As they stepped out of the pocha into the cool night, Eric paused to light a cigarette. Drinking always had this effect on him. He went from occasional smoker to chain-smoking like it was 2009 and he was back in Paris pulling all-nighters before his final exams. Muscle memory. The lighter clicked twice before the flame caught. Jihoo noticed right away. He waited patiently, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized jeans.

Eric, playing devil’s advocate, offered him a cigarette, expecting a refusal.

Jihoo shook his head with a soft grin. “You should quit that bad habit, Hyung.”

Eric exhaled a stream of smoke, letting it fade away into the cold air. “Yeah, yeah." he muttered. “Just one more for the road.”

They started walking toward the group, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, a light electric touch. Neither moved away. Jihoo’s hand swayed too close to Eric’s, like it was testing the waters, gathering courage.

As they approached the club entrance, Minwoo returned with a grimace. “They’re not letting us in. Apparently, we’re too old for this place.”

Jihoo raised an eyebrow, having difficulties believing it. “They really rejected you after checking your ID?”

Eric snorted. “Not our first time, to be honest. Ageism is thriving in the Korean night scene.”

Eventually, they found a club that didn’t discriminate against thirty-somethings. To make up for the hassle and skip the line, Minwoo offered to buy a bottle, guaranteeing a table in the process. He knew Eric needed more than just encouragement to dance,he needed insurance: a bottle, a table, and just the right amount of peer pressure.

Inside, the music pulsed like a second heartbeat, heavy and constant. The lights painted the room with saturated blues and reds. A waitress led them to their table. Jihoo looked like he belonged here, head slightly tilted back, leather jacket loose over broad shoulders, light catching on his skin like a spotlight that followed him by instinct.

Eric’s gaze lingered. The oversized jeans, the line of Jihoo’s neck, his sharp jaw and his glow. He caught himself thinking, I’d pay rent money to see him in a tight white T-shirt. Their eyes met. Eric blushed and quickly looked away, pretending to study the drink menu like it held national secrets. Jihoo sat next to him. Again.

As the drinks arrived, Jihoo leaned in, breath warm near Eric’s ear. “I can’t wait to see your dance moves later.”

“You wish." Eric replied dryly, “I’ll be the one filming for posterity.”

Jihoo gave a knowing smile. “We’ll see.”

Drinks flowed freely. The extroverts hit the dance floor, Jihoo among them. He disappeared into the crowd dancing with his friends. Eric stayed seated, sipping slowly, watching Jihoo’s silhouette as if it were a subject he was still learning. The boy could move. Not just in rhythm, but with something freer, joy, maybe. Like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, care free, just letting the music carry him. 

“Stop watching him like you’re in the last scene of a sad MV where no one gets kissed.” Minwoo whispered, shoving a fresh shot of tequila into Eric’s hand. “Drink. Dance. Back in the days you were less shy.”

Eric rolled his eyes but drank. A few more rounds followed. He stayed planted, not tipsy enough yet. He watched. Especially during slower songs, those bittersweet anthems of unrequited love, Jihoo’s attention kept shifting back to their table.

When the music shifted to an older K-pop anthem, Minwoo finally snapped. “You’re going." he barked, dragging Eric onto the dance floor. Eric resisted at first, stiff and still a bit too self-conscious.  Jihoo was nearby, dancing and laughing.Eric moved with forced nonchalance, pretending not to care. Trying to blend in. Trying not to feel too much.

Jihoo noticed the effort and the distance. Instead of stepping in, he waited. His smile dimmed, growing visibly frustrated. He needed Eric to meet him half way. To show up. He didn’t want to do all the work. He needed to feel wanted. Needed. Like he wasn’t the only one reaching.

Minwoo noticed the shift in Jihoo’s mood. Time to activate Plan B

He scanned the crowd and spotted a tall, trendy guy. He whispered something into his ear and nudged him toward Jihoo. Soon, the guy was dancing too close, practically grinding.

Jihoo, catching Minwoo’s grin from across the room, rolled his eyes then leaned into it with a sigh. He knew exactly what Minwoo was doing.

Eric clenched his jaw. He turned away reaching the table for another drink. The bottle was empty. He didn’t order anything else, instead searching frantically for his cigarettes. Then he saw it, the guy’s hand sliding toward Jihoo’s waist, pulling him close, leaning in like he might kiss him.

That’s when Eric left, escaping.The music clung to him like guilt.

Outside, he lit his cigarette with shaking fingers. He inhaled too deeply and coughed.

What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. We met yesterday. Nothing happened. Who am I to be jealous?

But it wasn’t about Jihoo dancing with someone else. Not really. It was about himself. The cowardice. The fear. The excuses: age gap, friendship with Minwoo, the uncertainty, something he didn’t plan for. Jihoo had shown interest. Again and again. And Eric had done... nothing.

Jihoo found him a few minutes later.

Eric didn’t look at him right away. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, a little bit on the fence.

“Thought I’d find you here." Jihoo said, voice low, eyes soft but unreadable, leaning on the wall beside him. He didn’t say anything more.

Eric smoked in silence. Jihoo didn’t push. He just stood there, waiting again. Hoping Eric would do something. Anything. 

Eventually, Jihoo turned, asking softly. “You okay?”

Eric exhaled a lie. “Yeah.”

Jihoo didn’t argue. Just nodded and went back inside, his shoulders a little heavier.

Moments later, Minwoo appeared like a gremlin. “Seriously, you’re acting like a 16-year-old in love for the first time.”

Eric scoffed.

