I was waiting for the assistants to tell me you were ready,” he said. Lie. He was waiting for some assistant to come and tell him he wouldn’t be needed, because that was the scenario he’d imagined. Surely, not Zhang Hao himself with an angry expression and his hands in his pockets, looking like an unhappy child. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

“Bye,” Zhang Hao frowned at Matthew. 

“See you,” Hanbin echoed. “Good luck with your new boyfriend, too. If he’s not your husband by the next time we meet.” Matthew laughed, as a way of saying goodbye. “What’s wrong?” Hanbin asked Zhang Hao.

“You could have come earlier, while I was getting ready, too.” Oh, dear, and prolonging the torture by another half hour? Hanbin wasn’t sure he could take being in the same tiny room with Zhang Hao, cramped, as he got his hair and make-up done. “Anyway, while you were busy flirting with Miyeon noona’s manager, Ricky told me that his assistant guy, you know which one, is still going mad about those missing prop trunks.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” why did Hanbin feel like he had to defend himself? “This trunk thing looks like it’s worth looking into. Tomorrow you don’t have any scenes, right? Interviews?”

Zhang Hao was still looking at him with a scowl. “I’m free.” He said, curt. 

“Then, that’s settled. We’re looking into that, tomorrow.” Hanbin didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t bring up their last interaction before this one. And, about the future, too. What was he going to say? He couldn’t quite ask Zhang Hao to go visit him tonight, so that they could discuss their plans further. 

“So what were you two discussing? If you weren’t flirting.” Oh, he was really stuck on that. 

“The conversation stemmed from the fact that I had trouble sleeping,” Hanbin started recounting. “Then it moved onto how Gunwook, the editor, the one who helped with the malware, took Matthew out on a, yeah, a date. Yesterday. And then we discussed the concept of soulmates.” Zhang Hao was looking at him with a wary expression. “And then you showed up.”

“Okay,” Zhang Hao said. 

Hanbin stopped walking. “Listen, I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do,” he had no idea why he was even saying this. “But, you told me you trusted me. And I respect your trust. I wouldn’t break it.” Zhang Hao had stopped right before him. He was looking at him, his expression slightly more open. “I’m not going around telling people about your things, I’m not going around acting like an asshole. I’m ever so glad you chose to trust me.”

Zhang Hao shook his head. “It’s not even about airing my business,” he muttered. 

“Then what is it about?” Hanbin didn’t understand anything anymore.

“Nevermind,” Zhang Hao walked through the door of the reception hall where the scenes would be filmed. “It’s all in my head.”

“Can’t we talk about this again, later?” Hanbin had had no intention of begging anyone. 

“Oh, sure we will,” Zhang Hao forced himself to smile. “Now let’s both do our jobs.”

*

They didn’t talk about it again. The day went by in a whirlwind of things to take care of. Hanbin took too many photos. He helped carry equipment on and off the set, he was roped into setting up the lights for another scene, too. Zhang Hao was dragged off set to go speak with a producer right away. It was about some cinema festival thing, he made sure to text Hanbin. 

It all felt weird. Broken. Hanbin didn’t know how many things he’d gotten wrong. Maybe he’d messed up by trying to avoid Zhang Hao’s ire, therefore causing it? Or, he’d messed up by not apologizing properly for the night before in the morning. He should have gone to his room first thing in the morning and told him that he’d crossed a line of professionalism he wasn’t going to cross anymore. But he’d been a bit too caught up in his own mind to think clearly about how bad Zhang Hao might have lived the night before, too. How ill at ease he must have felt, with Hanbin’s inability to deal with their faked intimacy in a normal way. 

He ate dinner alone, in front of his laptop in his room. And then he decided that this couldn’t go on like this. If Zhang Hao wasn’t coming to his room tonight, then he would have to go to his. There was stuff they needed to talk about and they needed to do it now. He put on his socks and shoes and he forbade himself from overthinking this. He’d been thinking all day long, and look where it had got them: not investigating, and wasting time on being upset with each other. Or with themselves, in Hanbin’s case. 

“Where are you going?” Zhang Hao was standing right before his door, his right hand raised as if he were about to knock. 

“To you,” Hanbin replied. He watched as Zhang Hao’s face did something complicated. “We had to talk, right?” 

“Was I late?” Zhang Hao was staring at him with his eyes wide. “Were you worried?”

Hanbin let him get inside his room and took his shoes off again. He shouldn’t have bothered, he could have gone across one floor with his slippers. He sighed. He also sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been worried all day long, let’s be honest.”

“What? Why?” Zhang Hao sat next to him. 

“I should apologize to you, shouldn’t I?” Hanbin was staring at the floor. Their two pairs of shoes were untidily strewn in front of the door. Zhang Hao hadn’t undone the laces. The back of his sneakers was worn out. Hanbin’s laces were dirty, he should wash them, maybe. 

“If it’s because of the manager thing, I clearly overreacted,” Zhang Hao said. “So, no. You don’t need to apologize. If anything, I-”

“The manager-? No,” Hanbin’s frustration was rising. How was he supposed to explain? He couldn’t verbalize the things he’d thought. The things he’d done. “The photos we took last night,” he started. “I put you in a difficult position. I apologize. I knew you’d say yes to the plan because you feel involved in what is, though, my job. It has little to do with you. I made you take an unnecessary risk. I took advantage of your good disposition. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“Did I tell you I was uncomfortable?” Zhang Hao was frowning slightly. “Did I look like I was uncomfortable?”

“No, but,” you’re an actor. You’re not supposed to look uncomfortable . Hanbin’s eyes were stinging a bit. “It can’t have been comfortable. You hardly know me. And there’s the fact that I’m not your colleague.”

“So I would’ve been uncomfortable because you’re not trained to pretend to be in love with others?” Zhang Hao’s tone was frustrated, too. “Are you stupid?”

“Sorry?” Hanbin did think he was a bit stupid. He’d been thinking about it for a while. 

“Don’t you think I would have stopped, if that was the case? Haven’t you witnessed me fight everyday with every executive about things I don’t want to do?” He looked angry. “Don’t you think that I chose to do it because it was okay with me?” Hanbin didn’t really think it could be okay with him. “This can’t be the thing that’s got you stressed, Hanbin. That’s simply too stupid.” 

And he was right, too. But Hanbin couldn’t confess what he’d done. The state he’d been in. “Maybe I’m too stupid, then.” He said, stubbornly. 

“You’re really not,” Zhang Hao insisted. “So, why do you think I left to sleep in my room? Tell me.”

Hanbin didn’t want to do this in this way. “Maybe we should just get back to work,” he suggested. “Like, plan how we’re going to inspect the trunks tomorrow.”

Zhang Hao was staring at him with his eyes charged with something electric. “Are you really this blind?” Zhang Hao whispered. He was staring at Hanbin with the same gaze that had haunted Hanbin’s mind for the past twenty-two hours. Hanbin didn’t mean to move closer to him. Zhang Hao let himself go into a thin smile. Hanbin was stupid. “How much longer are you going to keep me waiting, Hanbin?”

Had this been an option all along? Hanbin moved even closer. He studied Zhang Hao’s expression. The open lines of his face, the sincerity pouring out of his eyes. The shallow breaths. Zhang Hao swallowed, Hanbin kissed him. He didn’t have the chance to move back like he would’ve liked. Zhang Hao’s hand had already sneaked up to his neck, pulling him in. Zhang Hao’s lips were soft, and his mouth was hot when he opened it to kiss Hanbin deeper. He was kissing Hanbin’s mouth like he had a vendetta against his upper lip, like he needed to make sure that Hanbin got the message, like he wanted to etch it into him. Hanbin’s fingers were gripping softly on Zhang Hao’s shirt. He allowed himself to spread a hand on his back. He felt Zhang Hao smile against his mouth. 

“Hao-” he was still as close to him as he could, their lips not completely separated from each other. Zhang Hao’s breath was a bit shaky. Before he could think any more about it, Hanbin kissed him again. It was just better if he didn’t think. Zhang Hao exhaled softly against him, and he let himself be kissed by Hanbin. From the way he was wrapping an arm around Hanbin’s shoulders, Hanbin gathered he was allowed to pull him closer. Zhang Hao gasped, breaking their kiss for a short second, when Hanbin half pulled him onto his own lap. Zhang Hao’s thighs ended up bracketing Hanbin’s, with him sitting on top of him, as they were still kissing. And kissing. And kissing. Hanbin hadn’t known desperation until now. He hadn’t known hunger. 

Zhang Hao was laughing softly, between wet kisses, and he was also whining in the same soft way, whenever Hanbin lingered a bit longer against his mouth. It was intoxicating. A drug Hanbin had lived without until now, and wouldn’t live without as well from now on. It was going to break him, going back home and having to live without this. Zhang Hao’s louder gasp as Hanbin slid one hand under his shirt had them back off from each other. Zhang Hao’s face was flushed, his lips already swollen. He kissed Hanbin’s lips again, a quick peck. Then, suddenly, he was running his thumb along Hanbin’s lips. It was delicate, revering. “I can’t bear to think about you flirting with someone else,” Zhang Hao said, the color high on his cheeks. “And it makes me ashamed of myself.”

Hanbin smiled under his touch, Zhang Hao’s fingers moving to graze the dimple in his cheek. “I told you, I wasn’t.” 

“I know,” Zhang Hao replied. “Last night made me lose a bit of sanity,” he confessed. Hanbin could relate more than well. “I’m not usually jealous,” Zhang Hao explained. “I’m not usually this desperate, either.” Again, Hanbin could understand this too well. “I’m sorry for being immature.”

Hanbin caught his wrist and kissed his hand, the one that had been drawing silly shapes on his face. “You’re fine,” he said. “I avoided you all day because I thought I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye, after last night.” Zhang Hao laughed. “You drove me a bit crazy, too, last night.”

“How crazy are we talking?” Zhang Hao questioned immediately. 

“How much sanity did you lose, then?” Hanbin didn’t miss a beat. Zhang Hao laughed again. Hanbin didn’t care about the answer to his question, and he believed Zhang Hao didn’t care about his either. He kissed him again. 

Zhang Hao’s kisses were the sweetest Hanbin had tasted in his life, the ones he could see himself never tiring of. He let his hands roam under Zhang Hao’s shirt, as he didn’t allow his mouth to stray from the other’s. Zhang Hao should be kissed forever, in Hanbin’s opinion. He shouldn’t spend a single day without being kissed like this. If Hanbin could be the one to provide this service, he would do it gladly. “Hanbin,” Zhang Hao’s voice had turned a bit raspy. He’d moved out a bit, but he was littering Hanbin’s jaw in tiny, fast, kisses. 

