something [exo]
title: something {frat au}
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: r
pairing(s): xiuhan, mentions of xiuris, minxing, xiukai
summary: don't wake me up. i didn't get any sleep last night.
a/n: from the same fratau im always tweeting about. this is a few years before the main storyline takes place.
He doesn’t move.
He can’t show any sign of life or response because that’s the only way he’ll get her to leave the room without having to talk to her. It’s just that he wants to also continue sleeping, and that’s difficult when he can’t roll over to his stomach and bury his eyes against his pillow. The second option to block out the sunlight would be to close the curtains over the already closed blinds but that involves getting out of the bed-which would also be a sign of life and/or a response.
Right now, he hears her rustling around, probably looking for the rest of her clothes. At one point, she’d poked his side, asked him if she could shower and he determinedly did not move. He determinedly feigned sleep like the living dead even as she’d stabbed him with her French manicure and waited until she’d huffed and given up. It’s at least another twenty minutes before it sounds like she’s finished dressing herself as best as she can-another five minutes of her seemingly combing her fingers through her tangled hair before he feels her cold fingers poke him again.
“Oppa,” she whines, and if his eyes were open, he’d be rolling them towards the ceiling. She’s older than him. (They’re always older than him, but it’s like they think they can score more points if they pretend they aren’t.) “You’re not going to make me do the walk of shame alone, are you? At least see me off.”
He adds a snore just for good measure.
(He doesn’t snore.)
By the time she gets her shoes on, having located both parts of the pair, she’s clearly convinced enough that he’s actually still asleep because she mutters viciously, “Frat boys,” before slamming the door in her wake.
He gives it another ten minutes just to be safe before he sits up, testing to see if he’d safely escaped the consequences of nearly putting a tequila company out of business last night. When there’s no hammering inside his head, and whatever is in his stomach seems to want to stay there, he decides that he isn’t tired enough to go on sleeping and reaches over to open the blinds.
Minseok yawns, one hand ruffling his hair. He grins to himself.
Wufan is waiting for him at the table, a small bowl of exactly five pieces of cantaloupe sitting in it. The silver fork is stabbed into one of the larger pieces but it seems untouched otherwise. There’re two glasses of water already on the table and a few mugs of coffee and Minseok slides in beside her, pushing his sunglasses back into his hair as she takes her eyes off her phone to glance at him. She’s dressed in all white today, skintight long-sleeved shirt that’s sheer over her pushed-up cleavage and clingy, white leggings that taper off into white, leather boots.
“That’s mine,” she sniffs when Minseok tries to take a sip of the coffee steaming beside the bowl of melon.
He lets go of the handle and leans against his palm, watching her put her phone down delicately on the table. “Happy second semester to you, too,” he says.
“I gained half a kilo over break,” she rubs a thin hand over her eyes except Minseok knows she isn’t really rubbing anything over her eyes because otherwise her make-up would smear. “It took me an hour to find something that I wasn’t too bloated to fit into.”
He blinks. “So you wore white?”
She chooses to ignore that, pointing at somewhere in the dining hall with her phone instead. “Hakyeon stopped by-said you owe him for last night.”
Minseok raises his eyebrows.
“You probably don’t remember,” she goes on, “but every time he tried to take a shot, you grabbed it from him and took it yourself. And then ran away. Giggling.”
He shrugs. “It was my tequila anyway.”
“It’s half your tequila,” and Junmyeon slides in on Wufan’s other side with a tray holding two bowls of rice and two bowls of stew. Minseok grabs one of each for himself and a spoon from the plethora of silverware Junmyeon had placed on pile of napkins. “You made me pay for the other half and I didn’t even get any.”
Minseok blows on his stew. “That’s your fault,” he says. “You didn’t come.”
Junmyeon looks indignant. “There was a Bible reading last night!”
Wufan rolls her eyes.
“Where’s Yixing?” Minseok asks, spooning the stew over into his rice.
“Helping Wufan’s cousin move in,” Junmyeon says. “She’s on that weird exchange program that starts the second semester so she just got here.”
Minseok looks at Wufan. “Why aren’t you helping your cousin move in?”
She fluffs the side of her hair. “I don’t really like her.”
Junmyeon and Minseok exchange glances.
The opposite gender is just something that Minseok doesn’t really think about. They’ve always been there for as long as he can remember, always there right in front of him whether he wants them or not. They’d flock to him by the dozens when he was younger, pinching his cheeks and he’s going to be so pretty he’s so pretty they’d always say to his mother and father as they picked him up and pressed his face against their breasts. Give me a kiss before I go his babysitter had once said to him, bending down and turning her face for him to press his lips against her cheek. But she was pretty and he’d seen his father kiss his mother on the lips because his mother is pretty so Minseok had kissed his babysitter on the mouth and she’d laughed up to Minseok’s mother he’s going to be a heartbreaker.
