← Some things can't be rearranged (1/2) Nibbling nervously on what remains of the lollipop stick Jongdae tries to not put too much into the dull expression of Chanyeol reading through this week’s homework.
They’re in the library, Baekhyun has yet to arrive, apparently busy trying to woo the girl at reception.
“I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare?” Chanyeol states, and Jongdae wishes he’d said something about the quality of his work rather than his choice of poem.
“Well, this particular poem has always been one of my favorites.” He explains. “It’s one of his most renown, but with good reason.”
Chanyeol hums, nodding, and slides Jongdae’s papers back to him. “It’s good, I think. I like it.”
“I always pegged you as more of a Da Vinci kind of guy.” Baekhyun ponders aloud, arriving with a wide grin of his lips. “He was gay you know, or well, he’s believed to have been gay. But maybe beards aren’t really your sort of thing?”
“Not really.” Jongdae frowns.
“Have you ever had someone with a beard give you a blow job?”
“No.”
“I bet that’d be horrible.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
It’s relatively easy to pretend that he can’t see Kris whenever Jongdae’s at the office; easy to put all of his attention on Velma, his computer and the not so secret gossiping between his colleagues. The last especially so, with them being the weirdest members of the mob Jongdae’s ever met. Then again, they’re the only members of the mob that Jongdae’s met, so he can only compare them to the bulky gun crazy men from television.
“They still haven’t found the person who stole the money.” Kyungsoo informs them, annoyed expression looking between them. “Minseok has his suspicions of course, but without proof it’d be stupid to try to off anyone.”
“Still, he must be pissed, someone stealing from Kris, wouldn’t want to be in headquarters when he’s throwing his tantrums.” Joonmyun adds. “I’m just happy they’re not fucking any longer, the shit they were up to were obscene, imagine how things would have been if they still were.”
Staring at Joonmyun’s face, incredulously, Jongdae pales when he understands that Joonmyun’s not joking.
“Minseok and Kris were together?” He splutters, the idea of two of most powerful men on this side of the Han being together slightly messing with his head.
Tao shakes his head, denying.
“They’ve never been together like that; they’ve always been more like brothers than lovers.” He says, scratching the back of his head, and it’s like Jongdae can hear the gears in his head turn, trying to find a good way to explain. “It sounds weird, but from what I’ve understood there’s simply no one Kris trusts more than Minseok, and vice versa.”
Lu Han rolls his eyes at them. “Well that’s fucking helpful information.”
Tao pouts dejectedly at him.
“They’re both orphans from the same foster home.” Lu Han enlightens the group. “Apparently things were fucked up and miserable there, so they ran away to live on the street.”
“And then they magically became rich and respected gang leaders?” Joonmyun questions skeptically.
“Yes, because that’s how we all got into this clique, evolving into gangster butterflies from our cocoons of danger.” Lu Han drawls, looking like he’d like to shove Joonmyun’s face into Velma’s litter box.
When the door opens and Yixing slips inside they all fall silent, Lu Han waving sweetly at him. If Yixing notices anything slightly off, he doesn’t say anything about it, petting Velma’s head on the way to Kris’ office.
It doesn’t take long until he’s out of there again, too short of a time for more than words to have been exchanged. Jongdae dares not look at Yixing’s face, scared that he will see something he doesn’t want to see, and scared that Yixing might be looking at him and find things he shouldn’t know.
“That’s weird.” Joonmyun says, attention at Kris’ closed door and pursed lips resolute.
Jongdae agrees silently.
It’s not often that Jongdae calls home, there’s not really any reason for him to do so, with the person who raised him gone since years back. But he does, every now and then, to see how his parents are doing, to feel like he and them aren’t a lost cause.
He’s always disappointed.
Most often he doesn’t care much about it, used to their indifference. They’re not bad people; they’re simply not as close to him as they are to other, to them, more important aspects of life. They’re not even close to each other; barely look at each other at home. His mother cooks, his dad waters the plants and they both try to not get on each other’s backs too much.
When Jongdae calls this time his dad is still not home, food gone cold on the table again. He excuses himself when his mother yawns for the fourth time into the receiver.
The table is cold against Jongdae’s cheek, but warms up rather quickly as he lies there thinking about his life and the various people he’s got in it. Also thinks about the people he doesn’t have in his life anymore. Thinks of warm smiles, small cactuses and noticeable dimples.
