[exo] pass the dutch
pass the dutch
exo, suho/sehun, mention of suho/yunho
pg (drug use), 2182w
joonmyun tries drugs and tries not to stare at the delivery boy.
The delivery boy is tall, with long brown bangs poking out from under his backwards black baseball cap. He's wearing a jean jacket, a white t-shirt with a big gold design printed on it, and slim black jeans that bag a bit around his knees. He could be one of the students in the modern European literature class Joonmyun teaches. His long, narrow eyes look sleepy, but Joonmyun can't tell if that's becuse he's already sampled Hyukjae's wares or if that's just the way he looks.
"Come in," he says, with a nervous smile. The delivery boy nods and obliges, and Joonmyun shuts the door behind him.
They sit at Joonmyun's small, square-shaped kitchen table. The delivery boy produces a tiny ziplocked bag of flaky pot from his backpack and drops it on the table between them. "Thirty thousand won," he says. His tongue darts out and runs over his lips unconsciously, like a snake does, Joonmyun thinks. He isn't sure why he's looking at the boy's face so closely, when he should be looking at the baggie on the table.
He picks it up gingerly, holding it by one corner. "Is this thirty thousand won worth?" he says.
The delivery boy laughs, not unkindly. His eyes crinkle up when he laughs. "It'll get you through the weekend, yeah. You got the money?"
"Yes, yes," says Joonmyun. "Give me a sec." He pulls out his wallet and counts out the won notes, then holds them out. The delivery boy takes them and is on his feet surprisingly fast, folding the money and slipping it into a zippered case that he puts in his backpack. Joonmyun catches his own tongue running over his lips, and he hesitates.
"Wait, wait," he says. "Are you...are you in a rush?" Oh God, Joonmyun, he thinks, you're turning into one of those gross old men, chasing after young boys. Death in Venice. A pervert.
The boy blinks, as if surprised. "I guess not," he says. "Why, what do you need?"
"Um..." Joonmyun smiles, as he does when he's nervous. "I've never actually...done this before. Could you..." He trails off, feeling his face grow redder and redder.
"What, show you how?" The delivery boy laughs. "I thought all professors knew everything."
"Graduate student," he says, a bit too desperately. "I'm just a graduate student." As if that makes him sound younger. He pushes the rolled-up sleeves of his grey chambray button-down back up over his elbows. Is it the shirt? "Please? I've got some, ah, rolling papers, but I don't know what to do with them."
The delivery boy looks down a moment, then sits back down at the table. "Yeah, why not? As long as you share," he says, pointing at Joonmyun with a smirk.
"Really?" says Joonmyun. "You're not in a hurry?"
The boy shrugs. "Hyukjae's pretty chill," he says. Joonmyun reaches into his jeans pocket and retrieves the little packet of papers, still unopened. The boy claps and opens his hands and Joonmyun tosses them to him clumsily. The boy catches them and unwraps the plastic, then sets it on the table. He claps again, looking at Joonmyun expectantly, and there's a beat before Joonmyun goes, "Oh," and tosses the baggie to him too, with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary.
"What's your name?" he says, as the boy leans toward the table and begins taking out a paper and preparing it. It looks like a ritual, and Joonmyun watches his fingers, trying to remember what he's doing.
"Oh Sehun," he says. Joonmyun notices for the first time that he has a bit of a lisp. "You?"
"I'm Kim Joonmyun."
Oh Sehun nods. "Nice to meet you." He moves closer to the table. "Okay, now watch this." Joonmyun leans in too, watching Sehun's long fingers manipulate the paper and the weed as he explains the steps, repeating each one after him, his eyes alternating between Sehun's hands and his face. At one point Sehun brings the paper to his lips and runs his tongue along the edge, and Joonmyun's eyes follow that, too, his mouth closing as he swallows once, quietly.
Then Sehun's done, and he's smiling at him, holding out the skinny finished product. "You think you got that?" he says.
"I think so," says Joonmyun. He takes the joint from Sehun and puts it in his mouth hesitantly. He pats his pockets, then realizes he's forgotten something. "Do you have a lighter?" he says sheepishly. Sehun takes a bright orange one from his pocket and tosses it to him, and Joonmyun catches it with both hands. He's smoked cigarettes before, but he's never lit his own. He sparks the lighter and holds it up to the joint.
"You gotta inhale, Kim Joonmyun-ssi," says Sehun helpfully. Joonmyun does so, and then he feels the smoke flooding into his lungs fast. He pulls out the joint, between his index finger and middle finger like women hold cigarettes. "Hold in the smoke as long as you can."