And maybe, when he’s older, maybe this shouldn’t have continued because it doesn’t seem to make much sense to Minseok and it doesn’t seem to make any sense to his male peers. Minseok grows up lacking in several things that he’d previously thought were required to be a heartbreaker. He isn’t the tallest in his class, and although he’s athletic-engaged in both his soccer team and martial arts-his muscles are subtle and wiry rather than bulky. It therefore baffles his peers, and for a while Minseok himself, that the prettiest girl in their eighth grade class places a box of chocolates on Minseok’s desk once every week for an entire month. And every time, she would turn bright red and run out before he could say anything.
“Oh my god,” the boy who had sat next to him ogles the box of chocolates. “She likes you?”
Minseok shrugs, stuffing the chocolates into his mouth two at a time.
A little bland. Needed more cocoa powder, probably.
Once he moves on to high school, Minseok has accepted this as the way of the world-had accepted that those of the female persuasion, with the exception of his mother and sister, seemed to find something inevitably attractive in Kim Minseok and that’s that. It’s like breathing. Minseok doesn’t particularly think he’ll be concerned over it until there’s a lack of, and as far as he knows, there will never be a lack of women.
But his peers still seem to be absolutely floundered-desperately confused when leggy, thin, well-endowed, model-proportioned Chinese exchange student Wufan, arriving in their second year of high school, blinks her fake eyelashes at Minseok during literature class and asks if Minseok could help her with her Korean classes.
“I have soccer and taekwondo after school every day,” Minseok says, scribbling furiously into his notebook the last of the definitions at the end of the chapter. He takes a small pause to change pencils and when he glances up, wonders why the rows surrounding them are staring at him.
Wufan shakes her head. “That’s okay,” she says lightly. “I can wait.”
Minseok blinks at her. Looks around her. “Can you pick that up for me? I dropped my eraser.”
Vaguely in the background, Minseok hears one of his classmates what the fuck I don’t understand I don’t understand she’s so hot but hE IS LIKE tWO FEET TALL I DON’T UNDERSTAND. But it’s drowned out by envious sighs of the girls in the room and Minseok just wants Wufan to hurry up and pick up his eraser.
Wufan and Minseok kiss at a house party sometime during that year. She had been sitting pressed up against him in a tiny, red dress (a Christmas party, he remembers) going on about how she missed home-both her homes, both in Canada and China-and it’s so hard to move around so much during this time of her life and Minseok had helped her so much not only with the language but with adjusting in general and it was all supposedly fairly touching and meaningful but it’s a little boring so Minseok shuts her up with his mouth pressed against hers.
It escalates somehow, and his hand ends up between her legs and they still haven’t moved from the couch that’s plainly in view to the rest of the people at this party. In the distance, only barely registering in the back of Minseok’s mind as Wufan slides her tongue into his mouth, he hears another flustered, disbelieving cry of wHY WHAT THE FUCK HOW.
In his third year of high school, Wufan comes back from vacation, from China, with her hair freshly dyed, her nails freshly manicured, and a girl with dimples and sleepy eyes in tow. “My friend,” Wufan says, “Zhang Yixing. She’s finishing high school here so she can go to uni here, too.”
As their homeroom teacher wrote Yixing’s name out on the board, the boys behind Minseok were whispering furiously to each other don’t even bother we’re doomed she’s gone we’ll never get pussy as long as he’s here anyway just let’s just give up.
Minseok sips at the Americano he’d gotten on the way to school.
That year is also the year that Minseok’s neighborhood dongsaengs, two girls, Jongin and Sehun, finally start their first year of high school. He doesn’t get to see them for all of their first month because of all the different orientations the first years have, but when he does finally visit them at their lockers-Jongin throwing her arms around him and Sehun clinging to his arm-he hopes he’s just imagining the strange, faint, garbled cry of a group of first year boys at the end of the hall.
Girls are nice, but he can’t say that he’s ever really understood the obsession over them. “Me neither, hyung,” Kyungsoo, another one of Minseok’s neighborhood dongsaengs, says one day while they’re having a movie marathon in Minseok’s house.
“I like their boobs,” Minseok says fairly, trying to think of why some men don’t hesitate to ridicule themselves in every way, shape, and form to try to get a woman. “Boobs are pretty nice.”
