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#hd:intro #⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ ooc #⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ pinned

inside the company every step echoes too loud, every reflection might be staff watching, turning her spine into pulled wire. sakura keeps her head down, sunglasses too big for her face, lets her hoodie swallow her fac. she's trying to quietly disappear piece by piece since she's the new girl at a major conglomerate. a door slams somewhere down the corridor and her shoulders jump before she can stop them. she hates how her body betrays her first and thinks later. fight or flight it's how it goes, except she's already halfway out the door in her mind before she even knows what she's running from. she'll always pick flight.

she keeps moving. left turn. oops, wrong turn. another glass panel. another version of herself staring back, and she almost doesn't recognize the girl with the dark lenses and the careful steps. that girl looks like she knows what she's doing? so very strange... sakura slips into an empty practice room, closes the door softly, and quietly settles to rehearse some of her lines. for a second, she thinks this is manageable and no one will be able to find— the door swings open and sakura freezes. the senior's voice fills the room easily but she misses half of what he and his secretary says because her brain is busy doing a thorough inventory: strangers, not staff she recognizes, too confident, not safe-not unsafe just marked as "unknown." there's a moment where she considers pretending they got the wrong girl. it would be easy. she's already halfway invisible.

"…sorry," she adds, a little late and automatic, slipping into politeness as if it's a borrowed coat. she dips her head for a bow, "i didn't hear you come in." which is a lie, she heard everything. her fingers curl tighter in her sleeves again, "…yamashiro, that's me...?"

senahd

in an instant, sena's eyes miraculously sparkled even brighter, like a diamond refracting the blistering, unapologetic rays of the sun. except in this case, he himself was the priceless diamond, and all before him need only bask in his radiance.

"brilliant!" sena cheered and swiftly switched to japanese without the slightest hint of whiplash, not at all caring that the young lady in front of him seemed to shrink and even quiver in his presence—or worse still, what if sena had not realised the psychological assault his arrival brought at all?

he quickly stepped into the room and distractedly gestured for his secretary to close the door behind her, not even waiting to ensure she had done just that—because sena's words were law and acts of treason were not seen in favourable light by the mercurial sovereign. sena kept his full attention on the trainee who, for better or worse, had the misfortune of catching his interest.

"i heard you were a musician before you joined us as a trainee, yes?" sena chirped with unbridled exuberance, his lungs honed from years of vocal training and singing not needing an intake of air before he prattled on. "firstly, let me just say, i'd love to hear what made you decide to audition as a trainee and not apply to be a producer, but we can pick your brain regarding that another time."

he closed the distance between them with the leisurely, terrifying grace of a feline, stopping just inches short of the fragile boundary of her personal space. "for now, i'd like to hear some of your work. apologies, i haven't had the time to give them a listen prior to me coming to find you. but surely, you can understand how eager i was to see for myself what new talent we have to work with."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hdsakura

surqrised

“There’s something beautiful about keeping certain aspects of your life hidden. Maybe people and clouds are beautiful because you can’t see everything.”

— Kamenashi Kazuya

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ soul #⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ queued

⟡ @hdsakura — thread.

sena kairi was the sort of creature notoriously fuelled by sheer whimsy and dangerous impulse, much to the chronic, ulcer-inducing vexation of his fellow executives and superiors.

the very second the whispers reached his ears—a new trainee, one who harbored actual, technical musical experience before donning the idol-in-training veneer—his labyrinthine mind immediately re-routed. the subsequent 'discussion' with his secretary regarding his calendar was less of a negotiation and more of a tyrannical demand to ruthlessly slash through his afternoon engagements. he had intended to carve out an entire half-day just to psychologically dissect this fresh blood, even contemplating pushing his evening flight to tokyo deeper into the night. only a withering, deeply exhausted lecture from his loyal secretary managed to tether him back to reality—because even he was quietly forced to admit how utterly ridiculous that would have been.

refusing to waste another second, sena made his descent to the lower floors of the building—where the dance studios and practice rooms were located—as soon as the last-minute apologies had been sent out and he was free to be a menace to the young lady who had made the unfortunate mistake of piquing his ravenous interest.

with his secretary trailing faithfully behind him, sena peered into the glass panels of each room until he located a solitary figure. bypassing any polite semblance of a knock, he swung the heavy door open with theatrical flair.

"hello, young lady," sena projected in smooth, only slightly accented korean. his voice carried the grandeur of a man who knew he was gracing the very air in the room with his presence alone. "i'm looking for—ah, wait, what was her name again?"

a long-suffering sigh escaped his secretary as she murmured the young trainee's name. sena’s dark eyes immediately sparked with predatory, chaotic delight as he smiled devastatingly at the lone occupant. "yamashiro! i'm looking for a yamashiro. do you happen to know where i could find her?"

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hdsakura #⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ queued

⟡ BEHIND EMPTY SMILES — (solo) この業界をなめんなよ, ft @hdharu.

sena kairi was a busy, busy man. so it was perhaps a stroke of cosmic fortune that he was no stranger to surviving off the thinnest, most fragile margins of sleep.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ prose #{ FINALLY got to write sena tearing haru to bits woot woot }

hdyeonseok

yeonseok’s eyes followed the motion of the stranger’s hands, up and over the concrete ramp that led outside. the city that slumbered just beyond it was blanketed, even now, in sunless sky. it would seem, then, that he still enjoyed the luxury of time. warily, he dropped his gaze back down to his sleeve, where the better end of it was soiled with whatever filth the coupe had accumulated on its latest drive. dirt and dead bugs, he could only imagine. he would need to change before morning attendance and his compulsory arrival at the dance hall. but first, before anything else…

his new companion had proposed to him a challenge— directed him almost effortlessly into it. and it wasn’t as if he’d been given the option to refuse, but yeonseok still took his time to consider. he continued to wait, patiently, for the blade of the guillotine to fall, was just about eager for it, if only to get everything over and done with, to be allowed to carry on with the rest of what had meant to unfold as a leisurely morning; however. as there was no subsequent retraction of it, it seemed the unexpected offer had genuinely been put forward in earnest, and yeonseok could do nothing now but take it as such. so, he simply settled upon observing the one who had extended it, and he did so, firstly, in segments: noted the pristine part of the older man’s hair, the expensive fabric of his clothes, the dark gleam of his eyes. then: everything in one piece. and following observation after observation, the conclusion that he ultimately drew was… odd. because there was something of a vague, unremitting familiarity about this person, though yeonseok was certain they’d never met.

“okay, sure,” he assented finally, turning on his heel and beginning his walk out. “but why didn’t you just eat with your. … man(?).” there was no complaint in the question, despite the bad manners of it. only interest. “y’ really don’t have a lot of choice right now. nightclubs are just startin’ to close. cafes probably won’t be open for another hour.”

senahd

another mirthful laugh, bright and startlingly genuine, tore itself from sena's throat. there were few things he adored more than his instincts being proven right, and the blunt, unvarnished audacity he had sensed in the young man was already shining with a delightful polish.

"since i'm already buying your silence, i might as well get my money's worth and provide you with a little more to keep quiet about," sena began, his pace leisurely as he trailed closely after his towering guide. no doubt, he was throwing caution straight into the freezing morning wind. it was undeniable proof of how profoundly impossible a task it was for sena to rein himself in, especially when he found himself this thoroughly entertained.