“Yes,” Hanbin echoed him. He slipped his hands further up his chest, grazing his nipple with his thumb. Zhang Hao’s answering whine was gratifying. 

“Why?” Zhang Hao was making little sense. Hanbin touched him in the same spot again. A high-pitched moan was the reply. Zhang Hao’s head fell back. 

“Why what ?” Hanbin didn’t believe they could have any conversation now. Not like this. Not with Zhang Hao moaning between his arms and with his hard cock pressing against Hanbin’s belly. Hanbin ran his fingers across Zhang Hao’s waist. Then he traveled upwards again. Along his spine, up, down, back to his chest, ghosting along his ribs. He should do it with his mouth, too, but in order to do that they should move. And maybe Hanbin didn’t feel like moving, now. 

Zhang Hao’s breath was always irregular, faster and slower in turns. Heavy and light. Hanbin was taking it all in like he wouldn’t allow himself to forget a single detail. “You’re making me like this,” Zhang Hao said, borderline sobbing the words. It must be the reply to Hanbin’s question. What had he even asked? “And you’re not planning to do anything about it?”

Like this . Hanbin took him in once again. His eyes were glossy, his face flushed. He was clinging to Hanbin’s shoulders like his grip on their reality depended on that. He was whining at every small touch Hanbin gifted him with. “Who said I’m not doing anything about it?” He smiled as he said it. He couldn’t avoid smiling. Zhang Hao was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He was a dream, and he wanted Hanbin . It didn’t sound real, but Hanbin wasn’t letting this go. He wasn’t letting Zhang Hao go. Not tonight. 

“Oh,” Zhang Hao breathed. It was very possible he didn’t know that he was softly rolling his hips into Hanbin’s. “And what are you going to do, then?” Hanbin let both his hands fall on his hips. Zhang Hao’s eyes fell closed. He was amazing. He was so reactive, so sensitive. Hanbin felt delirious. 

“Whatever you want me to do,” he replied. And he wasn’t lying. He wanted to make this man so happy. He wanted him to never feel unsatisfied again. “Just tell me. I’ll do it.”

Zhang Hao pushed himself away a bit. “Fuck,” he swore. “Are you always like this?” 

Hanbin was nodding and he was shaking his head, and he didn’t know what to answer. He didn’t have anything to compare this with. He’d never wanted so much before. He’d never burned this bright for anyone. Just thinking about the few experiences he’d had made him realize how empty, how silly they’d been. Insignificant, all around. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “We’ll have to see.”

Zhang Hao’s eyes were shiny, and dark. And they were fixed on his mouth. Hanbin dragged him in another kiss. Zhang Hao moaned, loud, against his mouth, as Hanbin pulled him completely flush against himself. “Finger me,” Hao breathed. “Or,” another kiss to Hanbin’s mouth. “Your mouth. Your pick.”

So there was Hanbin, after peeling every layer of clothes away from Zhang Hao’s body. After making sure that there wasn’t an inch of that skin he hadn’t kissed. After hearing Zhang Hao laugh because he was tickling him, after looking up and seeing his adoring gaze fixed on him. After leaving a hickey right where no one would see it, on his hip bone, and then another one on his thigh, high up, unmistakably intimate. Zhang Hao had pulled himself up, he’d kissed Hanbin after that, deep and hot and, maybe, desperate. Hanbin had taken all the time in the world to kiss him, and he’d helped him lay down again. And then, he’d moved back where he was supposed to be: with his mouth between Zhang Hao’s legs, spreading him open. Eating him out. Zhang Hao’s moans had turned into full sobs, into half-repressed cries of Hanbin’s name, into pleas. Hanbin had little idea what he was doing, he was just doing what felt right, and he was giving his all. He was savoring it, the tight muscles of Zhang Hao’s rim, the enveloping heat he kept tasting on his own tongue. He could get used to it, to the fluttering reactions of Zhang Hao’s entrance, as he kept pushing and licking against it, past it. Inside it. It was just a shame that he could only reach so far. He pushed one finger inside, too, he just needed to get further in. Zhang Hao’s hips stuttered. Hanbin was forced to spread his free hand on him, to keep him still. I’m sorry , Zhang Hao whined. It’s just. A louder moan, because Hanbin had switched to licking under his cock. Hanbin knew he had to make Zhang Hao feel the best he could. He hoped he was getting this right. He ran his lips along Zhang Hao’s length, until he could wrap his whole mouth around him. He gave himself the time to adjust to the feeling, to the weight against his tongue, and then he dived in. It took him a few trials to be able to swallow it all down, but Hanbin had never felt more determined. Zhang Hao was squirming under him, he was wrapping his fingers in his hair, or running them along Hanbin’s jaw. When Hanbin spread his fingers inside him, Zhang Hao clenched so hard on him that it almost hurt. Maybe Hanbin was more of a masochist than he’d thought, because it only made him push into him harder, faster. Dragging it out just closer to the rim, only to push back into him in earnest. He had three fingers fucking Zhang Hao, and his cock inside his mouth, and he wasn’t going to stop. He was loving it. Zhang Hao sounded like he was agonizing. But he kept telling Hanbin not to stop, and he wasn’t going to. Until Zhang Hao’s broken voice gave a half-hatched warning. And Hanbin moved back. Zhang Hao’s cheeks were red, one hand over his face, his breath quick. He was coming. And Hanbin thought, stupidly, that he should have been there to swallow all of it. He kissed Zhang Hao’s hand, the one that had been gripping the sheets, and he moved upwards to kiss his jaw, too. Zhang Hao was still finding his breath back. 

“Open another one,” Zhang Hao handed him a condom. “It’s your turn now.” Hanbin couldn’t move. What was Zhang Hao doing? He didn’t need to. Hanbin could deal with himself, he- Zhang Hao pushed him, almost mean, to fall on his back. 

“Ow,” Hanbin protested. Zhang Hao was waiting for him to do as he’d said, though. And Hanbin did. He put it on himself, this time. Zhang Hao climbed hastily on top of him. Shit. Hanbin didn’t know how to act. Zhang Hao put both his hands to block Hanbin’s own hands against the mattress. 

“Let me,” he said. “Please, let me.” Hanbin would let him do whatever he pleased, he had the feeling he would always let him have his way. If there was a future for them, Zhang Hao would never hear him say no. Also, because, realistically. Who would say no to him? Not Hanbin. Not when Zhang Hao was wrapping himself around him in one smooth slide. Not when he was gasping for air as he bottomed out on top of Hanbin. Not when he pushed himself back, his thighs straining, Hanbin’s hands itching to reach over and support him. Not when he went down on Hanbin’s cock again, biting his lower lip to keep another groan down. Not when Hanbin couldn’t look away from his face, blissed out, as he took Hanbin in, all of it, their sweaty skin sticking together in obscene squelches. Not when Zhang Hao was riding him like he was born to do it. It was too hot. The roll of Zhang Hao’s hips was deliberate, now, and the way he dragged himself up and down was driving Hanbin insane. He wanted it to last longer, he wanted to do this all night. He didn’t have all this stamina, after all. But Zhang Hao’s tongue, opening his lips again, didn’t make him feel like he’d failed. He wrapped both his arms around the actor’s middle. If he knew a way to merge them into a single being, he would consider doing it right now.

*

“Are you okay?” Zhang Hao had fetched them some snacks. Hanbin wasn’t going to say no to food. He was exhausted, too. 

“Me?” Hanbin asked, a bit too high-pitched. He cleared his throat. “Why?”

Zhang Hao sat down next to him. He also took his hand. So that was how it was going to be? Hanbin was worried. Maybe they’d rushed it. Or maybe they had different visions. They hadn’t talked this out well enough. There was a week left of filming, during which he had to finish his investigation, possibly. And then he had to write. And now he also had to try and kiss Zhang Hao at least once again. Because how was he supposed to go back to his life from before without the confirmation that this man right here was the best thing to happen to him? 

“You look,” Zhang Hao stopped. “Worried, maybe. Did I-”

“No,” Hanbin didn’t let him finish. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe I did, though.” Zhang Hao was frowning. He let out a sigh. 

“Hanbin,” he started. “Just ask, whatever it is.”

Hanbin took a shallow breath. He pulled his hand away from Zhang Hao’s. “You’ve wanted me to ask about your personal life for twenty days, and I haven’t. And now I’m trying to convince myself that that was your way to signal to me that you were both gay and single, and I’m trying to not let myself believe that what we just did will hurt someone. Please tell me I read it the right way.”

Zhang Hao scoffed first. Then he looked at Hanbin again. He must have understood that Hanbin was serious, but he still broke out laughing. “Oh god ,” he said, after a while. Hanbin didn’t know how to react. He kept feeling small. And not really smart. “Hanbin, baby, you’re-” He sighed, and he twined their fingers together again. He was smiling and shaking his head. “We should have had a wider conversation before we started making out,” he said. Hanbin wasn’t less worried. “You read it the right way.” Oh, thank God . “I think that meeting each other on this set was the worst way to meet each other, it fucked up any chance at a normal timeline of things, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Hanbin was being honest. “Where would you have liked to meet me?”

Zhang Hao had a habit of pouting while he thought about things. It only made Hanbin want to kiss him again. “At uni,” he replied. “But, anyway. Now you got me stressed, you were single too, right?”

Hanbin laughed, too. “You have no idea how single I’ve been,” he replied. Zhang Hao’s pleased smile was short-lived. Only because Hanbin kissed him immediately. 

*

Zhang Hao fell asleep in Hanbin’s bed again. With the notable upgrade, since the last time he’d done so, that he played with Hanbin’s fingers until he fell asleep. And that he’d kissed Hanbin silly until ten minutes before that. Hanbin waited for him to really fall asleep, listening to his breathing get slower and deeper. He was beautiful. There were no other words for him. Maybe mesmerizing . But it wasn’t enough. Hanbin picked up his laptop from the nightstand. He needed to catch up on some writing. 

*

“We’re fucked.” 

Hanbin was standing under a wide-branched tree. He’d run there, with thirty-some new photos on his camera that would be enough to open up an investigation and never enough to close it. He was pacing in a circle. He needed to think. He needed time. He didn’t have time. Six days and this whole set would shut down. 

“What do you need?” Zhang Hao was with him. This was another insane thing. He didn’t have time to think about that either. (But, seriously, they’d had sex, they’d kissed for hours. Why was Zhang Hao still trailing along? He couldn’t possibly like Hanbin for real.) 