Jongin comes into the kitchen at half past one, sluggishly rubbing at his eyes and squinting at Jongdae.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”
He fills a glass with water, and sits down on the second chair across from Jongdae. He looks adorable, still half asleep with his face resting on his hand.
“Reasons.” Jongdae shrugs and wonders how Jongin would react if he told him about his life, past and current, in a little bit more detail. Maybe Jongin would be able to come forth with some great advice.
Maybe Jongin would frown a condescending frown and rethink the whole state of their friendship.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jongin asks, voice a little clearer after he’s emptied his glass of half of the content.
“No.”
Jongdae says, and Jongin frowns anyway, just watching Jongdae’s face.
“Sleep then.”
Jongdae thinks of Kris, the way he’s been doing far too much lately, stomach curling and throat dry. Thinks of a kiss he was given and has put on replay in his head, of thank yous he’s received more often than not recently and of shifty eyes presented to him from Kyungsoo when he’s refused to look up at his boss and been blushing instead.
“I think I’m interested in someone. But it’s not someone I should be interested in.” He admits. Feels good about letting Jongin know at least that, however horrifying it’s been to admit that even to himself.
“It’s not usually something you chose, is it?” Jongin offers a small smile.
It's just another typical Thursday with Jongdae locking up the office and hurrying down the stairs of the building to get to his bus, or it would be just another typical Thursday, until Jongdae throws a quick look at the windows to make sure once again that he didn't leave the lights on. Stopping to frown he squints his eyes at the indeed dark facilities; casting a look at his watch he sighs before turning around and heads back up.
He'd seen some sort of movement and all he's got his mind on is the window in Kris' office that he always opens when he leaves to get some fresh air inside, despite the cold. Reckoning that the wind must have caught the curtain he steps up the stairs to the third floor, keys jingling in his hand.
He stops right outside the door, seeing the small gold star sticker half hidden behind the doorframe, the one he put there less than ten minutes ago over the tiny gap between door and frame. He always does when he’s leaving, because it’s the kind of trick most people feel outgrown of, so ordinary no one expects it, especially not people in the shady business.
And there it is; moved.
It could be Kris, he tries to tell himself, reaches for his phone to call him, leaning against the door carefully seeing if he can hear anything through it.
“Hello?”
“Are you at the office?” He asks, hoping for all their sakes that Kris forgot something important and they strangely managed to pass each other without noticing, Jongdae going out and Kris in.
“No, I’m not.” Kris sounds confused, and Jongdae curses.
“Uhm, well, okay.”
“Shouldn’t you know? I left forty minutes ago or something.”
“Yeah, I was just wondering. Sorry for disturbing you.”
Jongdae’s quick to hang up, and calling the other four speedily to ask them all the same question. They all give him the very same answer.
“Someone’s here.” He whispers to Kyungsoo, being the last someone he called up. “Someone who’s not supposed to be here.” He clarifies, feeling his insides go cold with the realization that he’s right outside the door. “I gotta go, get Kris!” He hisses into his phone, backing away slowly and rushing down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Shit. Stay where you are, but out of the way. I’m calling Kris.”
Jongdae’s palms are sweating, heart beating harshly in his chest, but he stays where he is, hidden away in the gap below the stairs, nerves on end as he waits for the sound of a door opening and feet running down the steps.
It takes a while, but then it’s there, the creak of the hinges, the sound of a zipper being pulled up and quick footsteps faintly echoing in the hallway. Jongdae holds his breath when the two feet land below the last step. He waits a moment, and then forces himself to poke his head out to see if the coast is clear. Seemingly alone he crawls out of his hiding place. Brushes hair from his eyes when a resolute voice makes itself heard.
“Don’t move.”
Breath catching in his throat, Jongdae doesn’t move an inch, fear rising in his stomach. There are steps again, and then the man steps out into view. He’s fully dressed in black, all but the mask covering his mouth and nose. Jongdae doesn’t register more than that, busily staring into the barrel of his gun.
“And what do we have here?” He asks, sounding far too cheerful for Jongdae’s liking. Not answering, Jongdae puts most of his energy into breathing steadily instead. “Upstairs.” He commands, using the gun to point upwards, as if Jongdae’s too stupid to understand otherwise.
It takes a moment too long for Jongdae to jam his key into the lock, and he earns a hissed curse for it, and the gun pressed in between his shoulder blades.