"i can't say who, but my... 'man'—" he tested the young boy's choice of word on his tongue, finding the simplicity of it highly amusing, "—is an assemblyman, in case you didn't catch a glimpse of his face. we try to minimise our contact at... incriminating hours, lest we get caught. case in point." sena gestured vaguely toward the trainee to prove the exact hazard that he was referring to. yet, despite the catastrophic scandal such a revelation would certainly invite, sena did not look the least bit affected by the danger.

his steps remained as light as the crisp air around them, the fae-like glimmer in his dark eyes making him appear decades younger than the heavy reality of his true age. he kept his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he spoke with a theatrical levity. "he did, however, so generously gift me an allowance for breakfast, which i'm certain he would love for me to share with you, provided whatever you saw remains entombed within the concrete of the parking lot."

sena tilted his head, the picture of playful inquiry. "as for where we might partake in this feast... you got your earlier loot from somewhere, no? if nothing else is open, take me there. if it's where i'm thinking it is, i'll happily expand the scope to, let's see... a week's worth of groceries? two? what do you kids want nowadays?"

a remarkably patronising statement coming from a man who was often mistaken for being half his actual age—a visual dissonance only further exacerbated by the fact that he had to tilt his head back just to look at the trainee walking beside him.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hdyeonseok #queue

hyunhd

minhyun does not think it strange. it could hardly displease him, either. it would have been far stranger if sena's nights were empty, if his time went uncontested, if people did not orbit him with that particular brand of eager gravity. he was composed in that effortless way minhyun had long since learned was anything but accidental. and sought after—god, obviously. he doesn't make a comment on it, doesn't feel the need to. he merely nods along as he listens, expression soft and receptive.

his lashes lower slightly at sena's honesty, not in embarrassment, but something more thoughtful, quietly unsettled. minhyun isn't oblivious, he knows what people come to him for: the steady warmth, the way comfort seems to come naturally to him like breathing. he is good at being someone people lean on, at quiet patience and making space where others could rest. yet this, right now, sits differently in his chest.

his gaze flickers briefly to sena's glass, then back to his face, searching without quite meaning to. at this hour. the words linger just long enough for something lighter to stir warm and quiet beneath his ribs. not dismissal, but the gentle instict he always has to soften the weight of a moment before it presses too heavily against him.

a quiet chuckle escapes him before he can quite stop it. "oh—only at this hour?" minhyun murmurs, amusement threading softly through his voice. his smile curves slow and a little shy at the edges, the brief catch of his lower lip between his teeth flashing both fangs proudly. "is the competition, like, really good at noon?"

there is no real challenge in it, only fond, easy teasing. "we should grab lunch next time, then." minhyun offers, lifting his glass in a small, easy motion. he takes a measured sip of the pale gold liquid, liquid courage, because he can already sense himself toeing lines he isn't entirely sure he should, and because sena's words had landed just a little too close to the edge of his composure. he has the quiet suspicion he may need the buffer.

the warmth that blooms across his cheeks, victim to sena's velvety tone and undeniable insinuation, soon proves him right. he doesn't hide it, though, doesn't overthink it either. instead, minhyun reaches for his own fork, fingers flicking with familiar precision as he twirls the pasta for himself, at last. "oh, i know," he admits easily, tone light but unmistakably fond. his head tilts just slightly, conceding a point he had never truly intended to argue in the first place.

"i may have been hoping for a scolding first." the fork pauses halfway to his lips, just long enough. "or an order," he adds, quieter now, gaze lifting through his lashes with that same warm, knowing softness. "you give those delightfully, hyung." only then does he finally take a proper bite—perfectly behaved.

senahd

it should be a criminal offence to amuse sena as effortlessly as his companion often did. that was the age-old warning parents gave their children, after all—to never play with the devil, lest you find yourself happily burning in his inferno. yet here minhyun was, willingly dancing at the edge of the flames, amusing sena in a way that made his typically steady pulse thrum with a wicked excitement and sing a dark, melodic tune of absolute contentment.

the smile that subsequently broke out across sena's face was uninhibited and razor-sharp, a cheshire-like curve that paired lethally with the dangerous glint darkening his eyes—a familiar foreboding of impending mischief. he tilted his head back, letting the last of the pale gold liquid slip down his throat, before murmuring over the crystal rim, "i can give you as many orders as your heart desires, but i’m not sure i can find it in me to scold someone who’s been so terribly good."

from the periphery of his vision, sena caught the silent approach of their sommelier, and a wicked plot sprang instantaneously to mind. he waved the man over with a languid lift of his empty glass, gesturing for a refill.

it was only when the sommelier stood dutifully beside their table, wine bottle in hand, that sena deliberately tugged on their still-joined hands beneath the linens. with a smooth, unyielding force, he pulled minhyun closer, completely collapsing the remaining distance and dragging the younger male right into his uncompromising personal space once more, entirely uncaring of their audience of one.

while it was true that this establishment was renowned for its culinary masterpieces, its expertise also lay in its absolute discretion—a highly dangerous policy to uphold when someone like sena was involved.

leaning in so close that there was no longer any room to conceal his true intentions, sena's whisper against minhyun's ear was quiet, velvet-soft, and utterly ruinous. it was heavy with the intoxicating warmth of wine cradling his blood and a brazen hunger he no longer cared to mask. "but what do you truly want?" he breathed, the words brushing against the shell of minhyun's ear like a physical caress. "do you want to be naughty for me, minhyun-ah? or do you want to keep behaving for me?"

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd #⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ queued

hyunhd

restraint has never quite meant blindness, and so minhyun watches. he notices the way sena's gaze darkens instead of softening; the slow, deliberate movement of his mouth, like he is tasting something far more interesting than pasta; the brief flick of his tongue. dangerous man, his mind supplies, and he has to bite lightly into the inside of his cheek to keep the small, traitorous whine lodged in his throat exactly where it is.

the question lands, deliberate and searching, and for a brief moment minhyun simply looks at him. studies him. weighs the shape of what is being asked versus what is being offered. he abandons the idea of a polite answer. minhyun is perceptive enough to know any lie he offers now would be neatly, mercilessly unstitched anyway.

minhyun's gaze follows a slow path to his glass of wine. he nods towards it before answering, "...that would've been a margarita, maybe," he says, voice low and lightly threaded with amusement. the choice is almost modest compared to the kind of stupidly flashy drinks he tends to favor—bright, overcomplicated things that look better than they behave. the sort that usually leaves him brighter, all easy laughter and loose smiles, instead of the slower, more dangerous softness the wine is currently coaxing out of him.

"and on the table," he continues, and now his eyes drop to the plates in front of them. his portion remains conspicuously untouched, while his free hand has already begun the familiar motion again, twirling another neat ribbon of pasta from sena's plate with practiced ease. the fork lifts just as it did before, patient, offered.

"there would've been a very bad hand of truc," minhyun finishes softly, gaze flicking back up, warm and faintly rueful. on a particularly bad day, like the one he had been having before the older came to his rescue, that would have passed for dinner. "the kind that convinces me to keep playing just long enough to lose money." there's a quiet breath of amusement under the words, but no real regret.

he doesn't say it outright, but the comparison settles there anyway, unspoken in the steady patience of his hands, in the way he keeps feeding sena long after the help is needed, in the quiet abandonment of his own plate. there is a quiet satisfaction curled low in his chest at the arrangement, at being the one to provide, to yield so easily when sena barely has to ask. tonight is, undeniably, an upgrade from his usual night endeavors. he pointedly avoids mentioning that the company might be the most significant improvement of all.

his gaze lingers on sena's mouth for half a beat too long before lifting again, lashes lowering just slightly as they do. "am i allowed to ask the question back?" he asks softly, though the question already carries the shape of surrender. minhyun doesn't truly expect an answer, already familiar with sena's particualr talent for turning conversations just enough to keep people from looking too closely.

senahd

sena truly was an evil thing to demand such directed, undivided attention to his lips, especially when he knew no effort was ever required on his part to beguile or enchant whoever had the pleasure (or the profound misfortune) of catching his fancy. he readily accepted the second bite of pasta in a similar, agonisingly slow fashion as before, though his priority had shifted. he was paying closer attention to the cadence of the younger man's words, latching onto the quiet whisper of mirth threaded through those warm, rueful syllables. bad hands of cards and margaritas. a tragic combination. but adorable on minhyun.

his dark eyes briefly tracked the unmistakable interest minhyun took in his mouth before the question was turned back upon him. sena ought to have anticipated that any inquiry he threw would boomerang right back, but he had not bothered to script his own response. he might be a man of meticulous plans and labyrinthine strategies, but he also took a devious delight in the impromptu detours his impulses offered. and tonight, he was feeling particularly indulgent.