“We don’t have time.” Zhang Hao was nodding. The point was that in the mysterious trunks Kim Gyuvin had kept mentioning was something that shouldn’t have been there. Hanbin hadn’t expected it to be this easy, either, to find something this big and this incriminating. 

“I can give you time,” Zhang Hao said. Hanbin looked at him with a frown. How? “I can cause all the trouble you need,” Zhang Hao insisted. “Movie stars are insane, right? Entitled. Irrational.” Hanbin looked at him for a couple seconds. He was serious. Why was he helping Hanbin so much?

“It might not be the best choice, career-wise,” he muttered. 

Zhang Hao shook his head. “Let hyung handle it,” he whispered. Hyung? “I’ll text you, let’s catch up later.” 

And off he went. Hanbin turned his camera on again. He went to check the photos there. It was undeniable. Those vases, those statuettes, they weren’t supposed to be doing anything on that set. They didn’t need them on set. So what was it? Contraband? Are they robbing tombs? Zhang Hao had suggested, but Hanbin thought it might be from museum archives, storages where nobody really ever checked. How could he fucking prove it, though? 

To make things worse, he’d gotten an undisputable email from Kim Jiwoong. I need the Zhang Hao article as soon as you come back . Hanbin didn’t know how he was going to not end up in utter bankruptcy after this. 

So he needed to double down. And stop wasting time frolicking with pretty actors. (It didn’t feel like wasting time, though. And it didn’t feel like frolicking , either. What the hell was Hanbin doing with Zhang Hao? Did he have time to even think about that? What a mess.) He needed to backup those photos immediately, and start tracking where those items came from. How many more trunks had passed through the set? Where did they come from? Where were they going? Kim Gyuvin might help with the numbers, as for the destinations and the origins it was all on Hanbin’s shoulders. 

He ran back inside, closed himself up in his room and whipped out a note on his iPad and took his pencil. It was time to put his working brain up online. 

Archaeology. What did Hanbin know about archaeology? Very little, it turned out. He knew that there was a flourishing black market of illegally traded articles, but, really, everyone over seventeen years of age knows this. Did he know anything about people who dealt in art, illegal art? Of course, he didn’t. But he had a friend back in Seoul who worked in art galleries. And , the same friend was obsessed with heist movies. Hanbin had another friend back in Seoul who might know something about someone who could know something. It was time to make some calls. 

He spent the whole morning between phone calls and making notes and calling other people and putting numbers and timelines together. Zhang Hao passed through like a whirlwind at a certain point, looking like a madman, searching for his AirTag and then remembering that Hanbin’s room wasn’t his actual room. It was time he used the AirTag plot, he claimed. He was in and out in less than two minutes, yet he managed to stun Hanbin with a loud kiss to his mouth in that short time. So, that was still on the table? Hanbin didn’t have time . (He wished he could still waste five minutes thinking about what all this meant. You don’t go around kissing people if it means nothing, right?)

Lunch break was spent morphing up a decent article about Zhang Hao. Since he had very little time, he would have to revise it on his flight back. Until then, drafting something semi-acceptable was the best he could do. A knock on his door signaled Hana, the set director, telling him that his flight had been pushed back by a whole day, maybe two . “Why?” Hanbin had asked. Tears in her eyes, hair everywhere but in her ponytail, she’d replied. “Neither Miyeon-ssi nor Zhang Hao-ssi want to shoot their bedroom scenes tomorrow. They refuse to touch each other.” That’s what you get for hiring a lesbian and a gay man , Hanbin thought. And he also said it, because the true reasons were unspeakable. Hana didn’t even smile at that, she just huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” she nodded. “But they’re paid to pretend, you know.”

This meant, however, that Zhang Hao was doing his part of the job, by holding everyone back, by winning Hanbin some time. And Hanbin had to use it well. Favors like that shouldn’t go to waste. So he just asked why he couldn’t leave earlier, he was just a photographer, after all. Hana-the-set-director just stared at him. “Don’t pretend like the whole set doesn’t know about the two of you,” she replied. “Plus, it’s easier to deal with all the flight tickets at once, instead of doing it one by one”. 

So Hanbin kept working, and he kept writing, and making the calls he had to make, and asking the questions he had to ask, to the right people. Gyuvin tried his best to be helpful, but it wasn’t easy to put together how many trunks had gone in and out of the set warehouse. It was deliberately messy, and there were people in on it, clearly. People that they shouldn’t tick off. They couldn’t be noticed so blatantly, not when they were at the turning point.

“This can’t be the first time they’re doing this, either,” Gyuvin said. He, too, was sitting in Hanbin’s room. It was crowded, with Hanbin sitting on one corner of the bed, while Zhang Hao occupied the middle of it, like he owned it. 

“I think we should focus on that later,” Zhang Hao replied. He had Hanbin’s iPad in his hands and he was reviewing his notes from the day. “So, who’s in charge of moving things around? You have the names, we should just observe them a while longer.” He , specifically, shouldn’t do anything except for acting. Hanbin worried about his involvement in this investigation. What if he got hurt? 

“Sorry,” Gyuvin spoke up. “But I think you shouldn’t really be a part of this, Hao-ssi,” oh, thank God someone was sane. Zhang Hao was frowning deep. 

“What are you saying? I’ve been a part of this for a while, just so you know. Hanbin, tell him.” Hanbin looked away. 

“Hyung,” Gyuvin was addressing Hanbin, too. “Come on, he can’t be a part of this. Everyone’s keeping their eyes on him all the time.”

“Which might be useful,” Hanbin was forced to say. “Listen, if he’s sneaking around and being suspicious on one end of the set, that allows you and me to go look elsewhere and be less noticeable.”

“No,” Gyuvin insisted. “Because everyone knows that you two are f-” he clearly hadn’t meant to say it. “I meant. Hanbin hyung is pretty much as noticeable as Hao-ssi. Because of your closeness.”

Zhang Hao was unimpressed. “Closeness or not, we have to get to the bottom of this.”

Hanbin let out a sigh, a loud one. “We don’t have to get to the bottom of this, the police will do that once I’ll have given enough evidence to force them to open a case. That’s how this works. We’re not going to make arrests.” Zhang Hao looked disappointed. Hanbin couldn’t disagree with the sentiment, but that was how the world worked. Hanbin had never dreamed of being a superhero, yet there were times when he wished he could do more than printing out a few files and hand them over to an officer. 

“Fine,” as if it was Hanbin’s fault. “So, can you at least give us a list of what you need?” Hanbin could practically hear him rolling his eyes. It shouldn’t make him smile the way it did. Zhang Hao’s phone started vibrating on the nightstand where it was plugged into the charger. “Let me answer to my agent in a way that will make him worry that I’ve lost my mind for good,” Zhang Hao said, and he got up. “Can I tell him about you, babe?” 

Hanbin felt his ears burning. What would Zhang Hao even tell his agent? Was it about how he refused to act? If so, what did Hanbin have to do with that? “Do what you need to do,” he replied. He hoped Zhang Hao got the message. He kinda feared he wouldn’t. 

“So,” Hanbin turned back to talking to Gyuvin. “I think that having a copy of the contracts from the moving company, or the logistics, could be helpful, as it would allow us to determine who really was in charge of getting the trunks in and out of the set.” Gyuvin was looking at him weird. “What?”

“ What? ” Gyuvin echoed him. “ Babe? ” 

Hanbin retrieved his iPad from where Zhang Hao had left it. “Didn’t you say that everyone knows we’re- involved?” Which was a big problem, for Hanbin’s life. He was meant to be haunted by it for the rest of his career, he was rather sure. “Aren’t you part of everyone?”

“Hyung,” Gyuvin’s eyes were wide. “That’s an A-list actor, and you’re dating him? How did that happen?”

Dating? Hanbin wasn’t- He and Zhang Hao weren’t- “We haven’t discussed dating,” he stuck to the facts. “And, seriously, there must be something that gets you to focus on the fact that we have two big crimes being committed in our workplace. How is it that my relationship with Hao-ssi is more interesting to you?” 

“Two things can be interesting at once,” Gyuvin protested. 

“And that’s true, but we don’t have time ,” Hanbin retorted. “So. The contracts. I can take the blame for entering the system or hacking it, I don’t care. Just tell me what computer and I’ll search through it.”

“Hana’s,” Gyuvin replied instantly. “She has access to almost everything. And she keeps the laptop in the common room for the assistants,” he added. “I can let you in the room, but after that-”

“I know,” Hanbin was grateful nonetheless. “I’ve done it more times than you’d like to know,” he shrugged. “Let’s go.”

*

Jiwoong

> so it’s come to my attention (through han yujin) that you’re possibly the subject of a thread of jetset gossip going around on the forums concerning the movie you’re working for.

> they’re saying that on a movie set abroad, in a resort, a very famous lead actor is currently involved in an intense romance with a photographer working on the crew, that the whole cast and crew know and that the actor hasn’t slept in his own room for days. 

> so i have to ask: how is it going?

Hanbin Sung

> would you believe me if i denied it?

Jiwoong

> that’s basically a confession in itself and you know it.

> do you like him for real or are you just conducting an interview in a new way?

Hanbin Sung

> hyung.

> i’m clearly not doing this because of an interview. 

> he’s

> he’s a lot of good things, yk.

> pity the movie wraps up soon

Jiwoong

> it’s not like you two live in the same city after all

Hanbin Sung

> it’s not that

> we’re not from the same world, though

> but, i mean. time will tell

> right?

Jiwoong

> time isn’t a magic wand, hanbin-ah

> you have to do something about it yourself.

Hanbin Sung

> i think i have a lot more work to do before that, don’t i?

> (thanks to you, btw)

Jiwoong

> idk what to tell you.

> just avoid breaking your own heart, okay?

> i’ve read the drafts you’ve been sending. 

Hanbin Sung

> literally your job

> what does that have to do with heartbreak, though?

Jiwoong

> what, indeed.

> just take 10 minutes of your day to re-read that article and take a look at the photos you’ve put in it. 

> you’re very clear in the way you use your words. 

> i’m happy it isn’t one-sided, it would’ve been painful to read that with such knowledge

*

It took Hanbin a whole other day to find the time to heed Jiwoong’s advice. Getting the contracts out from Hana’s computer was rather easy, reading through all of them, sorting them, understanding what looked legitimate and what didn’t was the actually complicated part. And Hanbin hated this part of the job, because the adrenaline morphed into anxiety, the desire to do a great job  —  which always propelled him forward  —  turned into the stress of not letting anyone down, of producing something worthy once again. And he couldn’t breathe, but he also had to breathe or he wouldn’t get anything done. 

