Page 48 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
“You look fine.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. It sounded watery and sad. “Out of all the people in the world I ever thought I’d tell this to, you were never on the list.”
Jun blinked, then remembered what he was. For a while, he’d just been himself, Mi Hi’s friend, nothing else.
“Well, I never thought I’d be dressed like this.” He tugged on the skirt. It was a very nice skirt. Mi Hi had good taste.
“What a pair we are.” She smiled at him, and this time, the smile was a little less sad. “I hope…you know I’d never…”
Jun put up his hand. “Mrs. Choi wouldn’t be so angry if her son hadn’t been in the wrong.”
“The angriest people are the ones who have something to hide, something that makes them look bad.” Mi Hi dropped her head and fisted the fabric of her suit.
Bak is always angry. Jun rolled the thought around in his head. He offered his hand to Mi Hi, and she took it. He squeezed gently. They weren’t so different.
“I should probably tell you that your makeup is smudged, then?”
She mock glared at him and pulled a compact out of her purse.
“Wait until you finish icing your face.”
“Oh, yeah.” She put the can back on her cheek. “Is it bruising?”
He grimaced. “A bit.”
Mi Hi sighed and slumped against the back of the bench. “I always mark so easily. Do you mark easily?”
Jun flushed. “I don’t know? I guess the normal amount?”
There was another train. She pulled on his hand. “Come on, let’s find your Black Panther boyfriend.”
“He’s not…”
She laughed.
Episode 3
Damian
Damian checked his phone. It was past time for Jun to possibly be at the hotel. If he left now, he could catch the train and be there in fifteen to twenty minutes. The need to touch Jun, to make sure his man was safe, warred inside him with pushing forward on getting him beyond Bak’s clutches.
He texted Jun.
Jun texted back almost immediately.
Damian groaned internally. He was already late, but it had always been a risk he’d chosen to take.
The three little dots bounced, stopped, and bounced again.
I want you safe burned on the ends of Damian’s fingers, but he didn’t type the words. Instead, he took a breath.
There was a slight hesitation, then Jun’s reply popped up on the screen. Jun texted a picture of himself.
He was gorgeous—eyes strikingly outlined, cheeks faintly blushing, whether from makeup or the cold, lips highlighted in deep mauve, the newsboy cap slightly crooked on his head, and the front of his cape casually open to show a soft sweater. Damian’s fingers curled. He wanted to sink his fingers into that knit and pull Jun toward him. Maybe he’d spent enough time around Ellisandre, but his first thought was not that Jun was dressed as a girl but how fucking dynamic and alive he would be dancing any of his myriad of choreos in that outfit: Strong thighs framed by the edge of the skirt, ankles encased in leather boots, no baggy pants hiding any of his athleticism. He looked like he was both ready to take on the world and a runway.
That all stayed behind his teeth. He texted back.
Jun responded: A moment later, a second text followed.
