You Don't Love Me (Big Deal) - a Kai/Chanyeol fanfic - Ch. 1
Pairing: Kai/Chanyeol
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love
Word count: 2400+ for this chapter
Chapter 1/?
Notes: This was written at the start of this year, but every time I went back to it I disliked it a little more and lost the will to finish. But now I'm thinking to myself "why not get it out of the way?" Note, Jongin is supposed to be a pretty damn awful guy in this, but this doesn't reflect how I feel about the actual Jongin at all.
Also posted to AFF and AO3.
Summary:
Chanyeol had always thought that he was smarter than he let on. He was loud and awkward, sure, his personality verging on obnoxious and grating when he forgot to keep it in check, but he never thought that he was stupid.
That is, until he met Kim Jongin.
He was captivating, to sum it up in one word. One second he could look soft and vulnerable, like the ideal boy next door, the type of boy you’d bring home to your mother because you knew she would approve, yet in the next he acted like a man who could kiss you and leave you without any indication that he knew you existed at all. Chanyeol had watched his every move, ever since the night he first saw him. Not because he wanted to, not because he chose to but because, despite his best efforts, he simply couldn't look away.
That was his first mistake.
Baekhyun had chosen this place because it was new to them. They had done the circuit before, had been ever since they left school, but always skipped over places like this. Places with walls that dripped with neon and bars that drew everyone to the centre of the room, but this time Baekhyun had complained that he was bored with the usual clubs they frequented and had decided to try out a place called Black Pearl. Chanyeol knew better than to argue.
The walls were black granite, glinting under every pass of the strobe lighting. The bar was a huge circle in the middle of the floor with deep cherry red surfaces and cold, blue light illuminating the mirrors around it. The place could have been almost clinical if it weren't for the dancing bodies taking up every available space on the floor, writhing and coiling to music with no lyrics, to sounds that pounded through the floor and up through the bones.
Chanyeol ducks under the door upon entering and makes a beeline for the bar first, trying to pass through the crowd without making too much of a scene. The club was stifling, and with every brush of skin Chanyeol felt on his palms as he tried to gently push his way through, he felt the sweat of those who had long since lost their restraint. With a shuffling of his limbs, Chanyeol threw himself heavily on to one of the stools, turning to Baekhyun as his friend sat down beside him.
The look on Baekhyun's face mirrored his own, an expression that said that maybe this place was too much, and maybe it wasn't exactly their scene, but they were here now so they might as well enjoy themselves.
Three drinks in and Baekhyun was getting restless, leaving over to tap Chanyeol on the shoulder to make sure he could come close enough to hear.
"I'm going on the floor." He says. "Are you coming?"
Chanyeol laughs. "Me? You've seen me dance, Baekhyun, I think I'm better here."
Baekhyun grins at him before pushing himself off the stool and dropping the five centimetres to the floor. He waves his hand at Chanyeol before sauntering off the find an unoccupied space on the dance floor. Chanyeol ordered himself another drink and tapped his fingers idly on the bar to the bass of the track in the background, weighing up the pros and cons of leaving now without Baekhyun, or waiting until his friend was tired and bored enough to leave when he saw him.
It didn’t happen like it did in movies. The crowd didn't suddenly clear around him, a single spotlight beaming down to illuminate a lone figure making shapes on the floor. Rather, he demanded space to be made for him and judging by the slack-jawed expressions on many faces Chanyeol’s eyes locked on, it was a difficult demand to refuse.
He wasn’t dancing with anyone, Chanyeol notices that first. That isn’t to say plenty of people around him weren’t trying, but the way he moved made it seem like he thought he was above them, like he didn’t notice they were even there at all. In his mind, he was the only person in the world. The only person the music played for.
Chanyeol didn’t even notice he’d left the bar until he bumps in to a girl that is almost as tall as he is in heels. She shoots him a glare that barely softens after his frantically mouthed apology, but his clumsiness is soon forgotten as she turned away to resume her appreciation of the figure in the middle of the throng.