Kyungsoo nods. “Boobs are nice.”
(That year, Minseok also ends up with his hands holding Yixing’s thighs around his waist, hips stuttering up against her until she muffles a scream against his shoulder and he muffles his grin against her soft, brown hair, eyes scrunching shut as he comes)
Girls are okay.
Successfully completing his first semester as a university student, easily passing his rush week and making it into his fraternity of choice, and Minseok has discovered that in college, girls seem to skip the stages of pretending as though they have some sort of other motive towards him-i.e., Korean tutoring (Wufan), how does high school work (Jongin), come to my guitar concert (Yixing)-and move straight on to pressing their palm between his legs. He does suppose that part of this may be attributed to the fact that as most girls make their shot at him when both he and they are relatively intoxicated in a dimly lit party where neither of them can hear each other over the booming bass.
It’s so straightforward that he’s resorted to try to get over the monotony by resolving not to have the same girl in the same week. The university doesn’t have that large of a female population, so Minseok has to eventually settle for repeats, but as it stands, he’s still making his way through the line of girls that want to sit on his lap (amongst other things).
Tonight’s party seems to drag on particularly slowly, and Minseok knows it’s because Hakyeon thinks it’s appropriately funny and well-earned revenge to not let Minseok have any of tonight’s tequila. This only leaves beer and eight-dollar-wine that Minseok has been drinking like water and still feels nothing from.
Junmyeon is once again absent, so Minseok has been sitting with Yixing for the past hour. Dongwoo had been there for a time as well, but he’d left to go dance in the shadows with a girl who’d pulled him along half an hour ago. Minseok is seriously considering just falling asleep on Yixing’s shoulder when she suddenly taps his hand and pops up to her feet, skirt riding up from the movement. “What?” Minseok says blankly.
“Wufan’s here,” Yixing says brightly. “She was getting Luhan so you she can meet everyone.”
Minseok stands up as well. “You mean she’ll get hit on by Hakyeon and then shit-faced her first night on Korean soil.” But he pastes on an appropriate smile by the time Wufan, in something sheer and slinky that ends barely below her ass, maneuvers through the crowd to stand in front of them with her cousin with her.
If Wufan is a model, and Yixing is the warm class crush, Luhan is a doll. She’s smaller than both her cousin and Yixing, with hair dyed strawberry blonde and large eyes framed by copious amounts of shimmering liner. Her dress doesn’t end much past what it needs to cover either, and it only goes up barely past what it needs to clothe of her full breasts.
He takes her small hand and shakes it, bowing his head at the same time she dips hers. “Kim Minseok,” he says with a brisk, quick smile.
“Luhan,” she chirps cheerily, and Minseok snorts, glancing up at Wufan.
“You pregamed without me,” he accuses.
“You shouldn’t have texted me that Hakyeon’s hoarding the tequila,” Wufan retorts. “One of us has to live to not-remember this night.”
Minseok rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, “save yourself-abandon me.”
Wufan salutes him playfully, flashing open her purse and Minseok only then realizes why she’s brought the largest pocket of skinned animal he’s ever seen. Inside are two bottles of unopened jäger.
“My firstborn child,” Minseok offers desperately.
Wufan wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want your children. That’s why we used a condom.”
Minseok wonders if he’s drunk enough to whine. Hell, he’ll whine sober. His dignity is nothing in the face of this party, and the fact that it’s half past midnight and he can still walk straight.
“Here,” Luhan says, slipping her hands into Wufan’s purse and pulling out one of the bottles. “You don’t need both-you’ll die. Just take that one for you and Yixing, and I’ll share this one with him.”
And with the incredulous look Wufan gives Luhan and then Minseok, with the look Luhan is giving Minseok, with the amused smile Yixing has on her face at all of this, Minseok begins to once-over Luhan because all four of them know what Minseok is going to be doing tonight. It’s a little less straightforward than all his previous nights so far, so Minseok is at least grateful for that break in the pattern.
“Be safe,” Wufan says flatly, as Yixing laughs and follows her through the crowd. Minseok knows they’ll probably try to lure in some of his other frat mates to drink with them in one of the bedrooms.
But Minseok is already scrambling for plastic cups, coming up from the drinks table back to the sofa with two in hand and Luhan is already breaking the seal, the cap of the bottle balanced on one of her thighs. He sits down next to her, holding the cups out as she pours generously into each of them. He didn’t think he’d be bringing anyone back to his room tonight so he’d done one of his full-cleanings, which was going to be made pointless in the morning. It’d be worth it, though, he supposed. Luhan’s pretty, just like Wufan, but a softer pretty than all the sharp angles and lines her cousin is.
