It’s not like Lucas knew that Coach Park would freak out when he caught him and Donghyuck planting homemade stink bombs in the football team’s lockers.
Just like he didn’t know that Donghyuck would rope him into assisting with his prank in the first place, bribing Lucas with half his burrito as he described his vindictive plan over lunch.
Nor did he know that Mark Lee, of all people, would witness him swindling sulphuric acid from the chemistry lab after hours and spend the following day stealthily shadowing him across campus.
Or that Mark, in a moment of bold heroism, would confront them in the locker room, startling a yell so loud from Lucas that Coach Park would hear him all the way from his office and come running, fearing an accident or worse.
Or finally that, upon realizing what was actually transpiring, Coach Park would immediately sentence all three of them to detention that very same afternoon.
No, Lucas didn’t know any of that, despite what Donghyuck claimed about it all being some elaborate set-up to frame him. Lucas couldn’t have predicted they’d wind up in detention. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t hope for it.
Lucas saunters into the empty classroom with a sullen Donghyuck and an anxious Mark shuffling at his heels. Unlike the other boys, he’s undaunted by the prospect of detention as it’s an already familiar part of his weekly routine. When Lucas enters the room he's a man with a purpose, and he struts immediately to the front to claim his favorite spot—the seat closest to the teacher’s desk.
“What do you look so happy about?” Donghyuck mutters under his breath, as he drops into the seat beside him.
Lucas pays no attention to his acidic tone, knowing perfectly well that his friend is just upset he’d been caught red-handed. If it wasn’t for Mark’s meddling, Donghyuck would’ve pulled off another successful prank, while Lucas would’ve bravely taken the fall for it. Mark, sensing Donghyuck’s ire, takes the desk on Lucas’s other side which cleverly hides him from Donghyuck’s direct line of sight. A smart move.
“Perfect excuse to skip practice,” Lucas replies, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks left from yesterday’s weight training. “Jeno just texted me that we’re doing endurance drills today.”
“What happened to trying to get a hockey scholarship? I thought meatheads like you cared about nothing but practice.”
“Still the plan. And don’t worry Hyuckie, my stamina is already in peak condition,” Lucas says, waggling his eyebrows.
Donghyuck only scoffs in response and sinks lower into his chair.
The real reason Lucas is happy, which he doesn’t tell Donghyuck, has nothing to do with missing endurance training and everything to do with the upperclassman who just walked through the door.
Doyoung barely pays any attention to his surroundings as he strides to the teacher’s desk, entirely preoccupied with tapping fiercely at his phone. As Student Council President, Doyoung is often tasked with supervising detention in the teacher’s stead because no sane adult would willingly sacrifice their precious afternoon to watch over a bunch of spoiled rich kids. Not even boarding school salary is enough to make that sound appealing.
They wait in tense silence while Doyoung finishes typing out his message, which, going by how long it takes him, is probably an endless blue text bubble of precise instructions for one of his dedicated underlings.
While they wait, Lucas admires the fit of Doyoung’s uniform. Technically, they’re all supposed to wear the same thing, though Lucas’s blazer lies crumpled in bottom of his backpack and he’s loosened his tie considerably. (He’s already in detention, what more can they punish him with?)
Doyoung, on the other hand, manages to achieve the nearly impossible, which is to exude elegance and class while dressed head-to-toe in polyester. The pants he wears, which look baggy on most students, somehow accentuate his already long legs, while his blazer appears specifically made to emphasize his broad shoulders and lithe waist. Lucas wouldn’t put it past Doyoung to have actually taken his uniform to a tailor; there’s just no other explanation for why he looks like he’s walking a runway when merely heading to class.
Lucas looks handsome in spite of his uniform, but Doyoung's beauty is only enhanced by it.
After another long minute, Doyoung lets out a satisfied hum and finally tucks his phone back into his bag. He picks up a list of names off the desk while Lucas tips his chair back in anticipation, crossing his legs to look every bit the picture of nonchalance.
“Donghyuck Lee,” Doyoung reads, eyes flicking from the paper to survey the seated students.
“‘Sup,” Donghyuck says, sounding bored.
Doyoung arches a brow. “I see they’ve finally caught the mastermind.”
