Ladylike [1]
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jongin discovers gender norms don’t mean shit.
Warnings: Homophobia, cross-dressing, mentions of drugs (gender fluidity mostly, but there’s not a lot of labeling of genders for Sehun. Referring to him as ‘he’ even though he doesn’t specifically identify as male or female was more for ease of writing than anything. Sorry if that offends anyone, but when you’re writing a 10k+ word fic on your phone sometimes you don’t even want to punctuate, lmao).
Notes: hello i don’t have internet, still, and this fic was 100% written on mobile (and for half of this fic i was even overseas, typing away ‘offline’ whenever i had free time) so i apologize for any and all errors as i simply don’t have the energy to read through it and find them all aha. Tbh i just wanted to self-indulge with a sehun that cross-dresses to the nines and a down-to-earth, dorky, ‘older’ jongin. Is that so wrong????? P.s. Idk when i will be getting internet at home (could be next month, could be in two months, could be never lmao we are so broke) so there’s that. But rest assured i am writing away, per usual, either on my phone or in my notebooks. I really appreciate everyone who has taken the time in the past few months to wish me well and check up on me, i really don’t deserve you sweet people in my life :( i love you all :( <3 also i’m very sorry about the last fic i posted, i realize it is atrocious but i’m a firm believer in not deleting anything i post… so i can learn… in the future… to not be so stupid. Tyvm.
ladylike;
Is this love?
Jongin can’t be sure. He’s had four too many shots of tequila, the music is blaring way too loud because he’s dancing right by the speakers, but he’s pretty sure he’s in love with the honey currently grinding her ass against his crotch. He’s got a drink in one hand, the other hand resting on the swell of that tight, pert ass, his lips parted and his eyes zeroed in on the way that her hips move. She seems to be better off, though -- she’s got a water bottle in her hand, her hair up in a ponytail to keep the baby pink locks off of her slender nape. She’s fairly tall but every girl in this club is wearing stilettos, so the fact that she’s almost nose-to-nose with Jongin doesn’t throw him off in the slightest. Her skirt is short, her crop top is shorter, and she doesn’t have a rack but the subtle curves are more than enough for Jongin’s mind to work with.
Bodies thrumming around them keep them from getting more than an inch apart. Jongin won’t complain.
This is love.
The song ends and she disappears as quickly as she had appeared. Jongin is left awkwardly bopping along next to the speaker before he catches sight of his buddy, and then he makes a beeline through the crowd in order to reach the safety of the tables.
“Dude!” Chanyeol slaps Jongin on the back hard enough that some of Jongin’s drink sloshes out of his glass. “That chick was hot, did you get her number?”
Jongin shakes his head, “No, I barely even got to look at her face.”
“She was smokin,” Chanyeol assures Jongin. Then again, they’re both probably so drunk Chanyeol would gladly call every single person in this club, man or woman, hotter than hell.
“You ready to get outta here?” Jongin asks, tanking the rest of his drink in one chug and setting the empty glass down on the table unnecessarily loud.
“Yeah man. We should come back tomorrow!” Chanyeol hoots, wrapping his arm around Jongin’s shoulders.
Jongin nods, but grins to himself because no matter how excited Chanyeol always is about ‘the next day’... his hangover always has different plans.
God bless gatorade and breakfast burritos.
--
For once, the next day, Chanyeol is still set on going back out to the club. Jongin is surprised, and he pauses the video game he’s playing to stare up at Chanyeol with a rather dubious expression.
“Are you serious? Friday always murders you, you never want to go out on Saturday,” he says.
Chanyeol stuffs the rest of his burrito in his face. “You should try and find that girl again.”
Jongin unpauses his game and stares dead at the tv, “The odds of her being there tonight are very slim. She wasn’t even drinking.”
“So then you shouldn’t drink tonight!” Chanyeol says with conviction.
“You say that now, but you and I both know that as soon as we get close to the bar you’re going to buy us at least three rounds of shots,” Jongin grouses.
“Yeah,” there’s no shame in Chanyeol’s voice. “You’re right.”
“Besides, I was so tanked last night, that girl probably wouldn’t be happy to see me. My hand was basically under her skirt.” Jongin laments the thought, really. He just couldn’t help it. She was so damn attractive, her body was amazing and it’s not like she told him to stop (which he would have immediately had she asked).
“How many girls there were jealous though?” There’s some clamoring coming from the sink and Jongin is thankful that Chanyeol is actually cleaning up after himself. “You had so many girls all up on you, and you ended up dancing with her.”
“For one song.” Jongin pauses the game again, and then drapes over the back of the couch to watch his roommate dry dishes. “Quit talking about me like that.”
“Like what?” Chanyeol asks, glancing up from drying the pan they’d used to make their burritos.
“Like I’m some hot dude that all the girls were drooling over,” Jongin puffs his cheeks a bit, frowning.
Chanyeol guffaws, before rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “Riiiight, because you’re not attractive at all, Jongin. Fuckin’ ugly. Mean muggin’.”
Knowing that it’s useless to try and get Chanyeol to take Jongin off of the pedestal he’s put the younger on for years, Jongin huffs and returns back to his game.
“So we’re going right?” Chanyeol asks after a few minutes of machine gun fire.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin mumbles, pulling the grenade trigger.
--
For all Chanyeol talks up Jongin, Chanyeol himself is quite the ladies’ man. Tall with a disarming smile and surprisingly charming words, girls flock to him. He and Jongin complement each other well, and have for their whole lives. Whenever they go to the bar they are each other’s wingmen, ready to jump in and help a fellow comrade in action.
Tonight is no different. The second they get past the velvet rope Chanyeol’s head is on swivel and Jongin knows he’s looking for that girl. Jongin is trying to stay relaxed, but he’s also keeping an eye out for a baby pink ponytail and legs that go for miles.
Sure enough, Chanyeol buys drinks for both of them. And sure enough it’s a repeat of last night with little to no shame or self-control, with Chanyeol smooth talking two girls and probably hoping that he’ll be able to take them both home tonight. Jongin is ignoring them, sitting on a stool at a table next to the booth Chanyeol and the girls are occupying, his gaze on the crowd. The DJ is playing a good set, one that has Jongin itching to get onto the floor… but a part of him is still stupidly waiting for Baby Pink to take his hand (and his heart) again.
Suddenly his vision goes dark and Jongin immediately tenses, reaching up to grab at slender wrists. He hears a giggle through all the bass floating in the air, and when the hands come down and he turns to see who’s behind him, his throat dries up.
Baby Pink is giving him a smug little smile, hazel circle lenses reflecting the colored strobe lights, pink bangs falling to frame one side of her face cutely. Jongin’s lips flap unattractively for a second before he clears his throat, sending her a dazed smile.
“You must be psychic.” He says.