“So,” Minseok says, as Luhan takes a rather impressively sized gulp. “What’s up with you?”
Luhan licks her glossed lips, eyes narrowing unfocusedly and Minseok vows to raid Wufan’s dorm because how dare she pregame without him he thought they were friends they’ve known each other since high school. “Um,” she says, “I like soccer.”
Minseok grins.
He doesn’t move.
He can’t show any sign of life or response because that’s the only way he’ll get her to leave the room without having to talk to her. Although he supposes that that might not be the greatest way to approach this because she is Wufan’s cousin, so she’ll probably be around more often than not from here on out. But then again, Wufan has said that she doesn’t really like Luhan and eventually most all girls get over how Minseok is very, very determinedly asleep until they leave and they come back for him again anyhow.
He hears her finish dressing and he thinks maybe she’s distracted enough trying to lace up those monstrosities that she was wearing last night back on her feet that she won’t notice him rolling onto his side to face away from the sun. He’s midway through his roll when suddenly he feels the mattress give and the he feels her hands on his face, palms squeezing his cheeks, her voice eager and excited and shrilly singing, “I love your cheeks-you’re so cute.”
Minseok bolts up into a sitting position and scrambles away from her. He sees that she’s not actually dressed yet-she’s just put her bra and thong back on. She looks surprised as he meets her eyes. “Oh,” she says. “You’re awake.”
He stares at her incredulously and wonders how anyone wouldn’t be awake after nearly having their face broken. “What the fuck is wrong with y-”
“D’you wanna get breakfast together?” she asks, stretching happily. The sunlight dances in her blonde hair, plays against her pale, bare skin.
Minseok continues to stare incredulously because she almost broke his face.
When a minute passes without his reply, her expression goes from content to pitying and she leans in to pat his face again. “You’re hungover,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll be quiet and leave now. I’ll ask Wufan later for your number so we can hang out,” she adds at the end in a cheerful afterthought.
He watches, in a stupor, as she finishes putting on her clothes, strapping her heels back on, gathering her purse and phone before she heads for the door. However, Luhan doesn’t seem to think it’s appropriate to leave before looking at Minseok and cooing one more time, “You’re so cute.”
Minseok searches for his aspirin.
Girls like targeting Minseok’s body-all parts of it. They’d straddle his waist, sit across his thighs, drag their lip-glossed lips over his neck and chest and collarbone, purposefully pepper lipstick marks against his mouth and throat, (curl their pretty hands around the base of his cock, squeeze their soft pale thighs around him as he fucks into them), but not many of them have ever targeted his cheeks before.
Not many (not any) of them have tried to break his face.
And not even in a sexy, kinky sort of way.
But like-
Break his face.
(and call him cute
not many have done that before)
The new semester starts to kick in by the second week, and everyone is too busy to do anything other than get adjusted to their new classes and professors for a while. Minseok is either cooped up in his room trying to write up another paper or in studio trying not to cut his own fingers off in trying to cut out the shape of his new model. He only ever sees anyone in passing-sees Junmyeon once during the next few weeks, Wufan twice, Yixing twice, and Luhan never.
It’s an entire two weeks later before there’s another party at the house, and by then, Minseok has mostly forgotten about how Luhan tried to break his face. This time, this Friday, he’s far more gone than he was two weeks ago. He’d pregamed with Hakyeon in the latter’s room, he’d stolen Junmyeon’s last Smirnoff, and he still had the stash of wine he’d stolen from Wufan’s dorm the other day. This time, Minseok stumbles face first into Luhan’s lap, and from how he’s facing, he finds himself looking straight at the tiny triangle of hot pink silk beneath the single layer of cloth that’s her skirt.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, and he can’t even really see her face-he’s just focusing on how her top is so sheer he can see through to the undercurve of her breasts.
“Thanks,” Luhan smiles and leans down over him, holding her hair back in her hands so it doesn’t get into his face when she presses her mouth onto his.
(And this time, when Minseok wakes up, he doesn’t pretend to be asleep while Luhan bounces on his bed and suggests that they go out for coffee together. This time, he yawns, drags himself into a pair of sweatpants, gives Luhan his t-shirt and boxers to wear over her bra and panties and they go downstairs to where Hakyeon nearly has a heart attack by the coffeemaker when he sees them.
“So,” Minseok says, when he’s made sure that Hakyeon has stopped being a nosy frat mate and isn’t eavesdropping from the staircase, “you said you like soccer, right?”
Luhan licks the coffee from her lips and nods, eyes crinkling when she smiles.)