Donghyuck is infamous in their school for getting away with literally everything, a fact which Doyoung further proves to be true when Donghyuck responds by pulling a face and sticking out his tongue, and Doyoung, amazingly, lets it slide without comment. Lucas knows he wouldn't be afforded that same leniency if he pulled a stunt like that.
Doyoung’s eyes flit to the next name on the list, and this time he sounds genuinely disappointed when he reads it aloud. “Mark Lee.”
“P-present,” Mark stammers out. Poor guy looks like he’s about to throw up.
Mark is also on the student council and Doyoung’s soft spot for the junior is no secret. There are even rumors that Doyoung is grooming him to take over his role as president next year. Doyoung heaves a deep sigh. His already thin lips flatten to form an even thinner line, and really that’s almost worse than if he had said anything more.
Beside him, Mark is trying to fuse with the plastic of his seat; it’s a rather pathetic sight. Lucas gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder—Doyoung is all bark and no bite anyway—but it only serves to startle Mark, and he awkwardly shrugs off his touch, looking, if possible, even more nervous than before.
Doyoung doesn’t need a sheet of paper to tell him who the last student is. His unfairly captivating gaze falls upon Lucas.
“Lucas Wong. What a surprise to see you here today,” he deadpans, sounding anything but.
“Hey Doyoung,” Lucas says, shooting him his most dazzling smile. “Did you miss me?”
Doyoung doesn’t bother replying, but he’s always been reserved about his emotions, so Lucas is going to take that as a silent yet enthusiastic ‘yes.’
“Right, since everyone is here we’ll get started,” Doyoung announces. He’s using his authoritative, ‘I-Am-Your-President’ voice. It’s pretty hot. “For you first-timers, here's how it works. I’m going to sit over there and do my homework and you are all going to be absolutely silent until your two hours are up and I tell you that you can leave.”
With that, Doyoung takes a seat at the teacher’s desk and pulls out his books. Mark hurries to do the same. Donghyuck decides a better use of his time would be to nap, and rests his head on his arms and closes his eyes.
Lucas makes a valiant show of opening his chemistry textbook, but he and Doyoung both know it will lie there neglected. As much as Lucas actually enjoys chemistry, the simple truth is that he never gets any work done during detention. Rather than focusing on his reading, he spends most of his time studying the gorgeous Student Council President instead.
Detention poses an interesting challenge for Lucas. He’s loud and exuberant by nature, yet here he’s required to stay utterly silent for two whole hours while the object of his affection sits barely ten feet away from him.
Lucas sees it as a game. A test of self-control; to look, but not be able to touch. He hopes Doyoung appreciates how much effort he’s putting in on his behalf because it’s not easy to sit there, hands folded neatly across his lap, when all he wants to do is run them down Doyoung’s waist and mumble sweet-nothings into his ear.
On days when he’s feeling especially cheeky, he’ll stare at Doyoung outright until Doyoung realizes he’s being watched and lifts his head, causing their eyes to meet for a moment of intense, heated eye contact.
Doyoung is a strong a competitor though, and he usually does an admirable job of ignoring Lucas’s existence entirely. To Lucas, it just makes those rare victories taste even sweeter.
Lucas is sucking absently on the back of his pen, mid-fantasy of bending Doyoung backward on the desk while he pops the buttons on his shirt and marks hickeys onto the boy’s long, pale neck, when his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a door opening.
He pulls his gaze from where he’d been staring vacantly out the window—gusts of snow flurry to the ground and Lucas briefly wonders if it will be cold enough for the lake to freeze over. It would be nice to skate outside. Even nicer, would be to skate with Doyoung—to see the Student Council Vice President walk in. Jaehyun looks far too amused as he strolls towards Doyoung and passes him a note. Doyoung plucks it from his hands with nimble fingers and frowns as he reads whatever is written in it before he folds the note closed again and sets it aside.
“Donghyuck, Mark, you’re in luck,” Doyoung declares. “Pack up your stuff. You’re free for the day.”
Neither boy needs to be told twice. Donghyuck leaps out of his seat and scampers towards the door while Mark shoves his entire stack of books into his backpack with one arm. He shoots one last abashed smile Doyoung’s way before he hurries after Donghyuck.
Lucas opens his mouth to ask if he’s excused too, but Doyoung beats him to the punch.
“Not you, Lucas,” Doyoung says, voice stern. It sends a thrill down Lucas’s spine.
