Suho’s smirk returns, but there’s no amusement in it. Just a thin thread of warning. “I know what you’re doing. Let me play too.” Gotak tenses as he steps even closer. “For someone who keeps calling me ‘friend,’ you get pretty worked up when you can’t find me in five minutes.”

Gotak scowls, heat rushing up his neck. “Even I can worry about my friends.” “Right.” “You know I’m clingy with my friend, Juntae, right? I’ve blamed myself once when he disappeared. Since then, I get nervous when people leave without a word.” He mutters without thinking.

Words come out in a breathless rush. Suho’s voice lowers. “Go Hyuntak,” he warns, tone dangerous. “Stop pushing all the wrong buttons. You won’t like what I’ll say.”

Something about that hits a nerve. All week, Suho’s been calm. The one who always has the upper hand. And maybe Gotak knows deep down it’s not Suho’s fault he gets like this. But right now? He’s done folding. Done letting his own chest cave in while Suho holds all the cards.

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenched. “Fuck you.” “You have such a potty mouth, someone ought to shut that up.” Suho snaps, one hand runs through his hair, fingers tangling in it. Gotak catches the flex of his arm, the tension in his body, and it’s not fucking helping.

“Stop pretending you’re not scared of what this is,” Suho continues. “You flinch the second I step too close, but the minute I give you space, you pull me back.” Suho steps closer, barely an inch between them now.

“You know what you looked like? The moment I wasn’t in your line of sight?” Gotak opens his mouth but Suho doesn’t stop. “You get sulky when I introduce you as just Sieun’s boyfriend, but you try to run the moment someone hints otherwise.” Fucking asshole. Jerk. Bastard.

Gotak holds his stare, breath caught somewhere in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s defiance or something softer now. But his glare stays. They stay like that for God knows how long. Then Suho’s gaze drops to his lips.

And Gotak mirrors him. Staring at the curve of Suho’s mouth, at the way it’s parted just slightly like he’s holding something back, like it’s taking everything in him not to move, not to close the gap. Time stretches.

Their breathing is shallow, chest to chest, their knees nearly brushing. They’re close. Too fucking close. Suho doesn’t move, doesn’t even lift his gaze. Just keeps staring at Gotak’s mouth like it’s a trigger he’s one wrong breath from pulling.

Gotak feels his heart trying to leap straight out of his throat and this whole fucking fiasco drives him insane. He can’t take it anymore. Then he says, voice low, trembling with adrenaline. “If you’re gonna kiss me,” his breath shakes. “Fucking do it already.”

They eat separately. After storming off to his room, Gotak doesn’t see Suho again for hours. The apartment is too quiet. He ends up eating alone, the smell of food clinging to the walls of his room, something he normally hates. But it’s better than sitting across from nothing.

He’s not angry. No. He’s just deeply, humiliatingly embarrassed. The realization that he wanted that kiss is one thing. The fact that Suho had seen right through him—his avoidance, his inability to stay when things get real, that’s another. It hits somewhere deep.

He cannot even be mad that Suho laid it all out there. Suho wasn’t even cruel about it. Just honest. Gotak thought he was subtle. Turns out, he’s not. Suho’s seen through every wall he built, every second glance, every flinch, every lean. Apparently, he’s fucking far from it.

By the time he steps out of his room again, the place is empty. He washes his dishes without focus, avoids looking at the kitchen. Pretends not to remember how close Suho got. How his voice shook. He washes in the bathroom and goes back to his room. The silence swallows him.

His mind briefly drifts to the possibility that Suho left the apartment. Gone who knows where. But then he remembers those damn words Suho said earlier, comparing him (not directly) to some clingy pet with separation anxiety. That alone is enough to shut the thought down.

Whatever. Suho can go wherever the fuck he wants. Gotak yanks the blanket over his head, tucks it up to his hairline, and shuts his eyes like he can will sleep to happen.