"you always are," sena replied smoothly, meeting minhyun's gaze with an unblinking, feline intensity. "what concerns me more is how displeased you might be by my answer."

his eyes darted down to minhyun's plate—untouched and ignored in favour of servicing him—and his mind immediately began plotting how to rectify that imbalance. while that played out in the background, he let his voice pool in the quiet space between them, rich and staining like a heavy burgundy. "my nights are typically occupied by dinners at establishments like this one. both for work and for more… confidential arrangements, let's just leave it at that. and my glass of wine would most likely be a heavy pour of whiskey instead. though, of course, i'm not prejudiced towards anything that promises to make the night more interesting.

"but i'll be honest with you..." he paused, his thumb stroking lazy, deliberate circles over the pulse point on minhyun's wrist where their hands were still intertwined. "out of everyone who's kept me company at this hour, i enjoy having you with me the most. by far."

had he said that because he knew, for a fact, that minhyun shared the sentiment? of course not; even sena lacked the telepathic ability to read minds. but he was a master of reading bodies, of interpreting the quiet surrenders hidden in a sigh or the tilt of a glass. he could confidently argue there were few who could rival him in that, and he was curious to see if minhyun would prove in the future to be a considerable opponent.

he leaned back slightly and pinched the stem of his glass to lift the rim to his lips. sena's eyes were half-lidded, his voice dropping to a decadent, velvet murmur. "remember, you should be feeding yourself too. don't worry about me too much. i'm hungry for something else entirely, anyway."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd

hyunhd

minhyun watches as the pale gold liquid shimmers in his own glass. he tilts it gently, lets it sift and cling to the crystal walls, staring at it as though it might offer him the answers he's looking for.

he would be lying if he said he could handle the responsibility for the both of them. after all, he was just as guilty as the man seated beside him; sharing one portion of food between the two hardly qualifies as proper fuel. much less when they're on their second glass of wine, and both fully intend to continue drinking once the plate is cleared. responsibility, tonight, feels more like a word they're politely circling rather than honoring.

"do you think anyone would expect either of us to be responsible, hyung?" he asks quietly, lifting the crystal to his lips and indulging in a measured sip of the chilled white. it's deceptively clean, almost as if it hides the temptation it carries. minhyun would say that their sense of obligation disappears when it comes to their own wellbeing. they are reliable at work, but no one would bet a cent on either of them taking proper care of themselves.

his gaze finds sena's again as the offer is made. he can sense the expectancy there, and minhyun knows he could back out now. he could simply let go, resume their contact later or in some other way. he wouldn't mind. and by the way it was worded, he doubts sena would mind either. or would he?

somehow, minhyun has maneuvered the board in his favor. the power sits quietly in his hands, subtle but undeniable. and yet, this isn't checkmate, it's something worse; every possible move costs minhyun something. he doesn't even know what game they are playing—doesn't have the guts to ask—just that he wins only when sena does as well.

the thought dissolves as quickly as it was formed, distracted by something far less noble. he wonders how he's meant to drink if he's busy feeding the both of them, when the wine slips a particularly wicked suggestion into his mind—an image of said liquid grazing his palate in a way that is anything but innocent. no promises had been made, but he did say he would behave, so he lets out a breathy laugh and gently pushes the thought away before it can bloom.

he's also almost certain that doing something entirely more inappropiate over the table would look less intimate, less compromising, than minhyun personally feeding sena. this, somehow, feels more revealing. more dangerous.

and yet, he complies. because who is he, in this moment, if not the court jester devoted to keeping his king content?

he reaches for the fork closer to him with his free hand, briefly thanking the gods for making him left-handed, and twirls the pasta with the effortless precision earned from one too many meals in europe. he lifts it slowly, letting it hover just in front of sena's mouth. "open." the word is firm, but it doesn't land as a command. the softness in minhyun's voice, and the honey that drips from his gaze, make sure of it. at the same time, his fingers trace absent, tender caresses along sena's hand where they remain joined, a right now justly won by the younger man.

senahd

sena would have found a way to be content regardless of the choice minhyun made, in part because sena was the sort of man who ensured the house always won. yet there was a particular delight to this specific victory, which of course was that his hand could remain where it was. being fed was merely the garnish; the true feast was ascertaining the sort of man his present companion was.

minhyun offered the fork with the tenderness of a devotee at an altar, and sena accepted it with the entitlement of a deity claiming a tithe. his gaze did not soften in kind. instead, it darkened as he locked onto minhyun's eyes and his pale, pink lips parted to accept the bite. he chewed slowly, deliberately, and the dart of his tongue to catch a stray slick of cream at the corner of his mouth was calculated— a visual allusion to what he would rather be tasting instead.

in spite of his general indifference towards food, most would still consider sena an epicurean who could discern the nuances of culinary composition. yet the low hum of appreciation that now vibrated in his throat had very little to do with the pasta; it was influenced entirely by the thumb caressing his knuckles, further proving it was less the spread before them and more so the company he presently had with him that pleased him far beyond the capacity of any chef.

after he swallowed the bite, he chased its richness with a sip of wine before setting the glass down with a soft click. etiquette was abandoned in favour of intimacy; sena propped his chin onto the table with his now free hand, leaning in just enough to dominate most of minhyun's senses.

"i have a question," sena began and bypassed the need for permission entirely. his eyes were bright and searching. "if i hadn't been so lucky as to steal you for the night... what would you be doing around this time? and what would you have done about dinner?"

from what little intel sena had managed to gather thus far, he had his theories on the similarities between their eating habits—or lack thereof. but sena preferred confirmation. he wanted to know if the space beside minhyun was perpetually empty, or if he was currently displacing a phantom someone else.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd #{ sometimes i think sena should be locked away but he might like that }

hdyeonseok

the way in which this stranger held himself was, to yeonseok, quite imposing. there was something stately and dignified in his gait. relaxed. resplendent. yeonseok felt himself wince against whatever warning this impression bestowed upon him and instinctively bowed his head like foliage under heat. a wilting white lily. his eyes found the jut of the stranger’s ankle over the collar of his distressingly expensive shoes and fixed themselves there. apprehensive. “— right. okay.” he had nothing to refute either of the claims presented to him, so he thought that perhaps they must have been true. how well-liked or ‘affectionately generous’ this man was in his personal life should really have been of no concern to yeonseok, so he was more than inclined to thoughtlessly accept all of it as a sure truth.

the next line of questioning, however, did concern him. and his gaze followed the stranger’s line of sight to alight, now, upon his unfinished breakfast. a sigh escaped his lips— one part, in disappointment. the other part, in relief. because if his companion’s insinuation were a guillotine, then yeonseok found comfort in knowing exactly where to place his head. he was no stranger to getting into trouble and was often soothed by the promise of punishment, if only because he was already certain that he deserved it.

“you assume correctly,” he answered finally, hands beginning to busy themselves with clearing away any evidence of wrongdoing. he bent himself forward at the waist, pressed his forearm to the hood of the car, and, in a poor attempt at polishing it clean, began to wipe the surface of it with his sleeve in large, circular motions. “— sorry,” he grit out. “ ‘s nothing personal. just didn’t feel like eating off the ground.”

senahd

the boy's attempt to polish the hood with a sleeve that likely cost less than the polish he was smearing was what sealed the deal for sena. the thrill that seized him was palpable, like a jolt of electricity arching down his spine. the bright, jagged lightning of his grin was the only warning before a sharp, delighted laugh tore from his throat.

they said the cardinal sin in sena's court was to bore him. they never warned about the danger of amusing him too greatly, of offering up a reaction so delightful that sena felt compelled to sink his teeth in just to see if the marrow was as sweet as the surface.