“Can’t get me off your mind?” Baby Pink asks, stepping up to Jongin’s tall table and resting her elbows on it. Bent like this, she has no cleavage, but Jongin’s eyes are glued to her features. She is gorgeous, just like Chanyeol said. Her hair is up in only a high half ponytail tonight, the bulk of the locks falling over her shoulders in loose waves.
“Not at all,” he admits. Oh, liquid courage.
Something flashes in Baby Pink’s eyes. A little something akin to hesitation, and immediately Jongin opens his mouth to take back his words.
“I mean-- I just-- last night I got a little handsy and I wanted to see you tonight so I could apologize,” he says quickly, feeling his cheeks color.
Baby Pink blinks in surprise, and then covers her mouth as she laughs. “Oh-- honestly it’s fine. You weren’t as handsy as most of the other guys in this club.”
That makes Jongin a little mad, actually. Thinking about the fact that Baby Pink probably gets harassed every time she’s here gets under his skin, and he sends a cursory glance around the club to see quite a few eyes lingering over Baby Pink’s figure as she leans against the table.
“You ok?” She asks, bringing Jongin out of his thoughts.
“Uh,” Jongin replies intelligibly, then quickly stands, offering his seat to her. “Do you want to sit? I’ll go get you a water.”
She, again, seems surprised by his words. A bit cautiously, she sits down on the vacated stool, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Tonight she’s wearing a long sleeved crop top and a high waisted skirt, and… oh. No heels. So she’s just that tall, it seems. No matter. She’s still an angel.
“I would like that,” she finally answers, sending Jongin a shy smile. “Thank you.”
Flashing her a smile in return, he nods. “Ok. Be right back.”
He knows that she’s in proximity of Chanyeol’s watchful eye, whether or not it seems like the other man is paying attention. He makes quick work of going to the bar and getting two bottles of water, and then heads back to the table to stand next to her. Cracking open a bottle, he hands it to her before opening one up for himself.
“No one’s offered to get me water before,” she observes, taking a sip. Jongin is amazed that her lip stain doesn’t smudge.
Shrugging, he tries to act nonchalant about it. “Well-- last night you were drinking water and dancing pretty hard, so I’m guessing you’re not really a drinker.”
“Ding ding~” she laughs a little, nodding. “Correct. Actually, I’m allergic to hops so I can’t drink most beers, and hard liquor makes me puke before it gets me drunk.”
Jongin winces. “That’s rough.”
She shrugs, looking out at the dance floor and speaking with her lips against the rim of her water bottle. “I’m not old enough to drink, anyway.”
Jongin’s eyes drop to her hands. Sure enough, there’s black X’s crossed on the backs of her hands and wow, how had he not noticed that before? He feels himself start to sweat a little bit. Well, you have to be at least eighteen to get into this club, so unless she has a fake I.D., he’s safe.
“I am old enough to be here,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s so adorable.
Jongin breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that-- I mean, you don’t seem… um. I thought you were around my age.” He chugs his water in an attempt to shut himself up.
“Oh? Are you an old man?” She asks, cheeky. Her lips are thin but the way they quirk when she’s teasing is enough to drive Jongin wild.
“I’m not old,” Jongin snorts a little, catching on to the teasing mood. “Just… mature.”
“So you’re like thirty,” she deadpans, arching a brow. He can see the twinkle in her eye.
“I’m closer to thirty than I am to twenty,” he counters.
Her eyes give him a very slow, intense once-over, before she prims a little. “But you probably still play online MMORPGs and hang out in your sweats for days until you need to go somewhere.”
Jongin lifts a finger to his mouth, looking around suspiciously. “Shhh, don’t ruin my unattainable bachelor image--”
The little shrieking laugh Baby Pink lets out is too cute for words, but when she reaches to playfully smack his shoulder, Jongin is struck by how much it hurts. Like, he had to brace himself to keep from falling over. Holy hell.
She’s oblivious to his plight, though, and covers her mouth in mild embarrassment from the noise she’d let out. Rubbing his shoulder, Jongin leans in again, feeling a bit more clear-headed now that he’s got some water in his system.
“You wanna go dance?”
Baby Pink’s false eyelashes look like they could fly Jongin away as they flutter coyly at his question, like she didn’t have her ass on his dick last night. Grinning, he grabs her hand and helps her off the stool, leading her into the crowd. There are lots of people looking her way, guys and girls, but Jongin pays them no mind as they make their way into the center of the throng.
This time, though, he faces her. His hands hover over her hips, not quite touching as they start to sway to the music. The floor is vibrating from the speakers and she looks up at him through her lashes and he sees the highlights of her cheeks and cupid’s bow and wow, she’s so pretty.
This is fucking head over heels love.
Her arms finally raise up to drape over his shoulders and for once, Jongin thinks that dancing with a tall girl isn’t bad at all. His knee isn’t in an awkward place, his neck doesn’t feel like it’s going to break because he has to look down at her. This is actually really nice. And she’s curvy but she’s solid, a lot like that hit to his shoulder earlier, and there’s something about that he loves. Something about that he knows he’d love in other situations, too.
“You look a little star struck,” she says over the music, her smirk confident but her eyes hesitant.
“You look like a star,” he blurts out, and then tries to backtrack. “I mean you look-- like you’re so bright. Like um. Uh-- glittery?”
She laughs, head tilting as she pulls him closer, his hands finally resting on her hips. “I am wearing some glitter, yes.”
He bites back a groan, embarrassed at how much of an idiot he’s become. “I mean I am-- you’re beautiful. I’m awe-struck.”
Baby Pink’s grip on his shoulders loosens and she searches his eyes after he says those words, like she doesn’t believe he said them. But he did, and he meant it, and ok so he’s twenty-six and hangs out in his sweats every day of his damn life so he doesn’t really have any legitimate dating experience and yes, yes alcohol and club atmospheres are highly influential but Jongin knows, he fucking knows that if he saw this girl in the fricking 7/11 he would have approached her.
Her moment of hesitation ends when she pulls away from him totally, her hands on his chest. Confused, Jongin’s brow furrows and he lifts his hands, about to rest them over hers, but then she ducks her head, her bangs hiding her eyes.
“I’m sorry. You’re really nice, but-- I’m sorry.”
When she leaves him on the dance floor he doesn’t move for a good minute, until he gets bumped by someone dancing behind him. Jostled, he makes his way back to the booth where Chanyeol has his arms draped around both girls on either side of him. The girls are giggling and cooing over Chanyeol, and Jongin stops by the table.
“Oh, hey man--” Chanyeol grins doofily up at him, then waggles his brows. “You heading home already huh? My good man. My sweet lil’ bro. Where is she? Introduce us! I need to know the name of the girl I’ll be making breakfast for in the mor--”
“She left,” Jongin says, cutting Chanyeol off. He rubs the back of his neck and ruffles his hair uncomfortably as Chanyeol blinks stupidly at him. “Uh, I’m going home. So. Yeah. See you.”
