Chapter Text
It was stupid, he knew, to let his eyes linger for so long; to watch him from afar as he chewed on his wine stained lip before breaking into a dazzling smile, dimple decorating his cheek, laughing at whatever unfunny joke their dean had made; but it didn’t matter how stupid he knew it was, he couldn’t stop. Ten could blame it on the half bottle of wine he had indulged in if anyone were to ask. But no one would ask.
So he let his mind wander as his eyes were trained on his lips. He thought back to the last time those plush lips were on his. Three months ago, almost a year post break up, Kun’s warm breath just a bit too hot on his skin while Kun’s old desk fan fought against the humidity brought in by the day’s broken air conditioning. He remembered the droplets of sweat at his nape, the beaded sweat at Kun’s temples.
Kun’s eyes briefly darted towards him, making short contact before shame ripped through Ten’s spine, forcing him to look away in an instant. His cheeks burned. Something else to blame on the alcohol. Sighing, Ten readjusted on the pleather couch, wincing as it crackled under him. Whatever, he thought, dismissing his sudden awkwardness, this is boring.
Kun had felt Ten’s eyes on him. Of course, he’d noticed. He’d been scanning the party for Ten since first spotting him in the kitchen, tipping a bottle over his empty glass. He hadn’t seen Kun in between the three coworkers vying for his attention. Two that Kun didn’t know, new graduate teachers in a different department. He had made a mental note to introduce himself officially at some point. His face had hardened once realizing who the third was. Xiao Dejun. Musical theater prodigy. So pretty it hurt to look at him for too long. And so obviously infatuated with Ten that Kun had turned on his heel and practically jogged out of the room before getting caught in the middle of a sickening display of mutual flirtation.
He thought about what to do, if anything, about Ten staring at him. Sure, Kun had been looking for him, but only to make sure he could avoid bumping into him. Being at work had been awkward since the break up, but he thought, after nearly a year, they were doing just fine pretending to be strangers. The awkwardness, to Kun at least, was only made worse after recklessly hooking up. Reckless in the sense that it happened on campus. Reckless in the sense that every feeling he’d viciously smothered away for nine months had just as violently clawed its way out and presented itself anew. And they had evolved. No matter what he tried since, the feelings remained at the forefront of his mind and heart.
Worse, still, was the second rejection. Ten straddling his lap, leaning his full body weight against him, pressing him against the armrest of his office loveseat, his breathing had steadied, but his chest fluttered and his hair was disheveled. Kun had instinctively reached out to fix it. He laid delicate fingers to Ten’s forehead and smoothed out the damp clumps at his nape, leading him to rest his face against his neck.
Ten had squeezed his arm after a moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. His breath tickled Kun’s neck. “That was good.”
“Just like old times?”
Ten snorted. “Did we ever do this on campus?”
“You know what I mean, silly.” His finger had been absentmindedly tracing patterns on Ten’s spine while Ten did the same at his shoulder. He had closed his eyes, letting himself drink in Ten’s presence, the feeling of his dewy cheek on his collarbone, the faded scent of his chamomile shampoo, his heart beat echoing against his. Ten had stayed quiet. The silence, once full of their breathing and hushed whines, had suddenly panicked Kun. It was enough to bring back lucid thinking. It reminded him he’d already lost this feeling once and that he desperately needed it back.
“Haven’t you missed this, Ten?” he blurted, worried too much thought would take his chance away. “Haven’t you missed us?”
Ten had gotten up then. He slowly peeled his damp skin off of Kun’s, leaving a cold trail behind him. Then, finding his clothes, buttoning up, he muttered an “I’m sorry,” stepped into his boots, shook his head with a “this was a mistake,” and left an exposed and wet-eyed Kun in his wake.
It was bad enough their offices were in the same hallway—bad enough that Kun had actually asked the dean to let him move his office, which he’d loved and practically lived in for the better part of five years, to literally anywhere else.
“Why would a music instructor have an office outside of the fine arts building?” was the dean’s answer. Kun didn’t want to push it.