"are you still hungry?" sena asked abruptly, the question laced with a purr. he pulled out his phone just to check the time before putting it away again, even though time was a concept he felt uniquely qualified to ignore. "i'm sure your schedule doesn't start for another hour or so, right?"

now, this would have been the precise moment for any rational individual to clear the air. to clarify that the car did not belong to him but to some other bloke who sena sat at the same meeting table with but exchanged no more than the typical pleasantries. to dissolve the misunderstanding before it calcified into a lie.

but rationality was dreadfully pedestrian, and sena would rather choke than be boring.

he stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint, metallic tang of exhaust and cold concrete. he chose not to correct the young man. instead, he leaned into the farce with the grace of a man who knew the stage was wherever he decided to stand.

"help me find a place nearby that's open," sena commanded like a magnanimous king offering a feast to a peasant. "and i'll treat you to whatever you like. come. lead the way."

he gestured towards the ramp leading up to the surface, to the dawn that was threatening to break. let the boy believe he was dining with the owner of the coupe. let him sweat over the potential retribution. sena intended to enjoy every second of it.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hdyeonseok

hyunhd

minhyun feels the touch before he fully thinks about it. the steady warmth of sena's palm over his chest, the quiet, deliberate weight of it. instead of shrinking from it, he lets himself breathe deeper beneath that hand. his chest rises, unhurried, unhidden. he doesn't try to hide the way his heart is racing. if anything, he lets it.

he knows what touch usually means in his world. as a stylist, his hands are always on someone—adjusting a collar, smoothing fabric, guiding a sleeve into place. touches that are technical, fleeting, forgotten the moment they end. he's had a few of those with the older man earlier that day, when he had to think about which color he wanted to see him in. this is not that.

the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly as that low voice brushes his ear. "oh..." he murmurs softly, a trace of amusement touching his expression. his thumb lingers at sena's cheek, and he shifts his touch just enough to bring him back into view, unwilling to speak without seeing his expression. "the rest of the night?" he repeats the other's words; there's curiosity in it, and something gentler beneath. it's not teasing, just a quiet acknowledgment of what's being promised, and what's being postponed... well, the faintest hint of mischief does linger in his voice, as if the idea of keeping sena occupied for hours doesn't trouble him in the slightest.

his thumb drifts from sena's cheek to the line of his lower lip, brushing across it slowly. the touch lingers for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop there. there, where the sounds of the restaurant slowly began to reach him again—the faint clink of plates somewhere behind them, the murmur of voices, the distant movement of staff weaving between tables. sena's reminder that their food may arrive at any moment lingers as well, along with the quiet awareness that they are not alone here, that eyes exist even when they are not looking. and sena is sena. it isn't fear that makes him wary now, it's care.

he steps back, albeit unhurried. not far, never far enough to feel like retreat. just enough to show that he heard him, that he can and will save it for later. minhyun is patient when it matters, careful with things that feel real.

still, he doesn't sever the moment completely. he guides sena's hand down from his chest, slow and gentle, but instead of letting go, his fingers remain loosely curled around his. the table hides the contact, and the warmth of it settles quietly in his palm. his thumb shifts slightly against sena's knuckles, an absent, soothing motion that is meant for both.

he reaches for his glass with his free hand and lets the cool liquid fill his throat, as if he's hoping the white wine will miraculously steady him, even though it usually does the opposite. he almost says sorry. the word rises out of habit, but he swallows it; he knows sena wouldn't want an apology for something that wasn't a mistake. "forgot where we are for a second," he murmurs instead, voice low and warm rather than ashamed. the faint curve of his mouth makes it clear he doesn't regret it, only the timing.

senahd

sena did not respond with words. instead, his mouth parted upon the gentle press of a thumb against his lower lip and his eyes, dark and heavy with a burgenoning intoxicated haze, met minhyun's with a languid heat. another may have bristled at the sudden intimacy and recoiled at such a public claim, but as for sena... he was a creature who bloomed under the heat of a gaze like it was his natural habitat. and to receive such intent focus from minhyun felt less like being merely looked at and more like being consumed. it was, admittedly, a sensation sena preferred above all others.

the chuckle that bubbled from sena's chest was airy, almost melodic, and he shook his head with a grin pulling at the corners of his previously yielded lips. the way minhyun navigated his own hand back to sena's, lacing their fingers together in the hidden darkness beneath the table, was a pleasant miscalculation sena had not accounted for. he was curious to see what course of action the younger man would take with his withdrawal, yet he had been the one to bridge the gap by placing his hand on minhyun's chest; he could hardly fault minhyun for taking what was offered. besides, the audacity of the hand on his jaw earlier, the thumb grazing his lip… that was a far more delicious answer to his hypothesis than a simple clasp of hands could ever be. it was the difference between a question asked and a demand made.

he allowed the capture of his fingers to stand as minhyun’s reward for navigating the maze of sena’s whims so adeptly.

"i have that effect on people," sena murmured, stating it not as a boast but as a fundamental law of physics. gravity pulls, fire burns… sena overwhelms one's senses until they could perceive nothing and no one else but him. his free hand mirrored minhyun’s, reaching for the stem of his own glass and his eyes tracking the lazy swirl of the yellow liquid. “i’d take responsibility for it, but really… responsibility is such a bore, isn't it?”

just as sena tipped his head back to drain the glass, the spell was suspended by the arrival of their carbonara, already pre-portioned into two separate plates for them. sena offered the server a smile—practiced, dazzling, entirely vacant—and signalled for a refill of his glass. he waited for the intrusion to recede before turning back.

"in all honesty, i wouldn't have minded skipping straight to the drinking, but it’s unwise to… indulge on an empty stomach. that is about as much responsibility as you’ll get out of me tonight."

he would have let the words linger, teasing the air between them, but the sommelier from earlier returned with the stealth of a shadow to refill their glasses. sena’s attention then drifted to a logistical issue. his left hand held his wine, and his right was currently held hostage—willingly, happily—in minhyun’s grip beneath the table. to eat, he would have to sever their connection. to drink, he needed his hand. and sena, being sena, refused to compromise on his desires.

he tilted his head, eyes darting down to where they were joined in the dark, then dragging slowly, deliberately back up to minhyun’s face. there was a challenge there, bright and sharp, born of a man who found the concept of 'consequences' amusing at best.

"if you feed me, i’ll let you keep holding my hand."

he presented the offer like a king granting a pardon—magnanimous, ever the gracious monarch that he was. and while the world might look at minhyun and see a man lucky to serve, the terrifying truth was that sena found himself waiting, almost breathless, to see if the proposal would be accepted.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd

hdhanie

hanbin listened. the words sink in his chest like stones dropped into water heavy. the room went quiet after sena finished speaking. even the lights felt less harsh.

how do you want to be remembered.

it was not a new question. it was one he asked himself late at night, lying awake when practice left his body sore and his head too loud. he had always answered it poorly. to be brighter. to be famous. answers that felt like running away from something instead of standing still. he took a breath. he did not smile. "i don't want to be remembered for being perfect," hanbin said. "there are a lot of perfect people." he looked at sena then. really looked. he did not look away. "i want people to remember how they felt when i was there," he said. "that something changed. even if they couldn't explain it. i want to be the kind of person who makes others braver," hanbin went on and couldn't stop himself. "not because i'm better than them. but because i tried anyway. even when it was ugly."

his hands curled once at his sides, then relaxed. "i don't need to be the best singer in the room," he said. "i just don't want to be forgettable. and i don't want to leave halfway through becoming myself." he bowed again. not deep or rushed, just enough. that was his answer.