Magnetism. That’s what Baekhyun would call it later, after Chanyeol tells him what happened that night, but before he begins to hate him. He would whistle appreciatively through his teeth, because he couldn’t have known then. Wouldn’t have known how much this one man would affect his best friend, and how much destruction he would leave behind when he was gone. Magnetism.
It’s like he exists in a vacuum. Chanyeol finds that as he is drawn close (not by choice, he tells himself. He can’t help it.) everyone else seems to melt around his periphery. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve, but when he catches the gaze of the figure on the floor he feels pride bubble in his chest. He looks at Chanyeol, and for some reason that feels like a badge of honour.
He smirks at how awkward Chanyeol’s dancing is, and Chanyeol doesn’t blame him because of the comparison, the sheer gulf because Chanyeol’s badly timed bobbing and his raw, almost primal moves that were almost too big for how in control he seemed.
He turns, and seems to dance at Chanyeol, almost daring him to make a fool of himself and something about the arrogant pull of his mouth makes Chanyeol want to obey, but he bows out, trying to shake himself to regain his senses.
It must be the heat. The lights. One too many, perhaps, maybe the alcohol has a higher percentage in places like this. Chanyeol bows and almost kicks himself after for doing so, and goes to get off the dance floor but he feels a pull at his belt loops and suddenly Chanyeol figures he has one of two options .
He could push this guy away and leave, go back to his empty apartment alone and regret it for the next two weeks at least. Or he could make something of this. He’s not drunk enough to be bolder, or to keep up with the guy but he’s just about buzzed enough to almost enjoy himself, to enjoy whatever game the other guy is playing.
He would look sweet if it weren’t for the way his lips twisted, if it weren’t for the way he made it seem like he knew what Chanyeol’s choice would be before Chanyeol did. Chanyeol steps closer.
The height difference isn’t as extreme as it has been with other people, there only had to be a centimetre or two in Chanyeol’s favour, but it seems like much more when the guy - the guy. Chanyeol thinks he should ask him his name, but he knows better in places like this. Names are treated like secrets and the only thing that matters is what the hands can touch - when he pulls Chanyeol down and pushes his lips harshly against the swell of Chanyeol’s own.
Again, Chanyeol figures he has one of two options. He could push this guy away and leave, go back to his empty apartment alone and regret it for a month at this rate. Or he could let this happen, whatever this was.
Chanyeol wasn’t normally the type to hook up with nameless strangers in clubs but this guy was clearly an expert judging by the way he was working his tongue down Chanyeol’s throat, taking advantage of the chatter going on his Chanyeol’s own head that was distracting him.
His mouth wasn’t as soft as it looked, but Chanyeol figured that nothing about this guy was as it looked. His fingers had left Chanyeol’s belt hoops, instead opting to anchor themselves on the back of Chanyeol’s neck, hands folded over each other securely to prevent Chanyeol from leaving. As if he could.
“Who’s your friend?”
Chanyeol nearly dislocates something as he shoots back from the guy in shock. Baekhyun's grinning at him the way that he did when he discovered something particularly amusing.
“Uhhhh” Chanyeol begins, eyes darting between his friend and the guy who still has his hands on Chanyeol’s skin, index finger idly drawing patterns on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “This. This is...”
“Jongin.” The guy says, and his voice is somehow lighter than Chanyeol expected.
Chanyeol turns and gives a sheepish grin to Baekhyun. “This is Jongin.”
“Park Chanyeol.” Baekhyun whistles. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you pulled. I gotta go, I have an early shift tomorrow. Are you going to be alright on your own? Or, well-“
“Yes, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol near hisses, and Baekhyun laughs a little. “I’ll be fine.”
“Alright. See you when I see you.” He waves himself off, but not before telling Chanyeol not to do anything he wouldn’t do. Chanyeol could almost kick him.