Joonmyun waits a beat, then exhales in a rush, coughing. The smoke is thick and white, almost purplish, and he's surprised to see it all coming out of him. "Yes, I've smoked before," he says, hacking a bit as it comes out. He coughs into his elbow, then clears his throat. It feels scratchy and raw. "Just not, uh, this."
"Do you like it?" Sehun is watching him with a delighted smile, like Joonmyun is a pet that's imitated a human action. Dogs trying to play the piano. He's not high yet.
"I think so," he says. He looks at the joint, then takes another drag, extending it out to Sehun as he holds the smoke in, longer this time before he exhales in a burst again. "We'll see when I feel it."
Sehun expertly drags on the joint, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Hyukjae's shit is pretty good," he says, exhaling in a neat stream to the ceiling as he talks. "You'll like it when you feel it."
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel," says Joonmyun, fiddling with his salt and pepper shakers. His mouth is getting dry and he doesn't know if it's the drugs or the boy in front of him. Sehun takes another hit, then passes the joint back to him. This time Joonmyun tries holding it like he does, between his thumb and forefinger. Like Lee Byung-hyun, he thinks. This one is much easier, though the smoke still snags in his throat a little and he has to cough the itch out in the back of his hand. He takes one more hit and then passes the joint to Sehun. His chest is starting to feel like it's expanding, light and airy, and he puts his hand to it unconsciously, laying his palm flat just under where the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. He feels his breathing, and his index finger slips into his shirt, resting against his bare chest, for no reason other than because it's nice to touch his own skin.
"This is..." He trails off. He stares over to the doorway, where Oh Sehun's puffy white sneakers are in a tangle, on their sides. "I think I'm feeling it now."
"Yeah?" says Sehun, ashing the joint onto a magazine that's lying on the table. "How does it feel?"
"It's..." Joonmyun takes a big breath and exhales, puffing out his cheeks. His tongue is so dry it's sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he forces himself to salivate. "Like floating on the inside? Like bubbles, or something."
Sehun laughs. "Yeah. Lightweight, huh?"
Joonmyun's eyes snap over to Sehun, but there's a lag as they refocus. "What do you mean?"
"That's pretty fast for a couple hits, is all. But it's better than needing too much to feel anything."
Sehun lifts the joint to his mouth and Joonmyun watches him, watches the elegant circle his fingers make around the joint, the way his thin lips pucker slightly, how his eyebrows lower a little as he sucks in the smoke. "Shit," he mumbles to himself, rubbing his face with his palm, half because he realizes he's feeling it faster and faster and half because he realizes he's staring at Sehun's face. Sehun laughs in response, smoke billowing out of his mouth. He holds out the joint and Joonmyun takes it carefully. He inhales, watching the ember draw dangerously close to his fingers. "I think it's done."
"Almost. Can I?" Sehun extends his hand and Joonmyun passes him the joint. Sehun takes one last hit, pinching the end, then grinds the charred stump on the magazine. They both sit in silence for a moment, Joonmyun slipping further and further down in his chair, feeling the pot sink into him, trying to come up with metaphors for how it feels. It's like there are little people inside his arms and they're repainting, he thinks. No, that's stupid. He puts his hand to his chest again and moves it inside his shirt like Napoleon does, with all his fingers against his bare skin. He can't find his heartbeat, but he feels the way his heart flutters every time he inhales too deeply.
"Can I ask you something?" says Sehun, and Joonmyun's eyes drift over to him. Sehun is looking right at him.
"What?" he says, when the delivery boy doesn't continue.
He's quiet, and then the words all come out at once. "Have you ever kissed a guy before?"
"Uh..." Joonmyun's not sure how to answer. "Why?" Am I safe here? he wonders suddenly. His mind starts turning in circles too fast for him to grab a hold of, trying to think of every object within his reach that could be used as a weapon. The magazine? The chair?
But Sehun doesn't attack him. His tongue darts out over his lips. "Would you kiss me?"
Joonmyun stares, then laughs. It feels like the blood is draining out of his head and into his chest. This can't be actually happening, he thinks. This is too good to be true. "Was that a question or a request?"
"Never mind," says Sehun, looking away. "I'm being stupid."
Joonmyun sits up. "No, tell me. Why?"
"It's..." He licks his lips again. Nervous habit, Joonmyun thinks. "Never mind. Never mind."
"Have you?" Sehun shakes his head. "Do you want to?"