Jaehyun is the last to leave with a dimpled smile and a cheery wave. “Go easy on him,” Jaehyun says, though it’s not clear who he is addressing.
The moment he hears the door click shut, Lucas is out of his seat and crowding Doyoung at the desk.
“Did I say you could get up?” Doyoung asks, though there’s no real menace in his tone.
Lucas flashes a suave smile. “You didn’t need to say it. I can read you like a book.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes in response, but when Lucas’s fingers encircle Doyoung’s wrist he gets the unspoken message and stands up without any resistance. Lucas’s hands resettle on Doyoung’s slim waist exactly the way he’s been longing to do for the past hour. He spares a moment to admire Doyoung’s features—his almond eyes, his pink lips, his furrowed brow—before he leans in for a kiss.
At the last second, Doyoung turns his head and Lucas’s lips land square on his cheek instead of his intended target.
Lucas is not above whining. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re actually mad, Doie.”
“Detention again, Xuxi? Really?”
“It was Donghyuck’s fault, I swear.”
“So you always say,” Doyoung scoffs. “What about Mark then? He’s a good kid. Don’t lure him to the dark side.”
The mere idea of that makes Lucas laugh loudly. He’s pretty sure Mark will never talk to him again after today. “Nah, Mark just got unlucky,” he placates, before pitching his voice low so it’s slightly husky. “Plus, detention is our time.”
Doyoung groans his annoyance, but when Lucas tries for that kiss again, he meets him halfway. He’s always been rather soft to Lucas’s whims.
It begins with a gentle press of lips, but Lucas has more than chaste kisses on his mind. His kisses are soft yet insistent, tongue brushing against the seam of Doyoung’s lips and Doyoung lets him easily.
He loses himself in the sensations, relishing the feeling of Doyoung’s tongue curling around his and the small appreciative noises Doyoung emits when Lucas presses deeper into the kiss.
After a few moments, he pulls back to catch his breath before moving on to press a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses along Doyoung’s jaw. A rookie mistake. Lucas never should’ve let his lips leave Doyoung’s own; should’ve known that keeping Doyoung’s mouth occupied was the only way to keep him quiet. After all, it’s Doyoung’s favorite distraction method to use on him.
“I wish you’d stop getting detention,” Doyoung mutters. His voice sounds way too stable given their situation, and Lucas tongues at the sensitive spot just below Doyoung’s ear, hoping he can divert his attention. “It doesn’t look good on your record.”
He gives a final playful nip to Doyoung’s earlobe, but his efforts are to no avail, and he pulls back with a sigh a moment later. Doyoung seems intent to have this conversation one way or another and it’s really killing the mood.
“Why does it matter?” Lucas asks breezily, mostly to provoke Doyoung since he’s being such a stick in the mud. “We both know my dad can just buy my way into college anyway.”
A lesser man would’ve withered under Doyoung’s glare. Thankfully, Lucas is blessed with unshakeable confidence and an amplitude of experience at facing down Doyoung when he’s in one of his sour moods.
“Is it wrong for me to want better for my boyfriend?” Doyoung snaps.
Lucas suppresses a smile. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over the thrill of hearing Doyoung say “my boyfriend” even when it’s said in the frustrated tone it is now. When they started dating last summer, they decided that it would be easier to keep their relationship a secret only to be shared with their most trusted friends—being out in high school is difficult enough, let alone when you live with your peers—so it’s a phrase that is rarely said aloud.
“You shouldn't worry so much about me,” Lucas says. Doyoung looks at him with tired eyes, and he makes a mental note to make sure Doyoung starts sleeping at a more reasonable hour, even if that means Lucas has to resort to aggressive cuddling to keep him in bed. Doyoung lets his head drop to rest on Lucas’s shoulder and Lucas runs a soothing hand down his back. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”
Doyoung applied ‘Early Decision’ to Harvard, and while his acceptance put an end to his anxieties over where he would be this time next year, with Doyoung the following may as well be the proverb he lives by: when one worry goes, another takes its place. Lucas, on the other hand, has never been one to angst over the future, preferring to live in the now. Perhaps that’s why they balance each other out so well.