"i'd really like to hear more about your career, though," he added for good measure.

senahd

to hear his own past echoed back to him in the trembling voice of a stranger was a curious thing. 'i don’t want to be forgettable. i don’t want to leave halfway through becoming myself.'

sena knew the sentiment with a visceral intimacy. he saw the reflection of his younger self in the boy's bright eyes—that voracious hunger to assert one's existence, to burn so brightly that the world had no choice but to shield its eyes. he recalled the years when he, too, was nothing more than raw nerves and ambition, fueled by the terror of irrelevance. it was a time he looked back on with a complicated sort of fondness; a glimmering era stained by the shadows of the industry and the traumas inflicted upon a soul that had been far too young to bear them. in a way, looking upon the young trainee now, sena felt a sharp pang of envy. to be so unfinished, to have the entire terrifying climb still ahead of him—there was a beauty in that chaotic potential that sena missed.

the answer was more than satisfactory. it was delightful. the mirth thrumming through sena’s veins was unmistakable, softening the shark-like quality of his gaze into something closer to a cheshire grin. but then, a final request, and sena—ever the opportunist for mischief—could not resist the urge to pull at the loose thread.

he raised a delicate eyebrow, the very picture of feigned affront. "are you saying you don't know anything about my career?"

he knew, of course, that was not what the trainee had implied. but the opportunity to elicit a flash of panic, to watch the color drain and flood back into the boy’s face, was a temptation sena rarely denied himself. his own expression, however, betrayed him; there was no malice in the arch of his brow, only the ecstatic glee of a child who had discovered a particularly reactive new toy.

he let the panic—or confusion—stretch for a bit, just enough to make the air thin, before he broke it with a pensive hum, crossing his arms over his chest.

"what's there to say that you probably don't already know?" he mused, dropping the act with a casual shrug. "i entered the entertainment industry in 1994, was a trainee at the biggest male idol agency in asia until my debut in 2002. did a little this and that, even starred in my first korean drama about five years ago and did one more, though that's probably not going to have a continuation any time soon."

he shifted his weight and settled into a stance that was relaxed yet commanding, his smile firmly in place. "and now, here we are. so, what would you like to hear more about? consider this a rare chance to pick at the mind and experience of a senior who's been in the industry for longer than you've been alive. i'd suggest you make it count."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hdhanie

hyunhd

i'm not sure how you usually cope. minhyun could laugh. it's safe to say coping is, indeed, not his forte. he manages—usually—by throwing himself into work, staying busy enough that the strain doesn't catch up to him. it gets harder when the source of the stress is tangled up in that same work, when there's nowhere to redirect it. he isn't self-deprecating about it; he knows his habits for what they are. alcohol, admittedly, counts among them.

"i can take you on the wine for that," he nods along his words. "but i don't really think of this as a way to cope." he doesn't. not like that. minhyun would hate to reduce the night to something functional, used just to get through until morning.

he notes the absence on his knee immediately, loud in a way touch never quite is for him. he doesn't bother masking the way his eyes follow the retreating hand, not as though a crime had been commited, but with something unmistakably closer to longing. he lets the moment stretch instead of rushing to fill it.

when sena speaks again, minhyun finds himself breaking the moment down by instinct. low amber light pools lazily across the table, catching on sena’s profile in a way that feels almost intentional, like the room itself has decided to linger. the pale gold of the wine glows in his glass, dangerous but kind, and minhyun is not just looking but taking it in: the slope of sena’s mouth when he smiles like that, the calm confidence threaded with something warmer underneath.

minhyun sees this and can understand why there are so many magazines with sena on the cover, why haute couture yearns for him. performing seems to come to him naturally. tomorrow, he knows, he'll get to the studio too early, sketchbook open before the caffeine kicks in, trying to translate this exact sensation into fabric and line. something that reads soft at first glance but carries intention underneath. warmth with an edge. presence that stays.

"cheers to us, then," he returns the toast with a smile, lifting his glass. he turns his body away from sena when he drinks—polite and practiced, a gesture ingrained into him by upbringing—even though it costs him to look away for those few seconds. the wine is light, crisp, and fruity; he hums, satisfied. "that's nice." it's mumbled almost to himself as he glances at the label, making a half-hearted attempt to commit it to memory, an effort he already suspects won’t stick.

he sets the glass down carefully after a bit. sena's words are still reverberating in his head, their sultry tone, the smile that accompanied, all of it intact. he knows he should ask before the wine takes over fractions of his judgment. minhyun is very much enjoying himself as it is, but he trusts his own ability to read a room. sena, in particular, has proven himself difficult to read on many occasions; for once, though, the picture feels clear.

"hyung," he murmurs as he steps closer, slow and deliberate, until the space between them thins to something charged, the air shifting with it. his hand rises to sena's jaw and settles there, thumb brushing softly along his cheek in small, unhurried caresses, more soothing than possessive.

his other hand lifts next, light at sena's wrist, just enough to pause any motion. he doesn't take the glass from him, only guides it down, careful and unhurried, until it rests back on the table. his attention never wavers, even close enough now that it would be easy—if either of them chose to—to let the distance disappear, but just as easy to step back.

his thumb traces the curve of sena's cheek once more, gentle. "are you waiting for me to do something about this?" his gaze drops, just briefly, to his lips before lifting again. a faint smile touches his mouth, voice low, almost a whisper, "...or are you teasing me?"

senahd

sena's lips found the rim of his glass and he tipped his head back to take a few sips, indifferent to the way that exposed the sleek line of his throat and how his adam's apple—slender as it was, carved from the same marble as the rest of him—bobbed with the slide of the amber liquid down his throat, as if designed for that exact path. he emptied half the glass in a single draw; it really was a fine vintage, one he might have dissected for its crisp notes, had his senses not been kept occupied by the man accompanying it.

"hmm?" came the acknowledgement upon being called, though it was only when the distance between them evaporated yet again that sena's focus narrowed to a singular point and the rest of the room faded into grey noise.

his eyes widened a fraction, but there was certainly no surprise to be found there. after all, he was the one who specifically cast the line to see if the younger male would reach for him again, and sena was merely collecting the data of a hypothesis proven right. to tell him not to look entirely smug about the victory would be like warning a child not to pocket a sweet treat while no one was looking—a futility.

he did not pull away. sena made it a point to remain an anchor, assuring minhyun through the deliberate stillness of his body that the touch was definitely not unwanted. to truly drive the message home, sena's gaze bore straight into minhyun's, unwavering and still glazed with that predator's mirth from earlier.

his glass was coaxed back onto the table and with his hand now empty, he found the only appropriate replacement was to rest it atop the fabric of minhyun's shirt. his palm pressed flat against the sternum, deceptively coy against the rhythmic rise and fall of the other man's chest.

something akin to adrenaline thrummed beneath his own skin.

"it could be both," sena murmured. "maybe i'm teasing you because you haven't done anything until now."

it would have been clear to anyone with decent vision how they were presently entangled. it almost amused him to imagine how he would have navigated such a scandal in the past, when even the lingering whisper of a stylist's touch would garner sizeable compensation from tabloids, let alone a hint of who was truly allowed in his private space. in a way, it was the sweetest privilege of stepping down from the spotlight; people still gossiped and speculated, but he no longer felt the ghost of his career hanging over him and forcing him to exercise restraint. especially when sena preferred more physical restraints, rather than figurative ones.

he leaned in, collapsing the final inch between them, until his cheek brushed against minhyun's. his voice dropped to a dangerous caress against the younger man's ear. "our food might come soon, minhyun-ah. we can save this for later... provided you plan on keeping me company for the rest of the night."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd

hyunhd

minhyun feels the movement beneath the table immediately, a quiet spark shooting up his spine even though he'd set the stage himself. his breath hitches once, barely there, and he smooths it out just as quickly, posture unbroken. if anything, he leans closer, shoulder brushing sena's as he keeps his gaze lifted, fixed politely on the waiter taking their order. the contrast is dizzying: everything in him hums, heat coiling low and insistent, and yet he makes no move to interfere. he enjoys it more that way, restraining himself from any impulse to guide the other's hand—either closer to danger or farther from it.

when the waiter finally steps away, minhyun lets out a laugh that's almost a scoff, head tipping back just slightly as if conceding defeat before the glass even arrives. the tension doesn't disappear so much as pause, mercifully.

