Chapter 20: The Hongdae Housewarming
The apartment smelled of fresh paint and cardboard and possibility. Jensen stood in the doorway, key still in his hand, staring at the empty space that was somehow, impossibly, theirs. The late afternoon sun slanted through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the dark walnut floors, and the exposed brick wall caught the light in a way that made the whole place feel warm despite its emptiness.
Leonid brushed past him, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and let out a low whistle. "Jesus, Jensen. This is..."
"Too much?"
"It's perfect." Leonid dropped his bag by the wall and turned in a slow circle, taking in the high ceilings, the frosted glass partitions, the gleaming kitchen counter that had never known a single meal. "It's actually perfect."
Jensen's chest swelled. He'd spent three months looking at apartments, rejecting everything his real estate agent showed him with ruthless efficiency—too dark, too small, too far from Leonid's new job. But this one had made his heart stop the moment he'd walked through the door.
"I'm glad you like it," he said, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him with a soft click. The sound echoed through the empty rooms. "Because I may have already signed a two-year lease."
Leonid laughed, the sound bouncing off the bare walls. "You're insane. You know that, right?"
"Extremely." Jensen crossed the room to stand beside him, his hand finding Leonid's. "But you love it."
"I love you despite it." Leonid squeezed his fingers. "There's a difference."
Jensen pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his t-shirt. "Same difference."
---
The moving boxes were few. Jensen had sold most of his designer furniture rather than haul it across the city—the pieces felt like relics of a life he was trying to outgrow, heavy with memories of his parents' taste rather than his own. Leonid had almost nothing to his name, a lifetime of impermanence distilled into two suitcases and a box of books.
They unpacked slowly. Leonid insisted on organizing the kitchen first, arranging utensils and plates with meticulous care in the brand new cabinets Jensen had paid for without a second thought. Jensen watched him from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"What are you looking at?" Leonid asked without turning around.
"The most beautiful man I've ever seen."
"Flatterer."
"Truth teller." Jensen pushed off the doorframe and walked over, wrapping his arms around Leonid from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder. "Are you happy?"
Leonid paused, a stack of plates in his hands. He was quiet for a moment, and Jensen felt the tension ripple through him.
"I don't know if I know what happy feels like," Leonid admitted quietly. "I know what not-happy feels like. I know what alone feels like. But this—" He set the plates down and turned in Jensen's arms, his hands coming up to frame Jensen's face. "This feels like something I've never had before."
"We'll learn together," Jensen whispered. "We'll figure out what happy looks like, and we'll build it here. In this apartment. In our life."
Leonid kissed him. It was soft, almost reverent, nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses they usually shared. It tasted like new beginnings and fresh paint and the faint salt of tears that hadn't quite fallen.
"I love you," Leonid said against his lips.
"I love you more."
"That's impossible."
"Watch me."
---
The sun set and the apartment slowly transformed from an empty shell into something like a home. The mattress arrived at eight, delivered by two grumbling men who set it up in the master bedroom without comment and left with generous tips. The couches were scheduled for tomorrow. The dining table would come next week.
But they didn't need furniture tonight.
Leonid had just finished stacking the last of his books onto the shelves Jensen had installed that afternoon—a temporary arrangement, he insisted, until they bought proper bookcases—when Jensen grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the bedroom.
"Where are we going?" Leonid asked, stumbling after him.
"Bedroom."
"We don't have a bedframe yet."
"Don't care."
Jensen pushed him. Leonid fell backward onto the mattress, the springs creaking beneath his weight, and looked up at Jensen with a mixture of surprise and dark amusement. Jensen stood over him, silhouetted against the bare window, the city lights of Hongdae painting him in neon colors.
"You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?" Leonid asked.
"Every minute." Jensen crawled onto the mattress, straddling Leonid's hips, his hands pressing down on his chest. "Every second. I've been watching you unpack boxes and arrange our kitchen and I've been thinking about—"
"About what?"
Jensen's lips curved into a smile that was equal parts savage and reverent. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against Leonid's ear, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "About getting you naked on this mattress and making you scream so loud our new neighbors complain."
Leonid's breath hitched. "The walls are thin."
"Don't care about that either."
Jensen's hands moved to the hem of Leonid's shirt, pulling it up slowly, deliberately, revealing inch by inch of warm skin. He pressed kisses along the newly exposed flesh, his lips tracing a path from Leonid's sternum to his stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath his touch.
Leonid's fingers threaded through Jensen's hair, gripping tight. "You're going to kill me."
"Not tonight." Jensen's teeth scraped along Leonid's hip bone. "Tonight I'm going to worship you."
---
The shirt came off. Then Leonid's pants. Jensen moved with deliberate care, savoring every inch of skin as it was revealed, kissing each new expanse of warm flesh like it was sacred. Leonid's chest rose and fell with increasingly ragged breaths, his hands never leaving Jensen's hair, his body arching into every touch.
"Jensen..." Leonid's voice was strained, desperate.
"Shh. Let me take care of you."