“No. Don’t scoff. You need this." Minwoo declared, wrapping his arm around Eric’s neck in a mock headlock and ruffling his hair aggressively. “Grow the hell up. Or grow into it. Either way, stop being a coward. Let’s go back in before you die from lung cancer and regret it.”

Back inside, Minwoo ordered enough shots to fuel a small army.

“Drink or I’ll call Camille and tell her you’re boring now." He said.

Eric stared at the line of glasses. Something in him snapped, something electric and a little wild.

“Fuck it." He muttered, and began chugging in competition with Minwoo, the two of them shouting like college kids on spring break.

When Eric made it back to the dance floor, everything buzzed. Not sloppy. Just free.

Jihoo turned, saw him and lit up.

They danced. Closer and closer. Jihoo moved in front of him, playful and teasing, doing silly exaggerated moves at first. Eric laughed. Closing the gap slowly.

Then the tempo shifted.

Jihoo slowed down syncing with Eric’s vibe. Their bodies no longer bounced to the beat, they swayed. Intimate. Deliberate. Jiho hovered his hands over Eric’s chest, his waist. Not touching. Waiting.

Eric leaned in, feeling Jihoo’s warmth. His scent. His breath.

Jihoo moved behind him, deliberately slow. Still no contact, just breath and heat every inch between them throbbed. His hand hovered just above Eric’s neck. Eric leaned back, close not touching, but almost. Finally, Eric turned to face him. Braver now. His hand found Jihoo’s waist. Jihoo stepped forward. Their bodies met.

Jihoo’s arms wrapped around him, gentle but firm. A shield. A question. Eric’s hand slid up Jihoo’s back, feeling strength under soft cotton. They didn’t kiss. But they were close. Closer than ever. Their foreheads nearly touched. Their breath mingled in a rhythm more intimate than the beat. A second more and…

“Guys!” Minwoo’s voice cut through the music. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but Camille just called. If I don’t get in that taxi, I’ll be a divorced man.”

They separated too fast, like kids caught sneaking out.

Eric mumbled something about needing a toilet break before heading out. The bathroom was dim, echoing faint bass through the tiles. He stood at a urinal, hoping to calm down, but his thoughts were racing. He hadn’t even kissed Jihoo, and he already felt excited like a teenager after his first kiss.

Then the door opened. Footsteps. Jihoo. Of course.

He strolled in like this was all totally coincidental and chose, out of three available urinals, the one right next to Eric’s.

“Hyung, did you try to escape from me?” Jihoo said, soft and teasing.

Eric didn’t dare to look and stuttered. “Seriously? This one?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.”

Eric stared at the wall trying to forget about the awkwardness of the moment. His bladder refused to cooperate. This was absurd. He just danced with Jihoo and now he couldn’t even pee like a functioning adult.

Jihoo chuckled. “Seems like you’re really tense. Should I hold your hand to help you relax?”

“Please don’t." Eric grumbled, trying but failing to sound annoyed.

Jihoo zipped up, washed his hands, and leaned back against the sink, watching Eric in the mirror. “Are you always this awkward around guys you like?”

Eric flushed, gave up entirely, and stepped over to the sink. “Are you always this straight forward in the men’s washroom?”

“Only when I want someone to stop running away from me.”

Eric scrubbed his hands longer than necessary. “I wasn’t…”

Jihoo cut in, voice soft and low. “I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.”

Eric looked up, finally meeting his gaze in the mirror.

Jihoo smiled, then pushed off the sink. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, Hyung. See you out there.”

And just like that, he was gone and only then did Eric’s body remember what it came here to do. 

Moments later, Minwoo burst in.

“Oho. So this is where you’ve been hiding. Did Jihoo follow you in here?” asked Minwoo in a voice packed with not-so-subtle hints.

Eric shot him a glare. “Don’t.”

Minwoo laughed, unbothered, standing at the urinal. “You’re so screwed. You know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

Minwoo zipped up and came over, clapping him on the back. “Then stop acting like a closeted high school senior and go make a move on your crush.”

Eric sighed. But his mouth twitched into a grin. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘visionary wingman’. Now move.”

Most of the group headed out looking for a taxi or somewhere to wait for the first train. Jihoo and Eric followed. One of Jihoo’s friends suggested karaoke.

Still riding the high from the club, Eric agreed without thinking.

At the noraebang, the mood was wild at first. People screamed lyrics, passed around snacks, slumped on couches. Jihoo grabbed the mic, belted out Fantastic Baby from BigBang in the most ridiculous way possible, full choreography and exaggerated winks aimed at Eric, who couldn’t stop laughing. Jihoo’s ridiculous energy was infectious and deliberate.

Later, the energy faded. People dozed or scrolled their phones.Eric and Jihoo stayed close, talking in hushed tones. When Jihoo noticed the calm in the room, he picked a ballad. 2AM – I Wonder If You Hurt Like Me (너도 나처럼).

He sang it softly, no antics. Eyes fixed on Eric the entire time. The silliness was gone. His voice trembled only slightly, his gaze unwavering. Eric didn’t look away. Halfway through the song, Jihoo’s free hand searched for Eric’s and closed around it, warm and careful, like a promise. Eric didn’t pull away.

By the last note, Eric’s heart was pounding. Jihoo leaned in, lips parting, ready to kiss him. Eric's breath went faster in anticipation of it but one of Jihoo’s friends suddenly stood up, groaned, and stumbled rushing toward the bathroom to throw up.

The spell broke.

Eric and Jihoo looked at each other slightly embarrassed and then burst into laughter.

Still holding hands.