"so, not just wine," he says then, quieter now, "but white wine?" he's not much of a connoisseur when it comes to the more expensive bottles, granted, but he's had his fair share of winery tours during the years he lived in europe—enough to recognize names when they are spoken. enough to know better. "that's foul, sena hyung," he adds, voice lowered, smile still lingering.

white wine is a dangerous weapon; it loosens minhyun in ways red never quite manages, making him warmer, touchier, more inclined to linger where he shouldn't. still, he likes to think he knows his limits well enough to stop before a crisp white slips past his defenses and leaves him flimsy, easier to read, to control. and if not... well, it's not like conscious minhyun would put up much of a fight with tipsy minhyun for getting on his knees for sena. figurative or not.

the attention shifts back to sena's words then—to the project, the resistance, the quiet frustration threaded through his composure. minhyun listens closely, expression softening as the shape of it settles into place.

"they're definitely underestimating you being firmly against something," he says simply. he knows it sounds like flattery, that it might be what the older expects anyone to respond, but minhyun can't deliberately lie, and he wouldn't doubt one of sena's decisions when it was this final. "i doubt you'd be all in on the negative if you saw the slightest bit of potential—but that's just me."

and just because he doesn't give in to sena's casual insistence when it comes to his own career doesn't mean he thinks they're bad takes! he knows the older is right, he's dealt with his fair share of people insisting, too. he just can't see how the same logic applies here, when there's no personal stake muddying the water (or, at least, there shouldn't be), nothing to consider beyond the viability of a project.

he doesn't voice the thought, how strangely immune he seems to any real repercussiones for telling sena no. he also refrains from saying he wouldn't mind hearing the details at all, that sena has a nice voice and an enticing way of walking someone through his words.

when the focus turns back to him, minhyun exhales slowly, grateful for the hand now resting on his knee. as much as it had taken him apart moments before, it steadies him now. the low amber light softens the edges of the room, and with the rest of the world held at a polite distance, it feels easier to speak and let the day be what it was, rather than something he has to smooth over.

"i'm not usually this tired after work," he says eventually, voice unguarded. "you know that." a small, self-aware huff of breath follows. "most days i come out buzzing, even the long ones." especially the long ones. he gets his energy from doing what he loves, every pr at the gym has followed a day full of wrong seams done right, new scars on his hands, the good kind of stress. he'd gotten his dose of stress today, just not the kind that fuels him.

"there was a... discussion," he says, tone careful. maybe discussion is too kind a word for a man who'd been plainly yelling at him over something the styling team had no call on whatsoever. "not even about something important enough to justify the tone it took."

he doesn't linger on it. it might not even be the other man's fault that raised voices get under his skin, or at least that's what minhyun tells himself. it's easier to shoulder the blame and move on than to sit with anger. he doesn't gain anything from it, really. "i handled it," he adds simply. and he did—had to repeat the same thing to three different people, make the necessary adjustments in rush. of course he handled it. pride flickers there, restrained but undeniable.

as if on cue, his fingers twitch. index and middle brush together faintly, muscle memory reaching for something absent even in sena's hold. he doesn't say it, but the thought of a smoke lingers, and he hopes the wine arrives quickly enough to act as a substitute.

senahd

despite the world's inclination to paint him as no more than a creature of pure vanity, sena was, in fact, a fine practitioner of the art of listening. it was a package deal, really; one could not possess an observational prowess sharp enough to cut glass without also developing the ability to hear the things people tried desperately not to say. he heard the fracture in minhyun's sentence, the deliberate choice of wording that no doubt was more of a disservice to the truth than any accurate representation of it, even if sena had not been there in person to witness it for himself. he even caught the faint, tell-tale twitch of minhyun's fingers from the corner of his eyes—perhaps the younger man was a smoker, sena knew there were those who itched for a stick when stress began to bubble over.

he deemed himself an excellent judge of character (perhaps too excellent, sena could dismantle a person's psyche before they had the chance to discover it for themselves), and he knew minhyun was leaving out more than he was letting on.

on any other day, he would have pressed on. sena would have hooked a finger into that gap in the story and pulled until the truth spilled out, indulging the curiosity that always scratched at the back of his mind. alas, he was a strategist before he was a sadist, and he sensed there were other, more tantalising battles to be fought that night. he thus chose to save his ammunition for bigger game.

just as he concluded that social lubricant was in order, the sommelier arrived with the silent efficiency of a ghost and the presentation of a bottle of casale marchese. sena read the label with a satisfied hum and his eyes flickered briefly to the server, offering a polite bow of his head and an almost dismissive gesture towards the glasses on their table. he trusted that the bottle would be fine; he would much rather keep his undivided focus on the far more interesting man in front of him, and steering sena's attention away from alcohol was a feat few people could say they managed to accomplish.

"i'm not sure how you usually cope," sena began with his voice low and sliding across the table like silk over a blade. "but i, for one, find there's very little a good glass of wine and a... pleasant distraction can't solve."

the words were delivered in his signature cadence, coated in honey and poison both, but anyone who knew where to look would have caught the underlying warmth, the terrifyingly genuine desire to smooth the furrow from minhyun’s brow.

it was then that sena's hand, which had been a heavy, grounding weight on minhyun’s knee, subtly slid away.

it was by no means a retreat; it was a calculated subtraction, designed to measure the vacuum it left behind. would you miss it, he wondered as he watched minhyun with the focus of a hawk circling a field. will you reach for me again?

sena did not wait for an answer just yet. he reached for his own glass and lifted it by the stem with a delicate, practiced wrist movement that swirled the pale, straw-yellow nectar into a miniature vortex. the light caught the wine, gold and dangerous— much like the man holding it.

"cheers to us," sena murmured, his eyes locking with minhyun over the rim of the glass. "for our patience in dealing with those ill-deserving of our time. and mostly..."

the smile that curled at the corner of sena's finely etched lips was both inviting yet ruinous. "i hope i'll be able to make you forget about everyone else but me tonight."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd #{ sometimes i feel like all replies in this thread should be under a read more from now on just because of the lengths istg }

hyunhd

minhyun feels the shift when sena slides closer, not as surprise but as relief. this was what he'd asked for, after all. the warmth settles along his side and he lets himself lean into it, posture softening without ceremony, shoulders relaxing as if proximity alone steadies him. when he's tired, closeness comes easily; tonight, he doesn't question it.

the insinuation lands all the same. clear, unmistakable. he doesn't need to look at sena to understand it, doesn't need the confirmation. the heat rises again anyway, slow and unavoidable, settling into his cheeks as sena turns his attention to the menu like nothing dangerous has just been said.

the low amber light feels like a quiet kindness, hiding most evidence of it and sparing him from having to manage it as he had a few moments prior in a different setting. the warmth makes him feel drunk, as if the wine—oh, the dreaded effects of wine on minhyun, the wine that hasn't even entered the conversation yet, let alone the shared table—has already found its way into his system.

a quiet laugh escapes him, surprised and breathy, before he can stop it. he keeps his gaze on sena's profile and the way his eyes skim the page, heat still clinging to minhyun's cheeks like it's been there for ages. only now it's acommpanied by a grin, the hint of a fang showing as he bites lightly at his lower lip in containment.

"hyung," he murmurs, fond and a little incredulous, "i was trying to behave, and you start with that?" there's no reproach in it, no edge. only affection, and something amused beneath the lingering fluster. his eyes remain fixed on sena's profile and, at this rate, minhyun is convinced he'll end up leaving the restaurant full without having glanced at the menu even once, not with this view next to him. much less when the view is being so deliberately benevolent, in all the ways he knows will undo him.

when the menu finally lowers and the recommendations are offered, minhyun speaks again, calmer now. "i trust your judgment," he says easily. "a small portion should be fine, though. can't seem to find my appetite tonight." the words are sincere, he's long past the days of choosing the cheapest plate just to spare someone else's wallet, and he doesn't feel the need to make a point of it now. this time, it really is about his lack of appetite. or, perhaps, a trick of the detours of his mind.

he sets one elbow on the table, manners quietly forgotten, turning his body sideways while keeping the closeness intact. only then does his gaze lift to meet sena's properly, steady and open, the earlier heat still faintly present but no longer threatening to unravel him. "after we order, we can pretend to be civilized," a chuckle cuts through his words. "and you can tell me about your day." he adds, meaning the hours before him, before the evening bent itself around them.

as if to underline the request, he reaches for sena's hand with his own free one and guides it to rest against his own thigh. contained. deliberate. his hand settles over it there, keeping it exactly where he needs it. the contact grounds him immediately, breath evening out as his thumb presses once, absent and reassuring.