"Never mind."
"I don't mind if you want to kiss me," he says. "Really, I don't," he says with a sheepish chuckle. Perverted old man. "Maybe you should save it for someone better, though." He looks over at the magazine on the table with ashes streaked across it. Some student literary quarterly he hasn't gotten around to reading.
There's a hand on his face and suddenly Oh Sehun is standing over him, long and lanky, and then he's kissing him. His lips are scratchy, and he pulls away before Joonmyun has time to lean in or even process what's happened. His hand feels irritating on Joonmyun's face. He can't describe why, but he knows he doesn't want it there.
"So," says Joonmyun, "how was that?"
Sehun stares at him, then turns around and picks up his backpack. "I guess I'm gonna go," he mumbles, reaching into his back pocket and checking his phone. "Thanks for sharing."
Joonmyun leans back in his chair and sighs, not upset or disappointed but just feeling...predictable. A little dirty, a lot lightheaded. He knows it's not him because he barely did anything, but he still feels like he's at fault, somehow. His eyes drift over to the magazine again, the crooked, brownish stump of the joint, the baggie lying innocuously on the table. There's still so much left, he thinks. Maybe he'll call Yunho over this weekend, use the drugs as an excuse to see him again. Tell him he's joined his league of dirty old men and listen to him laugh and let him pay for takeout. Pretend he's not reading texts from Changmin when he looks at his phone. He wonders how sex feels when you're high. Not great, if the way Oh Sehun's hand felt on his skin is any indication.
"Goodbye," calls Sehun from the door. Joonmyun raises his arm in the air and gives him a thumbs up, but he doesn't know if Sehun even sees it. He brings his thumb across his lips as his arm descends, thinking about how dry Sehun's lips were. The door closes and he sinks lower in his chair, back nearly parallel with the ground now, and closes his eyes. Alone, alone, alone, he thinks. His mouth is very dry. His stomach gurgles. Ramyun, he thinks. It takes a few minutes before he gets up from his chair and staggers over to the stove, lifting the lid off an empty pot with one hand and grabbing a half-filled glass of water he'd left on the counter with the other. His phone is on the kitchen counter. Yunho, he thinks, and he breathes in slowly through his nose, feeling the smoke still swirling in his chest. Nah.
exo, suho/sehun, mention of suho/yunho
pg (drug use), 2182w
joonmyun tries drugs and tries not to stare at the delivery boy.
The delivery boy is tall, with long brown bangs poking out from under his backwards black baseball cap. He's wearing a jean jacket, a white t-shirt with a big gold design printed on it, and slim black jeans that bag a bit around his knees. He could be one of the students in the modern European literature class Joonmyun teaches. His long, narrow eyes look sleepy, but Joonmyun can't tell if that's becuse he's already sampled Hyukjae's wares or if that's just the way he looks.
"Come in," he says, with a nervous smile. The delivery boy nods and obliges, and Joonmyun shuts the door behind him.
They sit at Joonmyun's small, square-shaped kitchen table. The delivery boy produces a tiny ziplocked bag of flaky pot from his backpack and drops it on the table between them. "Thirty thousand won," he says. His tongue darts out and runs over his lips unconsciously, like a snake does, Joonmyun thinks. He isn't sure why he's looking at the boy's face so closely, when he should be looking at the baggie on the table.
He picks it up gingerly, holding it by one corner. "Is this thirty thousand won worth?" he says.
The delivery boy laughs, not unkindly. His eyes crinkle up when he laughs. "It'll get you through the weekend, yeah. You got the money?"
"Yes, yes," says Joonmyun. "Give me a sec." He pulls out his wallet and counts out the won notes, then holds them out. The delivery boy takes them and is on his feet surprisingly fast, folding the money and slipping it into a zippered case that he puts in his backpack. Joonmyun catches his own tongue running over his lips, and he hesitates.
"Wait, wait," he says. "Are you...are you in a rush?" Oh God, Joonmyun, he thinks, you're turning into one of those gross old men, chasing after young boys. Death in Venice. A pervert.
The boy blinks, as if surprised. "I guess not," he says. "Why, what do you need?"
"Um..." Joonmyun smiles, as he does when he's nervous. "I've never actually...done this before. Could you..." He trails off, feeling his face grow redder and redder.
"What, show you how?" The delivery boy laughs. "I thought all professors knew everything."