Jongin leaves the club, bracing himself against the chilly Spring evening. The sky is clear of clouds, stars out and twinkling mockingly at him, like they know Jongin had just compared Baby Pink’s beauty to theirs. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans he hunches his shoulders up a bit, ears cold as he ambles along. He idly hopes that if Chanyeol manages to bring those girls home with him that he turns on some music or something so Jongin won’t have to hear it. Ah, scratch that -- Jongin will just fall asleep with his headphones in. Nip that in the bud.
“Hey, c’mon, you’re too good for us?”
Jongin’s ears pick up voices in an alley he passes, and he gives it a cursory glance. This part of town isn’t exactly dangerous, but muggings happen and most every citizen knows better than to stick their nose into business that doesn’t involve them. However, Jongin’s gaze catches sight of baby pink hair and he feels his feet propelling him towards the situation without his permission.
Great.
“Come home with us,” one guy says. His voice is sleazy, and he’s got Baby Pink by the wrist. “I bet you can show us a real good time.”
“No,” Baby Pink yanks her hand away, and the guys all seem surprised by her strength. “Get lost.” Her voice is hard. A bit deep, even.
“Now you’re just making things interesting,” one of the guys says, and he takes a step towards her -- but then Jongin is there standing between them, blocking Baby Pink from their lecherous gazes.
“Didn’t you hear her?” Jongin asks, looking between the three men. His chest is puffed a bit, gaze narrowed, and he hasn’t hit the gym in like two weeks but he’d like to think he could hold his own. Maybe. “Get lost.”
The men all laugh, and one of them points. “This fag thinks he can take us?”
Another one jeers, “Yeah right! Come at us, queer.”
Jongin is tensed, but he won’t strike first. Their comments seem odd though. Like yeah, he’s maybe a bit on the skinnier side lately, but his long sleeved shirt is concealing his ripped biceps, ok? And he’s pretty sure he could break a skull on his six pack. His fashion isn’t spectacular and his hair is average… By default, those insults don’t really apply.
“Jongin!” Chanyeol’s voice comes from the mouth of the alley, and ok, Jongin might not seem that threatening but Chanyeol’s biceps are visible tonight. Damn it. Wardrobe malfunction on Jongin’s part.
The three men seem to reconsider their odds now that Chanyeol has joined the picture. And for as goofy and sweet Chanyeol can be, he’s got a mean glare that shoots daggers. The men eventually drop back, one of them mumbling ‘whatever, bunch of fags’, before they all head out towards the opposite end of the alley.
“Are you guys ok?” Chanyeol asks, worry lacing his voice.
“What happened to those girls?” Jongin asks dumbly.
Baby Pink covers her eyes and lets out a little sob. Startling into action, Jongin moves towards her, hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
“Are you ok? I-- I’m sorry, crap, are you cold? Do you want me to call you a cab?” It all comes tumbling out of his mouth, and he’s surprised when Baby Pink reaches up to weakly hit his shoulders.
“You weren’t supposed to save me,” she says, tears tracking through her BB cream. One of her false eyelashes is coming off in the inner corner, and Jongin still thinks she’s beautiful. “Why is it you?”
Jongin isn’t sure what that means, but he wraps her up in his arms anyway, tossing Chanyeol a helpless look. Chanyeol pulls out his phone and dials for a taxi, and Jongin starts leading her back towards the main street.
“We’ll get you home, ok?” Jongin reassures her, rubbing his hand over her arm to try and generate some warmth.
Baby Pink says nothing, staring at the ground when they reach the sidewalk. Chanyeol hangs up and stands on Baby Pink’s other side and together he and Jongin keep her in a safe little cocoon, blocked from the wind and blocked from most people walking and driving by. Jongin chances a glance down at her; her hair is coming out of the cute little pony, mascara is now smearing into her BB cream, and Jongin is still smitten.
Angry that this happened to her -- but still smitten.
“Thank you guys,” Baby Pink finally says, voice quiet. She hiccups a little, reaching up to drag her knuckle over her cheeks. It’s a mess. “You’re… the nicest guys I’ve ever met…”
Chanyeol arches a brow, “That doesn’t sound right at all.”
Baby Pink pouts a little, stomping her foot. “Most every guy would have looked the other way. No one wants to help me when stuff like that happens. And why should they…” She takes in a shuddering breath, and then sniffles.
“It was the right thing to do,” Jongin says, giving her surprisingly broad shoulders a squeeze. “If it weren’t us, someone else would have saved you.”
She gives a rueful smile as the taxi cab pulls up to the curb, “No, they wouldn’t have.”
Cold blasts Jongin’s side when Baby Pink leaves him and moves towards the taxi. She opens the door and turns around to look at Chanyeol and Jongin, sending them a small smile. “I’m really glad I met you.” Her eyes rest on Jongin. “Thank you. But… we won’t see each other again. I’m sorry.”
Before Jongin can even react to her words, the door to the taxi is shut and the yellow cab is driving off, merging into traffic. Belatedly, Jongin yells out a ‘wait!’, jogging a few paces down the sidewalk to try and keep sight of the taxi. When he loses it at the light he slows to a stop and tugs at his hair, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Fuck!”
--
All day Sunday Jongin doesn’t leave his room. He keeps thinking about Baby Pink -- about how things had gone from so good to so bad so quick. It gives him a headache, trying to figure out why those guys were picking on her in the alley. Their homophobic slurs were especially curious; then again, so many idiots throw those around like confetti, so he’s not terribly surprised to hear them directed at him for any reason.
On Monday he goes to work with a smile, even though he feels like shit. He coaches little league soccer so it’s not like he can be a grouch around all those cute kids. By the time practice is over and he’s packing up his duffel bag, he’s starting to come to terms with the fact that perhaps what happened was for the best. He doesn’t even know Baby Pink’s name, and she is freshly eighteen, phew.
Nothing but trouble, Kim Jongin. You had fun, you did a good deed… time to move on.
That’s what he convinces himself of for two weeks.
--
At the supermarket he’s got a basket draped in the crook of his arm as he browses produce, knowing he needs to eat less shit and work out more. One of his abs is on the verge of disappearing. Just one. Not the pair, not both of his lower abs -- just the left lowest one. It’s quite annoying. He’s got broccoli (he hates it), carrots (they’re ok), eggplant (lots of garlic), and he’s in front of the avocados, staring at them a bit perplexed. He has no idea how to pick a good avocado. At all. He likes them -- quite a lot actually, but he’s never actually bought them himself.
Stepping closer to the stand, he reaches out and starts curiously squeezing them. That’s the general consensus of produce, right? Squeezing to see how ripe it is. Although he’s not sure if avocados are supposed to be squishy or firm… Almost all of them are right between the two opposites.