Okay, he lied. All he does is lie. He’s a fucking liar, okay. Truth is, he does care. He cares a lot. He hates that Suho might’ve gone out without telling him. And before he can stop himself, he grabs his phone and types like some crazy obsessive ex.

No reply. Five minutes pass. Still nothing. (Fucking whatever.) He throws his phone across the bed. Sends a bunch of sappy messages to Sieun instead, because that’s what he does every night. It's routine, it grounds him. But even that feels a little heavier than usual.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Refuses to think. Until there's a chime on his screen. He bolts upright, heart leaping. Grabs his phone like it’s oxygen.

Gotak exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. No new messages, though after that. Then his phone chimes again.

When he finally puts his phone down for the night, something still buzzes under his skin. He lies in the dark, hand over his heart, like it could settle the ache. But sleep drags him under eventually.

The next day is... off. Gotak wakes late. The air in the apartment feels different, like something’s unspoken. Still unresolved. He eats lunch alone. Again. Leaves food out for Suho stiffly, but thoughtfully. It sits untouched on the table.

He tries to distract himself. Opens his laptop. Pretends to finish his assignments. But mostly, he just waits. Checks the hallway. Listens for footsteps. When Suho finally comes out of his room, it’s already past two. Still groggy, still warm from sleep.

Gotak can’t even look at him properly. This is driving him insane. How it’s somehow even more awkward today than it was yesterday or the day before. The tension’s exhausting, like they’ve been tiptoeing around each other every morning for the past three days.

And yeah, it’s probably Gotak’s fault, so who the hell is he even trying to blame? He opens his laptop and starts playing Terraria. Surprisingly, he gets into it. The game pulls him in just enough to forget everything for a while, hours, maybe.

Until Suho’s voice breaks the silence, suddenly close. “That’s a cool house.” Gotak turns and nearly jumps. Suho’s crouched behind the couch, arms folded over the backrest, chin resting there. His head is level with Gotak’s.

His eyes are on him. His gaze lands, unfairly, on Suho’s mouth first. They’re at the same height like this—before it climbs up to meet his eyes. They stare. Silently.

That’s when it clicks. Suho’s dressed to go out, hair still damp like he just got out of the shower, something Gotak hadn’t noticed while buried in his game. This time, Gotak doesn’t ask questions. He simply looks away and refocuses on his laptop, pretending he’s doesn't care.

Then Suho speaks. “Youngyi messaged. They're short-staffed today, and there’s an event, so they’re kinda desperate for help.” Gotak doesn’t reply. Just a vague hum, not sure what the proper response is. This is the first time Suho’s telling him in advance that he’s heading out.

Still, his eyes trail after him as Suho walks toward the front door. Eventually, Gotak gets up too, awkward and stiff, as if his body moved on its own. Suho’s already slipping on his shoes when he throws one last grin over his shoulder.

“Don’t starve yourself,” he says with a grin. It hits different this time. Gotak swallows, then asks, “So... no dinner here?” “The event probably ends around 10. They’ll want to eat after. I’ll be back by midnight, maybe.”

Gotak nods. He tries so damn hard to act unfazed, to keep his expression flat even though the heaviness in his chest has been stuck there since last night. Maybe it’s the fact they haven’t talked properly since... whatever last night was. Was it even a fight?

Some kind of emotional tug-of-war? He baited Suho. Suho bit. Gotak flinched. Refused the kiss. Now here they are. And Suho’s heading out like nothing’s happened.

“Text me when you’re home,” Gotak mutters, voice low, before turning back into the apartment. The soft click of the door closing is the only reply. He tells himself it’s nice to have the apartment to himself. It’s not.

Gotak doesn’t even know how the hell he made it through the day. He tried taking a nap, but it barely lasted an hour before he was up again. Gaming made his head throb, and every show he put on lost his interest within minutes.

He’d been messaging Sieun too. Tried calling even but it kept going straight to voicemail. Took him a second to realize Sieun was probably just asleep. Perfect. And no, he’s not going to talk about how often he’s been checking the time.