If he ate something, he did it because Zhang Hao brought him food. If he drank water, it was the bottles Zhang Hao left for him on the nightstand. Hanbin barely took his eyes away from his laptop for more than twenty-four hours. When he was done, he backed everything up on three different hard drives, then he emailed himself a zipped version of the whole folder, and then he thought that he needed to sleep. And he slept for three hours. 

He would’ve slept more, but there was loud knocking on his door and he had to get to it. 

“Filming’s resuming,” Kim Gyuvin told him. “And you’re expected on set.”

“What time is it?” Hanbin yawned.

Gyuvin looked at him like he was crazy. Hanbin couldn’t bring himself to care. “Seven in the morning,” the young assistant replied. Fuck . Okay. It marked the beginning of a second day in which Hanbin had failed to talk to anyone important. Namely, a single person. Zhang Hao. 

Zhang Hao was already in costume, with his hair and make-up perfect. He was sitting on a chaise-longue next to the pool and he was wearing shorts and an unbuttoned shirt. Hanbin tried to meet his eyes from a distance. He tried to wave at him. Fuck it, if everyone was gossiping about them already he could go and say hi. Or would he disturb the set? But they weren’t filming, yet. God . He told himself to get a grip. Jiwoong’s texts had messed with his brain, clearly. There was no reason to be so on edge. Zhang Hao knew he’d been working nonstop, he wouldn’t be upset with him for not really paying attention to him, right? Right? He would have to talk to him later. Tell him that he usually wasn’t like this. That he was only fighting against time, and this meant that everything felt rushed, and urgent and desperate. 

Zhang Hao finally looked in his direction. Hanbin looked back. He hoped his face conveyed how sorry he was feeling. Zhang Hao rolled his eyes, and immediately smiled. Hanbin mouthed a silly fighting to him, who grimaced. Then, the assistant director walked to Zhang Hao, and blocked their respective view. Hanbin switched his camera on. 

Watching Zhang Hao confess his feelings as a romantic lead was weird. Hanbin looked at his face all the time, snapping photo after photo. Yet, his words kept getting conflated in his memory with everything they’d been through. He knew that, if he wasn’t witnessing a love confession scene, he would never process Zhang Hao’s attitude towards himself as anything remotely close to love. Passion, sure. Attraction, too. Love’s a different matter, and Hanbin knew. Yet, Zhang Hao kept reshooting his lines, repeating how he couldn’t take his mind off the beautiful heiress, how he was only able to think about her and nothing but her, despite his business, despite his many duties. The characters were plain, they sucked, like the rest of the movie, honestly. And Hanbin was hearing this speech for the twelfth time. I can’t forget the only kiss you allowed me. Zhang Hao and him had gone so much further. It’s humiliating, I’ve only known you briefly . Hanbin didn’t think there wasn’t anything humiliating about clicking with someone almost instantly, with finding out that there was someone out there that had the ability to get you even if you didn’t explain yourself. Please, let me be the one on your side. Maybe, that way I could stop laying awake at night, thinking of you. Hanbin wondered if, were the circumstances different, were he not stressed to death with deadlines and with the dramatic sight of his career ending, he would actually spend sleepless nights thinking about Zhang Hao. Not like it happened after their photoshoot. More like the lines were suggesting: being unable to drift away from the small moments shared within a couple that wasn’t yet a couple. That might never be one. At the same time, it was impossible not to think about how many nights he’d already spent sleeping on Zhang Hao’s side, how natural it was to just turn on one side and feel him asleep next to him, warm and cozy under the light sheets. Would he miss it? Would it have him stay awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he was allowed to just send a text asking to grab a coffee together? Hanbin knew that he had no right to ask for a future where this was ordinary, where he got to open his eyes in the morning to Zhang Hao’s sleepy face, yawning and smiling at the same time, where he could just stretch his hand on his mattress and find the other’s body, where he could roll into his arms if he only so wished. I promise I’ll be the best man you could find , Zhang Hao’s character repeated. What a nonsensical promise. How can a person establish who’s the best man to find in the whole wide world? Love is not about being the best, it’s about trying and trying. And about being there. And about being lucky enough to find someone that makes you want to keep trying, and who keeps trying in return. Was Hanbin lucky like that, then? 

“Cut,” the director yelled. “Zhang Hao-ssi, I don’t know what your problem is today, but please get back into this fucking character.” Hanbin blinked. Such harsh criticism had never been heard before on this set. Zhang Hao had never been reprimanded, not even slightly. Impeccable, he’d only received praise. “Miyeon-ssi, I’m sorry about all this. Let’s take five and then we’ll shoot again. Let’s hope it’s the last take.”

Zhang Hao nodded. And then he let out a loud groan. Hanbin stayed put, the last thing they needed now was to have everyone focusing on them, blaming Hao’s underperforming on their liaison. Yet, when he raised his eyes from his camera, Zhang Hao was walking towards him. “This script sucks,” he said. And he plopped down to sit on a foldable chair next to the pool. “And my acting sucks too, if we’re honest.”

Was Hanbin allowed to touch his hair? Would Ricky skin him alive for messing up his styling? He only dropped a hand on Zhang Hao’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can I help, somehow?”

Zhang Hao shook his head. “He’s right, the director. I can’t think like the character, today. I keep thinking that, if it were me, I’d do all this in a completely different way. And it comes out fake.”

Hanbin wasn’t sure he could understand it fully. “If it were you, you wouldn’t stop after the first kiss either,” he told him, as softly as he could. He hoped no one heard. Zhang Hao’s eyes were wide as he turned to stare at him. “Maybe it’s easy for you to try and draw parallels,” Hanbin didn’t know why he was being so honest. It would come to bite him in the ass, he was sure. “But your stories have been different since the start, let’s be real. It’s all a silly coincidence, right? You can do it in a different way, when it’s about you.”

Hanbin watched Zhang Hao nod. “It’s the most stupid acting advice I’ve ever gotten,” he replied. Hanbin laughed. “Are you free tonight?”

“What?” Zhang Hao was looking at him, still waiting for his real answer. “I mean, if we wrap filming at a normal hour and I get a couple hours to write, then I’m free.” 

Another eye roll. Maybe Hanbin was driving this man insane. “You’re always so busy,” he complained. “Can we eat together? Can you come to my room?” Like that? In front of everyone? Hanbin’s cheeks and neck must be so red. 

“Yes,” he still said. “I will,” he reiterated. “You should go now. Will it be okay?” Zhang Hao nodded, and he was also smiling. Hanbin knew he was smiling just as bright. He needed to get a grip. They both did.

*

Zhang Hao’s room had a private pool. He’d had a private pool all the time. He’d spent all those days holed up in Hanbin’s shitty room, with just a bed and an extra chair, and he’d had a whole private pool at his own disposal. Sure, it was small, if you compared it to the main pools in the resort, but it was a pool . It was absurdly comforting to sit in it, with the water gently lapping at Hanbin’s waist, waiting for Zhang Hao to change into his swimming trunks. The remnants of the dinner they’d ordered were forgotten on the desk inside, and Hanbin had promised he would throw them away later, when he left. He had no idea when that would be, though. In a short while? In the morning? He had something to tell Zhang Hao, but he was pretty sure Zhang Hao had something to tell him too. 

Zhang Hao sat on the edge of the pool. The sun had gone down a while before, and the outside space was lit up by light strings, all reflecting on the pool surface, and on Zhang Hao’s smooth skin. Hanbin let his eyes linger on his shoulders, he thought of the hundreds of kisses he’d left there, of the burn of Zhang Hao’s skin under his hands. Hanbin wanted him. It wasn’t new, but whenever they were alone somewhere Hanbin was hit by this unprecedented desire. He’d always been so disciplined, so calm and measured. And he was now losing it for someone whom he might lose in a few days. Maybe that was the reason behind his urgency, but he didn’t believe it. It was more visceral than that. He swam closer to Zhang Hao, ending up propped on his elbows on the poolside next to him. Zhang Hao extended a hand to comb Hanbin’s hair away from his forehead. 

“You worked so hard these last couple of days,” Zhang Hao said, low. “I feel like I hardly saw you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Hanbin was enjoying the way Zhang Hao’s hand kept caressing his hair. He pushed against his palm. Zhang Hao kept up with it. “This job is taking the will to live out of me,” Hanbin confessed. “Two pieces, plus the photography gig, and all the evidence to gather. The deadline. It’s- it’s a lot.” Hanbin wasn’t trying to make excuses for himself. “I’m sorry I kinda ignored you. I didn’t want to do that, I hated it, too.”

Zhang Hao was still running his fingers in Hanbin’s hair. “Is this how it’s going to be when we’re back home?”

Hanbin’s heart stopped. Then it picked up at twice the speed. The water around him was suddenly too cold, or too hot. He should get out of the pool. He should swim at the other end. “What do you mean?”

Zhang Hao didn’t take his hand away. “When we’re back home, in Seoul,” Zhang Hao’s voice was serious, but it was still calm. Hanbin had the distinct impression that he wasn’t as calm as his voice let him believe. “You’ll have to work, and, hopefully, I will, too. So, tell me. How is it going to be?”

Hanbin took a breath. And another one. “I don’t know how it’s going to be,” he admitted. “I can’t imagine what it could look like. With my job, there are days where I don’t go home until midnight, and days when I’m frustrated and I’m tired.” Zhang Hao’s expression was unreadable. “I want to tell you that it won’t be like this, with me not having time for you for forty-eight hours in a row. But I can’t.”

Zhang Hao looked away. “I haven’t asked anything from you,” he said. “I gave you all the help I could,” and Hanbin didn’t know how to thank him. “I put myself out there for you more than once,” Hanbin felt guilty about it. “And I think this warrants that I can ask at least something from you.”

Hanbin froze. He could contact the news company’s lawyers, if he had to. But finding a way to pay such a high-level VIP was virtually impossible. “You know I don’t have that kind of mon-”

“I don’t want money,” Zhang Hao sighed. “Hanbin, I’ve gladly accepted to put my whole career at risk, because I believe that your report will change things and that this criminal front of a set deserves to be taken down. But if the people here won’t confirm what you’ll write in a court setting, then I’m screwed. And it’s fine. I knew from the start. The thing is,” Hanbin wished he could know whether the end of this sentence would be good or bad. He wished he could know if he would go back in one piece or as a heart-broken man. “The fact is that this isn’t going to be enough.” What? “Being on your side for three weeks, because I was an idiot and wasted a whole week at the start, won’t be enough. Having spent every day here with you won’t be enough. I know what your job looks like, I’m not asking you to have half a day free for me every day. I just-” he finally met Hanbin’s eyes again. He was a bit teary-eyed. “I guess I’m asking you to tell me you’ll find some time for me. Every three days, every four days, I don’t care. I’m asking you not to put this thing away in your memory like it was a meaningless fling. It means quite a lot to me.”