Chanyeol turns to Jongin. “My best friend.” Chanyeol supplies.
“I didn’t ask.”
Chanyeol almost feels put out and slightly foolish for offering up the harmless and inconsequential information, but then he’s being yanked over to the bar with Jongin’s hand still on his neck. Jongin orders two shots, but Chanyeol attempts to refuse when they’re placed upon the countertop. The liquid glints under the cold lighting of the bar.
“I don’t really do shots.” Chanyeol says. “They kind of make me sick.”
“That’s kind of the whole point of shots. Come here.” Jongin says, pulling Chanyeol closer as he picks up one of the small glasses.
He knocked it back with one swift, well practised moment but doesn’t swallow it. Instead, he keeps it in his mouth, sets the glass down and then pulls Chanyeol to meet him.
Chanyeol catches on approximately a second before Jongin made his move, and opens his mouth slightly just before Jongin covers it with his own. Jongin leans forward slightly, just enough to tip Chanyeol’s head back and pass the spirits from his own mouth in to Chanyeol’s.
It burns the entire way down and tasted disgusting, but Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to mind when Jongin’s tongue starts chasing after the alcohol. His left hand is braced on Chanyeol’s thigh as he presses in closer, fingers of his right hand moving from the back of Chanyeol’s neck to the curve of his jaw.
Chanyeol could taste every drink Jongin had mixed that night and it was all making his head spin. The music bleeds in to his ears in waves but he barely notices. Jongin pulled back, plump mouth twisted once again as he lifted the other shot he had ordered and tipped it directly in to Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol swallows it without complaint, barely tasting it the second time, and Jongin’s eyes catch and track a drop that had escaped the corner of Chanyeol’s lips.
He kisses it away before mouthing his mouth to Chanyeol’s ear.
“Let’s get out of here.” He says. Chanyeol knows he didn’t whisper it, there’s no way he could have with this music this loud, but the words feel soft all the same, almost serpentine in the way the coil around Chanyeol’s ear.
He nods, barely thinking, scarcely aware of how they got from point A to B.
When they get to his apartment (his, Jongin had laughed harshly when Chanyeol had dared to ask the textbook question “my place, or yours?” Chanyeol figured it was always the other party who hosted the evening, and never Jongin) Jongin wasted no time in flattening Chanyeol against the wall of his apartment, the light switch digging in to shoulder going unnoticed.
Jongin kissed in the same way that he dances. All the attention is on him, and it’s controlled but just barely. When he rolls his hips in to Chanyeol’s, Chanyeol’s head knocks back against the plaster of his apartment wall so hard he thinks it might splinter. It hurts, but Jongin’s fingers hurt more so, digging in to his side so much Chanyeol thinks Jongin’s nails are going to split the skin.
He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about any of it. All he cares about right now is fucking Jongin, or being fucked by Jongin, whichever happened first. Chanyeol just didn’t care, and that wasn’t like him, but people like Jongin didn’t come in to his life very often and this was almost entirely new territory.
Jongin has no patience, and in a move executed in a way only someone quick on their feet could manage, he has Chanyeol by the shirt and kicks his legs from under him, landing heavily on top of Chanyeol as they both hit the floor.
It hurts too, and Chanyeol can tell from how tender it already is that his shoulder is going to be mottled black and blue when he wakes up the next day, but he still doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is the way Jongin’s nails are raking along his stomach under his shirt, the look in Jongin’s eyes as he gauges what actions make Chanyeol squirm the most.
The power imbalance is huge, but Chanyeol can’t seem to make himself do anything about it. Jongin is riding Chanyeol’s leg, too far gone to even care that they’re both still fully dressed, but Chanyeol isn’t allowed to touch him. He moves when Jongin makes him, kisses Jongin when the other lets him, and comes only after Jongin does, and only because Jongin brings him off.
Something about it isn’t right, the rational part of Chanyeol knows that, but if this is only a one night stand then what’s the harm in letting this guy have his way?