As Jongin stands there contemplating just how badly he actually wants avocados, another hand starts picking through the greenery. Jongin’s eyes catch delicate wrists and long fingers and huh, something is really familiar about those hands. He doesn’t want to be rude, so he doesn’t chance a glance at the person’s features, and instead starts to reach out to squeeze the avocados some more.
The person next to him grabs five fairly quickly, putting them in their basket. Jongin blinks at the accuracy and confidence, and his mouth opens before he can stop it.
“How do you know which ones are ripe?”
He and the stranger make eye contact, and Jongin finds himself staring at a teenage boy. Taller than Jongin by a fraction, but the kid’s figure is shrouded in comfy, baggy clothes that seem to hang off of a lanky frame. His chin-length hair is dyed a soft, baby pink, his skin porcelain white, thin lips parted in surprise.
Maybe it was love, after all.
He’d recognize that face anywhere.
“Baby Pink?” Jongin blurts out. God damn it.
“Shit,” the kid almost drops his basket, taking a few steps back before spinning on his heel and making a beeline towards the front of the store.
“Wait--! Fuck,” Jongin swears, quickly following after Baby Pink. His brain can’t even catch up with the situation, his body acting all on its own to follow the kid towards the front of the store.
Baby Pink is hovering by the cash registers, looking torn between buying the groceries gathered in his basket and dumping them altogether and making a break for the exit. Jongin slows down, feeling much like a human approaching a startled deer, and he clears his throat softly.
“Hey, um-- don’t run away from me? Please?” Jongin says quietly.
Baby Pink’s shoulders tense and he sends Jongin a wary look, feet shifting.
“Look, I don’t care,” Jongin licks his lips. “I don’t care that this is what you look like right now, ok? Can we just-- buy our groceries and talk? Please?” He knows that whether Baby Pink is a male or female is quite irrelevant. No one has made him feel the way Baby Pink did, with laughter and jokes and sweetness that made Jongin forget about how freaking awkward he can get with people.
“...” Baby Pink shifts on his feet, before he nods. “Ok. Meet me outside.”
Jongin smiles the biggest he has in weeks, nodding. “Ok.”
Baby Pink flushes a bit, getting in line at a register and turning his back to Jongin.
Jongin still has more shopping to do, so he goes back through the aisles with a bit of a bounce in his step. He has no idea what he’ll say to Baby Pink, or if he’ll be able to find words at all. He just knows that he has to know him, has to talk to him again, see his smile again.
Ten minutes feels like an eternity. But Chanyeol had wanted some obscure brand of granola and it had taken Jongin way too long to find it. By the time he pays for his groceries and gets them secured in his reusable grocery bags he’s sure Baby Pink has left him for good. He thanks the cashier hurriedly and then zips out of the store, looking around furtively before seeing Baby Pink sitting on a bench, grocery bag placed next to him. He’s got headphones in and he’s staring at his phone -- Jongin walks up to him, adjusting his grip on the handles of his bag.
“Hey…”
Baby Pink looks up and then pulls out an earbud, pointedly looking away from Jongin and scooting over on the bench. Taking the silent invitation, Jongin sits next to him and clears his throat softly, before holding out his hand.
“I’m Jongin.”
Baby Pink’s head turns so fast in surprise, Jongin thinks he might have whiplash. The younger stares at Jongin’s hand for a good three seconds before he reaches his own out, hesitantly gripping at Jongin’s bigger, more tan hand.
“... Sehun.”
Sehun. Jongin can’t help but smile.
“Much better than Baby Pink,” Jongin says.
“I dunno,” Sehun pulls his hand back and tucks it under the fleshy part of his thigh, shrugging. “Baby Pink is kind of cute.”
Chuckling, Jongin nods and leans back against the bench a little bit. A few moments of silence pass, and when he’s sure Sehun isn’t going to say anything, Jongin drums his fingers idly over his knee.
“I’m not mad,” Jongin says. Sehun flinches a little. “Honestly, I don’t care Sehun. I had a really good time with you. I liked dancing with you and talking to you.”
“Even though you thought I was a girl?” Sehun asks, his eyes on the ground.
Jongin shrugs, “I mean-- I didn’t think you weren’t a girl, but I also wasn’t really paying attention to your gender specifically.”
Sehun casts Jongin a wary eye, “Most… guys don’t think like that.”
Jongin offers an idle smile, “Well. I guess I’m not most guys.”
Sehun’s nose wrinkles. “That’s such a cliche line.”
Jongin laughs. “You were right, though. I hang out in my sweats and hate putting on real clothes so much that I coach little league soccer and change out of sweats into athletic clothes. I play MMORPGs until my vision goes blurry and my pits start to stink. I had a girlfriend in high school but she dumped me because I wasn’t as ‘manly’ as the other guy trying to get her attention. After I met him, I realized she had mistaken ‘manly’ for ‘douche bag’ and I was actually really glad we split.” He ruffles his hair, and then pulls idly at the fabric of the sweats he’s wearing. “I’m a slob with a full time job and a credit card I pay on time and I let my roommate get me trashed on the weekends, but… the Baby Pink I met, and who is sitting next to me right now, is more than just a gender.”
Sehun stays quiet.
“More than just skimpy clothes and long hair and lip gloss,” Jongin continues, glancing over at Sehun, seeing the flush on the other’s cheeks. “But you were different. You didn’t treat me like you wanted to find a corner and bang.”
Sehun’s brow furrows and he sends Jongin an incredulous look, to which Jongin laughs in embarrassment.
“I mean-- I think you know what I mean.”
“I was a bitch,” Sehun says, not really sounding very apologetic.
Jongin shrugs. “I liked it.”
“You’re a masochist,” Sehun gruffs.
“Only if you’re into sadism,” Jongin says with a sleazy smile.
Sehun abruptly stands up and Jongin is startled, suddenly thinking that Sehun is tired of his shit. Jongin’s spine straightens and he reaches up to -- to what? Grab Sehun’s hand and dramatically demand he stay? Ha.
“Give me your phone number.” Sehun says, his narrowed gaze on the pavement beneath their sneakered feet.
Jongin blinks a few times, and then closes his flapping lips. “Uh-- yeah.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, handing it over without a second thought. Sehun keys in his number and sends a text to himself, and then hands Jongin’s phone back -- all without meeting his gaze.
“It’s easier to get ahold of me in the evenings, I’m usually in classes all day,” Sehun mumbles, before he starts gathering his grocery bags, plastic winding around long, slender fingers.
“Ok,” Jongin still sounds a bit dumbfounded, and when Sehun sends him a curious glance, he offers a lopsided grin, all teeth, in return.
Sehun huffs and turns on heel, speed-walking towards the bus-stop.