“Hao-” Hanbin didn’t know what to say. 

“I can’t ask you to love me, it’s not how it works. And it’s early, and it’s desperate on my side. But. Let’s keep dating when we’re home, okay? That's all I ask.” Zhang Hao’s cheeks were wet, now. Why was he crying? Hanbin shifted to stand between his knees. He didn’t care if he was getting water all over Zhang Hao. He hugged his waist, he pulled him closer. Zhang Hao sobbed, his chin hooking on top of Hanbin’s head. 

“Okay,” Hanbin said, his face pressed against Zhang Hao’s chest. “Let’s do that.” Zhang Hao’s arms wrapped around Hanbin’s shoulders. “It makes me happy,” he went on. “It makes me so happy to think that I’ll keep seeing you.” Hao’s laughter shook through both of them. “Did you really think I’d say no?”

Zhang Hao only pulled him even closer. “No,” he muttered after a while. “I just hate being the one who says things out loud. But you’re dumb and you make me do all the work.” 

Hanbin laughed. He felt giddy. He was so stupidly happy. “Yet you want to date me,” he felt drunk just saying this. Zhang Hao, Zhang Hao , wanted him. Wanted to date him. “I’ll work hard for this honor,” he joked. 

“You better,” Zhang Hao rebutted. Hanbin wiggled out of their embrace, he needed to look at Zhang Hao’s face properly, he needed to take in his beautiful smile, his eyes full of affection. Zhang Hao laughed again, his laughter bright and loud. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to say all this while you look that hot in this pool.” Hanbin half choked on his own spit.

“Hyung.” It sounded so weird to call him hyung . But, what else should he use? “What are you even saying?”

Zhang Hao pushed himself inside the pool, the water accommodating him with few splashes. He swam closer to Hanbin again. “It’s true,” he said. “You’re hot. And hot guys look hotter with their hair wet and their shoulders exposed and their skin all glistening under fairy lights.” Hanbin didn’t know what to say to that. No one ever called him hot, usually. It wasn’t something he was trained to deal with. 

“Imagine how hard it’s been for me, to watch you be so beautiful twenty-four seven for the past month. Thinking you were so out of reach, until you were perfectly within reach. And I didn’t know how to act, because you’re too much, Hao,” the honorific just didn’t want to come out. “You’re too beautiful, and too smart, and too honest, and too fierce. And anyone would be lucky to have you on their side,” he was rambling, and Hao was crowding him towards the other end of the pool, and Hanbin knew he was going to have his back to the wall very soon, but he didn’t mind. “I don’t know why you would want me, but you can be sure that there’s not a moment when I don’t want you. A moment when I don’t wonder what you’d say to me if I was talking to you, a moment when I don’t think about what I’ll say first when I get to talk to you again. It’s been like that everyday.”

When the pool’s edge started digging again against Hanbin’s back, he stopped. He waited for Hao to take the last step. “You said you discussed soulmates with Seok Matthew,” Zhang Hao said. How did he even remember? “Do you believe in them?”

“No,” Hanbin replied instantly. “But if I did, you’d be mine.”

Zhang Hao’s pleased smile was instant. “Good,” he said. “Because I do,” liar. Hanbin snaked a hand around his waist. “I’ll prove it to you,” Hao kept on with his nonsense. “That we’re made for each other.”

“Good,” Hanbin just wanted to kiss him dumb. “I expect tidy, believable evidence. And a presentation.” Hao was smiling at him through his lashes. Hanbin spread his hand on his hips. “I’m going to kiss you, now,” he whispered. Hao’s smile grew bigger. “And then you’ll tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” Hao’s lips tasted a bit like the chlorine mix of the pool. It didn’t matter. Hanbin dug in. He’d been starving, he’d been parched. This was his saving, his source of happiness, of life. Hao’s hands traveled up his back, he latched his legs around Hanbin’s, helped by the water. Hanbin smiled against his mouth. He pulled him up to wrap fully around his waist, holding him from under his thighs. Their kiss got deeper, by either of their initiative. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Hanbin had Hao in his arms again, and that they’d promised each other a vague but tangible future, and that Hao’s lips were hot against his, and that he kept chasing after Hanbin’s mouth. He ran his tongue along Hao’s lips, against his teeth, against his own tongue. He kissed every corner of his mouth, taking his lip between his teeth, licking on it after, to soothe the sting. Hao’s thin breath often turned into gentle whines, and it only made Hanbin want to kiss him more, deeper. 

Time turned into nothing. It might have been one hour, or five minutes, but they were still there, sharing kiss after kiss, running reverent hands on each other’s backs, around each other’s waist. Hao pulled back, only to drag Hanbin in, again, under the water, too, their breaths, mingled, letting out a series of bubbles. When their fingers became wrinkled, when their skin felt too cold, Hanbin pulled himself out to hand Hao his bathrobe, and to wrap himself in a spare one. 

Hao’s eyes were dreamy. Hanbin only wanted to kiss him over and over again. “It’s unfair that we have to go back so soon,” Hao said. “I could live like this forever.”

Hanbin kissed his cheekbone. Hao’s smile turned warmer. “If only this wasn’t paid by contraband money,” Hanbin replied. Hao’s groan was mixed with laughter. 

“Let a boy dream,” he whispered back. 

“I can do better than that,” Hanbin breathed. Hao met his eyes, with a slow blink. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Hao followed him to his feet, followed him to sit on top of the mattress, where he immediately dug his hands under Hanbin’s robe. “Just sit still,” Hao said. His hands were spread on Hanbin’s hips, his fingers rubbing soft circles on his skin. Hao’s weight shifted, he leaned on Hanbin to get to the floor. Hanbin’s breath stuttered in his throat. Hao moved the bathrobe away from Hanbin’s legs, away from his crotch. He ran his fingers along the edge of Hanbin’s swimming trunks. “Off,” Hao ordered. Hanbin obeyed. He was ridiculous, and it was borderline humiliating, the haste with which he pulled it down, leaving the dark blue pair of shorts to lay around his ankles. So what if he wanted Hao to hurry up? What if he wanted to feel his own desperation? Hao was looking at him, his eyes full of something that was too close to hunger for it to feel completely safe. He licked his bottom lip, plump, now glossy. Hanbin’s throat was dry. “When we’re back home,” Hao started. Hanbin couldn’t look away from him. “When we’re back in Seoul, I’d like it raw.”

Hanbin didn’t have the time, the space, to think about it. About what it meant, what it implied. Faithfulness, possibly. Lust, surely. Whatever it meant, they would have to discuss it later, because Hao had already taken Hanbin’s cock in his hands. He gave one decisive stroke, his fist wrapped around it. Hanbin exhaled. Another one. Hanbin wasn’t yet fully hard. His head rushed a bit. Hao was smiling, he looked genuinely excited at the prospect of blowing Hanbin, it was crazy. “Hao,” Hanbin whispered. The other looked up at him, not letting his fingers stop. Hanbin didn’t know what to say. The thing on the tip of his tongue was insane, and impossible. He couldn’t tell someone he’d met less than a month ago that he loved him. His throat hurt a bit from the strain of not letting that out, of not letting himself break into sobs at the strength of his own feelings. “I’m yours,” he said, as if it was more normal. “You know that, right?”

Hao’s smile was too bright, too blinding. Hanbin closed his eyes. “Yes,” Hao replied, and his lips ghosted Hanbin’s tip. “All mine.” He took him in his mouth, wrapping his lips around him, enveloping every single nervous termination of Hanbin’s in ubiquitous heat. It was too much, too soon. Hao went down on him like it was a lifeline, like he would only be alive when Hanbin’s tip would hit the back of his throat. And he didn’t stop there, he kept raising his head back up, only to go down further the next second. Hanbin was fighting with himself to stay as still as he could. It was hard, he needed to meet Hao halfway, but he would only hurt him. He was clenching the sheets between his fingers, trying to keep in control as much as he could. He loved this, he hated this too. Hao let out a choked moan, and there were tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. 

“Easy,” Hanbin’s voice came out in a raspy whisper. “Go easy,” he repeated. He brought one hand to his face, tracing the shape of his jaw, the profile of his neck. He was so beautiful. Hao didn’t listen to him, naturally, and he pushed down until his nose hit Hanbin’s crotch, too. Hanbin ran his hand through Hao’s hair, combing it back. Hao brought a hand to wrap around Hanbin’s base, and he moved away. Now Hanbin was hard, completely so. It was filling Hao’s mouth to the brim, and the way he’d hollowed his cheeks and started sucking in earnest did nothing to stop Hanbin from going crazy. This could be the rest of his life, if he worked hard enough for it. This could be their future, bringing each other pleasure all the time, molding their own bodies to the shape of the other, studying new ways to be each other’s perfect match. Hao pushed back, he licked a long strip along his length, then he started again on the tip. Hanbin knew he was leaking, but he was going to last. He was going to give Hao all the fun he could get, it was clear he was enjoying it, too. Maybe more than Hanbin, even. As long as Hanbin could make him happy, he’d do everything. Hao’s mouth was on his length, his teeth slightly grazing, deliberately. It was amazing. Then he was under, and Hanbin’s breath stopped. Hao’s hand was on his cock, alright, his tongue, though, was tracing his balls, gentle but persistent. Hanbin didn’t know how much self control he had left. 

“Hao,” again, he sounded lost to a deeper world. “Hao, Hao , Hao.” Hao’s other hand rubbed soothing shapes on his thigh. “I want to-” come. “I need to come,” he managed. Hao moved back by a fraction, enough to free his mouth. 

