Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 46: I Don't Want to Pretend

The track in Shanghai was newer than KNSU's, wrapped in high walls and early spring haze. JL stood at the edge of lane two, one foot planted, the other tracing idle half-circles in the rubberized surface. His shirt clung damply to his back, sweat blooming down the center of his spine like a confession.

Steven crouched in his lane, arms braced, shoulders rising and falling in slow rhythm. He wasn't looking at JL. Not directly.

But JL felt it anyway. The weight of his attention. The way it always burned steady.

"Ready?" Steven asked, voice low.

JL didn't answer right away. He bent, pressed his fingers to the track. The stretch pulled his hamstrings taut, the friction of sweat against skin a little too sharp. His pulse throbbed -- not from exertion, not yet.

"Yeah," he said. "Go."

They launched together.

JL hit top speed quickly. He always did. The wind knifed against his cheeks, his breath syncing to the pounding of his feet, the whole world blurring into motion.

Steven kept pace, just behind. The sound of him, each step, each breath, was like a heartbeat JL couldn't shake.

They reached the turn. JL slowed first. Steven pulled ahead, then stopped, hands on hips, chest rising with exertion. His shirt was soaked through, clinging to the curve of his abs, the dip between his collarbones. His hair stuck to his forehead, slick and wild.

JL tried not to stare. Failed.

Steven looked over, eyes unreadable. "You okay?"

JL nodded, throat dry. "Just hot."

Steven moved toward him slowly, like gravity was thicker between them. When he reached JL, he didn't touch. Just stood close enough that the heat of his body felt like a second sun.

"Your cheeks are red," he murmured. "Overheating?"

"Probably."

"Here." Steven tugged off his shirt, a smooth motion, like a skin being shed... and reached out with the fabric, gently pressing it to JL's forehead.

JL inhaled sharply. The shirt was warm. Damp. Smelled like Steven, clean sweat and cedar and sun. Steven watched him, gaze steady, lips parted just slightly like he might say something more.

He didn't.

Instead, he reached up again, slow as dusk, and brushed a stray strand of hair from JL's face. His fingers grazed temple, cheekbone, jaw. Too light to be casual.

JL closed his eyes.

He could still feel Han's breath on his ear. Could still hear his voice like a vow: you'll be mine.

But it was Steven standing in front of him now. Steven who had kissed him first. Who hadn't pushed. Who had waited. Who still waited.

"JL," Steven said softly. "I don't want to make this harder."

"You're not," JL whispered. "It already is."

They didn't move.

The track was empty. The sun sat low, casting long shadows that stretched toward the fence. JL's heart beat wild and guilty, even though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. Had he?

Steven stepped back first. Only an inch. Enough to exhale.

"You don't have to choose yet," he said. "But if you want me, don't pretend you don't."

JL's hands twitched at his sides.

"I'm trying," he said, voice raw. "I'm trying to figure it out."

Steven nodded once. "Figure it out in my arms, if you want to."

JL's eyes shot up.

"I mean it," Steven said, and this time he did close the gap, one hand resting gently at JL's waist, thumb against the hem of his shirt. Not pulling. Just there.

JL felt every nerve in his body light up. Felt the shift from ache to hunger.

His mouth parted, but he didn't kiss him. Not yet.

Instead, he stepped into the touch. Just barely.

And Steven's breath hitched.

They stood like that, tethered by heat and held breath, the sharp scent of sweat and effort curling around them like smoke. And JL... JL, whose cheek still remembered Han's vow, whose body still burned for Steven, closed his eyes and whispered:

"I don't want to pretend that I don't want it."

Steven's hand pressed a little firmer to his side.

"Then don't."