That was his second mistake.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love
Word count: 2400+ for this chapter
Chapter 1/?
Notes: This was written at the start of this year, but every time I went back to it I disliked it a little more and lost the will to finish. But now I'm thinking to myself "why not get it out of the way?" Note, Jongin is supposed to be a pretty damn awful guy in this, but this doesn't reflect how I feel about the actual Jongin at all.
Also posted to AFF and AO3.
Summary:
Chanyeol had always thought that he was smarter than he let on. He was loud and awkward, sure, his personality verging on obnoxious and grating when he forgot to keep it in check, but he never thought that he was stupid.
That is, until he met Kim Jongin.
He was captivating, to sum it up in one word. One second he could look soft and vulnerable, like the ideal boy next door, the type of boy you’d bring home to your mother because you knew she would approve, yet in the next he acted like a man who could kiss you and leave you without any indication that he knew you existed at all. Chanyeol had watched his every move, ever since the night he first saw him. Not because he wanted to, not because he chose to but because, despite his best efforts, he simply couldn't look away.
That was his first mistake.
Baekhyun had chosen this place because it was new to them. They had done the circuit before, had been ever since they left school, but always skipped over places like this. Places with walls that dripped with neon and bars that drew everyone to the centre of the room, but this time Baekhyun had complained that he was bored with the usual clubs they frequented and had decided to try out a place called Black Pearl. Chanyeol knew better than to argue.
The walls were black granite, glinting under every pass of the strobe lighting. The bar was a huge circle in the middle of the floor with deep cherry red surfaces and cold, blue light illuminating the mirrors around it. The place could have been almost clinical if it weren't for the dancing bodies taking up every available space on the floor, writhing and coiling to music with no lyrics, to sounds that pounded through the floor and up through the bones.
Chanyeol ducks under the door upon entering and makes a beeline for the bar first, trying to pass through the crowd without making too much of a scene. The club was stifling, and with every brush of skin Chanyeol felt on his palms as he tried to gently push his way through, he felt the sweat of those who had long since lost their restraint. With a shuffling of his limbs, Chanyeol threw himself heavily on to one of the stools, turning to Baekhyun as his friend sat down beside him.
The look on Baekhyun's face mirrored his own, an expression that said that maybe this place was too much, and maybe it wasn't exactly their scene, but they were here now so they might as well enjoy themselves.
Three drinks in and Baekhyun was getting restless, leaving over to tap Chanyeol on the shoulder to make sure he could come close enough to hear.
"I'm going on the floor." He says. "Are you coming?"
Chanyeol laughs. "Me? You've seen me dance, Baekhyun, I think I'm better here."
Baekhyun grins at him before pushing himself off the stool and dropping the five centimetres to the floor. He waves his hand at Chanyeol before sauntering off the find an unoccupied space on the dance floor. Chanyeol ordered himself another drink and tapped his fingers idly on the bar to the bass of the track in the background, weighing up the pros and cons of leaving now without Baekhyun, or waiting until his friend was tired and bored enough to leave when he saw him.
It didn’t happen like it did in movies. The crowd didn't suddenly clear around him, a single spotlight beaming down to illuminate a lone figure making shapes on the floor. Rather, he demanded space to be made for him and judging by the slack-jawed expressions on many faces Chanyeol’s eyes locked on, it was a difficult demand to refuse.
He wasn’t dancing with anyone, Chanyeol notices that first. That isn’t to say plenty of people around him weren’t trying, but the way he moved made it seem like he thought he was above them, like he didn’t notice they were even there at all. In his mind, he was the only person in the world. The only person the music played for.
Chanyeol didn’t even notice he’d left the bar until he bumps in to a girl that is almost as tall as he is in heels. She shoots him a glare that barely softens after his frantically mouthed apology, but his clumsiness is soon forgotten as she turned away to resume her appreciation of the figure in the middle of the throng.