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: r
pairing(s): xiuhan, mentions of xiuris, minxing, xiukai
summary: don't wake me up. i didn't get any sleep last night.
a/n: from the same fratau im always tweeting about. this is a few years before the main storyline takes place.
He doesn’t move.
He can’t show any sign of life or response because that’s the only way he’ll get her to leave the room without having to talk to her. It’s just that he wants to also continue sleeping, and that’s difficult when he can’t roll over to his stomach and bury his eyes against his pillow. The second option to block out the sunlight would be to close the curtains over the already closed blinds but that involves getting out of the bed-which would also be a sign of life and/or a response.
Right now, he hears her rustling around, probably looking for the rest of her clothes. At one point, she’d poked his side, asked him if she could shower and he determinedly did not move. He determinedly feigned sleep like the living dead even as she’d stabbed him with her French manicure and waited until she’d huffed and given up. It’s at least another twenty minutes before it sounds like she’s finished dressing herself as best as she can-another five minutes of her seemingly combing her fingers through her tangled hair before he feels her cold fingers poke him again.
“Oppa,” she whines, and if his eyes were open, he’d be rolling them towards the ceiling. She’s older than him. (They’re always older than him, but it’s like they think they can score more points if they pretend they aren’t.) “You’re not going to make me do the walk of shame alone, are you? At least see me off.”
He adds a snore just for good measure.
(He doesn’t snore.)
By the time she gets her shoes on, having located both parts of the pair, she’s clearly convinced enough that he’s actually still asleep because she mutters viciously, “Frat boys,” before slamming the door in her wake.
He gives it another ten minutes just to be safe before he sits up, testing to see if he’d safely escaped the consequences of nearly putting a tequila company out of business last night. When there’s no hammering inside his head, and whatever is in his stomach seems to want to stay there, he decides that he isn’t tired enough to go on sleeping and reaches over to open the blinds.
Minseok yawns, one hand ruffling his hair. He grins to himself.
Wufan is waiting for him at the table, a small bowl of exactly five pieces of cantaloupe sitting in it. The silver fork is stabbed into one of the larger pieces but it seems untouched otherwise. There’re two glasses of water already on the table and a few mugs of coffee and Minseok slides in beside her, pushing his sunglasses back into his hair as she takes her eyes off her phone to glance at him. She’s dressed in all white today, skintight long-sleeved shirt that’s sheer over her pushed-up cleavage and clingy, white leggings that taper off into white, leather boots.
“That’s mine,” she sniffs when Minseok tries to take a sip of the coffee steaming beside the bowl of melon.
He lets go of the handle and leans against his palm, watching her put her phone down delicately on the table. “Happy second semester to you, too,” he says.
“I gained half a kilo over break,” she rubs a thin hand over her eyes except Minseok knows she isn’t really rubbing anything over her eyes because otherwise her make-up would smear. “It took me an hour to find something that I wasn’t too bloated to fit into.”
He blinks. “So you wore white?”
She chooses to ignore that, pointing at somewhere in the dining hall with her phone instead. “Hakyeon stopped by-said you owe him for last night.”
Minseok raises his eyebrows.
“You probably don’t remember,” she goes on, “but every time he tried to take a shot, you grabbed it from him and took it yourself. And then ran away. Giggling.”
He shrugs. “It was my tequila anyway.”
“It’s half your tequila,” and Junmyeon slides in on Wufan’s other side with a tray holding two bowls of rice and two bowls of stew. Minseok grabs one of each for himself and a spoon from the plethora of silverware Junmyeon had placed on pile of napkins. “You made me pay for the other half and I didn’t even get any.”
Minseok blows on his stew. “That’s your fault,” he says. “You didn’t come.”
Junmyeon looks indignant. “There was a Bible reading last night!”
Wufan rolls her eyes.
“Where’s Yixing?” Minseok asks, spooning the stew over into his rice.
“Helping Wufan’s cousin move in,” Junmyeon says. “She’s on that weird exchange program that starts the second semester so she just got here.”
Minseok looks at Wufan. “Why aren’t you helping your cousin move in?”
She fluffs the side of her hair. “I don’t really like her.”
Junmyeon and Minseok exchange glances.
The opposite gender is just something that Minseok doesn’t really think about. They’ve always been there for as long as he can remember, always there right in front of him whether he wants them or not. They’d flock to him by the dozens when he was younger, pinching his cheeks and he’s going to be so pretty he’s so pretty they’d always say to his mother and father as they picked him up and pressed his face against their breasts. Give me a kiss before I go his babysitter had once said to him, bending down and turning her face for him to press his lips against her cheek. But she was pretty and he’d seen his father kiss his mother on the lips because his mother is pretty so Minseok had kissed his babysitter on the mouth and she’d laughed up to Minseok’s mother he’s going to be a heartbreaker.
