Reckless #41: Straight on 'til Morning [Part 2/2]
Kyungsoo breathes out a sigh when the vehicle comes to a halt as Jongin pulls up outside his place, turning his head in the younger boy’s direction to thank him for the umpteenth time that night for treating him to an impromptu dinner at McDonald’s (they had two cheeseburgers and a soda each) and for giving him a ride home.
He’s in the middle of wishing Jongin a good night and a safe return when the latter suddenly leans in with his head lolled to one side to nose at the patch of skin below his ear, the gesture making Kyungsoo’s eyes double in size and rendering him speechless as it caught him completely off guard.
Come and take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words, this is the last time
‘Cause you and I
We were born to die
Jongin exhales a shaky breath as he hesitantly drags his lips across Kyungsoo’s cheek and presses a soft, innocent kiss to the corner of his mouth, pulling back as Lana del Rey’s voice melts into the music and then fades out into silence.
”He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him.”
-Hans Christian Andersen, The Ugly Duckling
Summer went by in a breeze. The beginning of September marked the end of the insanely hot and humid days and even the foliage of the trees underwent a makeover of its own, the leaves ditching their vibrant green to paint themselves in red and gold.
Jongin said that they resembled crowns with rubies embedded into them, and he seemed to like the concept so much that the next day he showed up outside his door wearing on his head a plastic crown that was (sadly) overshadowed by his blinding smile and gleaming eyes.
Learning how to properly breathe again was a difficult task and it overwhelmed Kyungsoo at first, as the sudden clarity it brought along kept making his head hurt and his eyes brim with tears, almost if someone was continuously pointing a light at him and squeezing his throat and refused to leave him alone.
Some days he felt out of breath and struggled to get out of bed in the mornings, and more than once he’d felt tempted to make a quick stop at the nearest gas station on his way to work to grab a pack of cigarettes and smoke away the fears and insecurities that still haunted him.
Nicotine patches usually did the trick and helped him cope whenever his determination plummeted and he got presented with the nerve-racking possibility of slipping into an episode caused by the lack of the substance in his body. Using the patches put him at risk of developing an addiction to them and Kyungsoo was fully aware of that, but he had plenty of reasons to not let it get that bad.
He wanted to be clean. He wanted to get rid of the stale taste on his tongue and the stains on his fingertips caused by months of heavy smoking. He wanted to make Jongin proud, and to show him that he was stronger than his own addictions and obsessions.
“You okay there?” Jongin asks quietly when Kyungsoo spaces out amidst putting together an order, holding a waffle cone in a hand while staring idly at the scoop in the other. “Let me.”
Now it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to hand over the items he’s holding and step aside to let Jongin serve the customer, dropping his gaze to his feet while rolling his lower lip between his teeth with the sole purpose of keeping his mind occupied.
He couldn’t afford to let his thoughts drift away and drag him into the darkest corner of his mind after he’d finally managed to change the course of his ship and steer it away from the iceberg.
Breathe, Kyungsoo.
Four, seven, eight. Inhale, hold, exhale.
Repeat.
He refuses to sink.
A cold hand picks up his own and Kyungsoo lifts his head at last, eyes wide in surprise. Jongin is standing close enough for him to easily count the tiny and faint freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose. “Having a hard time?”
“Yes,” Kyungsoo confirms after swallowing, discreetly glancing around the establishment to make sure that no one is watching before returning his attention to the boy standing beside him. “You have no idea. I’m all over the place.”
“What about the patches?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head and exhales through his nose, pursing his lips when Jongin’s fingers slip between his own, filling the gaps. “I’m trying to quit altogether.”
“No patches, then?”
“No patches,” Kyungsoo confirms, swallowing again to chase away the dryness in his throat. “But it’s all right, I’ve been through much worse and it’s almost closing time anyway.”
A group of people walks in just then forcing Jongin to break their handhold, their other co-worker rushing to his aid while Kyungsoo stays back, watching in silence as they serve five cones of ice cream (two vanilla and three of strawberry cheesecake). It takes them less than five minutes to check them out.
Jongin flashes a small apologetic smile as he walks past him and into the dining area, rushing to the front door to lock it before flipping over the Open sign to Closed.
He did it. Kyungsoo made it through another day without going crazy.
“I have cleaning scheduled for tonight so why don’t you go home and rest?” Jongin suggests as he makes his way back, reaching for the mop that their other co-worker is handing him. “We got this.”
Kyungsoo ponders over this for a moment, although there isn’t much to consider and thus making up his mind is relatively easy because he doesn’t want to go home. Not if Jongin is staying.
He turns to face the confused girl alternating glances between him and Jongin and extends out an arm in her direction, wriggling his fingers for her to hand him the broom. “I’ll stay and clock you out myself so you’ll still get paid extra hours.”
“B-but…”
“You have an exam tomorrow morning, right?” The girl nods, surprised that Kyungsoo remembered that little detail about herself. “Go home and come in tomorrow for your regular shift.”
Kyungsoo gently pries the broom from the girl’s grasp and both boys watch as she collects her belongings, waving back at her as she bids farewell before disappearing out the back door. Now it’s just them in the empty ice cream shop, with tables to clear and floors to mop.
“What was all that about?” Jongin asks, curiosity tinging his voice and grazing his features as he switches the mop for a rag and moves over to start cleaning tables.