Magnetism. That’s what Baekhyun would call it later, after Chanyeol tells him what happened that night, but before he begins to hate him. He would whistle appreciatively through his teeth, because he couldn’t have known then. Wouldn’t have known how much this one man would affect his best friend, and how much destruction he would leave behind when he was gone. Magnetism.
It’s like he exists in a vacuum. Chanyeol finds that as he is drawn close (not by choice, he tells himself. He can’t help it.) everyone else seems to melt around his periphery. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve, but when he catches the gaze of the figure on the floor he feels pride bubble in his chest. He looks at Chanyeol, and for some reason that feels like a badge of honour.
He smirks at how awkward Chanyeol’s dancing is, and Chanyeol doesn’t blame him because of the comparison, the sheer gulf because Chanyeol’s badly timed bobbing and his raw, almost primal moves that were almost too big for how in control he seemed.
He turns, and seems to dance at Chanyeol, almost daring him to make a fool of himself and something about the arrogant pull of his mouth makes Chanyeol want to obey, but he bows out, trying to shake himself to regain his senses.
It must be the heat. The lights. One too many, perhaps, maybe the alcohol has a higher percentage in places like this. Chanyeol bows and almost kicks himself after for doing so, and goes to get off the dance floor but he feels a pull at his belt loops and suddenly Chanyeol figures he has one of two options .
He could push this guy away and leave, go back to his empty apartment alone and regret it for the next two weeks at least. Or he could make something of this. He’s not drunk enough to be bolder, or to keep up with the guy but he’s just about buzzed enough to almost enjoy himself, to enjoy whatever game the other guy is playing.
He would look sweet if it weren’t for the way his lips twisted, if it weren’t for the way he made it seem like he knew what Chanyeol’s choice would be before Chanyeol did. Chanyeol steps closer.
The height difference isn’t as extreme as it has been with other people, there only had to be a centimetre or two in Chanyeol’s favour, but it seems like much more when the guy - the guy. Chanyeol thinks he should ask him his name, but he knows better in places like this. Names are treated like secrets and the only thing that matters is what the hands can touch - when he pulls Chanyeol down and pushes his lips harshly against the swell of Chanyeol’s own.
Again, Chanyeol figures he has one of two options. He could push this guy away and leave, go back to his empty apartment alone and regret it for a month at this rate. Or he could let this happen, whatever this was.
Chanyeol wasn’t normally the type to hook up with nameless strangers in clubs but this guy was clearly an expert judging by the way he was working his tongue down Chanyeol’s throat, taking advantage of the chatter going on his Chanyeol’s own head that was distracting him.
His mouth wasn’t as soft as it looked, but Chanyeol figured that nothing about this guy was as it looked. His fingers had left Chanyeol’s belt hoops, instead opting to anchor themselves on the back of Chanyeol’s neck, hands folded over each other securely to prevent Chanyeol from leaving. As if he could.
“Who’s your friend?”
Chanyeol nearly dislocates something as he shoots back from the guy in shock. Baekhyun's grinning at him the way that he did when he discovered something particularly amusing.
“Uhhhh” Chanyeol begins, eyes darting between his friend and the guy who still has his hands on Chanyeol’s skin, index finger idly drawing patterns on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “This. This is...”
“Jongin.” The guy says, and his voice is somehow lighter than Chanyeol expected.
Chanyeol turns and gives a sheepish grin to Baekhyun. “This is Jongin.”
“Park Chanyeol.” Baekhyun whistles. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you pulled. I gotta go, I have an early shift tomorrow. Are you going to be alright on your own? Or, well-“
“Yes, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol near hisses, and Baekhyun laughs a little. “I’ll be fine.”
“Alright. See you when I see you.” He waves himself off, but not before telling Chanyeol not to do anything he wouldn’t do. Chanyeol could almost kick him.
Chanyeol turns to Jongin. “My best friend.” Chanyeol supplies.