So, he dealt with Ten’s barely hidden smirks when they crossed paths. He took the stairs when he saw Ten waiting for the elevator and bored his eyes into his phone when he heard Ten’s melodic giggle through the open doors of the dance studio as he passed, trying not to think about the days he’d spent admiring Ten’s dancing until he was nearly late to his next class. He felt one step away from insanity the longer the semester passed. He had thought, with time, his stomach would stop flipping at the mention of his name, that his bitterness would turn him cold. Instead, he was left angry and vulnerable, organs rebelling against him every time he caught Ten’s attention, irritability bubbling at his throat because the gall of him even giving me attention!
Now here he was doing it again. Giving him attention and averting his gaze when he was caught. His head went hot the longer he thought of it. The faux smile on his face wavered. He downed the rest of his wine, and decided against giving Ten the satisfaction of knowing how affected he was.
“I might get the wrong idea if you keep giving me this much attention.” Ten’s tongue grazed his lip as he smiled at the incoming Dejun. He kept a coy gaze on his eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, Round and warm.
Dejun actually blushed. The pink in his cheeks was obvious despite the dim lights in the dean’s living room. He sat, knocking Ten’s knee slightly with his, and opened his mouth to speak, faltering a couple times, before finally saying, “I don’t get you during the day as often as I’d like.”
“That’s adorable,” Ten said through laughter. “But this is a party! Please don’t ask me about work.” Ten really did think he was cute. He knew how easy it would be to suggest they find a quieter room—there were so many in this house—and make that room less quiet. He wanted so badly to satisfy the insatiable craving he’d had for months. But he knew better than to romance the graduate student teacher that had harbored a crush on him since his undergrad. Besides, where would the fun be in that?
His mind made up, Ten attempted to put out the fire in his eyes, pulling his leg back, barely listening to Dejun’s response. He turned to see Kun, red-faced and nostrils flared, three steps away from his perch on the couch. He had been caught. His stomach would’ve dropped if he wasn’t silently reveling in finally getting Kun’s attention. Instead, he smiled.
“Qian Kun gracing our Christmas party with his presence?” Ten arched an eyebrow, poised to strike. “If someone lured you here with promises of seeing Jay Chou, I regret to inform you you’ve been taken for a sucker.” Ten was unsatisfied with his quip, which fell flat as a palpable tension settled in between them. He felt it encroaching in his chest; it made him nearly choke on his next breath. Kun was unmoved.
“Very funny.” His eyes were dark. He kept them piercing on Ten. “Can we talk?”
“We’re talking now, silly,” he said, “and you’ve interrupted us, actually.” Ten gestured towards Dejun, wide-eyed and beautiful on the opposite side of the couch. Ten kept a crooked smile easy on his lips while taking short breaths through his nose. He couldn’t remember the last time Kun gave him more than a half-second’s glance. That day in the summer, he guessed. His insides were jelly under Kun’s stare. His heart rate soared. Kun’s jaw tightened. Ten tried not to stare back.
“I’m gonna get some air in the backyard.” Kun brushed a loose lock of hair off of his forehead. His voice was steady despite the aggravation plain on his face. “You can join me or not.”
And how could Ten refuse? His leg twitched, but he would not deign to follow him without at least faking apathy as Kun turned to walk away. He shifted his body to look at Dejun, who was still watching Kun’s retreating figure.
“Are you guys still friends?” he asked, eyebrow raised, and quickly turned to face Ten. “If you join him, will you ask him why he hates me?” A smile twitched at his lips.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Ten sighed and reached in to softly pat Dejun’s cheek. “He’s just a little useless around pretty boys.” He sighed again, making a move to stand before Dejun’s slender fingers encircled his wrist to keep his hand against his cheek.
He chuckled lightly and darted his eyes to Ten’s lips and back to his eyes, pleading oozing from behind his pupils. This would be so easy, a perfect distraction from whatever angst Kun was conjuring within him. Maybe Dejun could break whatever spell he’d been under since the start of the semester. If not, then at least he could provide a few minutes of relief from the skin prickling desire he couldn’t shake off—a desire that was only growing the farther Kun got away from him.
He gently freed his hand from Dejun’s and offered an apologetic smile. “Try not to take it personally. It’d be inappropriate.”
“But I was never your student—
“You really are so pretty,” he interrupted, smiling, trying his best to be consoling.
Dejun dropped his gaze, but a small smile still played at his lips. “I knew it was a long shot,” he sighed. “I told Yangyang I couldn’t compete, but he was so sure you guys basically hated each other now.”