Even so, Lucas remains sensitive to his boyfriend’s concerns and he knows the upcoming school year is a major source of stress in Doyoung’s life. It’s not just his looming apprehension of higher education and the idea of being thrust into an unfamiliar environment, but there’s also the distance that it will put between them. Lucas will still have another year before he graduates and his future remains uncertain. Recently, his mother has started hinting at how nice it would be if he moved back to Hong Kong.
“I can’t help it,” Doyoung mumbles into his neck.
Truth to be told, Lucas knows he ought to stop getting detention; or at least, stop willfully trying to end up here. Lately, he’s been receiving a number of love calls from various universities hoping to recruit him to their ice hockey teams. If he wants a secure spot, he’ll need to focus even harder on both his training and his studies until he graduates. It’s just that spending alone time with Doyoung is as precious as it is tempting since it’s so difficult to come by while living in a dorm.
What’s more, it’s hard for Lucas to follow through with that resolution when none of it feels quite real to him yet, and he often wonders if he’s not having one very long, very bizarre dream. It’s also why he’s avoided bringing up the topic with Doyoung, not wanting to say anything until he knows there’s something concrete to tell. Until today.
“Let me take your mind off it,” Lucas says after a few minutes of standing in comfortable silence. He rubs circular patterns in the small of Doyoung’s back, faintly suggestive, but not pushy.
This time, when Doyoung raises his head, the interested glint in his eyes is evident, and Lucas knows he’s game for a distraction.
“Are you sure you deserve that?” Doyoung asks coyly, and Lucas can’t help the whine that escapes him again, because Doyoung is the worst sort of tease when he wants to be.
Luckily, Doyoung doesn’t seem intent to draw things out any longer. He steps backward and hops onto the desk, squirming to get comfortable, before gentle hands pull Lucas closer until he’s positioned between Doyoung’s spread legs.
Doyoung tilts his head up, warm breath fanning over Lucas’s lips, a silent invitation.
Lucas connects their lips all too eagerly and Doyoung lets out a short huff of laughter that soon morphs into a moan when Lucas deepens their kiss—amusement giving way to pleasure. Doyoung is warm to the touch and Lucas threads his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, tugging him even closer. Doyoung responds in kind by hooking his legs around Lucas’s hips, locking him in place, as their tongues tangle in a familiar dance.
Like everything he does in life, Lucas kisses with enthusiasm and passion. He’ll run rough, calloused hands down Doyoung’s sensitive skin to make him shiver, and his kisses are hot and fervent, leaving no doubt as to just how much he wants Doyoung and no one else.
Doyoung’s kisses rarely posses the urgency that Lucas’s do. Whenever Doyoung sets their pace, he’ll take his time, reveling in the slow build up to a kiss, always giving, but drawing back before Lucas can take and leaving him to chase the space where Doyoung’s lips were. He’ll tease Lucas with breathy moans, detail every part of his body with his tongue, and make Lucas’s toes curl from his slow, languid kisses until Lucas is wreck, a panting mess of desire, and Doyoung finally, finally gives in.
It’s good both ways—urgent and slow. The energy their kisses take on depends on how badly Doyoung needs to feel in control that day, or how on-edge Lucas is feeling, or how much steam they both need to let off.
Today, Doyoung seems happy enough to let Lucas take the lead.
Lucas pulls back slightly to nibble the swell of Doyoung’s lower lip, enjoying the moan it elicits from the other boy. One of the many things Lucas loves about kissing Doyoung is how responsive he is, and every encouraging noise he makes feeds right back into Lucas’s ego and desire. The added knowledge that someone could walk in on them at any moment—they won’t, Doyoung would never let this happen if it was a true possibility—makes the kiss even hotter.
Doyoung begins deftly unbuttoning Lucas’s shirt, and then he’s pushing it off his shoulders entirely, leaving his chest bare but for his tie. Lucas leans over Doyoung and spreads his palms on the desk on either side of him, caging him in. He knows Doyoung is a sucker for his arms, even if he won’t admit it aloud.
Predictably, Doyoung runs his hands up Lucas’s toned arms a moment later. Lucas can’t resist flexing a little bit, which makes Doyoung let out another puff of laughter against his lips. Doyoung doesn’t stop his admiration there though—his hands travel from Lucas's sculpted shoulders down his chest, brushing mischievously against his nipples. Lucas moans unabashedly as Doyoung’s hands leave searing trails of heat in their wake, continuing their path down his abs before finally settling in the dips of hipbones.
