Junho held Siwoo tightly, inhaling the masculine scent of his skin, which reminded him most of lime and ginger. As he did, he thought that he never, ever wanted to see Siwoo again like he had yesterday afternoon.

Siwoo had nearly collapsed at his gate, mumbling that Junho should help him – because he trusted no one else but him. Then, he also said not to call a doctor because he had done something not-so-good and didn’t want to get caught.

It was obvious to Junho that the boy had gotten into a fight, but he had no idea with whom, why, or how. He was terrified at first, even a little angry, but soon, his entire chest filled only with overwhelming worry. He liked Siwoo – liked him so much – because he was the only person who treated him like a human being, who didn’t care about his past. He also knew that Siwoo probably didn’t just see him as a friend, and while that idea had scared him at first, he had now completely accepted it.

Siwoo wasn’t like those boys and men who only wanted to use his body, who saw him as nothing more than a sexual plaything. He wasn’t like his foolish ex either – not in any way. Siwoo was better than all of them.

And besides, Junho wasn’t indifferent to Siwoo’s looks either; he had always had a weakness for sweet, smiling, yet muscular and manly guys. No, Junho knew very well that he would never learn from his mistakes.

Ironically, at that very moment, another song started playing in his room, a Lana Del Rey song, the one titled Music to Watch Boys To. Junho immediately blushed and rushed back inside to turn off his speaker he'd only turned on to make himself calm down. He saw Siwoo blinking after him in confusion, and he could only hope that the boy hadn’t registered the first lines of the song – though, realistically, that was unlikely, given Siwoo’s perfect English.

Junho rubbed his eyelids in embarrassment, then, pushing away his awkward thoughts, he simply sat down on his bed, nodding to the boy hesitating in the doorway to do the same.

"I like your room," Siwoo noted somewhat shyly as he settled onto the soft mattress beside him.

Junho smiled and shook his head. He doubted that Siwoo truly liked his room. Aside from the beautiful landscape paintings his mother had made, there was nothing interesting about the place. The walls and furniture were all white. Junho liked it that way – he loved simplicity and brightness – but he didn’t believe the other boy shared his taste for what might be seen as a slightly feminine aesthetic. Still, he appreciated the kind comment.

"You’re sweet," he said with a faint smile. But as he took in Siwoo’s bruised and battered face, his expression immediately darkened. He cast his gaze downward, sadness settling into his features.

"Siwoo… What happened?"

Siwoo pressed his wounded lips together as if he had expected the question. His features and movements seemed exhausted, confused – something Junho found highly unusual. Normally, Siwoo brimmed with confidence and certainty. But he assumed this demeanor was simply a symptom of his injuries.

"I ran into Dohyun on the street," Siwoo finally admitted with a heavy sigh. "He said really rude things, and then things just escalated… Before I knew it, we were fighting in a nearby alley, both of our noses bleeding, and… I don’t know. I was just really angry."

Junho stared blankly ahead, deep in thought. He wasn’t particularly surprised by what he heard – throughout the night, much worse and more extreme possibilities had crossed his mind.

"And that rat was worth it?" he asked. He knew his tone should be reprimanding, but he couldn’t bring himself to "scold" Siwoo. His heart clenched at the thought.

"It was," Siwoo replied without hesitation.

Junho blinked at him in shock. That wasn’t the answer he had expected.

"But… why? I mean, I get that he’s a stupid jerk, but—"

Siwoo cut him off, shaking his head.

"He is a stupid jerk, but that’s not why I did it," he said, and for the first time, a bit of his usual determination crept back into his voice. "He was saying disgusting things about you. And that… I couldn’t let that slide."

Junho’s dark eyes widened at Siwoo’s words. At first, he didn’t even fully process them.

Someone risked their safety for him? Someone got this upset, this angry, just because others spoke badly about him? Was that even possible?

He felt warmth rush to his cheeks, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t wipe the enormous, sweet smile off his face.