He’s made to sit down, legs crossed on the floor, hands on the back of his head.
“Does anyone know that you’re here?”
“No.” Jongdae says, happy to have his back to the stranger, knowing that his face would probably give him away.
It’s like he can hear the grin when the man is speaking. “I think you’re lying.”
“Are you the guy who came here before?” Jongdae stresses, chest hurting and feeling cold to the bone.
“Yes, I am.”
He’s scared, so terribly scared. It’s dark outside, silent. He’s dressed in an old torn pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, boots still on dripping cold water onto the floor. It’s like he can see it before him already, the morning light shining in on his small figure painted with red, Jongin getting a visit from a grim looking Joonmyun and the papers writing of this like it’s some tragedy.
Maybe it is.
He startles slightly at the weight pressing to his side, a soothing mrreeow from Velma, as if telling him that things will be fine. She butts her head against his thigh, eyes loving.
“Well, it was nice meeting you.” The man says politely and Jongdae can hear him back away, knows that this is it.
Until he curses, falls with a loud crash and fires the gun up into the roof. As if on cue Jongdae hurls himself around, almost letting out a laugh at Lu Han’s Rubik’s cube that lies innocently at the intruder’s feet.
There’s no time though, and he throws himself onto the man, gripping for the gun until he hears another one being fired above his head.
“If you have any interest at all in living, I recommend you lie fucking still.” He hears Kris say.
“What the fuck were you doing!?” Kris spits his words out at him like they’re meant to hurt him, voice poisonous as he stares down with hard eyes at Jongdae and with fists clenched at his sides. “Tell me, Kim Jongdae, what the fuck do you think you were doing?”
The man is bound, mouth silver taped, on the floor and Jongdae dares not think again about how things could have been different.
It takes a moment for Jongdae to stop and overcome the tremor running through his body, swallow down the nausea and finally look back up at Kris to show him that he is indeed paying attention. “I just thought I saw something move through the window, so I went up to look.” He croaks, not sharing his now evidently thoughtless theory about an open window and wind.
“You saw something through the window and your first thought was to go investigate - by yourself?” With Kris dragging his hand down his face exasperatedly Jongdae realizes that the current expression he’s wielding isn’t one of neither disgust nor hatred, and decides that at least that’s something. “And here I thought you weren’t a complete moron! Way to prove me wrong.” Kris continues. “A fucking gang member and you decide to fucking take him on!?”
“Well it’s not like I could’ve called the police now, could I?” Jongdae sneers back sitting down on a chair and crosses his arms around himself protectively.
“You should’ve called someone! Anyone from the company would’ve been fine really; instead you walk in all whoppie-do and try to be a hero.” Timing the last word with a kick to the still body on the floor, and then narrowing his eyes irritably at Jongdae, Kris manages to look even scarier than he usually does; the shirt ruffled and tie hanging loosely around his neck an unusual sight.
“I called you, and the others, didn’t I!?”
“Considering the nature of the company you really should’ve known better; we have actual enemies, and I’m not going to be responsible for your tragic death.” Kris continues, as if he had not heard Jongdae’s protest.
“You don’t care about me,” Jongdae growls. “So don’t try to guilt trip me into apologizing!”
An eerily icy laugh escapes Kris’ lips causing Jongdae to shudder. “I saved your life, out of pure luck, and you don’t have the decency to thank me? Some manners you got there.”
Turning away from Jongdae Kris whips out his cellphone calling for Kyungsoo to come over to take care of “the trash” as he so eloquently puts it.
“Were you scared?” He asks, when he’s hung up, eyes roaming Jongdae’s face.
“What do you think?” Jongdae huffs, staring at the hands shaking in his lap, looks up when Kris puts one of his over them. They’re close, closer than is needed he notices, but Kris is still moving closer, shortening the distance between them.
Kris’ lips are as soft as he remembers, they’re warm too which he didn’t, and Jongdae’s not late to kiss back, eyes forced shut. He even allows the tongue this time, hands finding purchase at Kris’ waist.
“Such a pretty little thing.” Is said to him, and Jongdae stands quickly, pushing at Kris’ chest to have them step into Kris’ office.
“I’ll show you pretty.”
Holding his breath, thumbs held tight in his fists, Jongdae glides down onto his knees in front of Kris.