"only if you'd like to," he adds, the familiar disclaimer softened by intent rather than doubt. he knows the question doesn't need it, sena would do as he pleases either way, but minhyun doesn't demand. he holds sena's gaze, quiet and attentive, ready to listen to whatever he chooses to share. or not.

senahd

sena knew the effect he had on people in the same way a shark knew the scent of blood in the water—instinctual, immediate, and entirely to his benefit. the mystery that had fogged over the car ride to the restaurant may have prickled at his patience, but here in close proximity, where he could attune himself to every hitch in minhyun's breath and even hear the thrum of a heartbeat if he so chose, sena was in his element.

he was also accustomed to the world bending towards him, to hands reaching out so they could claim a piece of the sun. such proprietary gestures—the guiding of a hand, the claiming of skin—were met with a sharp, internal recoil. who gave you the right, the words would flare unprompted in his head, the predisposition of a man who knew his worth exceptionally well.

but with the younger male, that indignation was remarkably absent, instead replaced by a curiosity that purred at the back of his throat. minhyun's boldness was steady as a tide, and sena found that being drenched in it would not be the most unpleasant thing.

if minhyun were not going to behave, then sena saw no reason to deny himself liberties of his own.

he signalled for a waiter with a flick of his free wrist, and as the man approached, sena's hand beneath the table began a slow, deliberate migration up minhyun's thigh, along the inner stretch of muscle in a languid ascent like a secret conversation of heat while his face remained a mask of bored elegance. he leaned over, ostensibly to relay their order over the hum of the room around them, though the further invasion of minhyun’s personal space was entirely gratuitous.

"we'll have the carbonara to share," sena murmured, his thumb pressing brazenly against the inseam of minhyun's pants. "and... two glasses of your best frascati superiore. that isn't from castel de paolis. surprise me."

the waiter then vanished without ceremony, either oblivious or politely blind to the transgression occurring below eye level. sena let his fingers slide back down to rest comfortably above minhyun's knee and he angled his body to give minhyun his full attention, a flicker of childlike wonder dancing in the dark of his eyes.

"you were the most interesting part of my day, believe me." most might suspect flattery; it was the kind of line sena could spin from sugar and air, tossed out to stroke an ego. but the unfortunate, unglamorous truth was that everyone else sena had encountered that day had truly been dull. not a single bone in his body had been invigorated prior to minhyun, and certainly not in a way that mattered.

"there's a project they seem intent on proceeding with, even though i've been firmly against it. who knows what they see in it that's of more value than my opinion." a sigh escaped him, though that did not seem to dull the mirth in his gaze, but rather strengthened it now that the additional weight had been lifted off him. "so i'll spare you the details and the unworthy expenditure of my voice."

sena's thumb brushed against the fabric underneath his fingertips and he murmured quietly, "i'd rather know what kept you occupied before me."

did he mean earlier that day, or did he mean the years before sena waltzed into his life? sena did not care to clarify. either answer was a story he wanted to hear, especially if it was minhyun spinning the tale for him.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd

hyunhd

minhyun does not startle or stiffen when sena steps closer to reciprocate his tease. he knows the older had never been the sort to leave an invitation unanswered. he smiles instead, the kind that bares just a hint of fang when he can't quite help it. "you make it sound like i don't prefer it that way," he says, tone holding no challenge but quiet agreement, smile lingering just long enough to make it clear it isn't a joke.

the breath at his neck draws a shiver he doesn't bother hiding. he lets it roll through him, familiar and welcome, shoulders easing rather than tensing. he has always known proximity as comfort, something his work has only heightened over the years. "oh, i do insist." and if minhyun were someone who begged, he might have said please. he isn't as touchy with sena as he imagines the older would prefer; the respect he has cultivated over time doesn't quite allow it. in turn, he is more than content to let sena take full liberties with his personal space.

when sena steps away, minhyun follows close behind him. not because he doubts his place at his side, but because he likes watching how a room responds to him. it's something minhyun works toward deliberately when he dresses people, shaping presence through line, texture, and balance. sena doesn’t need that kind of construction, even if he benefits from it. he doesn’t command attention so much as shift it, and minhyun knows, even as he watches, that there are things no garment can teach a body to hold.

when the question comes in the car, it lingers longer than it needs to, not because minhyun doubts his answer, but because he wants to give it the weight it deserves. sincerity like that asks to be met properly. his hand moves first, fingers brushing sena's wrist before settling there properly, thumb hooking lightly at the edge of his sleeve. the touch is restrained, though the intent behind it is anything but distant. calming, he hopes. "i know you know," minhyun says softly at last. "you always do. that's why i don't try to hide it from you anymore." he chuckles softly, thumb shifting once as if to steady himself.

"still, it's not often i get a whole night with my favorite hyung," he adds, voice warm, steady. "you really think i'd cut it short?" he withdraws his hand then, lifting it to his hair, fingers combing through his own soft locks.

"also, you let me dress you today, you know how happy that makes me," the words barely leave his mouth before his mind twists them into something else entirely, because undressing him would be quite fine too. the image lands uninvited but not unwelcome, vivid enough to make him pause. he exhales through his nose, something close to a laugh catching in his chest. get a fucking grip, he thinks, almost amused. his hand drifts to his phone without much thought, thumb lighting up the screen as he checks for messages. it doesn't help much. he still feels the heat creep up his face, hopes the darkness of the car is kind enough to hide it.

"so, as repayment, i'm going to invite you to drinks after." he'd like to stare menacingly at him as he emphasizes his intent of paying, but he can't quite bring himself to meet sena's gaze again just yet. even if he could, he doubts his threats would be any more effective—not that they ever were against this particular target.

senahd

well, that was... something. sena quirked a delicate eyebrow, a little confused by the faint, breathy sound that his ears had managed to catch. he had readily offered his wrist when minhyun's hand came closer—an automatic concession, really, because sena was a creature conditioned to let the world naturally reach for any taste of him it could get—but the reaction that followed was a variable he had not expected.

it was irksome. the sky outside had already dimmed from the sunset, and sena made the tactical error of not turning on the interior lights of the phantom. the cabin was a hermetically sealed, leather-bound belly of darkness, designed for privacy but currently serving only to obscure. he was thus left with physical limitations that kept him from dissecting the mystery, and sena disliked mysteries he could not unravel within the next hour.

instead, he had to focus on the promise of drinks. sena tilted his head away to gaze out at the blur of seoul's growing nightlife, but he made a point to keep his hand exactly where it was— within arm’s reach, should minhyun choose to indulge him again.

"okay," sena murmured, the word rolling around the cabin like a marble. "we'll see if i'll let you."

of course, he meant letting minhyun pay for drinks; the idea of minhyun—tired, hardworking minhyun—opening his wallet for him, whose net worth could likely purchase the very building they were driving past, was objectively adorable. it was a defiance sena found charming, a reversal of the natural order that he was willing to entertain for the novelty of it. however, petulance was an ill-flattering colour on him and he allowed a shade of it to tint his tone, feigning a reluctance that did not exist. after all, he was the one who had cast the lure to begin with; it would be poor form to complain when the fish finally bit.

at the restaurant, they were ushered to a round booth tucked away at the very end of the establishment, a secluded alcove draped in shadow and velvet. sena flashed a smile that was all practiced grace and thanked the host for catering to them on such short notice, even though they both knew the truth of it. there was always an unspoken rule at establishments of this caliber: the best seats were never truly 'booked', they were simply waiting for the right person to claim them.

not that the seclusion was strictly necessary. the other patrons seemed absorbed enough in their own hushed discussions and romantic entanglements to look their way, and the lighting—dim, amber, almost sensuous—granted them little opportunity to gawk even if they wanted to. it was a reflection of their earlier environment in the car, a continuation of the darkness, which made sena feel a little foolish for his ill choice of dining accommodations.

he slid into the booth first and once minhyun was seated, sena shifted to bridge the distance until the warmth radiating off minhyun's arm was a tangible thing. a violation of personal space that sena committed with the ease of a man who chose not to believe in boundaries, and fully believed that the rich fragrance of vanilla wafting from his skin was made to be discovered by the closest of companions.