“Excuse me?” Ten blinked.
“Oh—nothing.” Dejun stood up quickly, hiding a sheepish smile in an exaggerated stretch. “I’ll see you on Monday!”
Before Ten could react, Dejun had danced away. Ten sat in stunned silence. Why was Dejun talking to his teaching assistant? Why was his teaching assistant discussing Ten’s non-relationships with Dejun? Was Yangyang keeping tabs on him? Was Yangyang keeping tabs on him and Kun?! Was Dejun? Who else knew about this? Ten’s mind whirred.
Kun had been adamant about keeping their relationship secret from work, something something about HR policies and a list of complications Ten hadn’t listened to Kun relay the first night they had slept together. Yeah, yeah, a secret, he’d said in between mouthfuls of Kun’s lips. No one at work has to know, while Kun’s tongue flicked against his chest tattoo.
And wasn’t that what led to their break up? Kun being so aggravatingly unemotional and unaffected at Ten’s advances in front of coworkers; Kun glaring at him in his office after Ten teased him too much during a work lunch. Things that left Ten confused and feeling rejected; things Ten refused to talk about later for fear of showing how much it hurt him.
And people knew?
No, they couldn’t have known. Kun’s coldness to Ten in front of the entire staff could never have misrepresented them as anything other than coworkers—and not very close ones either. He must’ve misunderstood what Dejun had said. He thought maybe he should put his wine glass to rest for the night.
Instead, he gulped down the remainder of the purple glass, and unsteadily made his way to find Kun, who was starting to shiver under his cover from the wisps of snow in the night. He checked his watch for the third time in a minute and thought he may as well just go home soon. The night had been soured. Ten wasn’t coming. He should’ve stayed home like he did last year, redeemed his Christmas season, refused to let Ten ruin it again. He imagined he might still be able to save it, but he already felt the sting of bitter tears and an unbearable weight in his chest. Fuck Ten for ruining another Christmas for him, another birthday probably. He should've stayed home. No, he should’ve ignored Ten. He questioned himself now, asking why he even needed to know the meaning of Ten’s unbridled stare—it was probably meaningless, like all things were with Ten lately—and why he felt compelled to interrupt while Dejun was prepped to make a move.
He checked his watch again and swore he’d leave if he was still alone in another minute. Being alone in the cold at a Christmas party was pathetic enough, but being alone in the cold for over ten minutes? He’d be damned. He followed the thicker clumps of snow floating through the night sky to give his eyes something other to do than cry. The snow was falling faster and a breeze was picking up. He shivered again through his parka.
It had been a minute, he knew, but he didn’t want to check. When would he learn his lesson? He wiped his eyes with cold fingers before turning towards the door to reenter the warmth of the house.
“I’m such an idiot,” he breathed, nearly knocking into a winter-kissed Ten in his haste. “Oh.”
Ten shifted his posture and frowned. “I looked for you out front. You didn’t say where outside.” He crossed his arms in front of him. His coat and beanie were laden with snow. He was concerningly underdressed for the weather. It made Kun frown.
“You never listen to me.”
“Well, you should’ve waited for me to get up,” he huffed. “Why are we outside anyway? There’s no scarcity of empty rooms in this monstrosity of a house.”
“Did you circle the entire house looking for me?” Kun wanted to reach out and brush the snow off of Ten. His cheeks and nose were so red. “I’m sorry.”
“No, of course not,” Ten lied smoothly. “We should go inside though. You look two minutes away from hypothermia.”
Kun wanted to say no, but the breeze was turning into wind, and the snow was falling faster. An alarm rang briefly in his head—he was sure snow was not predicted tonight—but it faded quickly as his concern for Ten’s cartoonish shivers and teeth chattering rose.
“Let’s get inside before you freeze,” he said, finally reaching to brush the snow from Ten’s coat. He did the same to his beanie, steadying him with a soft hand on his shoulder. Ten remained quiet, obediently still as Kun fussed with him. Once Kun was satisfied, he cocked his head to gesture towards the door. Ten nodded and thoughtlessly grabbed his hand before heading inside.