"Graduate student," he says, a bit too desperately. "I'm just a graduate student." As if that makes him sound younger. He pushes the rolled-up sleeves of his grey chambray button-down back up over his elbows. Is it the shirt? "Please? I've got some, ah, rolling papers, but I don't know what to do with them."
The delivery boy looks down a moment, then sits back down at the table. "Yeah, why not? As long as you share," he says, pointing at Joonmyun with a smirk.
"Really?" says Joonmyun. "You're not in a hurry?"
The boy shrugs. "Hyukjae's pretty chill," he says. Joonmyun reaches into his jeans pocket and retrieves the little packet of papers, still unopened. The boy claps and opens his hands and Joonmyun tosses them to him clumsily. The boy catches them and unwraps the plastic, then sets it on the table. He claps again, looking at Joonmyun expectantly, and there's a beat before Joonmyun goes, "Oh," and tosses the baggie to him too, with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary.
"What's your name?" he says, as the boy leans toward the table and begins taking out a paper and preparing it. It looks like a ritual, and Joonmyun watches his fingers, trying to remember what he's doing.
"Oh Sehun," he says. Joonmyun notices for the first time that he has a bit of a lisp. "You?"
"I'm Kim Joonmyun."
Oh Sehun nods. "Nice to meet you." He moves closer to the table. "Okay, now watch this." Joonmyun leans in too, watching Sehun's long fingers manipulate the paper and the weed as he explains the steps, repeating each one after him, his eyes alternating between Sehun's hands and his face. At one point Sehun brings the paper to his lips and runs his tongue along the edge, and Joonmyun's eyes follow that, too, his mouth closing as he swallows once, quietly.
Then Sehun's done, and he's smiling at him, holding out the skinny finished product. "You think you got that?" he says.
"I think so," says Joonmyun. He takes the joint from Sehun and puts it in his mouth hesitantly. He pats his pockets, then realizes he's forgotten something. "Do you have a lighter?" he says sheepishly. Sehun takes a bright orange one from his pocket and tosses it to him, and Joonmyun catches it with both hands. He's smoked cigarettes before, but he's never lit his own. He sparks the lighter and holds it up to the joint.
"You gotta inhale, Kim Joonmyun-ssi," says Sehun helpfully. Joonmyun does so, and then he feels the smoke flooding into his lungs fast. He pulls out the joint, between his index finger and middle finger like women hold cigarettes. "Hold in the smoke as long as you can."
Joonmyun waits a beat, then exhales in a rush, coughing. The smoke is thick and white, almost purplish, and he's surprised to see it all coming out of him. "Yes, I've smoked before," he says, hacking a bit as it comes out. He coughs into his elbow, then clears his throat. It feels scratchy and raw. "Just not, uh, this."
"Do you like it?" Sehun is watching him with a delighted smile, like Joonmyun is a pet that's imitated a human action. Dogs trying to play the piano. He's not high yet.
"I think so," he says. He looks at the joint, then takes another drag, extending it out to Sehun as he holds the smoke in, longer this time before he exhales in a burst again. "We'll see when I feel it."
Sehun expertly drags on the joint, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Hyukjae's shit is pretty good," he says, exhaling in a neat stream to the ceiling as he talks. "You'll like it when you feel it."
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel," says Joonmyun, fiddling with his salt and pepper shakers. His mouth is getting dry and he doesn't know if it's the drugs or the boy in front of him. Sehun takes another hit, then passes the joint back to him. This time Joonmyun tries holding it like he does, between his thumb and forefinger. Like Lee Byung-hyun, he thinks. This one is much easier, though the smoke still snags in his throat a little and he has to cough the itch out in the back of his hand. He takes one more hit and then passes the joint to Sehun. His chest is starting to feel like it's expanding, light and airy, and he puts his hand to it unconsciously, laying his palm flat just under where the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. He feels his breathing, and his index finger slips into his shirt, resting against his bare chest, for no reason other than because it's nice to touch his own skin.
"This is..." He trails off. He stares over to the doorway, where Oh Sehun's puffy white sneakers are in a tangle, on their sides. "I think I'm feeling it now."
"Yeah?" says Sehun, ashing the joint onto a magazine that's lying on the table. "How does it feel?"
"It's..." Joonmyun takes a big breath and exhales, puffing out his cheeks. His tongue is so dry it's sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he forces himself to salivate. "Like floating on the inside? Like bubbles, or something."
Sehun laughs. "Yeah. Lightweight, huh?"
Joonmyun's eyes snap over to Sehun, but there's a lag as they refocus. "What do you mean?"