“You don’t-“
“I can do this.” Jongdae interrupts, sliding his hands up firm thighs, above the waistline of Kris’ pants and slowly pulls his neatly tucked in shirt up. The thin trail of hair leading down from faint outlines of abs into the wide waistband of his briefs feels enticing and Jongdae has to swallow before planting a light kiss over Kris’ right hipbone. The big hand sliding through his hair has Jongdae freezing for a moment, opting to closing his eyes rather than looking up Jongdae then reaches to unbutton Kris pants, forehead pressed to his stomach and breath slightly erratic against warm skin.
The sound of the zipper is loud in Jongdae’s ears, he’s always been too easily aroused; the fact that he can feel Kris already half hard against his hand doesn’t help at all. Kris’ hand has taken to scratching his scalp encouragingly now and Jongdae can’t help the tingly excitement under his skin.
“You don’t-“ Kris starts again, but this time Jongdae silences him by yanking down his pants impatiently and pressing his face into Kris’ crotch, lips mouthing along the outline of his cock.
Hearing Kris’ breath hitch and tasting him through a thin layer of cotton has Jongdae spreading his legs, careful to ease the pressure against his own hardening cock; far too easily aroused.
Feeling a blush spreading across his cheeks Jongdae reaches around Kris to grab at his ass and press Kris firmly against his wet mouth. When Kris’ underwear is far too damp for comfort and cock fully hard Jongdae eases his briefs down mid-thigh to where his pants are resting. Making an appreciative noise at Kris’ length Jongdae looks up just as his tongue meets the head of Kris’ cock for a tentative lick, the slightly bitter precome a welcome taste as he sighs at the contact.
The sight of Kris’ hooded eyes and teeth biting into his lower lip is what spurs Jongdae to slide his lips over him, tongue pressing to the underside of his length.
His cheeks are burning now, face probably blotchy and red, and Jongdae closes his eyes to try to forget exactly whose cock it is slipping hotly into his mouth, tries to forget that he’s already imagined this happening before. Bobbing his head and sucking shallowly a few times Jongdae can tell that Kris is surprised when he’s sliding further, cock reaching his throat without any resistance whatsoever. Jongdae doesn’t choke, only swallows expertly around the head when it’s far enough down and feels a tingly kind of pride when Kris gasps and his hand pulls at his hair harshly in shock.
“Holy shit!” He groans, canting his hips forward, carefully pressing Jongdae further down his cock until his nose meets curly dark hair as if to test his limitations. Possibly realizing that the only limit is the amount of oxygen in Jongdae’s lungs, Kris pushes him away. Jongdae’s lips doesn’t leave him though; he breathes heavily through his nose as he swirls his tongue around him, then presses the tip of it firmly against the slit. “Fuck you’re good.” Kris huffs, managing to sound frustrated and astonished at the same time.
Jongdae only needs to deep-throat him and swallow around him again for Kris to come with a startled moan, as if he can’t quite believe that he was already so close.
When Kris is soft in his mouth Jongdae scoots back, licking his lips and then finally realizes what he’s
just done.
“I’m going home.” He says, not giving Kris time to react and when Jongdae’s by the door Kris is struggling with pulling up his pants and moving forward at the same time.
The rest of his Thursday, and the beginning of his Friday are spent in bed, comforter around him as Jongdae stares into the wall dimly.
He’s sitting by his computer by the time Jongin comes home, thinking of writing but not doing so. He’s still in the same clothes, hasn’t eaten since then, and he guesses Jongin can tell from the clean state of their kitchen.
“What is wrong?” Jongin asks with a heavy sigh, putting his bag down, brushing hair from his eyes.
“Nothing really.”
Jongdae wonders how good Jongin has gotten at reading him.
“Jongdae.” Jongin sounds angry, likes something is grating on his mind.
"I'm just tired, that's all." Jongdae says, avoiding whatever worried look he knows Jongin is sending him; plucks at a scab on his knee Velma is the cause of, trying to climb his leg earlier that day.
"But you're never tired!" Jongin nearly shouts, and Jongdae startles from the force of it, quiet careful Jongin finally losing it. "I mean you are, but you never admit to it, so obviously there is something else that you're not telling me." The last words are laden with something Jongdae has a hard time accepting as truth. "I care about you Jongdae, just fucking let me, will you?"
Pulling up his legs to his chest, putting his arms around them tight he looks up at Jongin. “But I can’t.” He says, and he’s never felt smaller.