Lucas responds by pressing Doyoung back into the desk, enjoying the feeling of Doyoung’s mouth hot and lush against his own. When Lucas moves to press kisses down his throat, Doyoung whispers Lucas’s name like it’s something sacred.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Lucas murmurs into his skin. It’s a wonder that Doyoung isn’t burning up considering how high the school cranks up the heat during the winter months.
It quickly turns into a race to see how fast Lucas can undress his boyfriend. While Doyoung maps out the inside of Lucas’s mouth with his tongue, Lucas focuses on unbuttoning his blazer, shucking it aside before working on the knot in his tie and the buttons of his shirt until he’s finally divested Doyoung of all his unnecessary layers and Doyoung’s pretty porcelain skin is on full display.
Lucas takes a minute to simply stare because it’s worth appreciating how beautiful Doyoung looks right now—like some priceless piece of artwork, hair artfully tousled, lips puffy and stained scarlet, and a pretty flush painting both his cheeks and chest. Desire pools in Lucas’s stomach, overwhelming and blazing-hot.
Doyoung gazes at him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. “You'd think after staring at me for the past hour you’d be ready to finally do something about it.”
The impatient edge to Doyoung’s voice makes Lucas smile. It’s rare to hear it coming from him.
“I never get tired of looking at you,” Lucas says, because he’s nothing if not honest about his feelings when it comes to Doyoung. He’s rewarded with the deepening blush of Doyoung’s cheeks and the pleased smile that works it’s way onto his boyfriend’s lips.
He wastes no more time and pushes lightly against Doyoung’s chest. Doyoung understands his intention and shuffles back, swinging his legs onto the desk. Lucas crawls on top of him, using one hand to press Doyoung’s back flat against the wood and the other to pillow Doyoung’s head so he doesn’t hurt himself.
Doyoung is panting and flushed underneath him and his sparkling eyes offer Lucas an infinite number of possibilities. Lucas has only one thing in mind though.
He mouths along Doyoung’s collarbones, pressing his tongue into the dip of the left one against the cute little mole he has there, before moving on to Doyoung’s neck, intent to make his earlier fantasy a reality.
The one nice thing about uniforms is that they hide everything. Lucas, who has always had a bit of possessive streak, has recently found a deeper appreciation for them. After all, uniforms mean high collars, and high collars mean that Doyoung will let him mark him up as much as he wants as long as it doesn’t show above the neckline.
He eyes the faded purple stain on Doyoung's neck from the last time they did this. It's still visible, but it needs a touch-up.
Doyoung’s whole body shudders underneath him when Lucas’s teeth graze his delicate skin just above the previous mark, and he reaches his arms up to cling to Lucas’s shoulders for support. Lucas sucks a mark dark enough to bruise in the junction between his boyfriend’s neck and shoulders, and Doyoung responds with breathless gasps of pleasure. His moans would make for a wonderful symphony.
By the time Lucas pulls back, there is a stunning violet bruise blooming across his boyfriend’s neck, still shiny with saliva. He admires it with brazen glee.
Doyoung lies beneath him breathing raggedly and wearing a dazed expression on his face. It’s intoxicating to know that Lucas is the one responsible for putting it there, and he marvels at that fact every time they do this.
“You know, you don’t need to land detention if you want to get me alone,” Doyoung says when he finally has his breathing back under control. His voice is low and raspy and fond.
“And you don’t need to have your best friend deliver you blank notes if you want to get me alone either,” Lucas counters with a smirk.
Doyoung flushes and looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lucas doesn’t miss the way Doyoung surreptitiously tries to hide Jaehyun's note, and he steals it from him before his boyfriend can sneak it underneath the stack of books on the corner of the desk.
“Oh really?” Lucas says, voice smug.
Doyoung sits up and tries to grasp for it, but Lucas is faster, already on his feet and dancing out of Doyoung’s reach as he unfolds it.
It turns out not to be blank like he expected.
Instead, in Jaehyun’s crude chicken scratch it simply reads: “remember to use protection ;).”
