Jensen woke up at eight in the morning and floundered lazily in bed for a few minutes, stretching his tired limbs. Du Hyun was hard asleep on the bed next to him. A thin streak of saliva rolled from his parted lips down his chin, wetting the edge of the blanket. Jensen, seeing this, grinned, rose quietly on his toes, and took a quick picture. Hyun's face was cartoonishly flattened, and his red cheeks were imprinted with pillow marks.

He left the room and hurriedly went for a warm shower. The sounds of the television were coming from the living room.

Slapping his bare feet on the floor and rubbing his wet bangs, Jensen stopped beside the couch and looked at Du San with surprise. She was wearing a black nourishing mask on her face. After a long weekend during which she had to work, the woman spent almost all her time watching dramas.

Jensen understood her perfectly.

"Oh, you're awake!" the woman exclaimed softly. The mask on her face shifted slightly.

The boy nodded, scratching the back of his head, and moved toward the kitchen.

"I made breakfast, it's on the table. Have a bite to eat for now."

There were four juicy, thick meat sandwiches wrapped in lettuce on the plate. Picking up one of them, Jensen greedily bit into it with his teeth. His stomach churned happily.

When he wanted to join his aunt in watching the morning program, there was a sudden knock on the door. After swallowing his breakfast in one bite, he looked perplexed at Du San.

"I didn't invite anyone," she said slowly.

Jensen moved toward the door. He lifted the latch with his finger and pushed it open with a creak. His eyes widened in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

Jamin was standing in the doorway. The warm sports jacket hung lightly over his shoulders, as if it were several sizes larger than he was. His hands, tucked into his pockets, trembled a little. A faint blush bloomed on his pale, rough cheeks.

"You asked me to run with you in the morning," he replied calmly.

Jensen leaned his hand on the threshold. A slight smirk spread on his lips.

"How did you know where I live?"

Jamin shook his head, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"You texted me the address a couple of days ago."

He brushed back his wet bangs with a wide palm, and then bit his lip and nodded after a few seconds, stepping away from the threshold.

"Come in," he nodded. "I'll dry my hair and we'll be off."

Jamin hesitated, wrinkling the sleeves of his jacket. The expression on his face exuded doubt. Jensen curved the corners of his lips and, leaning toward the boy, slid his fingers over the thick, thick collar. Hooking the black tiny slider of the zipper, he pulled the older boy toward him without hesitation, pulling him into the apartment. The door slammed shut behind them.

Exhaling heavily, Jamin felt the fleeting touch of hot fingers against the cool skin of his chin. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, feeling the stuffy air sneak in and burn his lungs.

In a low voice, Jensen whispered, pointing to a small cushioned ottoman beside the mirror:

"Wait for me here."

A stranger's head curiously emerged from the living room. Jamin, noticing something black covering his adult face, flinched a little.

"Who do we have here...?" inquired Du San. Her eyes lit up strangely when she saw the young stranger on the pouffe. "You have a friend coming to see you?"

She lowered her voice on purpose, addressing Jensen with a pleasant smile. Jamin jumped up and tilted his head respectfully several times.

"Yes. We're going for a run."

Du San swiped the mask off her face and smiled broadly.

"Nice to meet you."

"Why did you put him in the hallway, huh!" the woman frowned and playfully clapped Jensen on the shoulder. He pretended that this weightless blow had hurt him, and mumbled pitifully, arching his black eyebrows. A grin spread across his face.

Jamin felt uncomfortable and immediately began to deny it:

"No, it's okay, I'm fine here."

However, Du San didn't listen to him. She gently nudged him into the room, from which the sounds of a comedy TV program could be heard.

"Come into the living room, come on, there's nothing to sit in the hallway. It'll be three hours before he gets ready!"

Jamin humbly exhaled, glimpsed the distancing Jensen and his beautiful eyes, covered with thick lashes, widened at what he saw. In the aisle he saw the guy's muscular back, where he was slowly pulling off the white T-shirt, slightly translucent because of the wet skin. Hard back muscles, sharp large shoulder blades, and wiry powerful arms.

Something inside Jamin, just seeing something like that, erupted, cutting off his breath.

He was a man of art. And what he saw was one of his weaknesses.

The smooth bare skin, from which hot, thick steam seemed to emanate after a shower, was like a silk cloth over glowing coals.

The tips of his fingers that he used to squeeze the edges of his sleeves felt a strangely pleasant itch. The desire to touch and run them along his back, to feel the roughness of the scalding skin beneath him, forcibly clawed at his brain.

Surely he was a high school student, not an MMA fighter?

But when Jamin squinted his eyes, he noticed something strange. On his back, a pale old scar stretched across his spine.

Like dry tree branches creeping toward the sun, it touched the edge of his shoulder blades on both sides.

A lone pulse pierced him from head to toe.

Jamin swallowed the unvoiced question that was eagerly pounding in his head and turned away sharply. His hospitable aunt seated him on the sofa and plopped down beside him, smiling happily. Jamin caught a glimpse of the room and was embarrassed by the stranger's gaze. He unbuttoned his jacket and silently exhaled as the cool, refreshing air licked his entire body through his clothes.