It’s easy to make the decision to visit his parents, going away for a week and give himself some time to cope with what his reality has become.
Jongdae figures sending both Chanyeol and Baekhyun a mail about his coming absence should be enough to not have either of them worry about him. It's not like they've ever been very good at reading between the lines, which makes no sense as they're both language majors, and his assumption is confirmed when Chanyeol responds with a but how will i get coffee now? :( and Baekhyun with the slightly more considerate i'll lend ya my notes for krystal's number, I know jongin’s friends with her.
Answering neither he stuffs his toothbrush and clean underwear into his duffel bag instead, zipping it closed when another pair of jeans and two of his softest sweaters are added to the non-folded mess inside.
Leaving Seoul might not be the smartest thing to do in this situation Jongdae's put himself in, but it feels like the smartest thing to do, considering the fact that Jongdae is nowhere near ready for running into Kris, or even less so Yixing.
He sits down in the sofa when his bag is seated on the hallway stool waiting, staring at the phone in his hand and wonders who'll be the safest to notify from work. He wants to think it's Joonmyun, but with the ridiculous chivalrous sense of responsibility the man holds (he works as a loanshark for heaven's sake) Jongdae has a feeling he'd just snort at Jongdae's dire need to get away. It's with tentative fingers he taps out Lu Han's number and presses the call button.
"I'm fucking busy, so whoever this is make it fucking quick!" Lu Han growls into his ear when he answers, Jongdae wonders what the odds are that he will come assassinate him in his sleep if he just hangs up now.
"Uhm, Lu Han, hi."
"Yeah, hi. To whom do I have the astonishing pleasure of speaking to?"
Yeah, he definitely should have hung up.
"It's Jongdae." He says, voice small.
"The fuck? Why don't I have your number in my phone you incapable piece of shit?"
"You know I am in no way responsible for that."
"I don't care." Lu Han drawls. "What do you want?"
"Well you see, I'm going to visit my parents-“
“Eew, why?” Lu Han interrupts - no actual interest in his voice, only genuine repulsion.
“Just family business; I won’t come to work for a few days.”
“Family business my ass, whatever, I’ll just tell Kris you got cancer or something.”
“I knew I could trust you to handle it.” Jongdae deadpans.
“Anything for you sweetheart.”
Jongdae expects him to hang up after that, moves his phone away from his ear only to hear Lu Han say something more that he doesn’t quite catch.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Lu Han sounds beyond annoyed.
“I said ‘feel better’, and don’t you dare make me say it again.”
Home is what home’s always been. He doesn’t spend much time with his parents, both of them out of the house more than in it. Too busy to see his son, or maybe only too disinterested, he doesn’t blame them for it regardless. He’s known them all of his life, it doesn’t come as a surprise.
But it’s nice, somewhat, to be there and see the things that have changed, just by him moving out and away.
Jongdae spends the week cleaning up the house properly. It’s not in the worst kind of condition, but there’s still a noticeable difference afterwards, and his mother thanks him with a grateful smile when she comes home, the polite kind that you offer compassionate strangers.
A week passes quickly, probably more because Jongdae dreads the end of it compared to the option of the events taking place making time speed.
“I’m gay.” He says, the last night, when his father has scooped up the last bit of rice from his bowl and his mother has brought up her pocket mirror to put her red lipstick back on. It had been silent already, but where it before had been only slightly awkward, it is now cold and tense.
Jongdae can’t help but feel a little fascinated - albeit scared - seeing his father’s face redden, and whether it’s from anger or shame he is not yet sure.
“Is this why you came home?” His father growls, sounding like Jongdae had just spat him in the face. “To tell us such dishonorable things?”
“No, I just felt for telling you, that’s all.” Jongdae responds calmly, feeling empty numbness spreading inside as he’s staring at his father.
“What do you think your grandmother would say?”
“I reckon something about me eating too little to have energy for love.” He says honestly. “She already knew when she died.”
The slap is unexpected, his father has never been the abusive kind, and it burns on his cheek when he looks up at him.
“The poor woman could have done without knowing of such a burden.” His father snarls. “I am going out.” He grumbles at Jongdae’s mother, holding the fury in his voice back to some extent, which Jongdae is grateful for.
“Such a shame.” His mother says when his father has left them, patting the back of Jongdae’s hand consolingly. It sounds like she’s sorry for his sake and Jongdae smiles back at her, bittersweet.