“I’m here,” Hao replied. “Use me.” What. No. Hanbin shook his head weakly. He didn’t want to hurt him. He had work to do, his voice- “Hanbin,” Hao’s tone was clearer now. “I’m begging,” he really wasn’t. “Use me.” Hanbin found it hard to say no to him. He grabbed his face, too delicately. Hao looked at him. He opened up his mouth. Hanbin wasn’t going to force it on him. He just wasn’t. Hao rolled his eyes, and got closer by himself. He stopped as soon as his lips wrapped around Hanbin again. It was Hanbin who had to push himself past his lips. Hao looked blissed out, his jaw slack, his eyes half lidded. Hanbin pulled him in a bit more. And more. And then he pulled himself back, and before he realized it, he was fucking Hao’s mouth slowly. It was a first. One of many. Hanbin kept it calm, as much as he could, but Hao’s vocal response to it was driving him to madness. He kept whining and groaning and, seriously, how was he loving this so much? Hanbin’s hips snapped without him being able to avoid it. Hao moaned so loud Hanbin was sure they’d hear them from the next room. But it did it for Hanbin. It was what brought him over the edge. His fatal hit. He let go of his grip on Hao, but Hao’s hand forced him to keep a hand in his hair. Hanbin didn’t fight it. He let him stay where he wanted to. “Next time I’m swallowing,” Hao proclaimed, after he tied the condom and threw it away. Hanbin thought he must’ve entered a sort of dreamland. How could he explain that the hottest man he’d ever met wanted to date him and to do these things with him?

But Hao was far from done. Hanbin pulled him in for a kiss, for something that turned into a chaotic embrace, with their hands everywhere and their mouths melting against the other’s. Hao was hard, and he was also a bit desperate, in Hanbin’s opinion, judging from the way he kept rolling his hips against Hanbin, trying to find some pressure, some relief. Hanbin tried to push his hand between them. Hao shook his head. Hanbin kissed him again, quick and shallow. Hao was restless. Hanbin managed to move both of them enough that he could have his legs between Hao’s. “Like this?” Hao didn’t answer. He just kept up with his untidy grinding. Hanbin held him through it, until he raised his eyes to fix in Hanbin’s. He was breathless.

“Now,” Hao sobbed. “Your hand, now.” Hanbin didn’t wait, he just stuck his hand inside Hao’s pants and he jerked him off. It didn’t take much. 

It was later, with Hao’s thighs hanging from Hanbin’s shoulders, with him writhing and moaning under him, calling Hanbin’s name like he was praying on a god for salvation, with Hao arching to meet his thrusts, while he begged to go even deeper, while he tried to show Hanbin just how deep he could feel him, with his head thrown back and his forehead drenched in sweat  —  it was then, that Hanbin decided that he should let him read his reportage about him before he sent the final draft over. When they both finished, when they’d both caught their breath again, laying covered in sweat and drying come, when they’d decided that a shower was due, but neither of them felt like being the first one to get up for a long time, when they’d also fixed the bedding as much as they could, Hanbin let Hao wrap himself around him, let him rest his head against his nape, let his breath slow down a bit. “Hao,” he whispered, in the silence of their room.

“What is it?” Hao’s breath was soft against his neck. 

“I’m just happy that I met you,” Hanbin said. “I left Seoul thinking I would hate this job, and it would ruin my life. It surely changed it, but I’m very grateful. For you.”

Hao huffed a laugh. Then he yawned. “Let’s see how happy and grateful you’ll be in a few months,” he replied, still soft. 

Hanbin shifted, turned on himself until they were facing each other. In the dark, he couldn’t quite make out Hao’s expression, but he was quite sure of where his eyes were. “I have a hunch I won’t change my mind, not even in thirty years.” Hao must be smiling. 

“Ew,” Hao answered. “Sappy.” Hanbin laughed. 

“Okay, good night,” he turned back to resume their previous position. Hao left a kiss on his neck. Hanbin smiled, though he couldn’t be seen. 

“Night,” Hao muttered. His grip around Hanbin’s waist didn’t soften. 

*

[DRAFT: Interview Reportage. Title to be added]

This summer I’ve had the chance to spend a whole month living on a movie set, learning to move through all the dynamics of filming a movie, and getting to chat with all the people involved in working the magic. Mainly, though, I’ve had the privilege  —  and it’s not pure formality to call it such  —  to strike up a conversation with the lead actor of this project, Zhang Hao, that spanned several weeks. 

If you’ve never seen him on screen, think again. Zhang Hao, who was raised in China but started his acting studies and career in Korea, has taken part in so many TV dramas and movies that it’s practically impossible you haven’t seen his face at least once. At 25, he’s appeared in many an AD campaign, too, which, in turn, makes his look extremely familiar. 

Meeting him face to face, however, is a completely different feeling. First of all, although you might think he’s striking on screen, his real life presence is ten times more impressive, to say the least. It’s not his height to leave you starstruck, nor the remarkable features of his face. It’s the light behind his eyes that inescapably draws you in. 

“Acting,” he told me later, when I had the chance to discuss his approach to his job, “is a fine work of emotional awareness and intelligence. You have to be extremely honest with yourself and the emotions you’re feeling on the daily, if you want to portray any character convincingly. Especially when they’re very different from you, you have to be very conscious of what ties you together and what sets you apart.”

Somehow, this becomes more and more evident as you pay attention to the detail he puts in making sure his character from Last Resort   —  the romantic comedy I’ve witnessed in all its filming process  —  comes across not just as a traditional romantic lead, but as a full-rounded person. From his mannerisms to his clothing choices, nothing can be left up to chance. Zhang Hao needs to understand why his character would only button up to the third button, or why he would style his hair in one way and not in the other. 

“If I pick a certain outfit in my everyday life,” he explained to me, “I either pick it without thinking too much about it or put a high degree of care in it. Either way, it ends up telling a lot about me. If I show up in my sweatpants, won’t you think that I’m a bit more tired that day? Or that I don’t really care that you find me cool?” His laugh at this is shameless. Maybe he wants me to tell him that he’s cool in every way. “It’s the same thing with my character, even if the styling dept gives me a certain belt or a certain pair of shoes, I need to think about why my character would have picked those. That’s why I have many extensive talks with all the stylists, and with the directors. I need to see this person I’m portraying as someone whom I understand better than he would understand himself.”

This project, Last Resort , is the last in a series of romantic roles for the young actor. He’s the perfect fit for such roles, clearly, with his soft looks and his contrasting strong presence. He’s mastered the art of making his viewers’ hearts flutter. Many online forums share the same opinion: no one makes you ache to be loved more than he does. If I had to print a single picture of what love looks like , one user commented on one of the most popular platforms, I would print this specific expression on Zhang Hao’s face. It’s a skill I’ve asked him about, and the reply I’ve got might come off as a bit of a disappointment to the fans. 

“I’ve never really wanted to become a rom-com actor,” Zhang Hao confessed. “It just happened. The first big projects I starred in were all romantic dramas, and I’m very grateful to the push they gave my career. Without those roles, I’d still be acting in a theater’s club modern adaptation of some Shakespeare play. Which, again, can be fun. I like playing romance, I like playing classic theater. Maybe I’m just in love with acting itself. I don’t want to only play in rom-coms or romance dramas, though. I feel like I have a thousand different dreams when it comes to acting. My biggest dream is to play a villain in a modern TV drama, or to play in a thriller movie or a historical one.”

He’s not shy to name big names in the directing field as his dream collaborators. He tells me he prays every night that one of them will stumble on one of his scenes by chance and develop a sort of crush on him  —  that’s the word he uses  —  until they call him for a part in their movies. You can still audition, I tell him. 

“Weren’t we discussing our biggest dreams here?” is his quick reply. “When you dream about something, you’re allowed to go all out. To wish that people come look for you even when they never would in the real world. In dreams, you’re allowed to see yourself getting a Pulitzer prize for this interview. Do you know that your articles have to be entered to be eligible for a Pulitzer? But you can dream that someone from the board of electors just finds your stuff by chance and says: this is what we’ve been looking for, guys!”

When I ask whether he looked up this information specifically to make fun of me, I only get a proud smile in reply and a “Let’s go back to our interview.”

Zhang Hao’s professional attitude is flawless. He never shows up late to filming, he takes time to interact with all members of the crew without fail, and he unmistakably gets along with his co-stars. In this case, I asked him about his off-screen friendship with Cho Miyeon, the actress whose character falls in love with Zhang Hao’s character. 

“She’s a hurricane, a force of nature,” Zhang Hao immediately tells me. “She’s always happy to be doing whatever she’s doing, she’s a moodmaker and she’s a professional and she makes working with her perfectly fun.” When I ask if he’d like to work with her again, he thinks about it seriously. “I usually say that I’d like to keep working with all of my colleagues. Building a proficuous connection is hard, you know. The same emotional honesty I told you about before comes into play strongly in this matter. It’s hard work building a sintony with new people every time. With Miyeon-noona, though, I don’t know if I want to work with her again. I feel like we’d be casted as a couple again, and I would like to explore a different variety of roles, instead. At the same time, if working together could be a way to spend time together, it would be a huge incentive to say yes.”

Talking about acting and career flows seamlessly, it feels like Zhang Hao would talk about his chosen passion forever. When I ask to tell me  —  and the readers  —  something more about him as a person, outside of his job, he turns a lot more shy. “I’m boring,” he starts with. He feels like anything but that, from my standpoint. “I always talk about my work even when I’m home. I guess that’s a concrete risk of turning your hobby and passion into your job.” I still insist that he must have something he wants for his future that goes beyond that. “Maybe I’d like to get back into dancing,” he smiles. Is it not because you could act in a musical, then? “Busted.”

It’s a couple days later that I get a more complete answer  —  which, in my opinion, highlights the special nature of this month-long interview. “I think that I’ve never quite shared how deeply tied to my family I still am,” he tells me. “My parents have visited me three or four times a year ever since I left China, and I call my mother every day, while texting with them constantly. I guess you could call me a mama’s boy, if that’s useful in some way. But I’ve always been grateful to the support I’ve had from them, an all-encompassing source of support. They’ve taught me to accept every side of myself with love and kindness, and I like to imagine what it might be like to raise children of my own later in life. Not that it’s a serious possibility right now,” he laughs. “But, you know, you grow up receiving so much love and you sometimes wonder if you’d be able to be as loving a parent, as stimulating.” It’s rare to meet people with such a curious attitude towards the world and towards themselves, I think. Which, I tell him, makes him a very strong candidate for being a very good father, if he ever gets to. 

“My biggest dream as a young-ish adult,” Zhang Hao shares even further. “Is to find a corner of the world where I can be happy, three-sixty degrees happy. It’s obvious, and maybe it’s cliché, but looking for a simple form of happiness could be the key to make me a happier person all around, more stable and less overcome with stupid difficulties. I’d like to build a home for myself, where I can go back and get rid of everything that vexed me throughout the day. It’d be like my safe haven. Like, right now, I’ve been living in a rental and it’s cozy and beautiful but it feels like I’ve been treating it like a museum. I’d like to get rid of that attitude. To be able to say ah, yes, that’s my stash of silly books I’ve put together through my twenties and my thirties and that’s a pile of clothes that I’ve traveled the world with, and they’re worn out but I’ve been keeping them because of the memories. That’s still something I struggle with. I want to always be perfect. And perfection doesn’t really go hand-in-hand with sincerity.”