And why had he even succumbed to this guy's entreaties to go for an early morning run...?

Ha, just his smirk was so damn convincing.

Five minutes later, a short kid came running out of the room where Jensen was hiding. His red face blazed with irritation and anger.

"'Why didn't you go dry your head in the bathroom?! Did you have to wake me up?" came a sleepy, nervous teenage voice.

A satisfied Jensen followed, already dressed in a black sweatshirt and wide, loose pants. He held a rubber band in his mouth, which he later used to tie his hair into a little ponytail.

"Are you coming with us?" he asked his brother with a raised eyebrow.

Hyun, frowning, looked at him like he was a fool.

"Are you serious? Is this some kind of mockery or something? How about I wake you up at three in the morning and call you to sweep the street?"

Rolling his eyes disappointedly, the boy disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door loudly. Jensen smirked, tossing him a look:

"Anything you want for any money."

He approached Jamin, sitting on the couch, who looked like a lone tree growing in the middle of the desert, and touched his shoulder.

"I brought my purse with me, let's go."

Du San stood up, looking at her nephew questioningly.

"What do you need money for? Let me feed you at home."

The boy brushed it off.

"I promised to treat him to something."

Surprisingly, Jamin didn't remember such a promise, but he was still intrigued.

Jensen quickly threw on his jacket and tied the laces of his sneakers tightly. He let Jamin through the door, whispered something in Du San's ear, and moved toward the elevator. Chom Jamin, leveled beside him, stared thoughtfully at his face. Jensen smiled at him with a corner of his lips.

"Ready? I already have an outlined path I run every day."

Jamin had no choice but to nod and walk past the ajar doors of the elevator, which had the sweet smell of women's perfume from past passengers.

He crinkled, rubbing his nose, and heard a velvet laughter above his ear. Jensen leaned sideways against the elevator wall and looked at the guy with a chuckle.

"Unpleasant?"

"So-so."

"You smell very fragrant, though," Jensen said jokingly.

Jamin turned away. The tips of his ears flushed.

Jensen, who had tracked his reaction, laughed again.

***

The early morning weather outside was much warmer than it had been a few days before. The melted snow lining the road sloshed quietly underfoot.

After a thirty-minute run, Jensen wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed loudly. Jamin, who looked as if he had just left the house, stopped next to him.

"What do you think?" asked El with a gasp.

Jamin straightened, threw his black hair back, and smirked faintly at his plump lips.

"I feel fine. And you?" his voice sounded a little snide.

Jensen pressed his lips together, remembering his extravagant fall when there was a crust of ice under the pile of snow, and shook his head.

"There's nothing I can't overcome."

Jamin hummed ironically.

They smiled at each other. As they continued down the road, Jensen spoke:

"I want to treat you to something. I hope you're not disgusted with my taste after those toasts."

Jamin shook his head negatively when he heard this and obediently followed Jensen. They entered a small coffee shop. The decor inside was enchanting: faint red lights illuminating the hall, dimly decorated furniture, and soft barely audible music. In the corner sat a few visitors, probably office workers who had stopped in for a bite to eat.

Jamin trusted Jensen's choice of seating, and he seated him at a table for two by a large window through which he could see almost the entire street.

Jensen called to the waitress and mouthed his order. With a nod, the waitress immediately rushed off toward the kitchen.

Putting his chin on his hand, the guy blew his bangs off his forehead and, stretching his lips, asked:

"Have you ever tried hot dog churros?"

Jamin leaned back in his chair and shook his head negatively.

"I'm not much of a baker."

Jensen parted his lips.

"You'll definitely like this."

His tone sounded very convincing.

When several beautifully packaged appetizers appeared on the table, with jets of steam shooting upward, Jensen immediately leaned forward and, picking up a special bowl with hot cheese in it, dipped a crispy, spiral-shaped churros into it.

The mouthwatering aroma of custard dough hit his nose.

Jensen handed the snack to the guy across the table and raised an eyebrow.

"Try it."

The fried sweetish pastry, drizzled with warm salty cheese, left a taste of something unusual on the tongue. The meat filling, hitting his emaciated body, made him want to take a bigger bite. This was the first time Jamin had tried something like this.

But the mild, juicy taste was nothing compared to the sight that lay before him.

Jensen was so engrossed in his meal that he didn't notice the stare. His eyes glowed with pleasure while his mouth devoured the churros as quickly as possible.

The happiness on his face forced Chom Jamin into a stupor.

Was food really capable of evoking such emotions?

Looking at the unfinished churros in his hands, the boy took another small bite, and the look in his cold black eyes flicked back to Jensen.

At that moment, he felt an unprecedented hunger.

He bit into the snack and chewed it greedily, as if it were his first meal.

The atmosphere between them softened. Jensen glanced sideways at the dancer, who was engrossed in his meal, and the corner of his mouth unconsciously lifted. The silence that reigned between them was not awkward.

The rays of the early sun splashed through the window and illuminated the entire café. Silent music, caressing the ear, continued.