He wanted to throw himself into Siwoo’s arms then and there. Instead, he just looked down shyly and murmured, "You’re so silly. You can’t go around beating up everyone who talks bad about me."

Siwoo chuckled softly, and after a few seconds, he reached out with his bandaged fingers, gently tilting Junho’s chin up so their eyes met.

"Please don’t be mad," he said, voice suddenly serious. "I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I put this burden on you. I shouldn’t have come here, but… I don’t know why, my feet just brought me to you. Please, forgive me for that."

Junho felt heat flood his entire body. Siwoo’s lips were so close to his own that he could almost make out every tiny bruise and scrape on his face. But what truly captivated him were Siwoo’s sincere, gleaming eyes staring at him as if they wanted to devour him whole.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

He couldn’t control himself.

He pressed his lips fervently against Siwoo’s bruised mouth, the sweet taste of his lips mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Siwoo hesitated in surprise before kissing him back, immediately pulling him closer by his slender waist.

Junho couldn’t get enough of the feeling – strong arms holding his body, warm lips devouring his own. Every nerve in his body focused solely on the places where Siwoo touched him. He wanted to lose himself in his embrace, to melt into him, so their bodies would never be separate again.

In that moment, he thought he never wanted to belong to anyone else. Only to Siwoo.

Only to him.

"Junho," Siwoo whispered as they broke apart slightly, his voice trembling.

Junho nearly burst into tears from the rush of emotions flooding his body. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Siwoo’s shoulders, nuzzling his cold nose into the crook of his neck to breathe in more of his wonderful scent. They slowly lay back onto the bed, Siwoo still holding Junho securely by the waist. They panted, hearts pounding wildly, neither of them speaking – because neither knew what to say.

Finally, after a long silence, Siwoo spoke.

"Maybe I should go," he whispered reluctantly. "I don’t think your parents would be happy if they saw me here."

Junho chuckled softly. "You slept here all night, Siwoo. My mom already saw you."

"She did?" Siwoo’s eyes widened slightly, his face looking adorably panicked in Junho’s opinion.

"Yes, but don't worry, nothing happened," he replied absentmindedly. "At first, she was a little angry, but when she realized you didn’t have any serious injuries, she just said that this wasn’t exactly what he meant when she said, ‘I don’t mind if you bring boys over to the house,’" he laughed, making Siwoo chuckle as well.

Junho was grateful that Siwoo didn’t push the topic further or ask about his father – because Junho didn’t have one. His mother had given birth to him at young age, and her partner had abandoned her as soon as he found out she was pregnant. It was a terrible story, and he wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it now – fortunately, he didn’t have to. Siwoo remained silent, so Junho, albeit a little hesitantly, asked his own question:

"And what about your parents? I’d really love for you to stay a little longer, but they must be worried about you, and…"

"No worries," Siwoo interrupted calmly. "My parents are barely ever home. Because of their new business, they’re constantly traveling around the country, and right now, they’re away on a business trip."

Junho sighed in relief and, completely at ease, snuggled even closer to his companion. He gently stroked Siwoo’s face with his long fingers, while the other boy just gazed at him in silence, his expression relaxed. Junho’s eyes lingered longingly on Siwoo’s slightly cracked, wounded lips, which now carried a faint smile. With a hazy mind, he pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of Siwoo’s mouth, then continued, kissing every injury on the boy’s soft, smooth skin.

When he reached the large, bluish-purple bruise stretching from his cheekbone across the bridge of his nose, Siwoo hissed in pain.

Junho pulled away in alarm. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…"

Siwoo cut him off with a laugh, pulling the boy’s face closer.

"It doesn’t matter," he murmured, teetering on the edge of another kiss. "Nothing matters, just touch me again. Please."

With that, their lips met once more. Junho swung his long leg over the other’s waist, trying to get even closer.

A beautiful, magical sensation wrapped around them, sparks seeming to ignite wherever their skin met. Junho thought that he wanted to stay like this forever.