And maybe, when he’s older, maybe this shouldn’t have continued because it doesn’t seem to make much sense to Minseok and it doesn’t seem to make any sense to his male peers. Minseok grows up lacking in several things that he’d previously thought were required to be a heartbreaker. He isn’t the tallest in his class, and although he’s athletic-engaged in both his soccer team and martial arts-his muscles are subtle and wiry rather than bulky. It therefore baffles his peers, and for a while Minseok himself, that the prettiest girl in their eighth grade class places a box of chocolates on Minseok’s desk once every week for an entire month. And every time, she would turn bright red and run out before he could say anything.
“Oh my god,” the boy who had sat next to him ogles the box of chocolates. “She likes you?”
Minseok shrugs, stuffing the chocolates into his mouth two at a time.
A little bland. Needed more cocoa powder, probably.
Once he moves on to high school, Minseok has accepted this as the way of the world-had accepted that those of the female persuasion, with the exception of his mother and sister, seemed to find something inevitably attractive in Kim Minseok and that’s that. It’s like breathing. Minseok doesn’t particularly think he’ll be concerned over it until there’s a lack of, and as far as he knows, there will never be a lack of women.
But his peers still seem to be absolutely floundered-desperately confused when leggy, thin, well-endowed, model-proportioned Chinese exchange student Wufan, arriving in their second year of high school, blinks her fake eyelashes at Minseok during literature class and asks if Minseok could help her with her Korean classes.
“I have soccer and taekwondo after school every day,” Minseok says, scribbling furiously into his notebook the last of the definitions at the end of the chapter. He takes a small pause to change pencils and when he glances up, wonders why the rows surrounding them are staring at him.
Wufan shakes her head. “That’s okay,” she says lightly. “I can wait.”
Minseok blinks at her. Looks around her. “Can you pick that up for me? I dropped my eraser.”
Vaguely in the background, Minseok hears one of his classmates what the fuck I don’t understand I don’t understand she’s so hot but hE IS LIKE tWO FEET TALL I DON’T UNDERSTAND. But it’s drowned out by envious sighs of the girls in the room and Minseok just wants Wufan to hurry up and pick up his eraser.
Wufan and Minseok kiss at a house party sometime during that year. She had been sitting pressed up against him in a tiny, red dress (a Christmas party, he remembers) going on about how she missed home-both her homes, both in Canada and China-and it’s so hard to move around so much during this time of her life and Minseok had helped her so much not only with the language but with adjusting in general and it was all supposedly fairly touching and meaningful but it’s a little boring so Minseok shuts her up with his mouth pressed against hers.
It escalates somehow, and his hand ends up between her legs and they still haven’t moved from the couch that’s plainly in view to the rest of the people at this party. In the distance, only barely registering in the back of Minseok’s mind as Wufan slides her tongue into his mouth, he hears another flustered, disbelieving cry of wHY WHAT THE FUCK HOW.
In his third year of high school, Wufan comes back from vacation, from China, with her hair freshly dyed, her nails freshly manicured, and a girl with dimples and sleepy eyes in tow. “My friend,” Wufan says, “Zhang Yixing. She’s finishing high school here so she can go to uni here, too.”
As their homeroom teacher wrote Yixing’s name out on the board, the boys behind Minseok were whispering furiously to each other don’t even bother we’re doomed she’s gone we’ll never get pussy as long as he’s here anyway just let’s just give up.
Minseok sips at the Americano he’d gotten on the way to school.
That year is also the year that Minseok’s neighborhood dongsaengs, two girls, Jongin and Sehun, finally start their first year of high school. He doesn’t get to see them for all of their first month because of all the different orientations the first years have, but when he does finally visit them at their lockers-Jongin throwing her arms around him and Sehun clinging to his arm-he hopes he’s just imagining the strange, faint, garbled cry of a group of first year boys at the end of the hall.
Girls are nice, but he can’t say that he’s ever really understood the obsession over them. “Me neither, hyung,” Kyungsoo, another one of Minseok’s neighborhood dongsaengs, says one day while they’re having a movie marathon in Minseok’s house.
“I like their boobs,” Minseok says fairly, trying to think of why some men don’t hesitate to ridicule themselves in every way, shape, and form to try to get a woman. “Boobs are pretty nice.”
Kyungsoo nods. “Boobs are nice.”