"is this close enough for you?" sena murmured, his voice dropping an octave and slipping under the ambient noise of the restaurant. "any closer and we might have to take this somewhere... more private."

the tone was suggestive, leaving no room for doubt on what the implication was, but sena pivoted before minhyun could flush again (though he knew not what exactly had occurred in the car). he picked up the menu, scanning the familiar script with a bored sort of efficiency because he knew what to expect, he knew the wine list better than he knew some of his own relatives. mostly, he was calculating what would sit lightest in his stomach, what (else) would have the honour of settling within him for the night without making him feel sluggish.

"their carbonara is good, though not authentic," he noted and set the menu down, waiting for minhyun to decide before he would wave one of the waiters back to their table. "let me know if you want less or more portions, they're happy to accommodate."

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd

hyunhd

minhyun merely blinks at the response given. he accepts it, but not without going over the patience behind it. what surprises him is not the compromise itself, but that they have reached one at all, on a matter they've circled so many times before. he can sense the unease lingering on both sides, shared and unspoken, but doesn't dwell on it. instead, focuses on the task he is given. as tired as he is, he can't say he's glad his stylist duties are nearing their end, not with a dream muse still in front of him. it does comfort him that it's not an event that can't be repeated.

"mhm..." he hums, already flipping through the pages he's torn free, eyes scanning rough sketches and their corresponding notes, "with what i made you get fitted and a few arrangements..." he pauses, eyes quickly connecting the pieces with each other, then nods to himself. "one for the event. one for the afterparty. and one more for drinks with the stylist." he taps the page lightly with his index finger, then points at himself without looking up. "that would be me, i'm the stylist," the delivery is flat, almost deadpan, the humor entirely intentional.

dinner is possibly the first thing his hyung has said today that hasn't surprised him in the slightest, he's used to being treated by him. still, minhyun isn't much of a foodie, and when it comes to himself he rarely treats meals as anything more than maintenance. after a day like this, his instincts lean domestic, simple, something that won't imply an effort greater than boiling water. his mind betrays him with the image of instant noodles at home, but he suppresses it just as quickly. sena, of all people, can't get that answer. "...pasta?" he offers instead, glancing up with a small, uncertain smile that he hopes is honest enough to pass.

before the moment can stretch further, minhyun catches movement at the edge of his vision. the manager approaches, careful not to interrupt outright, and minhyun takes the cue without missing a beat. "thank you for your work today," he starts, bowing politely as he offers the praise. he knows how far it goes in rooms like this, how much it matters after hours spent moving carefully, measuring every word. sena's presence has a way of sharpening a space that minhyun finds both intimidating and absorbing.

he shifts the loose pages into a neat stack and hands them over, voice steady as he walks through the details. "these are alterations on the pieces that are here," he explains, fingers tracking the notes as he speaks. "and these—" he shifts the page, indicating another section, "—are pieces we'd appreciate having as well. collection, year. it should be clear enough, but—" a beat. he adds his number to the margin with a practiced flick of his pen. "in case anything needs clarifying," a practiced smile settles easily on his face.

"ah, hyung," he calls lightly, acting as if he had forgotten to clarify something with the older. he turns enough to make sure his back is to anyone but him and delivers a quick, knowing wink. his lips shape the word without sound. network.

he steps in closer under the pretense of speaking quietly, his hand settling briefly at the small of sena's back to guide him a few steps aside from the staff body. his voice follows, low and warm against his ear. "i'm sitting next to you at dinner. opposite feels too far," he murmurs. "hope that's still fine."

senahd

minhyun was truly a marvel, and that was not an accolade sena bestowed upon the masses lightly. one moment, the younger male would second guess himself on his choice of words, and the next he was brazenly propositioning—not inviting—sena for drinks. whether it was birthed from genuine interest or simply an innocent quip mattered little to sena; it was the fact that the words left his lips at all, the boldness of it, that amused sena so.

he chuckled quietly, mainly to himself and no one else, and what a treat that was for anyone within close-enough vicinity to hear such a melody. mirth of this caliber, genuine and unscripted, was a currency sena spent sparingly. yet, he found himself spending it on minhyun with alarming frequency. "then the last one is the most important of them all," he murmured, the words carrying a heavier weight than perhaps intended, but he left it at that.

he hummed in thought at the suggestion minhyun offered and found little to no fault with it. he too, however, was not the type to sing the good praises of food anytime soon— which was great when you were restricting your diet to maintain your figure for a role or for the filming of a music video, but not much for when socialising typically revolved around food and drink. thankfully, sena was far more receptive to the other part of the arrangement; it was far easier to down a few glasses of french merlot, and let it be known that many would slide a glass his way without prompt, for the off chance that sena would grant them his continued presence in a more… private setting.

at this point, horrifying as it may be, the consequences of such recklessness were easier to face than having to stomach amounts of food that his body was not accustomed to.

"pasta is fine," sena agreed easily, his arms finding their way around himself in a posture that was less defensive and more self-contained, a casual embrace of his own frame. "i'll take you to this one good place i like." not entirely for the food—their tiramisu was also note-worthy—but the people he knew raved about the restaurant well enough, so he figured it was an objectively decent haunt.

he idly watched as the world moved around them and moved out of the way whenever necessary. it was only when minhyun called out to him that he returned his full attention to the younger male with renewed interest, and the wink he received only furthered his fancy. sena easily followed along, pliant and even shifting as close as he could without breaching the invisible barrier of propriety, though he would not have minded shattering that, either.

the breath against his skin was far from unfamiliar, yet it still triggered a pleasant thrum deep within his stomach.

"i was trying to be considerate, you know," sena teased, the words vibrating in a quiet purr that was meant for an audience of one. “it's a lot harder for me to get handsy when you're more than an arm's length away.”

he lifted himself up onto the very tips of his toes, but only just so. perhaps it was his intention to get as close to minhyun's ear as he could in return. but instead, he let his lips hover but a few centimeters away from the crook of minhyun's neck, and an exhale caress the younger male's skin. how could that be a calculated move? “but if you insist, who am i to deny you of that pleasure?”

sena stepped away only after the tension had been pulled taut enough to sing, and he thanked the manager and the phalanx of staff with the graciousness of a visiting dignitary, informing them to charge it all to his usual card with an amicable smile. the tailor had disappeared almost as soon as they could because they insisted on getting to work right away and having the pieces ready at the soonest, even though sena assured them that they could take as much time as they needed to ensure complete perfection—he had plenty of spares to peruse from in his wardrobe, if need be, and his main goal for that evening revolved around his companion more so than everything else.

with a languid wave goodbye, they left the store and descended back to the parking lot. once they were back on the road, sena tilted his head back, exposing the pale, vulnerable stretch of his throat, and threw a sidelong glance minhyun's way. in the dim light of the car, the stylist looked less like a shadow and more like a star that had forgotten how to burn.

it displeased sena, but that was a battle he chose to tentatively set aside for another time. maybe over a round of drinks.

"okay, i'll be direct this once," sena started, his voice stripping away the layers of flirtation to reveal the sharp inquisitiveness beneath. “you're tired, right? should i let you retire for the night after dinner? or would you be willing to join me for some drinks?”

previously, sena only offered the illusion of choice, a labyrinth where every path led to him. this time around, he meant it with absolute sincerity—yet another luxury he accorded to minhyun that he rarely did to most.

as disappointed as he would be to end the night there, they would have other opportunities. sena would make certain of it.

#⌠ ⋆˙⟡⋆ ⌡ thread #hyunhd #{ i swear nothing nsfw is happening—yet—it just got a lil long sobs }

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