“I didn’t ask.”
Chanyeol almost feels put out and slightly foolish for offering up the harmless and inconsequential information, but then he’s being yanked over to the bar with Jongin’s hand still on his neck. Jongin orders two shots, but Chanyeol attempts to refuse when they’re placed upon the countertop. The liquid glints under the cold lighting of the bar.
“I don’t really do shots.” Chanyeol says. “They kind of make me sick.”
“That’s kind of the whole point of shots. Come here.” Jongin says, pulling Chanyeol closer as he picks up one of the small glasses.
He knocked it back with one swift, well practised moment but doesn’t swallow it. Instead, he keeps it in his mouth, sets the glass down and then pulls Chanyeol to meet him.
Chanyeol catches on approximately a second before Jongin made his move, and opens his mouth slightly just before Jongin covers it with his own. Jongin leans forward slightly, just enough to tip Chanyeol’s head back and pass the spirits from his own mouth in to Chanyeol’s.
It burns the entire way down and tasted disgusting, but Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to mind when Jongin’s tongue starts chasing after the alcohol. His left hand is braced on Chanyeol’s thigh as he presses in closer, fingers of his right hand moving from the back of Chanyeol’s neck to the curve of his jaw.
Chanyeol could taste every drink Jongin had mixed that night and it was all making his head spin. The music bleeds in to his ears in waves but he barely notices. Jongin pulled back, plump mouth twisted once again as he lifted the other shot he had ordered and tipped it directly in to Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol swallows it without complaint, barely tasting it the second time, and Jongin’s eyes catch and track a drop that had escaped the corner of Chanyeol’s lips.
He kisses it away before mouthing his mouth to Chanyeol’s ear.
“Let’s get out of here.” He says. Chanyeol knows he didn’t whisper it, there’s no way he could have with this music this loud, but the words feel soft all the same, almost serpentine in the way the coil around Chanyeol’s ear.
He nods, barely thinking, scarcely aware of how they got from point A to B.
When they get to his apartment (his, Jongin had laughed harshly when Chanyeol had dared to ask the textbook question “my place, or yours?” Chanyeol figured it was always the other party who hosted the evening, and never Jongin) Jongin wasted no time in flattening Chanyeol against the wall of his apartment, the light switch digging in to shoulder going unnoticed.
Jongin kissed in the same way that he dances. All the attention is on him, and it’s controlled but just barely. When he rolls his hips in to Chanyeol’s, Chanyeol’s head knocks back against the plaster of his apartment wall so hard he thinks it might splinter. It hurts, but Jongin’s fingers hurt more so, digging in to his side so much Chanyeol thinks Jongin’s nails are going to split the skin.
He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about any of it. All he cares about right now is fucking Jongin, or being fucked by Jongin, whichever happened first. Chanyeol just didn’t care, and that wasn’t like him, but people like Jongin didn’t come in to his life very often and this was almost entirely new territory.
Jongin has no patience, and in a move executed in a way only someone quick on their feet could manage, he has Chanyeol by the shirt and kicks his legs from under him, landing heavily on top of Chanyeol as they both hit the floor.
It hurts too, and Chanyeol can tell from how tender it already is that his shoulder is going to be mottled black and blue when he wakes up the next day, but he still doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is the way Jongin’s nails are raking along his stomach under his shirt, the look in Jongin’s eyes as he gauges what actions make Chanyeol squirm the most.
The power imbalance is huge, but Chanyeol can’t seem to make himself do anything about it. Jongin is riding Chanyeol’s leg, too far gone to even care that they’re both still fully dressed, but Chanyeol isn’t allowed to touch him. He moves when Jongin makes him, kisses Jongin when the other lets him, and comes only after Jongin does, and only because Jongin brings him off.
Something about it isn’t right, the rational part of Chanyeol knows that, but if this is only a one night stand then what’s the harm in letting this guy have his way?
That was his second mistake.