Jensen rid himself of his own clothes with quick efficiency, never breaking contact with Leonid's skin. When both of them were bare, he sat up, straddling Leonid's thighs, letting him look.
This was what Jensen loved—the way Leonid's eyes traveled over his body with that mix of hunger and tenderness, the way his hands reached out to trace the lines of Jensen's muscles, the way he always seemed surprised that someone like Jensen could belong to him.
"You're so beautiful," Leonid breathed.
"So are you." Jensen reached back, his fingers wrapping around Leonid's hard length. "Ready?"
Leonid nodded, his eyes dark with need.
Jensen positioned himself, hovering over Leonid's cock, and slowly, agonizingly, sank down. His back arched as Leonid filled him, his toes curling against the mattress, his head falling back with a moan that echoed off the bare walls.
Leonid gripped his hips, his fingers digging into Jensen's flesh. "God, Jensen. You feel—"
"Move," Jensen commanded. "Don't stop moving."
Leonid thrust up into him. Jensen cried out, his hands flying down to brace against Leonid's chest. The rhythm started slow, searching, each movement a question and an answer, but soon desperation took hold. Jensen rode him with increasing urgency, his hips rolling, his head thrown back, his moans filling the empty room.
"That's it," Jensen gasped. "That's—don't stop—"
Leonid sat up, his arms wrapping around Jensen's back, pulling him close. He buried his face in Jensen's neck, his breath hot and ragged, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, chasing something that felt like forever.
"I love you," Leonid whispered against Jensen's skin. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Jensen's body shuddered. He clung to Leonid, his nails raking down his back, his legs tightening around his waist. "I love you too," he gasped. "I love you so much I can't breathe."
They moved together like that—wrapped in each other, rocking on the bare mattress in their new home—until the tension wound so tight that Jensen thought he might shatter. His back arched, a cry tearing from his throat, his body trembling uncontrollably as he came undone.
Leonid followed moments later, his groan muffled against Jensen's shoulder, his body shuddering with release.
They collapsed together, a tangled heap of sweat and limbs, on the mattress that still smelled faintly of factory plastic. The city hummed outside the window, a symphony of distant traffic and neon buzz, but inside the apartment there was nothing but the sound of their breathing slowly returning to normal.
Leonid traced lazy circles on Jensen's sweat-slicked back. "This is ours," he whispered. "No one can take this from us."
Jensen pressed a kiss to his chest, his lips brushing over Leonid's heartbeat. "No one will ever try."
---
They lay in comfortable silence for a long time. Jensen's head rested on Leonid's chest, rising and falling with each breath, and he listened to the steady rhythm of his heart—the heart he'd been chasing since preschool, the heart that had finally, impossibly, become his.
"Are you hungry?" Leonid asked eventually, his voice sleepy.
"Starving."
"There's that convenience store around the corner. I saw it when we pulled up." Leonid's hand moved through Jensen's hair, gentle and soothing. "We could get ramyun and those weird banana milk drinks you like."
Jensen lifted his head, looking down at Leonid with fond exasperation. "I don't like the banana milk. I pretend to like it because it makes you happy."
"What?" Leonid's eyes widened in mock offense. "You're telling me you've been drinking that awful stuff for months and you don't even like it?"
"It tastes like liquid banana chewing gum."
"Then why—"
"Because you always look so pleased when you hand it to me." Jensen leaned down, kissing the tip of Leonid's nose. "Watching you smile is worth a few minutes of bad taste."
Leonid's expression softened. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you."
"Okay, you're making me blush. Stop it."
"Never." Jensen kissed him again, deeper this time, before rolling off the mattress. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the nearest box—his own, but he tossed a second pair at Leonid. "Come on. Let's go get ramyun and banana milk, even though I hate it."
Leonid pulled on the sweatpants, grinning. "We're going to be those people at the convenience store at midnight in our pajamas."
"Those people are the best people."
Jensen grabbed a hoodie—Leonid's this time, a faded gray thing that smelled like him—and pulled it over his bare chest. Leonid's eyes caught on the motion, a quiet tenderness flickering across his face at the sight of Jensen wearing his clothes.
The night air hit them when they stepped outside, cool and crisp. The streets of Hongdae were still alive even at this hour, filled with university students and late-night revellers. Leonid reached for Jensen's hand, and Jensen took it without hesitation, no longer caring who saw, no longer hiding the most fundamental truth of his existence.
They walked to the convenience store in comfortable silence, their hands swinging between them like they'd been doing this for years. Inside, the bright fluorescent lights and the hum of refrigerators created a bubble of ordinary domesticity that felt almost surreal after the intensity of the last few hours.
Leonid grabbed two cups of ramyun and a bottle of banana milk. Jensen grabbed a bag of chips he didn't really want and stood awkwardly at the counter while Leonid paid, his money carefully counted out in worn bills.
They sat at the plastic tables outside the store, steam rising from their ramyun cups, the city stretching out around them in a glittering mosaic of light and shadow. Jensen watched Leonid eat, and for the first time in his life, he felt like everything was exactly as it should be.