Kun’s hand was cold. His fingers stayed prone, rather than wrapping around Ten’s equally frigid hand. Ten didn’t care. He needed to get out of the cold and ensure Kun wasn’t going to disappear on him again. He’d been growing a habit of making mental excuses for the way he treated Kun despite no one ever asking.
Why am I by the studio door at exactly the time Kun’s morning class lets out today? The studio is hot and I needed air. And why am I taking the elevator to the second floor around the time Kun needs to get to his class on the fourth? Rehearsal ran late and my legs are tired.
Why am I talking him up when the graduate teachers tease him behind his back? Why did I gush about him being the youngest instructor in our department on track to be professor? Why did I call him a genius? Why am I staring at him from reception? I’m not in love with him, why do you ask?
Kun was the first to talk once inside. He was all flushed and tense from the cold and the unexpected physical contact. He looked so cute and flustered while he shrugged his parka off. Ten couldn’t help but marvel, ogling at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck when he cleared his throat before speaking. He took off his own coat, feeling dizzy while his hot blood defrosted his skin. Dizzy from the way Kun’s sweater was uncharacteristically tight against his chest. A smile tugged the corners of his lips unwillingly.
“Let’s find a room, then.” Kun’s eyes were shifty now, glancing at the coworkers mingling far behind Ten. It made Ten want to roll his eyes. His smile dropped.
“Aren’t you afraid of someone seeing us sneak away together?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“Hmm?” Kun’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Nothing,” Ten muttered. “Come this way.”
They walked silently, Ten at the helm, up the grand staircase of the dean’s comically large on-campus mansion. Ten thought the money that went to maintaining this place would be better spent on their salaries. He hated these parties, the college’s pretension of a casual get together in front of an overindulgent backdrop. He’d gone to every single one since being hired and found nothing special. The art and decor was soulless, the company tedious, the wine only passable. Of course, he’d only started liking wine last year, so he supposed he could’ve been a bit less snobby about it.
Images of last year’s holiday party reeled through his head as he walked Kun up and across the house. Kun had been absent, as expected. Ten would’ve stayed home, too, but he didn’t want to spend the night wallowing in self-inflicted sadness. He had briefly wondered if he even had a right to be sad, given that he’d been the one to break it off. His resolution was that he absolutely did. He had done the breaking up, but really it had been Kun’s hand that forced him.
“You hate the idea of people knowing you’re with me that bad, huh?” Ten had spit at him through tears, feeling the burn of rejection bubble in his heart again. “Why are we even bothering with this anymore?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
The Christmas party is what he had been talking about. He had been so excited to show up as a couple. Not even anything over the top, just both arriving in Kun’s car, matching outfits, maybe share a few tipsy kisses in the dim lighting. Who would’ve cared? But there was Kun with his list again. A list that didn’t matter to Ten. He just wanted to be shown off, to feel like Kun was proud of being with him, to not resist the urge to kiss him when he said or did something cute. But Kun was embarrassed of him, or didn’t think he was worth the paperwork. And he was tired of it. So he ended it.
At least Kun had cried. He had argued, but not hard enough. Ten had drowned out his sorrows later that night in one of these empty rooms, kissing a man he’d not met before, who’d tasted like cookies, who hadn’t made his heart race and barely taken his mind off of Kun even while on his knees in front of him.
“What are you thinking about?” Kun interrupted his thoughts.
“You tell me,” he answered. “You’re the one who asked to talk.” He stopped to lean against the railing upstairs and faced Kun. A wave of something rushed though him seeing the expression on Kun’s face. He held a slight pout and downcast eyes. His hair fell haphazardly around his eyes, wet from the melted snow. Ten’s fingers twitched. He needed to touch him again, but he was frustratingly keeping his distance. The urge was nearly irrepressible now, multiplied here with the muted sounds of the party downstairs and the twinkling lights wrapped around the banisters. They bounced off of Kun’s milky skin, radiant still in the shadowy hall. Ten looked down at his hands, waiting for a response, waiting to be looked at.
Kun sighed instead of talking and walked to the opposite side of the hall to lean on the wall, infuriatingly far from Ten. It’s fine, this is better, he tried to reassure himself. Why would he want him close, anyway? Kun was fully shadowed now away from the Christmas lights, but his figure from across the hall was magnetizing. Ten grasped onto the railing behind him for stability.