[ next]
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jongin discovers gender norms don’t mean shit.
Warnings: Homophobia, cross-dressing, mentions of drugs (gender fluidity mostly, but there’s not a lot of labeling of genders for Sehun. Referring to him as ‘he’ even though he doesn’t specifically identify as male or female was more for ease of writing than anything. Sorry if that offends anyone, but when you’re writing a 10k+ word fic on your phone sometimes you don’t even want to punctuate, lmao).
Notes: hello i don’t have internet, still, and this fic was 100% written on mobile (and for half of this fic i was even overseas, typing away ‘offline’ whenever i had free time) so i apologize for any and all errors as i simply don’t have the energy to read through it and find them all aha. Tbh i just wanted to self-indulge with a sehun that cross-dresses to the nines and a down-to-earth, dorky, ‘older’ jongin. Is that so wrong????? P.s. Idk when i will be getting internet at home (could be next month, could be in two months, could be never lmao we are so broke) so there’s that. But rest assured i am writing away, per usual, either on my phone or in my notebooks. I really appreciate everyone who has taken the time in the past few months to wish me well and check up on me, i really don’t deserve you sweet people in my life :( i love you all :( <3 also i’m very sorry about the last fic i posted, i realize it is atrocious but i’m a firm believer in not deleting anything i post… so i can learn… in the future… to not be so stupid. Tyvm.
ladylike;
Is this love?
Jongin can’t be sure. He’s had four too many shots of tequila, the music is blaring way too loud because he’s dancing right by the speakers, but he’s pretty sure he’s in love with the honey currently grinding her ass against his crotch. He’s got a drink in one hand, the other hand resting on the swell of that tight, pert ass, his lips parted and his eyes zeroed in on the way that her hips move. She seems to be better off, though -- she’s got a water bottle in her hand, her hair up in a ponytail to keep the baby pink locks off of her slender nape. She’s fairly tall but every girl in this club is wearing stilettos, so the fact that she’s almost nose-to-nose with Jongin doesn’t throw him off in the slightest. Her skirt is short, her crop top is shorter, and she doesn’t have a rack but the subtle curves are more than enough for Jongin’s mind to work with.
Bodies thrumming around them keep them from getting more than an inch apart. Jongin won’t complain.
This is love.
The song ends and she disappears as quickly as she had appeared. Jongin is left awkwardly bopping along next to the speaker before he catches sight of his buddy, and then he makes a beeline through the crowd in order to reach the safety of the tables.
“Dude!” Chanyeol slaps Jongin on the back hard enough that some of Jongin’s drink sloshes out of his glass. “That chick was hot, did you get her number?”
Jongin shakes his head, “No, I barely even got to look at her face.”
“She was smokin,” Chanyeol assures Jongin. Then again, they’re both probably so drunk Chanyeol would gladly call every single person in this club, man or woman, hotter than hell.
“You ready to get outta here?” Jongin asks, tanking the rest of his drink in one chug and setting the empty glass down on the table unnecessarily loud.
“Yeah man. We should come back tomorrow!” Chanyeol hoots, wrapping his arm around Jongin’s shoulders.
Jongin nods, but grins to himself because no matter how excited Chanyeol always is about ‘the next day’... his hangover always has different plans.
God bless gatorade and breakfast burritos.
--
For once, the next day, Chanyeol is still set on going back out to the club. Jongin is surprised, and he pauses the video game he’s playing to stare up at Chanyeol with a rather dubious expression.
“Are you serious? Friday always murders you, you never want to go out on Saturday,” he says.
Chanyeol stuffs the rest of his burrito in his face. “You should try and find that girl again.”
Jongin unpauses his game and stares dead at the tv, “The odds of her being there tonight are very slim. She wasn’t even drinking.”
“So then you shouldn’t drink tonight!” Chanyeol says with conviction.
“You say that now, but you and I both know that as soon as we get close to the bar you’re going to buy us at least three rounds of shots,” Jongin grouses.
“Yeah,” there’s no shame in Chanyeol’s voice. “You’re right.”
“Besides, I was so tanked last night, that girl probably wouldn’t be happy to see me. My hand was basically under her skirt.” Jongin laments the thought, really. He just couldn’t help it. She was so damn attractive, her body was amazing and it’s not like she told him to stop (which he would have immediately had she asked).
“How many girls there were jealous though?” There’s some clamoring coming from the sink and Jongin is thankful that Chanyeol is actually cleaning up after himself. “You had so many girls all up on you, and you ended up dancing with her.”
“For one song.” Jongin pauses the game again, and then drapes over the back of the couch to watch his roommate dry dishes. “Quit talking about me like that.”
“Like what?” Chanyeol asks, glancing up from drying the pan they’d used to make their burritos.
“Like I’m some hot dude that all the girls were drooling over,” Jongin puffs his cheeks a bit, frowning.
Chanyeol guffaws, before rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “Riiiight, because you’re not attractive at all, Jongin. Fuckin’ ugly. Mean muggin’.”
Knowing that it’s useless to try and get Chanyeol to take Jongin off of the pedestal he’s put the younger on for years, Jongin huffs and returns back to his game.
“So we’re going right?” Chanyeol asks after a few minutes of machine gun fire.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin mumbles, pulling the grenade trigger.
--
For all Chanyeol talks up Jongin, Chanyeol himself is quite the ladies’ man. Tall with a disarming smile and surprisingly charming words, girls flock to him. He and Jongin complement each other well, and have for their whole lives. Whenever they go to the bar they are each other’s wingmen, ready to jump in and help a fellow comrade in action.
Tonight is no different. The second they get past the velvet rope Chanyeol’s head is on swivel and Jongin knows he’s looking for that girl. Jongin is trying to stay relaxed, but he’s also keeping an eye out for a baby pink ponytail and legs that go for miles.
Sure enough, Chanyeol buys drinks for both of them. And sure enough it’s a repeat of last night with little to no shame or self-control, with Chanyeol smooth talking two girls and probably hoping that he’ll be able to take them both home tonight. Jongin is ignoring them, sitting on a stool at a table next to the booth Chanyeol and the girls are occupying, his gaze on the crowd. The DJ is playing a good set, one that has Jongin itching to get onto the floor… but a part of him is still stupidly waiting for Baby Pink to take his hand (and his heart) again.
Suddenly his vision goes dark and Jongin immediately tenses, reaching up to grab at slender wrists. He hears a giggle through all the bass floating in the air, and when the hands come down and he turns to see who’s behind him, his throat dries up.
Baby Pink is giving him a smug little smile, hazel circle lenses reflecting the colored strobe lights, pink bangs falling to frame one side of her face cutely. Jongin’s lips flap unattractively for a second before he clears his throat, sending her a dazed smile.
“You must be psychic.” He says.