(That year, Minseok also ends up with his hands holding Yixing’s thighs around his waist, hips stuttering up against her until she muffles a scream against his shoulder and he muffles his grin against her soft, brown hair, eyes scrunching shut as he comes)
Girls are okay.
Successfully completing his first semester as a university student, easily passing his rush week and making it into his fraternity of choice, and Minseok has discovered that in college, girls seem to skip the stages of pretending as though they have some sort of other motive towards him-i.e., Korean tutoring (Wufan), how does high school work (Jongin), come to my guitar concert (Yixing)-and move straight on to pressing their palm between his legs. He does suppose that part of this may be attributed to the fact that as most girls make their shot at him when both he and they are relatively intoxicated in a dimly lit party where neither of them can hear each other over the booming bass.
It’s so straightforward that he’s resorted to try to get over the monotony by resolving not to have the same girl in the same week. The university doesn’t have that large of a female population, so Minseok has to eventually settle for repeats, but as it stands, he’s still making his way through the line of girls that want to sit on his lap (amongst other things).
Tonight’s party seems to drag on particularly slowly, and Minseok knows it’s because Hakyeon thinks it’s appropriately funny and well-earned revenge to not let Minseok have any of tonight’s tequila. This only leaves beer and eight-dollar-wine that Minseok has been drinking like water and still feels nothing from.
Junmyeon is once again absent, so Minseok has been sitting with Yixing for the past hour. Dongwoo had been there for a time as well, but he’d left to go dance in the shadows with a girl who’d pulled him along half an hour ago. Minseok is seriously considering just falling asleep on Yixing’s shoulder when she suddenly taps his hand and pops up to her feet, skirt riding up from the movement. “What?” Minseok says blankly.
“Wufan’s here,” Yixing says brightly. “She was getting Luhan so you she can meet everyone.”
Minseok stands up as well. “You mean she’ll get hit on by Hakyeon and then shit-faced her first night on Korean soil.” But he pastes on an appropriate smile by the time Wufan, in something sheer and slinky that ends barely below her ass, maneuvers through the crowd to stand in front of them with her cousin with her.
If Wufan is a model, and Yixing is the warm class crush, Luhan is a doll. She’s smaller than both her cousin and Yixing, with hair dyed strawberry blonde and large eyes framed by copious amounts of shimmering liner. Her dress doesn’t end much past what it needs to cover either, and it only goes up barely past what it needs to clothe of her full breasts.
He takes her small hand and shakes it, bowing his head at the same time she dips hers. “Kim Minseok,” he says with a brisk, quick smile.
“Luhan,” she chirps cheerily, and Minseok snorts, glancing up at Wufan.
“You pregamed without me,” he accuses.
“You shouldn’t have texted me that Hakyeon’s hoarding the tequila,” Wufan retorts. “One of us has to live to not-remember this night.”
Minseok rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, “save yourself-abandon me.”
Wufan salutes him playfully, flashing open her purse and Minseok only then realizes why she’s brought the largest pocket of skinned animal he’s ever seen. Inside are two bottles of unopened jäger.
“My firstborn child,” Minseok offers desperately.
Wufan wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want your children. That’s why we used a condom.”
Minseok wonders if he’s drunk enough to whine. Hell, he’ll whine sober. His dignity is nothing in the face of this party, and the fact that it’s half past midnight and he can still walk straight.
“Here,” Luhan says, slipping her hands into Wufan’s purse and pulling out one of the bottles. “You don’t need both-you’ll die. Just take that one for you and Yixing, and I’ll share this one with him.”
And with the incredulous look Wufan gives Luhan and then Minseok, with the look Luhan is giving Minseok, with the amused smile Yixing has on her face at all of this, Minseok begins to once-over Luhan because all four of them know what Minseok is going to be doing tonight. It’s a little less straightforward than all his previous nights so far, so Minseok is at least grateful for that break in the pattern.
“Be safe,” Wufan says flatly, as Yixing laughs and follows her through the crowd. Minseok knows they’ll probably try to lure in some of his other frat mates to drink with them in one of the bedrooms.
But Minseok is already scrambling for plastic cups, coming up from the drinks table back to the sofa with two in hand and Luhan is already breaking the seal, the cap of the bottle balanced on one of her thighs. He sits down next to her, holding the cups out as she pours generously into each of them. He didn’t think he’d be bringing anyone back to his room tonight so he’d done one of his full-cleanings, which was going to be made pointless in the morning. It’d be worth it, though, he supposed. Luhan’s pretty, just like Wufan, but a softer pretty than all the sharp angles and lines her cousin is.