He’s not terribly surprised with this outcome; waves goodbye to no one at the train station the next day. Only plugs his headphones into his ears and concentrates on everything outside the window, flashing by.
Jongdae’s in the middle of writing another book report when Jongin comes inside. Or would be, only Jongdae’s mind has been occupied the past few hours with recounting all of the times it had been proven to him over and over again that his parents don’t care.
“You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?” Jongin sounds worried, looking over Jongdae’s form; Jongdae can see him out of the corner of his eye, with his arms crossed to keep his limbs still.
Jongdae has no idea when Jongin got so good at reading him, but he’s done it for so long now, he’s not even surprised he’d been able to decipher this too.
Fingers hovering over the keyboard Jongdae stares blankly at his hands, shrugs noncommittally not daring to look back at those serious eyes. “I don’t know.” He answers, almost whispers, not voicing the I’ve been told differently that plays over in his head.
“Well you should know.”
He can hear Jongin shifting on his feet, imagines him biting into the nail of his thumb anxiously.
“That you aren’t, I mean.”
Forcing his head up, to attempt a smile, Jongdae knows he’s not doing a very good job when Jongin frowns and the corners of his lips turn down.
“Why wouldn’t you believe that?” He asks, eyes so openly concerned it feels like they burn holes into the wall Jongdae has so carefully built up around himself.
“I don’t know.” Jongdae lies.
When Jongin slings his arms around Jongdae’s shoulders, hugging him tightly from behind it’s like a dam has been let loose. It starts with a small sniffle, and then a few seconds later Jongdae has turned around and is sobbing into his shirt, shaking from the force of it.
Shushing him calmly, Jongin pets his hair gently. “It’s alright, you’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t follow my advice.” Lu Han frowns at him, the first day back at work.
Kris isn’t there, gone away to the headquarters for the day, which Tao had so happily informed him.
“I’m still working on it to be honest.” Jongdae confirms, allowing himself to smile a small smile at the man. “Thank you for it though.”
“Whatever.” Lu Han shrugs, but Jongdae can tell that he’s pleased from the way he relaxes into his chair, barely there smile making itself known.
Huddling in his slightly too big quilted jacket Jongdae tries to ignore the way the cold air numbs the tips of his ears, nose and bites at his cheeks. It's dark outside, stars hidden behind a curtain of smog and street lights weak in the evening; a typical winter night.
Cursing himself and his inability to remember both hat and scarf, huffing out little white clouds in frustration, he doesn't notice the person behind before a hand clasps around his wrist, forcing him to a halt. He jolts first, freezes up and feels his heartbeat fasten in his chest, but relaxes again when he’s turned around and lets out a shaky chuckle.
"Oh god, you scared the shit out of me!"
"I need to talk to you." Yixing says, hand still not letting go and with a tint of uneasiness in his voice. Jongdae gulps.
"Why?"
“Kris called me.”
Jongdae is sure his face pales at that, can feel it go somewhat numb, and swallows down the urge he has to turn around and pretend he didn’t just hear that.
“So what?” Jongdae asks, palms starting to sweat uncomfortably.
“I’ve also spoken to Jongin.” Yixing adds, sounding cautious, as if Jongdae is a wild animal ready to bolt. It isn’t too far off of an assumption, but Jongdae stands still. “Can we do this over coffee?”
The coffee shop they wind up in is one of their old places, and it’s strange sitting down with Yixing in front of him again. They both ordered coffee, but Yixing had also grabbed a tuna sandwich that he now pushes towards Jongdae. It’s an unnervingly natural gesture, the fact that Yixing’s always done this makes it feel both nostalgic and wrong.
“You like Kris.” Yixing states. It isn’t a question, so Jongdae finds no reason to deny, it’s obvious Yixing’s put two and two together anyway. “I never did.”
Narrowing his eyes in confusion Jongdae makes an incredulous face at Yixing.
“I wanted to make you jealous.” Yixing says quickly, expression both grim and embarrassed. “You broke up with me and I wanted you to want me again.”
“I never stopped wanting you.” Jongdae confesses quietly, sipping at his coffee.
“Jongdae.” Yixing states, suddenly sad. “I forgive you. I’ve told you repeatedly now, but I want you to understand it.”
