Criminal Next Door [Namjin]

What Did I Eat To Become So Hot . . . ✨Rice✨

Seokjin paused in the act of spreading lotion on his arms as he heard Namjoon's apartment door open and close from inside the spare bedroom where he waited, fully dressed for their date.

Date. The most offensive four-letter word in the English language. It wasn't a coincidence that it rhymed with hate. It also rhymes with late and irate, the former of which described Namjoon's current state.

"Nice one," Seokjin congratulated himself under his breath.

The wall clock told him he'd arrived exactly half an hour late to pick the boy up. After asking Seokjin on this date as a favor to him, he didn't even have the decency to show up on time. Seokjin yanked off the earrings he'd put on and removed approximately eight damn times. He couldn't remember why he'd agreed to accompany Namjoon in the first place. The lieutenant's bartering the spare room in exchange for a date was low even by his own standards. Seokjin should have called him on it and demanded he accept the money. Instead, he'd found himself agreeing, with very little persuasion on the lieutenant's end.

Seokjin spent the morning in his apartment with WonShik and the work crew he'd hired to repair the flood damage to the space. Going through his and Taehyung's possessions, Seokjin had been relieved to find most of it, including all of their clothes, could be saved. After throwing out the damaged items, he'd taken the damp clothes to the basement laundry room and cleaned them thoroughly. Thankfully, most of his furniture projects were salvageable as well, although he'd cried while dragging the baby-themed hope chest to the curb for sanitation to pick up.

Ruined hope chest aside, they got a lot of work done in the apartment and he felt optimistic about returning home soon. Wading through his waterlogged closet, he'd pulled out the plastic garment bag containing his one and only presentable outfit. The black dress shirt of his dreams. A vintage Versace he'd found at a yard sale one afternoon in Daegu after a wife unexpectedly showed up from a vacation in Takayama, found her husband's male mistress living in their home, and held an impromptu sale to get rid of the younger male's possessions.

The kicker? He'd bought it for a hwan.

Seokjin stood in front of the mirror checking his appearance. To him, the silk, white collared dress symbolized everything he dreamed of being. Classy, worldly, stylish. He'd never been given a chance to wear it before, having avoided the dating scene after the Holy Trinity debacle, but sometimes put it on when he needed a pick-me-up.

He'd blown his hair dry and let it fall in waves on his forehead, applying only a minimal amount of makeup. The femboys who came into Spectacle usually wore heavier eyeliner and lipstick, but he always felt self-conscious with it on. Turning sideways, he smiled at his reflection. Then his shoulders slumped.

He didn't know the kind of circles in which Namjoon moved. Maybe this dress wouldn't be considered stylish. After all, Seoul was a million miles away from Daegu in terms of how people dressed and acted. Maybe the dress really had only been worth a hwan.

Is it too late to cancel? I'll tell him I'm sick. Or I couldn't find anyone to cover my shift.

Or maybe he should just pick a fight with the lieutenant. He sure as hell knew how to accomplish that.

Seokjin quickly crossed the last idea off his list. If he started an argument, they'd probably just end up making out. Or re-creating last night's scene in the bathroom.

At the reminder of last night, Seokjin's pulse began pounding in his ears. His cheeks flushed pink and he unconsciously wetted his lips. God, he'd never experienced anything like Namjoon touching his body. Not one of the man's movements had been wasted. His objective was to make the boy come and every motion, every flick of his fingers and kiss of his mouth, moved Seokjin toward oblivion.