I ask him if he has plans to buy a house, then. He laughs right in front of me. “I might be famous, but I’m not rich enough to buy a house. You’ll get your Pulitzer before I get my own house, I fear.” I emphasize that I don’t care about any Pulitzer prize, which I’d like to state again in full honesty. “Let’s go back to thinking about dreams where reality doesn’t matter,” Zhang Hao guides me through his thoughts. “If I’m allowed to dream, I want a house with a garden and I want it in the city center. And I want to grow the garden myself, because in this dream I can do it. And I’ll host dinner parties for all my friends in the garden, whenever the weather is nice.”

The last batch of discussions we have is about acting, again, and about Last Resort itself. 

“My character in this movie is both very similar and very different from me,” Zhang Hao explains. “He’s Chinese, which is something we have in common. And he meets his lover in a different place, which could happen to me. He’s very close-minded at the beginning, and he doesn’t accept his attraction for the beautiful heiress he will fall in love with, at first. He’s hostile to feelings. And this is something we’re different in. I’m not the type to confess first, but I’m not the type to push my own feelings to the back of my mind all the time. If I’m intrigued by someone, it’s clear. I might keep it vague, but I can’t hide it. This man, instead, he succumbs to his feelings despite not wanting to, and then he tries to backtrack. Which causes his lover to be hurt. It’s something I’d like to avoid, in real life.” I ask him if the differences make it harder to get in character, or if it’s the similarities making it worse. “I think I get more comfortable when there’s a neat line separating me from the characters I’m portraying, like here. We’re more different than alike. And it allows me to close off every interference more easily, I build a different me to get in his shoes. Whenever there are things that are quite overlapping, though, it’s harder to understand how that character would do that, because sometimes I feel like I’m putting too much of myself there. And it’s not the way I like to do things, it feels like cheating at this game.”

What would you like your viewers to take away from this movie and your role in it? “I’d love for them to finish watching this movie thinking that neither me nor Miyeon-noona are just pretty faces, and that even if we’re telling a light story, we’re working hard for the result, and we’re trying to be as good actors as we can. As for me specifically, I’d love it if they went back home from the cinema and thought Oh, that Zhang Hao guy would look amazing in a historical movie. You know. Help me achieve my dreams.” 

(All the photos in the article were taken by the reporter, reproduction is forbidden.)

*

Yujin

> Jiwoong hyung sent me the draft for your interview. Half of the photos are disgusting.

> Let’s not talk about the article, either. It’s like reading you two flirt for five pages. Awful. 

Hanbin Sung

> it’s not that bad

Yujin

> it’s not bad, qualitatively

> it’s just an exchange in which a professional actor told you that he wants to have children and a house with a garden and that he hopes your career progresses in par with his, and that he’s a good family man, too, and that if he likes someone he makes it clear. 

> i mean. it IS clear.

> i’m dying to know what the readers’ reactions will be, bc I can’t imagine this being received differently than: oh they’ve done this interview between different rounds

Hanbin Sung

> this is so rude of you.

> and you’re too young to be talking to me like that.

> please reflect on your actions a bit

Yujin

> fine.

> i’m sorry.

> could’ve avoided the sex joke.

> won’t do it again. 

> the photos are cute, honestly. a bit too lovey-dovey, though.

> i’ll pick the ones i like the most, unless you have suggestions.

Hanbin Sung

> i just want the one where Hao’s drinking coffee to be printed

Yujin

> oh yes, why not.

> let’s print it just next to when he talks about his desire to have a cozy home.

> let’s make it official via interview: this reporter and the actor have started a relationship while this article was written and printed, enjoy.

> no.

Hanbin Sung

> i’d like it if you were fired.

> i’ll bring it up with HR

Yujin

> hyunggggg

Hanbin Sung

> i’m calling jiwoong

> bye

*

Hanbin sat down on the sofa right in front of the pool. Hao’s room really had all the comforts one could look for in such a place. It was sad that they would have to leave it the next day. Hanbin’s stuff was all already packed, back in his room on the other side of the resort. Hao’s suitcases were still to be made, he was procrastinating it with all kinds of excuses. Hanbin suspected he was trying to get him to do it for him. He wouldn’t. He still had some dignity left. 

“How’s that taste?” Hao was sipping on a fruit-flavored cocktail. It was mid-afternoon, there was alcohol in that cocktail, and it wasn’t a problem because filming had wrapped up in the morning and there was a party planned for the evening. 

“Try it for yourself,” Hao pushed the glass towards him. When Hanbin made to grab it, Hao pulled it away. “You can taste it here, too,” he said, one finger pointing to his lips. This man. Hanbin took the glass, shaking his head. Hao’s laughter was bright and happy all the same, as he let Hanbin sit more comfortably against him, in the small space they were sharing. They were going home the next day, each to their own apartment, each to their separate jobs. Maybe Hanbin worried a bit about it. Maybe he thought that this would really come to an end when the city enveloped them again and absorbed them back in their routines. 

“I need to go to my company as soon as we land,” Hanbin murmured. “But, like,” Hao’s gentle eyes were fixed in his, “would you like to grab dinner after that? If you’re not too tired.”

Hao leaned a bit more against him, taking another sip of his monstrously sweet drink. “Come over to my place,” he said. “And even if I’m tired I’ll see you.” He made it sound so simple. To Hanbin, it wasn’t that simple. Going to his place? After such a long flight? Wouldn’t Hao want to rest properly? Wouldn’t he want to unpack and leave his house a bit of a mess before tidying it up enough to have someone over? Wouldn’t it be better to just eat something rapidly and then go back home to sleep? Wouldn’t it be better to- “Stop overthinking.”

“It just feels like a big step,” Hanbin said. “Me invading your space like that.” Hao didn’t move. “It’s objectively too soon.”

“Is it too soon for you? Or is it too soon by some kind of playbook? I can go out for kimbap with you, if it’s you who wants it. But not because I shouldn’t invite you over to mine for the first two months of dating because of some silly rule.”

Hanbin sighed. He let his hand slip around Hao’s middle. Hao’s skin was warmed by the sun, it was soft, and it was made softer by the layer of sunscreen they’d put on earlier. “There are no real rules,” Hanbin replied. “I don’t want us to go through it too fast.” Maybe if they took it slower, it would last longer. 

“Okay,” Hao conceded. “Can you be honest with me?” Oh, so he hadn’t relented. Hanbin nodded. “How long do you want this relationship to last? Not how long do you think it’ll last. What do you want?”

Hanbin hid his face against Hao’s shoulders. Between his shoulder blades. “Years,” he said. “Many.” He couldn’t know this, though. It was insane. They didn’t know each other. 

“Me too,” Hao put his hand on top of Hanbin’s. “So who the fuck cares whether we go fast or slow. Come over tomorrow. Come over the next day too. Come over until you’re tired of it or your neighbors worry because they haven’t seen you in months.”

“You’re a bit crazy,” Hanbin said. Hao turned to face him. 

“Yes,” Hao agreed. “Does that make you crazy too, for liking me?”

“I guess,” Hanbin easily replied. “Because that doesn’t sound too weird to me.” Hao laughed. Hanbin kissed his mouth, swallowing down his laughter, smothering it. Hao pushed himself to his knees, trying to get to sit on Hanbin’s legs. He wrapped his arms around Hanbin’s shoulders, he set the kiss to a slower rhythm. Hanbin was discovering that this was something they could do for hours, neither of them getting tired of it, neither of them trying to turn it into something else. Just kissing, and kissing. And kissing. 

Hanbin’s laptop was open on his knees as Hao  —  his legs tangled with Hanbin’s  —  read a book on the same sofa from before. They’d have to get dressed for the wrap party in less than an hour. It was more than enough time to rest some more. Hao scoffed at something he’d just read, which made Hanbin smile as he read through old emails. A loud beep reached them from the inside of the room. Hanbin closed his laptop. Hao set his book down. They weren’t expecting company. But it was a long time due. 

“We’re out here,” Hao called. “Please, come in.”

It was the director, one man, alone. It was better than Hanbin expected, honestly. He’d envisioned a showdown consisting of three gunmen and the company CEO. Maybe the same thuggish guy who’d half threatened him over the photos. “Oh,” was the first thing out of the director’s mouth. “You didn’t even bother to cover up,” he said. They were in swimming trunks and a t-shirt. They were plenty covered up. 

Hao sat up straight, he also ran a hand through his hair. “To what do we owe this visit?” he asked, and then he gestured towards a second chair in the outdoor space. “Please, take a seat.”

“Aren’t you polite,” the director, Han Jungil, was being sarcastic. Hanbin took a deep breath. “I was informed you submitted some evidence to the police.” Oh. Strong start. 

“I did,” Hanbin confirmed. He didn’t add anything else. He only hoped that Hao’s phone was recording. That had been the plan. The only thing they could come up with. 

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” Han Jungil asked. “Money? Fame?”

“Justice, mostly,” Hanbin replied. “But, actually, I was just doing my job. They sent me to have answers about shady money management. It wasn’t personal. It’s never been personal.”

“I’m here with a proposal,” the director pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Hanbin. It was Hao who took it, without opening it. “The police investigation will take months, they won’t be able to pull together enough evidence to win a court case, it’ll cost a lot of money both for you and us. You could be sued for defamation.”

“Oh, I assume I will be sued for defamation,” Hanbin shrugged. It was almost habitual in this kind of case.

“What if we all saved some money,” the director said. “In that envelope, the one Zhang Hao-ssi is holding, there’s a bank check. It’s for a billion won. We can raise it.”

“No, thanks,” Hanbin shrugged. The corner of Hao’s mouth raised in a small smile. 

“I thought you’d say that,” Han Jungil didn’t falter. He handed Hanbin a second envelope. How many more of those did he have inside his jacket? “Those photos aren’t like the ones you tried to fool us with.”

Hanbin hadn’t tried to fool them, he’d managed to. The malware had worked. Jiwoong held a copy of everything on his computer in Seoul. Hanbin opened the second envelope, which contained a bunch of photos of him and Zhang Hao in the latter’s pool. In the latter’s room, too. They were photographed together as they embraced, as they kissed, too. There were photos with both of them naked. “This is a privacy violation, and it’s a crime,” Hanbin stated calmly. “And it’s also blackmail, which is another crime.”