Jongdae lets the silence stretch on, the cup at his lips the perfect excuse to keep quiet. Yixing’s voice is resolute in the air between them.
“I forgive you.”
“Your coffee.” Jongdae announces crossing threshold of Kris’ office, eyes locked to his own feet and a feeling of dread choking him up, causing the words to come out with a croak - he still navigates himself through the room without stubbing toes into any legs of chairs, too familiar with the setting.
He even manages to set down the cup before Kris speaks. “Thank you.” He says, and Jongdae dares not look at him still, keeps his gaze on the desk and Kris’ hands clasped and resting on top of it. Nodding, knowing that Kris is surely not shy of staring, he tries to swallow down the worry tumbling in his insides.
There’s silence then and Jongdae decides to take it as a sign to leave, is at the door when Kris’ voice stops his hand from pressing down the door handle. “How was your family?” He asks, sounding unsure and Jongdae guesses it’s because it’s not something Kris usually cares about - not that Jongdae truly believes Kris cares for his, but at least he cares to ask for some reason, genuine or not.
“Alright.” He responds, nibbling on his lower lip. “Happily striving on.” He then adds and throws a glance over his shoulder to see if Kris gives any reaction to his words. “If that’s all…”
“Why do you work here?” Kris interrupts, and now for some reason he’s the one avoiding looking at Jongdae, allowing Jongdae to stare instead. And there he is, with the most influential person he’s ever met realizing that what’s causing the stiffness to his shoulders is actual uneasiness.
“Well…” Jongdae frowns, because Kris is too, and right now everything feels weird and it shouldn’t. “…you offered me a job.”
“Which you were in no way obliged to take.”
Taking a step back from the door and twisting so that he’s at least only halfway turned away, still looking at the only other man in the room, Jongdae takes in the image of Kris concentrating far too much on the cup of coffee in front of him for it to be interpreted as normal. “I needed money.” Jongdae reasons with a shrug that Kris has no way of seeing.
“That’s all?”
“Of course not, you know it’s not, so why are you even asking?” This all is stupid; Jongdae should really just have left and continued to stay away from Kris as much as possible. He considers what reaction his leaving would bring; certainly Kris wouldn’t confront him about it? There’s no reason for him getting upset over such a trivial thing, then again, why would Kris even start asking if it was so unimportant?
“Tell me.” Kris demands, and Jongdae’s struck by the pleading tone of his voice.
“I-“ Jongdae begins, fingers turning white from the harsh grip on the tray in his hands. “Yixing.” He says, not elaborating, not wanting to.
"You broke up with him." He’s interrupted, Kris sounding skeptical.
Jongdae smoothens down his already flat lapels with a thumb and an index finger, nervously, and then tugs at the collar as if the strain the fabric has over his throat is stopping him from speaking.
"Yes, I did."
“You cheated on him.”
“I did.” Jongdae swallows down the lump in his throat, whether it’s shame or guilt burning inside him he doesn’t know, but it weighs him down, makes it hard to breathe.
Lifting an eyebrow and shifting on his chair Kris takes a first sip of coffee to keep his hands busy. "Why did you care then, about him and me being... doing things?"
Sighing and crossing his arms Jongdae leans against the wall, eyes closing. He has no clue as to why Kris is asking all of this, he doesn't even want to know it himself, admit it as the truth. It's too painful looking back at. "Not only Yixing's heart was broken that night." He swallows, stalling, wonders why he's answering. "I loved him, but, what I did was unforgiveable.”
“So, this is the punishment you chose for yourself? You broke up with him to make yourself suffer?”
“I just wanted him to have someone better.” Jongdae explains.
“And then there was I.” Kris actually chuckles at this, rubs tiredly at his face with what Jongdae guesses is final understanding.
Nodding, Jongdae confirms. “I didn’t want you to break him even more.”
“And here we are.” Kris frowns slightly, palm falling into his lap. “Is that why you ran?”
Forcing out a smile Jongdae looks back up at Kris. “He deserves better.”
“You deserve better than feeling like shit about it all of the time.”
Sitting by the kitchen table, staring at the piece of paper in his hand Jongdae doesn’t notice Jongin coming in until he’s breathing down his neck, reading the note over his shoulder.
“What’s the address for?” He asks curiously.
“I’ve been invited.”
“…To?”
“I don’t know.” Jongdae shrugs. “I’m trying to decide how stupid I want to be.”