“Can’t get me off your mind?” Baby Pink asks, stepping up to Jongin’s tall table and resting her elbows on it. Bent like this, she has no cleavage, but Jongin’s eyes are glued to her features. She is gorgeous, just like Chanyeol said. Her hair is up in only a high half ponytail tonight, the bulk of the locks falling over her shoulders in loose waves.
“Not at all,” he admits. Oh, liquid courage.
Something flashes in Baby Pink’s eyes. A little something akin to hesitation, and immediately Jongin opens his mouth to take back his words.
“I mean-- I just-- last night I got a little handsy and I wanted to see you tonight so I could apologize,” he says quickly, feeling his cheeks color.
Baby Pink blinks in surprise, and then covers her mouth as she laughs. “Oh-- honestly it’s fine. You weren’t as handsy as most of the other guys in this club.”
That makes Jongin a little mad, actually. Thinking about the fact that Baby Pink probably gets harassed every time she’s here gets under his skin, and he sends a cursory glance around the club to see quite a few eyes lingering over Baby Pink’s figure as she leans against the table.
“You ok?” She asks, bringing Jongin out of his thoughts.
“Uh,” Jongin replies intelligibly, then quickly stands, offering his seat to her. “Do you want to sit? I’ll go get you a water.”
She, again, seems surprised by his words. A bit cautiously, she sits down on the vacated stool, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Tonight she’s wearing a long sleeved crop top and a high waisted skirt, and… oh. No heels. So she’s just that tall, it seems. No matter. She’s still an angel.
“I would like that,” she finally answers, sending Jongin a shy smile. “Thank you.”
Flashing her a smile in return, he nods. “Ok. Be right back.”
He knows that she’s in proximity of Chanyeol’s watchful eye, whether or not it seems like the other man is paying attention. He makes quick work of going to the bar and getting two bottles of water, and then heads back to the table to stand next to her. Cracking open a bottle, he hands it to her before opening one up for himself.
“No one’s offered to get me water before,” she observes, taking a sip. Jongin is amazed that her lip stain doesn’t smudge.
Shrugging, he tries to act nonchalant about it. “Well-- last night you were drinking water and dancing pretty hard, so I’m guessing you’re not really a drinker.”
“Ding ding~” she laughs a little, nodding. “Correct. Actually, I’m allergic to hops so I can’t drink most beers, and hard liquor makes me puke before it gets me drunk.”
Jongin winces. “That’s rough.”
She shrugs, looking out at the dance floor and speaking with her lips against the rim of her water bottle. “I’m not old enough to drink, anyway.”
Jongin’s eyes drop to her hands. Sure enough, there’s black X’s crossed on the backs of her hands and wow, how had he not noticed that before? He feels himself start to sweat a little bit. Well, you have to be at least eighteen to get into this club, so unless she has a fake I.D., he’s safe.
“I am old enough to be here,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s so adorable.
Jongin breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that-- I mean, you don’t seem… um. I thought you were around my age.” He chugs his water in an attempt to shut himself up.
“Oh? Are you an old man?” She asks, cheeky. Her lips are thin but the way they quirk when she’s teasing is enough to drive Jongin wild.
“I’m not old,” Jongin snorts a little, catching on to the teasing mood. “Just… mature.”
“So you’re like thirty,” she deadpans, arching a brow. He can see the twinkle in her eye.
“I’m closer to thirty than I am to twenty,” he counters.
Her eyes give him a very slow, intense once-over, before she prims a little. “But you probably still play online MMORPGs and hang out in your sweats for days until you need to go somewhere.”
Jongin lifts a finger to his mouth, looking around suspiciously. “Shhh, don’t ruin my unattainable bachelor image--”
The little shrieking laugh Baby Pink lets out is too cute for words, but when she reaches to playfully smack his shoulder, Jongin is struck by how much it hurts. Like, he had to brace himself to keep from falling over. Holy hell.
She’s oblivious to his plight, though, and covers her mouth in mild embarrassment from the noise she’d let out. Rubbing his shoulder, Jongin leans in again, feeling a bit more clear-headed now that he’s got some water in his system.
“You wanna go dance?”
Baby Pink’s false eyelashes look like they could fly Jongin away as they flutter coyly at his question, like she didn’t have her ass on his dick last night. Grinning, he grabs her hand and helps her off the stool, leading her into the crowd. There are lots of people looking her way, guys and girls, but Jongin pays them no mind as they make their way into the center of the throng.
This time, though, he faces her. His hands hover over her hips, not quite touching as they start to sway to the music. The floor is vibrating from the speakers and she looks up at him through her lashes and he sees the highlights of her cheeks and cupid’s bow and wow, she’s so pretty.
This is fucking head over heels love.
Her arms finally raise up to drape over his shoulders and for once, Jongin thinks that dancing with a tall girl isn’t bad at all. His knee isn’t in an awkward place, his neck doesn’t feel like it’s going to break because he has to look down at her. This is actually really nice. And she’s curvy but she’s solid, a lot like that hit to his shoulder earlier, and there’s something about that he loves. Something about that he knows he’d love in other situations, too.
“You look a little star struck,” she says over the music, her smirk confident but her eyes hesitant.
“You look like a star,” he blurts out, and then tries to backtrack. “I mean you look-- like you’re so bright. Like um. Uh-- glittery?”
She laughs, head tilting as she pulls him closer, his hands finally resting on her hips. “I am wearing some glitter, yes.”
He bites back a groan, embarrassed at how much of an idiot he’s become. “I mean I am-- you’re beautiful. I’m awe-struck.”
Baby Pink’s grip on his shoulders loosens and she searches his eyes after he says those words, like she doesn’t believe he said them. But he did, and he meant it, and ok so he’s twenty-six and hangs out in his sweats every day of his damn life so he doesn’t really have any legitimate dating experience and yes, yes alcohol and club atmospheres are highly influential but Jongin knows, he fucking knows that if he saw this girl in the fricking 7/11 he would have approached her.
Her moment of hesitation ends when she pulls away from him totally, her hands on his chest. Confused, Jongin’s brow furrows and he lifts his hands, about to rest them over hers, but then she ducks her head, her bangs hiding her eyes.
“I’m sorry. You’re really nice, but-- I’m sorry.”
When she leaves him on the dance floor he doesn’t move for a good minute, until he gets bumped by someone dancing behind him. Jostled, he makes his way back to the booth where Chanyeol has his arms draped around both girls on either side of him. The girls are giggling and cooing over Chanyeol, and Jongin stops by the table.
“Oh, hey man--” Chanyeol grins doofily up at him, then waggles his brows. “You heading home already huh? My good man. My sweet lil’ bro. Where is she? Introduce us! I need to know the name of the girl I’ll be making breakfast for in the mor--”
“She left,” Jongin says, cutting Chanyeol off. He rubs the back of his neck and ruffles his hair uncomfortably as Chanyeol blinks stupidly at him. “Uh, I’m going home. So. Yeah. See you.”