On his phone, his laptop, even the living room clock. It’s pathetic. He’s losing it. Honestly. Eventually, when the sky’s dark and he’s sick of doing nothing, he boils some instant noodles.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly when he checks Suho’s Instagram, an app they both barely use. And yet, Suho has new stories. A repost. A Korean barbeque. Glasses of alcohol. An hour ago. So, yeah. They’re drinking now. Great.

He tells himself he should just call it a night. There’s nothing else to do anyway. But there’s this uncomfortable pressure in his chest that won’t go away. He sets his phone aside and finishes his food just as a notification lights up his screen. Sieun.

Right. One of them is buried in work, and the other’s out enjoying himself. He’s texted Baku and Juntae too. Not a single reply. He ends up taking a long shower, throws himself into bed, ready to crash.

But when he checks his phone one last time, there’s still no message from Suho. Not that he was waiting or anything.

Okay. Maybe he was. A little. He tells himself it’s normal. Suho probably tells Sieun everything, sends him updates, maybe even pictures. Hell, Gotak does the same. But still, it doesn’t sit right. Something about it nags at him. Makes him feel pathetic.

Petty. That’s what he is. He should probably fucking smack himself. Honestly, he doesn't know what he's doing anymore. All he knows is his fingers are already moving, already typing like they’ve made the decision for him.

Yup. Either Suho is completely shameless or definitely fucking drunk. He grins to himself anyway, ridiculous and grinning like some teenager, his chest lighter from the back-and-forth between them. It’s dumb, he knows, but it doesn’t feel so bad thinking about it now.

Fifteen minutes later, Suho texts again, saying he’s near the convenience store. Gotak immediately jumps from bed, grabs his hoodie, and half-jogs out the apartment. When he arrives, Suho is sitting outside the store on one of the stools, looking up just as Gotak approaches.

Gotak swallows hard, trying to play it cool even though he clearly rushed here. Suddenly, all those flirty messages from earlier hit him at once and make him weirdly shy. “Hey,” he mumbles, hood pulled up, ears burning.

Suho stares at him, a faint flush on his cheeks, probably from the alcohol but his eyes are clear, just a little heavy with sleep He doesn’t say anything back, just keeps looking, and Gotak clears his throat awkwardly, motioning toward the store. “Gonna grab a drink real quick.”

Suho yawns, nods, and follows him inside. They walk home in silence. It’s almost midnight, and the air is sharp with cold. Gotak’s glad he wore his hoodie. He side-eyes Suho, who’s quieter than usual. “What are you thinking so hard about?” Gotak finally breaks the silence.

Suho glances over. “Just tired. It was packed.” “Yeah?” “Yup.” They fall into step beside each other. After a few seconds, Gotak sighs. “Sorry about last night.” “Me too.”

“It wasn’t really your fault, though,” Gotak says, voice quieter than he means it to be, voice low. “We’ve lived together six months and… that was the first time we argued.” Suho takes a step closer, like he’s trying to hear him better or maybe just trying to be near.

“Was that even a fight?” Gotak shrugs, stuffing both hands deep into the pocket of his hoodie. “I dunno. Maybe?” “If it was, does this mean we’ve made up?” “Maybe we haven’t yet,” Suho murmurs, and there’s a look in his eyes that could be teasing. Or sincere. Maybe both.

Gotak lets out a breath through his nose. “Then what?” Suho grins. That familiar, maddening grin. “Kiss and make up?” Gotak stops mid-step. Literally halts. Suho’s already a pace ahead, but he turns, wearing that shit-eating grin. “What? Not a bad idea.” God. This guy.

Maybe it’s easier to handle Suho like this. Back in his usual teasing form, smug and playful, brushing off the tension like it’s all a joke. It’s comforting, in a way. Familiar. “That’s stupid,” Gotak mutters, brushing past him and picking up the pace.

Suho’s laughter spills into the night, unbothered, deep and a little raspy from the cold. It fills the space between them, cutting through the silence. “Come on, it’s genius,” he insists, catching up effortlessly. Gotak doesn’t reply.