Squinting at him, attentively, Jongin hums. “Does this have something to do with that guy you shouldn’t like?”
Jongdae looks up, and he shouldn’t be surprised by Jongin knowing everything about him any longer.
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead and be stupider than ever before.” Jongin smiles, hand squeezing Jongdae’s shoulder, before leaving for the bedroom.
Jongdae stares at his retreating back, looks back down to his hands and his next destination and gulps before standing up. Predictably he leaves gloves, winter hat and scarf on the hat rack in his rush getting out of the apartment.
“I’m here.” Jongdae says, when Kris opens the door, feels nervousness crawling under his skin.
“You are.” Kris lips widen into the most ridiculous grin. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.” Jongdae smiles back, hand automatically reaching out to grip at Kris’ arm as he toes his shoes off in the hallway.
He looks up when Kris’ hand brushes over his, hesitatingly.
“Are you really okay with this?” Kris asks, looking worried, and this is a side of him Jongdae hasn’t seen before, a softness in Kris’ voice, his uncertainty endearing.
“Why, you changed your mind?” Jongdae teases, carefully taking a step back.
Kris doesn’t say anything then, only stares intently at him, and Jongdae gulps.
“You don’t want dinner do you?” Jongdae inquires, and he knows that if he can identify the desire in his own voice, then Kris most certainly can.
“No” Kris groans into his hands, and then letting them drop he steps forward. “Just let me.” He says; tilts Jongdae’s head up, hand cupping his face, and kisses him on the mouth. It’s harsh, desperate, and Jongdae has missed this, he doesn’t know how, but he has. He opens up easily under Kris hungry lips, feels the initial flare of arousal when he nips at his bottom lip and pulls at the collar of Kris’ shirt to have them press closer to each other.
Urgently then, Kris grips at Jongdae’s ass before lifting one of his legs up, trying to hook it around his own hip, and this is the sort of hint Jongdae is an expert at, so slinging his arms around Kris’ neck he lifts himself up to fit both legs around the other. He’s painfully hard already, and nothing else makes sense as he rolls his hips forward when his back connects with the wall.
“Bedroom.” He pants into Kris’ ear. “You have one of those, don’t you?”
Nodding and licking, nipping, at Jongdae’s throat, Kris steadies his grip on Jongdae, hands rubbing insistently at the underside of his thighs and over the plane of his ass, and manages to shuffle into the right room. Dumped onto the bed Jongdae pulls Kris over him, hands still fastened in Kris’ shirt and beginning to unbutton it impatiently.
He’s forced to pause when Kris rocks into him, erection evident through his slacks, pushing against Jongdae’s own, and he whines loudly, shamelessly.
Kris’ lips fit over his like no one else’s does, hands brushing tenderly at Jongdae’s bare skin and softly mumbled words warming Jongdae from the inside and out.
There’s only one word to describe this whole situation; safe.
Epilogue
“I refuse.” Chanyeol declares. “I am not going shopping with you just so that you can use me as your personal mannequin, I don’t care that I’m your boyfriend’s size. Leave me alone!”
"But-" Jongdae whines holding onto Chanyeol's sleeve before being interrupted.
"No buts, Jongdae." He says firmly, as he's trying to shrug the boy off. They both turn at a sudden gasp; Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun's appalled expression, Jongdae can only stare.
"No butts!? Chanyeol!" Howling dramatically and cradling his head in his hands Baekhyun backs a few steps. "How do you expect Jongdae to live with no butts allowed?" He shakes his head disbelieving.
"You're an ass." Jongdae mutters.
"Don't objectify me for your own likings you pervert; and this is not an ass for you to tap, however much in love with me you are."
“Baekhyun, for the love of god, do the world a favor and shut the fuck up.” Jongin groans coming into the kitchen, startling the three of them. “What?” He asks then, looking quizzically at their shocked expressions as he grabs one of Chanyeol’s beers; salutes them casually before walking back out when no one says anything further.
“That’s the first thing he’s ever said to me.” Baekhyun stares emptily into the air. Chanyeol and Jongdae burst into laughter.
Author's notes: First of all, I want to thank R, because without her I would still be a crying mess on the floor. Second of all, I never planned on this being so long, I am absolutely terrified of what I've done. Thirdly, and lastly, this was largely inspired by the manga, which I read, so despite similarities, this is still my own thing. Thank you very much, and please excuse the madness.