Jongin leaves the club, bracing himself against the chilly Spring evening. The sky is clear of clouds, stars out and twinkling mockingly at him, like they know Jongin had just compared Baby Pink’s beauty to theirs. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans he hunches his shoulders up a bit, ears cold as he ambles along. He idly hopes that if Chanyeol manages to bring those girls home with him that he turns on some music or something so Jongin won’t have to hear it. Ah, scratch that -- Jongin will just fall asleep with his headphones in. Nip that in the bud.
“Hey, c’mon, you’re too good for us?”
Jongin’s ears pick up voices in an alley he passes, and he gives it a cursory glance. This part of town isn’t exactly dangerous, but muggings happen and most every citizen knows better than to stick their nose into business that doesn’t involve them. However, Jongin’s gaze catches sight of baby pink hair and he feels his feet propelling him towards the situation without his permission.
Great.
“Come home with us,” one guy says. His voice is sleazy, and he’s got Baby Pink by the wrist. “I bet you can show us a real good time.”
“No,” Baby Pink yanks her hand away, and the guys all seem surprised by her strength. “Get lost.” Her voice is hard. A bit deep, even.
“Now you’re just making things interesting,” one of the guys says, and he takes a step towards her -- but then Jongin is there standing between them, blocking Baby Pink from their lecherous gazes.
“Didn’t you hear her?” Jongin asks, looking between the three men. His chest is puffed a bit, gaze narrowed, and he hasn’t hit the gym in like two weeks but he’d like to think he could hold his own. Maybe. “Get lost.”
The men all laugh, and one of them points. “This fag thinks he can take us?”
Another one jeers, “Yeah right! Come at us, queer.”
Jongin is tensed, but he won’t strike first. Their comments seem odd though. Like yeah, he’s maybe a bit on the skinnier side lately, but his long sleeved shirt is concealing his ripped biceps, ok? And he’s pretty sure he could break a skull on his six pack. His fashion isn’t spectacular and his hair is average… By default, those insults don’t really apply.
“Jongin!” Chanyeol’s voice comes from the mouth of the alley, and ok, Jongin might not seem that threatening but Chanyeol’s biceps are visible tonight. Damn it. Wardrobe malfunction on Jongin’s part.
The three men seem to reconsider their odds now that Chanyeol has joined the picture. And for as goofy and sweet Chanyeol can be, he’s got a mean glare that shoots daggers. The men eventually drop back, one of them mumbling ‘whatever, bunch of fags’, before they all head out towards the opposite end of the alley.
“Are you guys ok?” Chanyeol asks, worry lacing his voice.
“What happened to those girls?” Jongin asks dumbly.
Baby Pink covers her eyes and lets out a little sob. Startling into action, Jongin moves towards her, hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
“Are you ok? I-- I’m sorry, crap, are you cold? Do you want me to call you a cab?” It all comes tumbling out of his mouth, and he’s surprised when Baby Pink reaches up to weakly hit his shoulders.
“You weren’t supposed to save me,” she says, tears tracking through her BB cream. One of her false eyelashes is coming off in the inner corner, and Jongin still thinks she’s beautiful. “Why is it you?”
Jongin isn’t sure what that means, but he wraps her up in his arms anyway, tossing Chanyeol a helpless look. Chanyeol pulls out his phone and dials for a taxi, and Jongin starts leading her back towards the main street.
“We’ll get you home, ok?” Jongin reassures her, rubbing his hand over her arm to try and generate some warmth.
Baby Pink says nothing, staring at the ground when they reach the sidewalk. Chanyeol hangs up and stands on Baby Pink’s other side and together he and Jongin keep her in a safe little cocoon, blocked from the wind and blocked from most people walking and driving by. Jongin chances a glance down at her; her hair is coming out of the cute little pony, mascara is now smearing into her BB cream, and Jongin is still smitten.
Angry that this happened to her -- but still smitten.
“Thank you guys,” Baby Pink finally says, voice quiet. She hiccups a little, reaching up to drag her knuckle over her cheeks. It’s a mess. “You’re… the nicest guys I’ve ever met…”
Chanyeol arches a brow, “That doesn’t sound right at all.”
Baby Pink pouts a little, stomping her foot. “Most every guy would have looked the other way. No one wants to help me when stuff like that happens. And why should they…” She takes in a shuddering breath, and then sniffles.
“It was the right thing to do,” Jongin says, giving her surprisingly broad shoulders a squeeze. “If it weren’t us, someone else would have saved you.”
She gives a rueful smile as the taxi cab pulls up to the curb, “No, they wouldn’t have.”
Cold blasts Jongin’s side when Baby Pink leaves him and moves towards the taxi. She opens the door and turns around to look at Chanyeol and Jongin, sending them a small smile. “I’m really glad I met you.” Her eyes rest on Jongin. “Thank you. But… we won’t see each other again. I’m sorry.”
Before Jongin can even react to her words, the door to the taxi is shut and the yellow cab is driving off, merging into traffic. Belatedly, Jongin yells out a ‘wait!’, jogging a few paces down the sidewalk to try and keep sight of the taxi. When he loses it at the light he slows to a stop and tugs at his hair, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Fuck!”
--
All day Sunday Jongin doesn’t leave his room. He keeps thinking about Baby Pink -- about how things had gone from so good to so bad so quick. It gives him a headache, trying to figure out why those guys were picking on her in the alley. Their homophobic slurs were especially curious; then again, so many idiots throw those around like confetti, so he’s not terribly surprised to hear them directed at him for any reason.
On Monday he goes to work with a smile, even though he feels like shit. He coaches little league soccer so it’s not like he can be a grouch around all those cute kids. By the time practice is over and he’s packing up his duffel bag, he’s starting to come to terms with the fact that perhaps what happened was for the best. He doesn’t even know Baby Pink’s name, and she is freshly eighteen, phew.
Nothing but trouble, Kim Jongin. You had fun, you did a good deed… time to move on.
That’s what he convinces himself of for two weeks.
--
At the supermarket he’s got a basket draped in the crook of his arm as he browses produce, knowing he needs to eat less shit and work out more. One of his abs is on the verge of disappearing. Just one. Not the pair, not both of his lower abs -- just the left lowest one. It’s quite annoying. He’s got broccoli (he hates it), carrots (they’re ok), eggplant (lots of garlic), and he’s in front of the avocados, staring at them a bit perplexed. He has no idea how to pick a good avocado. At all. He likes them -- quite a lot actually, but he’s never actually bought them himself.
Stepping closer to the stand, he reaches out and starts curiously squeezing them. That’s the general consensus of produce, right? Squeezing to see how ripe it is. Although he’s not sure if avocados are supposed to be squishy or firm… Almost all of them are right between the two opposites.