"That's pretty fast for a couple hits, is all. But it's better than needing too much to feel anything."
Sehun lifts the joint to his mouth and Joonmyun watches him, watches the elegant circle his fingers make around the joint, the way his thin lips pucker slightly, how his eyebrows lower a little as he sucks in the smoke. "Shit," he mumbles to himself, rubbing his face with his palm, half because he realizes he's feeling it faster and faster and half because he realizes he's staring at Sehun's face. Sehun laughs in response, smoke billowing out of his mouth. He holds out the joint and Joonmyun takes it carefully. He inhales, watching the ember draw dangerously close to his fingers. "I think it's done."
"Almost. Can I?" Sehun extends his hand and Joonmyun passes him the joint. Sehun takes one last hit, pinching the end, then grinds the charred stump on the magazine. They both sit in silence for a moment, Joonmyun slipping further and further down in his chair, feeling the pot sink into him, trying to come up with metaphors for how it feels. It's like there are little people inside his arms and they're repainting, he thinks. No, that's stupid. He puts his hand to his chest again and moves it inside his shirt like Napoleon does, with all his fingers against his bare skin. He can't find his heartbeat, but he feels the way his heart flutters every time he inhales too deeply.
"Can I ask you something?" says Sehun, and Joonmyun's eyes drift over to him. Sehun is looking right at him.
"What?" he says, when the delivery boy doesn't continue.
He's quiet, and then the words all come out at once. "Have you ever kissed a guy before?"
"Uh..." Joonmyun's not sure how to answer. "Why?" Am I safe here? he wonders suddenly. His mind starts turning in circles too fast for him to grab a hold of, trying to think of every object within his reach that could be used as a weapon. The magazine? The chair?
But Sehun doesn't attack him. His tongue darts out over his lips. "Would you kiss me?"
Joonmyun stares, then laughs. It feels like the blood is draining out of his head and into his chest. This can't be actually happening, he thinks. This is too good to be true. "Was that a question or a request?"
"Never mind," says Sehun, looking away. "I'm being stupid."
Joonmyun sits up. "No, tell me. Why?"
"It's..." He licks his lips again. Nervous habit, Joonmyun thinks. "Never mind. Never mind."
"Have you?" Sehun shakes his head. "Do you want to?"
"Never mind."
"I don't mind if you want to kiss me," he says. "Really, I don't," he says with a sheepish chuckle. Perverted old man. "Maybe you should save it for someone better, though." He looks over at the magazine on the table with ashes streaked across it. Some student literary quarterly he hasn't gotten around to reading.
There's a hand on his face and suddenly Oh Sehun is standing over him, long and lanky, and then he's kissing him. His lips are scratchy, and he pulls away before Joonmyun has time to lean in or even process what's happened. His hand feels irritating on Joonmyun's face. He can't describe why, but he knows he doesn't want it there.
"So," says Joonmyun, "how was that?"
Sehun stares at him, then turns around and picks up his backpack. "I guess I'm gonna go," he mumbles, reaching into his back pocket and checking his phone. "Thanks for sharing."
Joonmyun leans back in his chair and sighs, not upset or disappointed but just feeling...predictable. A little dirty, a lot lightheaded. He knows it's not him because he barely did anything, but he still feels like he's at fault, somehow. His eyes drift over to the magazine again, the crooked, brownish stump of the joint, the baggie lying innocuously on the table. There's still so much left, he thinks. Maybe he'll call Yunho over this weekend, use the drugs as an excuse to see him again. Tell him he's joined his league of dirty old men and listen to him laugh and let him pay for takeout. Pretend he's not reading texts from Changmin when he looks at his phone. He wonders how sex feels when you're high. Not great, if the way Oh Sehun's hand felt on his skin is any indication.
"Goodbye," calls Sehun from the door. Joonmyun raises his arm in the air and gives him a thumbs up, but he doesn't know if Sehun even sees it. He brings his thumb across his lips as his arm descends, thinking about how dry Sehun's lips were. The door closes and he sinks lower in his chair, back nearly parallel with the ground now, and closes his eyes. Alone, alone, alone, he thinks. His mouth is very dry. His stomach gurgles. Ramyun, he thinks. It takes a few minutes before he gets up from his chair and staggers over to the stove, lifting the lid off an empty pot with one hand and grabbing a half-filled glass of water he'd left on the counter with the other. His phone is on the kitchen counter. Yunho, he thinks, and he breathes in slowly through his nose, feeling the smoke still swirling in his chest. Nah.