Lucas laughs, too loud and awkward. It bounces off the walls, echoing how self-conscious he suddenly feels. They haven’t gone that far—they haven’t even talked about those things. Lucas has been more than content with the way things have been progressing up until now, making out with Doyoung in empty classrooms or on his bed in those rare moments when he has the room to himself, and following it up with warm cuddles afterward. Sure, things get heated and… difficult, at times—even now for instance—but whenever it pushes the limits, Doyoung will graciously pull back and give them both the space they need to calm down. As silly as it sounds, Lucas hasn’t been thinking farther ahead… but should he be? Is that what Doyoung wants? To go farther?
As if hearing Lucas’s spiraling thoughts, Doyoung gets up and reaches his fingers out to interlock tightly with Lucas’s own. He looks slightly flustered as well, but he stands on his tiptoes and presses their foreheads together so he can hold his gaze. Doyoung’s eyes are wide. Reassuring. Anchoring.
“Ignore him. He’s an idiot,” Doyoung says firmly. He tugs the note from Lucas’s hand, balls it up, and tosses it in the trash. Then, he turns to smile softly at him. “Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”
Lucas’s instinct whenever he’s feeling uneasy is to resort to humor. Now is no different. “Wow, Mr. President, letting delinquents out of detention early? What would the people say if they found out?”
“I’d tell them that you were being so disruptive that I decided to punish you by making you file budget reports instead.” Doyoung tugs at Lucas’s ear as he says it, and somehow it’s that small, playful action which finally dispels the strained atmosphere.
Doyoung sends him one last reassuring smile and the tension finally bleeds out of Lucas’s shoulders. It never ceases to amaze him how well Doyoung understands him—even better than Lucas understands himself sometimes—but he’s infinitely grateful for it nonetheless. He reminds himself that he understands Doyoung well too, and his boyfriend has never once indicated that he feels anything other than perfectly satisfied with what they have now. When Lucas is ready, when they both are, he’s sure they’ll have a conversation about it. For now, Lucas will do what he does best—enjoy the moment.
“If you want to make out in the student council office, you can just say so,” Lucas says with a goofy grin, feeling far more at ease now. “I’m down.”
Doyoung laughs and Lucas doesn't believe it’s boastful of him to think that no one else can make Doyoung laugh this loudly or this brightly. It’s a gorgeous sound and an even more gorgeous sight, and he doesn’t think he’d get tired of it even if he heard it every day for a million years.
“I’m serious, Xuxi. I do actually need to do some stuff for the council. Anyway, the office is a mess.” He pats Lucas’s right bicep. “You can make yourself useful by moving boxes for me.”
Flattery is the surest way to get Lucas to do something—well, flattery, and just simply being Doyoung. Fueled with renewed purpose, Lucas agrees, though not before stealing one last lingering kiss that leaves both of their lips tingling.
By the time Doyoung finishes with whatever documents he needed to review, Lucas is covered in a sheen of sweat and thoroughly wiped out from reorganizing and stacking a nearly infinite number of boxes full of student government records. On the plus side, he's more than made up for the missed ice hockey practice.
Lucas is tired, sticky, and starving. And he still hasn’t started his homework.
He tells Doyoung exactly that.
“Maybe if you actually did homework during detention instead of wasting it staring at me, you’d be done by now and we could go out for dinner,” Doyoung grumbles without any heat.
Lucas’s stomach rumbles loudly at the mere mention of food and he lets out a pitiful whimper. Doyoung regards his dramatic antics with wry amusement, but the tender affection in his eyes betrays him. A moment later, Lucas catches him thumbing through his wallet, counting his cash.
“Buy me dinner anyway?” Lucas pleads, affecting his most guileless expression and reaching out to link their hands. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
And he does—
After they’ve braved the snow and filled their stomachs on pad see ew and green curry from the Thai restaurant close to campus, Lucas pulls the letter from his bag and slips it into Doyoung’s open palms.
Doyoung’s smile when he realizes what he’s holding—a recruitment letter promising a full scholarship to Boston University the following year—is radiant.
It’s the type of smile that’s so wide it spreads across half of Doyoung’s face. The type of smile that made Lucas freeze in his tracks the first time he saw it. The type of smile that makes his heart feel like it’s a bottle of Diet Coke that’s been filled with Mentos, causing happiness to erupt like a geyser because the love he feels for Doyoung can’t possibly be contained.
There’s a suspiciously shiny glint in Doyoung’s eyes as he pulls Lucas into a crushing embrace. It’s enough to tell Lucas that he feels the same.