As Jongin stands there contemplating just how badly he actually wants avocados, another hand starts picking through the greenery. Jongin’s eyes catch delicate wrists and long fingers and huh, something is really familiar about those hands. He doesn’t want to be rude, so he doesn’t chance a glance at the person’s features, and instead starts to reach out to squeeze the avocados some more.
The person next to him grabs five fairly quickly, putting them in their basket. Jongin blinks at the accuracy and confidence, and his mouth opens before he can stop it.
“How do you know which ones are ripe?”
He and the stranger make eye contact, and Jongin finds himself staring at a teenage boy. Taller than Jongin by a fraction, but the kid’s figure is shrouded in comfy, baggy clothes that seem to hang off of a lanky frame. His chin-length hair is dyed a soft, baby pink, his skin porcelain white, thin lips parted in surprise.
Maybe it was love, after all.
He’d recognize that face anywhere.
“Baby Pink?” Jongin blurts out. God damn it.
“Shit,” the kid almost drops his basket, taking a few steps back before spinning on his heel and making a beeline towards the front of the store.
“Wait--! Fuck,” Jongin swears, quickly following after Baby Pink. His brain can’t even catch up with the situation, his body acting all on its own to follow the kid towards the front of the store.
Baby Pink is hovering by the cash registers, looking torn between buying the groceries gathered in his basket and dumping them altogether and making a break for the exit. Jongin slows down, feeling much like a human approaching a startled deer, and he clears his throat softly.
“Hey, um-- don’t run away from me? Please?” Jongin says quietly.
Baby Pink’s shoulders tense and he sends Jongin a wary look, feet shifting.
“Look, I don’t care,” Jongin licks his lips. “I don’t care that this is what you look like right now, ok? Can we just-- buy our groceries and talk? Please?” He knows that whether Baby Pink is a male or female is quite irrelevant. No one has made him feel the way Baby Pink did, with laughter and jokes and sweetness that made Jongin forget about how freaking awkward he can get with people.
“...” Baby Pink shifts on his feet, before he nods. “Ok. Meet me outside.”
Jongin smiles the biggest he has in weeks, nodding. “Ok.”
Baby Pink flushes a bit, getting in line at a register and turning his back to Jongin.
Jongin still has more shopping to do, so he goes back through the aisles with a bit of a bounce in his step. He has no idea what he’ll say to Baby Pink, or if he’ll be able to find words at all. He just knows that he has to know him, has to talk to him again, see his smile again.
Ten minutes feels like an eternity. But Chanyeol had wanted some obscure brand of granola and it had taken Jongin way too long to find it. By the time he pays for his groceries and gets them secured in his reusable grocery bags he’s sure Baby Pink has left him for good. He thanks the cashier hurriedly and then zips out of the store, looking around furtively before seeing Baby Pink sitting on a bench, grocery bag placed next to him. He’s got headphones in and he’s staring at his phone -- Jongin walks up to him, adjusting his grip on the handles of his bag.
“Hey…”
Baby Pink looks up and then pulls out an earbud, pointedly looking away from Jongin and scooting over on the bench. Taking the silent invitation, Jongin sits next to him and clears his throat softly, before holding out his hand.
“I’m Jongin.”
Baby Pink’s head turns so fast in surprise, Jongin thinks he might have whiplash. The younger stares at Jongin’s hand for a good three seconds before he reaches his own out, hesitantly gripping at Jongin’s bigger, more tan hand.
“... Sehun.”
Sehun. Jongin can’t help but smile.
“Much better than Baby Pink,” Jongin says.
“I dunno,” Sehun pulls his hand back and tucks it under the fleshy part of his thigh, shrugging. “Baby Pink is kind of cute.”
Chuckling, Jongin nods and leans back against the bench a little bit. A few moments of silence pass, and when he’s sure Sehun isn’t going to say anything, Jongin drums his fingers idly over his knee.
“I’m not mad,” Jongin says. Sehun flinches a little. “Honestly, I don’t care Sehun. I had a really good time with you. I liked dancing with you and talking to you.”
“Even though you thought I was a girl?” Sehun asks, his eyes on the ground.
Jongin shrugs, “I mean-- I didn’t think you weren’t a girl, but I also wasn’t really paying attention to your gender specifically.”
Sehun casts Jongin a wary eye, “Most… guys don’t think like that.”
Jongin offers an idle smile, “Well. I guess I’m not most guys.”
Sehun’s nose wrinkles. “That’s such a cliche line.”
Jongin laughs. “You were right, though. I hang out in my sweats and hate putting on real clothes so much that I coach little league soccer and change out of sweats into athletic clothes. I play MMORPGs until my vision goes blurry and my pits start to stink. I had a girlfriend in high school but she dumped me because I wasn’t as ‘manly’ as the other guy trying to get her attention. After I met him, I realized she had mistaken ‘manly’ for ‘douche bag’ and I was actually really glad we split.” He ruffles his hair, and then pulls idly at the fabric of the sweats he’s wearing. “I’m a slob with a full time job and a credit card I pay on time and I let my roommate get me trashed on the weekends, but… the Baby Pink I met, and who is sitting next to me right now, is more than just a gender.”
Sehun stays quiet.
“More than just skimpy clothes and long hair and lip gloss,” Jongin continues, glancing over at Sehun, seeing the flush on the other’s cheeks. “But you were different. You didn’t treat me like you wanted to find a corner and bang.”
Sehun’s brow furrows and he sends Jongin an incredulous look, to which Jongin laughs in embarrassment.
“I mean-- I think you know what I mean.”
“I was a bitch,” Sehun says, not really sounding very apologetic.
Jongin shrugs. “I liked it.”
“You’re a masochist,” Sehun gruffs.
“Only if you’re into sadism,” Jongin says with a sleazy smile.
Sehun abruptly stands up and Jongin is startled, suddenly thinking that Sehun is tired of his shit. Jongin’s spine straightens and he reaches up to -- to what? Grab Sehun’s hand and dramatically demand he stay? Ha.
“Give me your phone number.” Sehun says, his narrowed gaze on the pavement beneath their sneakered feet.
Jongin blinks a few times, and then closes his flapping lips. “Uh-- yeah.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, handing it over without a second thought. Sehun keys in his number and sends a text to himself, and then hands Jongin’s phone back -- all without meeting his gaze.
“It’s easier to get ahold of me in the evenings, I’m usually in classes all day,” Sehun mumbles, before he starts gathering his grocery bags, plastic winding around long, slender fingers.
“Ok,” Jongin still sounds a bit dumbfounded, and when Sehun sends him a curious glance, he offers a lopsided grin, all teeth, in return.
Sehun huffs and turns on heel, speed-walking towards the bus-stop.
[ next]