“So,” Minseok says, as Luhan takes a rather impressively sized gulp. “What’s up with you?”
Luhan licks her glossed lips, eyes narrowing unfocusedly and Minseok vows to raid Wufan’s dorm because how dare she pregame without him he thought they were friends they’ve known each other since high school. “Um,” she says, “I like soccer.”
Minseok grins.
He doesn’t move.
He can’t show any sign of life or response because that’s the only way he’ll get her to leave the room without having to talk to her. Although he supposes that that might not be the greatest way to approach this because she is Wufan’s cousin, so she’ll probably be around more often than not from here on out. But then again, Wufan has said that she doesn’t really like Luhan and eventually most all girls get over how Minseok is very, very determinedly asleep until they leave and they come back for him again anyhow.
He hears her finish dressing and he thinks maybe she’s distracted enough trying to lace up those monstrosities that she was wearing last night back on her feet that she won’t notice him rolling onto his side to face away from the sun. He’s midway through his roll when suddenly he feels the mattress give and the he feels her hands on his face, palms squeezing his cheeks, her voice eager and excited and shrilly singing, “I love your cheeks-you’re so cute.”
Minseok bolts up into a sitting position and scrambles away from her. He sees that she’s not actually dressed yet-she’s just put her bra and thong back on. She looks surprised as he meets her eyes. “Oh,” she says. “You’re awake.”
He stares at her incredulously and wonders how anyone wouldn’t be awake after nearly having their face broken. “What the fuck is wrong with y-”
“D’you wanna get breakfast together?” she asks, stretching happily. The sunlight dances in her blonde hair, plays against her pale, bare skin.
Minseok continues to stare incredulously because she almost broke his face.
When a minute passes without his reply, her expression goes from content to pitying and she leans in to pat his face again. “You’re hungover,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll be quiet and leave now. I’ll ask Wufan later for your number so we can hang out,” she adds at the end in a cheerful afterthought.
He watches, in a stupor, as she finishes putting on her clothes, strapping her heels back on, gathering her purse and phone before she heads for the door. However, Luhan doesn’t seem to think it’s appropriate to leave before looking at Minseok and cooing one more time, “You’re so cute.”
Minseok searches for his aspirin.
Girls like targeting Minseok’s body-all parts of it. They’d straddle his waist, sit across his thighs, drag their lip-glossed lips over his neck and chest and collarbone, purposefully pepper lipstick marks against his mouth and throat, (curl their pretty hands around the base of his cock, squeeze their soft pale thighs around him as he fucks into them), but not many of them have ever targeted his cheeks before.
Not many (not any) of them have tried to break his face.
And not even in a sexy, kinky sort of way.
But like-
Break his face.
(and call him cute
not many have done that before)
The new semester starts to kick in by the second week, and everyone is too busy to do anything other than get adjusted to their new classes and professors for a while. Minseok is either cooped up in his room trying to write up another paper or in studio trying not to cut his own fingers off in trying to cut out the shape of his new model. He only ever sees anyone in passing-sees Junmyeon once during the next few weeks, Wufan twice, Yixing twice, and Luhan never.
It’s an entire two weeks later before there’s another party at the house, and by then, Minseok has mostly forgotten about how Luhan tried to break his face. This time, this Friday, he’s far more gone than he was two weeks ago. He’d pregamed with Hakyeon in the latter’s room, he’d stolen Junmyeon’s last Smirnoff, and he still had the stash of wine he’d stolen from Wufan’s dorm the other day. This time, Minseok stumbles face first into Luhan’s lap, and from how he’s facing, he finds himself looking straight at the tiny triangle of hot pink silk beneath the single layer of cloth that’s her skirt.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, and he can’t even really see her face-he’s just focusing on how her top is so sheer he can see through to the undercurve of her breasts.
“Thanks,” Luhan smiles and leans down over him, holding her hair back in her hands so it doesn’t get into his face when she presses her mouth onto his.
(And this time, when Minseok wakes up, he doesn’t pretend to be asleep while Luhan bounces on his bed and suggests that they go out for coffee together. This time, he yawns, drags himself into a pair of sweatpants, gives Luhan his t-shirt and boxers to wear over her bra and panties and they go downstairs to where Hakyeon nearly has a heart attack by the coffeemaker when he sees them.
“So,” Minseok says, when he’s made sure that Hakyeon has stopped being a nosy frat mate and isn’t eavesdropping from the staircase, “you said you like soccer, right?”
Luhan licks the coffee from her lips and nods, eyes crinkling when she smiles.)