This is bad. Why was this proximity, and lack thereof, agonizing him like this? He couldn’t blame it on lust. Kun was always hot, and today he seemed revoltingly edible, with his sweater flush against his broad chest, his skin glistening in the lights, his lips plump and pouty. Even the limp hair hanging pathetically over his face made Ten’s stomach lurch. Lust could’ve been done and over with Dejun downstairs.
“You wanted my attention, and you have it.” Kun’s voice was soft from the shadows. “I just want to know why.”
“‘Why?’”
“Why do you want my attention, Ten?” His tone was indecipherable. A whisper that barely carried over the distance between them.
Haven’t you missed this, Ten?
Ten shut his eyes. Why did he want Kun’s attention? Why did he dance? Why did he breathe? As if he could just explain it. He didn’t know. He just did. Even this time last year and throughout the rest of the year. The feeling didn’t go away, though it waned as time passed, as the spring semester got busy, while he left for the summer. Then all at once it hit him and, like a runaway train, gained momentum faster than he had a chance to stop it before ending up on top of Kun on his couch, breathing heavily through the comedown, thinking about how much he’d missed this, how safe he felt there, inhaling the scent of his cologne, feeling his soft skin sticking to his, and that if things could be different this time, he wanted to try again. He’d desperately needed to try again.
“Ten?”
His eyes flew open. “Would you rather I didn’t?”
“Are you serious?”
“Just answer the question.”
Ten was impossible. Demanding an answer without first giving his. It made Kun’s fists ball up in indignation. Would he rather Ten not want his attention? The answer was entirely dependent on Ten. If he just wanted to torment him, then, yes, he’d rather he didn’t. But if Ten really wanted his attention again, would it be pathetic if Kun wanted to give it to him? He squeezed the bridge of his nose. He refused to be rejected a third time.
“You’ve made it clear to me that you didn’t want anything from me. So, yes, please stop.” Kun spoke through gritted teeth. “Stop whatever game you think you’re playing.”
“I’m not playing a game.”
Kun finally looked towards Ten’s spot at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t looking at Kun. His head was daintily held in one of his hands, propped up on his elbow over the railing. His profile was backlit by the white Christmas lights that cast little flares of glitter on his face. Kun had always loved Ten’s profile; he loved to look at the delicate swoop of his nose and admire the silky skin of his cheek, places he’d once loved kissing, too. Ten had a beauty that left Kun feeling breathless when he stopped to look. It was hard to look away once he’d started.
“Then what are you doing?” he managed to ask.
He could see the curl of Ten’s smile before he answered. “Being stupid, maybe.”
Kun could hear the strain in his voice despite its subtlety. He crossed the gap to face Ten, who, through laughter, shook his head and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt when Kun noticed his tears. Concern widened Kun’s eyes, but he let Ten compose himself on his own.
“Ten—
He shook his head again. “I should stop, right? I shouldn’t be so insensitive. I- I just feel this- this compulsion. I want you to see me. But then I don’t.” His eyes were glistening as he spoke. “This isn’t healthy, I know. It’s not nice, I know.”
“Ten—
“No, let me finish. You asked me three months ago if I missed this. If I missed us.” A tear slid down his cheek. Kun ached to wipe it for him. To tell him to stop talking and apologize for making him cry. How did he always make him cry? “I don’t miss this,” he choked out. “I don’t miss how we were.”
“Oh.” Kun backed away like he’d been spit at. He swallowed forcefully and felt his hands begin to tremble. “You don’t—
“I’ll leave you alone. I’ll figure myself out. I’ll give you space. Don’t worry, I hear you. I was listening.”
“What did I do?” Kun blinked back his own tears, swallowed at the stone in his throat again. “Let me say sorry.”
“Nothing wrong. I’ll be fine.” Ten was moving to leave. Kun didn’t let him. He caught his waist around his arm as he tried to pass and held him firmly. “Please let me go,” he whispered, terrified of embarrassing himself further.
“Is that what you want? You want me to let you go?” Kun spoke softly, close to Ten’s face as he held his waist, close enough to kiss.
“Yes,” he whispered again. “Let me go.”
Any fight Kun might have had left in him evaporated. Ten had rejected him again. He felt a suffocating ache in his chest as he released his hold on his waist, letting him rush down the stairs and away from him for the third time in a year.