“Can I keep this photo?” Hao was holding a picture of them. Hanbin tried to make it out better. It looked like one of them was sitting on the edge of the pool, the other in the water. 

“These are going online tomorrow,” the director said, with no bite. “All of them. Even those where the two of you are butt-naked.” Hanbin hated the idea. “The whole country will know what the two of you are. All because you’re greedy.”

“Okay,” Hao replied. “Saves me a lot of effort.” 

“Think about it,” Han Jungil said, again. “It’s a big scandal. It’s career-ending. For both of you.”

“I don’t think my editor will fire me because I like men,” Hanbin forced himself to say. “And readers don’t even know my face, I could write under a different name and it’d be the same.”

“Also,” Hao added, “it’s so outdated to try and blackmail people over sex and queerness.” Hanbin had no idea what he could be getting at. “Why don’t you try to have something more juicy to say about me? I’m gay, boo-hoo. They all know that, if they think five minutes about it. So, what’s the scandal? That I’m dating? There’s seven million posts going around on social media about how a lead actor has found love on the set of his new film. They all know that, too. The casting director knew I was gay when she picked me for the role, the styling department was aware of it, too. Will my fans care? Do we even care about fans, here? I’ll go back to theater plays, who cares .”

Hanbin smiled. He handed the photos back to the director. “Since you’ll be on trial for unlawful appropriation of personal information, stalking, and diffusion of personal information, I wouldn’t post these online tomorrow. It’d be like giving evidence to the police yourselves.”

Han Jungil sighed. “You’re young,” he tried. “Both of you. Think about what you could do with this money. Buy yourselves a house. Two houses.”

“Aw,” Hao laughed. “He thinks we’ll break up soon.”

“It’s a lot of money,” the director insisted. “Life changing money,” he reiterated. “Think about it, seriously.”

“So you’d like me to withdraw the evidence I’ve submitted. And to give testimony in your defense in court.” Han Jungil nodded. “The police would then have to try me because either I’d be lying and obstructing the law, or I’d have submitted false evidence. It’s not worth your money.” Han Jungil scoffed. “I’m sorry,” Hanbin did feel a bit sorry. “The only way out of this for you is a court ruling. You can only hope they’ll find you innocent and pray that my defamation suit finds me guilty.”

Hao took his hand. “It saddens me,” Hao said. “That all the hard work on this movie will go to waste.” Hanbin pulled his hand free. At least in front of others. “I really tried my best to make it decent.” 

“You’re done for,” Han Jungil sentenced. “Both of you. We know more people than you do, we have more money. Enjoy this naive illusion that your sick love will make you happy forever, and that it’ll shield you from the real world. Enjoy the lies you’re telling each other until it lasts, you’ll see that you’re both fame-hungry, and that you’re deeply unhappy, and that you’ve ruined your own lives by thinking that you could live them how you pleased. There are rules in this world. Hierarchies. You can’t do as you please all the time. You stupid children .”

Hanbin had heard many variations of this speech through the years. From people in Han Jungil’s position, or from adults when he was a teenager who questioned where the rules came from when he was accused of breaking them. “You had to make it pathetic,” Hanbin said. “It had been such a nice conversation up until now.” He got to his feet. “Thank you for the many offers to change my fate. I appreciate how you’ve been looking out for me and my journalism career. I hope I’ll see you later at the party, Han Jungil-nim.” He bowed. The whole ninety degrees. Han Jungil left the room slamming the door behind him. 

“That went well,” Hao commented.

“It really did,” Hanbin replied. “There were no guns and no punches thrown.” He picked up the photo Hao had practically stolen. “Why did you want it?”

“I like the way you’re looking at me there,” Hao shrugged. Hanbin looked at the photo better. It had been taken that same morning. Early. There were two cups of coffee in the background. Hanbin had been swimming, Hao had joined him dangling his feet in the water. Hanbin’s memory might be playing tricks, but when that photo had been taken, he’d just told Hao to go and pack his suitcase. I want to swim first . Hao had said. I’ll do it later . So that was how he looked at someone who only procrastinated things? With his expression so openly loving? It was sickening to see himself like that, but it was also eye-opening. Reassuring. Because Hao’s face wasn’t better. 

“It’s evidence in a court case,” Hanbin said. 

“Well, they’ll make a copy, it’s not like we live in the Middle Ages,” Hao quipped. “I’m taking a shower,” he also announced. “What do you think I should wear?”

*

ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS LATER

Hao hadn’t meant to sleep in. But he’d come back from a table read as tired as he’d ever been, and the bed was warm and comforting and he couldn’t quite get up when he’d planned to. “I’m sorry,” he said, first thing, when Hanbin showed up at noon. “How did it go?”

Hanbin took off his coat, hanging it in its place. He took a look around the living room and sighed. “The court is adjourned. Next week. It should be the final sitting, I hope.”

“What do the lawyers say?” Hao bit at his nail. 

“It should be as we thought,” Hanbin finally stopped. He faced Hao. “They should be convicted.” Hao let out a breath. The police investigation had taken a few months. Then the trials had started. Hanbin didn’t miss a single one. When he was free, Hao joined him. 

“I won’t miss it next time,” he said. He’d been called as a witness too. He didn’t like to remember that morning. Hanbin nodded. He walked past him to open the fridge and bring out some side dishes from the previous night. “My mom called, like, half an hour ago. She told me to tell you specifically that-”

“Hao,” Hanbin cut him off. Hao stopped. Hanbin looked tired, he always did. But there was a thin smile on his mouth. “I talked to Jiwoong hyung. He has a new case to assign to me,” oh . “It’s about small town requalification funds, it’s small but it’s politics.” His smile was growing bigger. “I’ll have to travel a bit,” Hanbin went on. “And you’re busy with the play, so,” Hao nodded. “Since your rehearsals are stopping for ten days next month and I’d still be starting out on the new investigation, I asked Jiwoong hyung for a few days off. If it’s okay with you-”

“Yes,” Hao said. “Where do you want to go?”

“London?” Hanbin suggested. “Paris?” 

Hao’s laughter came out unbidden and uncontrolled. He moved into Hanbin’s space, put his hands on his face and pulled him in. “I don’t care,” Hao said. “Let’s go wherever,” he laughed. He kissed Hanbin. Hanbin’s smile melted against his lips. “I love you a lot,” Hao whispered. Hanbin kissed him again. 

They spent the rest of that day cleaning up. Zhang Hao’s apartment had gained a new resident in the year that had passed since he’d come back from Thailand, but sometimes it felt like it wasn’t big enough for all the stuff the two of them owned. “Should we throw this away?” Hao kept asking, and most of the time they didn’t end up throwing anything away. But they’d painted the walls a different color, and Hanbin had insisted on buying new curtains. Hao had picked a different duvet cover from the one that he’d always used, which had come with the house. Hanbin had brought over from his apartment some framed prints and Hao had almost hurt himself as he tried to hammer the nail in the wall. The bookcase in the living room didn’t have any space left and Hao kept thinking they should rearrange the furniture and buy a second one to put between the previous one and a window. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Hanbin exclaimed, emerging from the bedroom with a box of old magazines he’d finally decided to recycle. “Seok Matthew texted me earlier. He’s in town.” Hao waited for him to go on. “Asked if we’re free for dinner tonight. Do you have work?”

“No,” Hao replied. “Should we tell him we’re going?”

Hanbin deposited his box in front of the door. “Why not. I haven’t seen him or Gunwook in months.”

“Me neither,” Hao went to fish the vacuum cleaner from the closet. “Let’s text Ricky, too. It’ll be like a triple date.”

“That’s a horrible definition,” Hanbin pointed out. “But yes, let’s text Ricky.”

“You know they’ll ask about this,” Hao said, moving his hand closer to Hanbin, who was walking back towards the bedroom. They needed to finish cleaning. This place needed it. However, the ring on his third finger caught the light still filtering from the outside. Hanbin had a matching one. It wasn’t on the fourth finger, it wasn’t so on the nose, so question-attracting. But if they were together, it was noticeable. 

“And what will you tell them?” Hanbin asked. 

“That it was a birthday gift,” it was the truth, anyway. Hanbin had made him cry on his birthday. What a terrible boyfriend. “And that you’re madly in love with me and want to marry me.”

Hanbin laughed. It was breathless and borderline asthmatic, the way he always laughed. Hao loved it too much. “So you won’t lie a single bit?”

“Why would I?” Hao plugged the vacuum cleaner. “I’m also in love with you and I want to marry you.”

“Madly? You forgot about the madly .” Hanbin was still laughing. Before Hao could turn on the vacuum cleaner, Hanbin walked right next to him. The advantages of having a small apartment. “Let’s do something insane,” Hanbin said. 

“Yes,” Hao replied. 

“Let’s tell them we got married in secret,” Hanbin suggested. “And then let’s do that for real on our holiday.”

Hao didn’t have to think about it. “We’ll have to elaborate on that second part a bit more,” he said. “I want my parents there,” Hanbin nodded. “But yes.”

Hanbin hugged him tight. “Okay,” Hanbin said. “Wow.” Hao laughed. “Wow, this apartment is in such a state, and we’ve just made this very big decision in such a mess, and I’m-”

“Who cares, Hanbin,” Hao whined. “Now you’ll kiss me, and then I’ll vacuum the floor, and you’ll dust the shelves, and then you’ll kiss me again. Tell Matthew to make a reservation for, like, after eight. I want to have sex with you before we leave.”

Hanbin’s eyes were full of love. Incredible as it may be, they’d been like that from the very start. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Be quick,” Hao pushed on. “I want to take my time with you.”

“We’ll be late for dinner, you know that right?” Hanbin still hadn’t kissed him. Hao couldn’t deal with him. 

“You’re just wasting time, now,” he said, impatient. He pecked Hanbin’s lips. Hanbin smiled. Then he huffed a laugh. Then he was laughing in earnest. “ Hanbin .”

Hanbin raised his hands. “You get so bossy,” Hanbin laughed. “You’d think there’s something really urgent and then-”

“There is something urgent,” Hao insisted. “It’s you and me, on our bed, naked. Possibly with someone’s dick in someone’s ass. It is urgent.”

Hanbin laughed again. “Okay,” he agreed. “So your plan was kiss, then dinner reservation. Then dusting.” Hao nodded. “First item on the list,” Hanbin kissed him. Hao went in happily. 

Jiwoong

> Why are people saying you got married?

> whatever. congratulations

> either for that or for your certified insanity atp