"What are you staring at?" Leonid asked, slurping his noodles.
"You."
"Creepy."
"Devoted." Jensen reached across the table, his hand covering Leonid's. "I'm never going to stop looking at you, Leonid. Not today. Not ever."
Leonid's eyes softened. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"I've meant everything I've ever said to you." Jensen's grip tightened. "Every 'I love you.' Every promise. Every time I said I wouldn't leave." He paused, his voice dropping. "Even the times I made you cry, I was still there. I was still yours."
"I know." Leonid squeezed his hand back. "I've known since we were kids. Even when I didn't want to admit it, I knew that wherever you were, that was where I was supposed to be."
Jensen's chest ached with the power of his love, too large to contain, threatening to burst out of him. He pulled his hand free and stood, walking around the table, pulling Leonid up and into his arms.
"I'm going to give you everything," he whispered into Leonid's hair. "Every good thing that I have, every good thing I can find, every good thing that I become—it's all yours. It's all for you."
Leonid's arms wrapped around his waist, his face pressed into Jensen's chest. "You already have," he murmured. "You already have."
---
They finished their ramyun and walked back to the apartment, their shadows stretching long in the streetlights. Jensen took a detour by the public playground he'd spotted earlier—a small jungle gym with swings that rusted on every third chain—and pulled Leonid onto the creaking wooden platforms, their bodies swinging slowly in the night breeze like it was an ordinary, magic evening.
"We should hang curtains," Leonid said eventually, his voice soft, as if talking about anything practical might break the spell.
"In the bedroom? Probably. The neighbors across the street have definitely seen us."
"Jesus, Jensen." Leonid buried his face in his hands, laughing. "We haven't even lived here a day and everyone's already seen everything."
"We were just being enthusiastic about moving in."
"You were being enthusiastic about making me scream."
"Same thing." Jensen's grin was unrepentant. "What's the point of having a new apartment if you don't give the neighbors a show?"
Leonid laughed, shaking his head. "I can't with you."
"You don't have to." Jensen rose from the swing, holding out his hand. "Just have to come home with me."
Leonid took his hand, letting Jensen pull him to his feet. They stood there for a moment, two figures in the dim glow of the streetlights, connected by a thread of shared breath, shared hope, shared history.
"I want to build something here," Leonid said quietly. "I want us to build something real. Something that lasts."
"We will." Jensen's voice was steady, certain. "I'll fill this apartment with you until it's more yours than mine. Until every corner has a memory, every wall has a story."
Leonid stepped closer, pressing his forehead against Jensen's. "Promise?"
"Promise."
They kissed there, in the empty playground, under the dim orange sky of the city that neither of them belonged to. The key to their apartment felt heavy in Jensen's pocket, the weight of a future he had purchased but was only now learning how to live.
"I've never had somewhere to go home to," Leonid said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not since I was a kid. Not since you."
Jensen pulled back, cupped his face, forced him to look. "Look at me."
Leonid met his eyes.
"You're home now. You're always home."
He released him, and they walked in silence back to the building—up the elevator, down the hall, past the sound of a neighbor playing music too loudly and someone else laughing at something on a screen. The door swung open, revealing the wreck of their unpacking, and in the half light of the streetlamp through the window, the room looked like the first draft of a life they were learning to shape.
Jensen led him to the mattress. They lay down together, their bodies curled close, breathing the same warm air. Leonid's hand found Jensen's chest, toying with the hem of his hoodie.
„It feels strange," Leonid said. „Being here. Being wanted. Being allowed to stay."
„You'll get used to it." Jensen covered Leonid's hand with his own. „I'll never give you a reason to stop."
They lay there until sleep pulled them down, tangled together in the middle of the night, in the middle of their new beginning, in the middle of a city that had never offered either of them a home before.
The apartment was empty, but it was theirs.
The walls were bare, but they were theirs.
The quiet hum of the street outside drifted through the window like a lullaby, and together, in the hushed stale warmth of their new home, Jensen Kim held the only person he had ever loved, and for the first time in his entire life, that love did not feel like it was burning him alive.
It felt like it was saving him instead.
He pressed his lips to the back of Leonid's neck, feeling the fine down of his skin, the flicker of a pulse. Leonid stirred, half-asleep, and mumbled something incomprehensible against the pillow.
Jensen smiled.
This was their first night in their own place, and he wanted to remember every detail. The faint smell of paint and cardboard. The warmth of their tangled bodies. The knowledge that in the morning, there would be coffee to make, shelves to put up, a life to start.
The elevator hummed somewhere in the building. A distant siren wailed and faded. Jensen pulled Leonid closer, breathing him in, and let the exhaustion finally take him.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. His parents' expectations. The world outside their little haven. The inevitable complications of being who they were and loving who they loved.
But tonight, there was only this.
Only them.
Only the quiet sacred certainty that for the first time in a long time, Jensen Kim was exactly where he was supposed to be.