How is Kyungsoo supposed to explain that he’d decided to stay because he was scared to be on his own, alone with all these jumbled thoughts running wild in his head? Having Jongin around usually brought order to the chaotic state of his mind and put his troubled heart at ease, his presence alone usually managing to deter Kyungsoo from popping a cigarette in his mouth.
Jongin had become light to guide him through dark times, a mouthful of sweet air when the atmosphere became too thick and stale, and clarity whenever the edges of reason became blurry and the fog made Kyungsoo lose focus and stray from his path.
And Kyungsoo wondered, why was it so difficult for him to break free from the weight he carried on his shoulders? Did Jongin possibly know the formula to chase away the shadows lingering within his heart and move on, and would he be willing to share it with him?
“She has an exam in the morning,” Kyungsoo replies nonchalantly after a moment of silence, joining Jongin in the process of cleaning. “As your current manager, I did what I considered best for the team’s interest.”
“Liar,” Jongin accuses him immediately, looking up from the table he’s just finished cleaning. He’s smiling. “Just admit that you decided to go through all the trouble of staying and closing so you could spend more time with me.”
“Absolutely not.” Says Kyungsoo as Jongin returns to the counter and slips behind it, tongue poking out as he connects his iPhone to the speakers and scrolls through his music library until he finds a song he deems suitable for what he has in mind. It’s a ballad. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”
“Because I deserve it, obviously.”
Kyungsoo huffs, “Maybe I’m just really dedicated to my job.”
Jongin’s laugh reverberates through the empty ice cream shop as he sways over to where Kyungsoo stands and snatches the mop from his hands. Kyungsoo ponders for a second if Jongin is going to take over his duty but then the latter sets the implement aside and makes grabby hands at him and Kyungsoo is utterly confused.
“Dance with me.”
The unexpected request has Kyungsoo wheezing and he makes a move to retrieve the mop but Jongin is quicker and catches his hands mid-air, giving them a light squeeze to coax the older boy into giving in and indulging him.
“I get paid to serve ice cream and clean floors, not to dance.”
“Technically, you aren’t getting paid for this.” Jongin points out with a roll of his eyes as he entwines their fingers and swings their arms. “The girl you sent home is the one who’s getting the money because you couldn’t stand being away from me for even a minute. I could’ve driven over to your place once I was done, you know. You just had to ask.”
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to retaliate, finding the accusation to be rather ridiculous and baseless, but Jongin’s musk hits him square in the face and his mind goes blank, his pupils dilating.
It’s different than his usual and Kyungsoo wonders why he didn’t notice it earlier, despite having spent all day working side by side with Jongin. Maybe It got lost among the sweetness of syrup and waffle cones and other people’s musk, and only now it’s finally coming through with such intensity that makes Kyungsoo feel lightheaded for a second.
Zesty bergamot and myrtle. Cedar and hazelnut. Chocolate and roasted coffee beans.
All the notes blend together perfectly into an earthy concoction and play a colourful melody in Kyungsoo’s head; splotches of copper and sprinkles of royal blue over a pearl white canvas, hints of chartreuse peeking around the edges. Suave.
“Did you change your cologne?” Kyungsoo asks once he slips out of his daze, ignoring for good the boyish grin that Jongin is wearing that makes his cheeks look rounder and fuller.
“Yeah. It’s Uomo-something by Valentino. Comes in a black flask. Goes well with me, don’t you think?”
Kyungsoo nods idly, clearing his throat when he remembers where they are and what they’re doing. Rather, what they’re supposed to be doing instead of wasting time-but is it a waste at all if they’re together?
“Are we dancing or not? The song is almost over.”
“No, we aren’t. Let’s get on with the cleaning so we can go home.”
There’s less than thirty seconds left until the song ends and Jongin whines, biting his lower lip as he glances over to the counter. Using this distraction to his advantage, Kyungsoo steps backwards and tries to free his hands from Jongin’s grasp but the latter is having none of it, pulling him against and dragging him away from the neglected mop and his responsibilities as shift manager.
It’s past eleven when Kyungsoo climbs his way up to his apartment and slips inside, still a little dazed and confused after letting Jongin spin him around the ice cream shop for who knows how long.
In his head plays the moment in which Jongin pulled up outside his place and killed the engine of the pick-up truck, leaning close to press their foreheads together and bump their noses affectionately as his right hand came to rest on Kyungsoo’s knee.
That wasn’t the first time that Jongin invaded his personal space completely unannounced, hence Kyungsoo didn’t think of the action as anything out of the ordinary; sometimes he would casually rest an arm around his shoulders or hold his waist, and he would hook his forefinger and thumb around his pinkie whenever they stood next to each other.
“I like you a lot, you know. You’re my favourite person.”
Jongin seldom deviated from his usual “Have a good night,” and “see you tomorrow,” hence this new stream of words had sent Kyungsoo straight into a state of confusion and shock in which he dwells still, as he lies in bed with an arm draped over his eyes and lips pursed tightly up as a smile threatens to break across his face.
The remaining nicotine patches end up in the trash can the next morning, buried underneath an empty cereal box and an apple core.
“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”
-Ernest Hemingway
K. Jongin:
Hey, is it okay if I drop by after work?
I’ll bring dinner
K. Jongin:
What goes better with pizza, white or red wine??
K. Jongin:
I’m five minutes away with food and drinks
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
“Special delivery!”
Kyungsoo reluctantly gets up from the couch and drags himself over to the door, eyes puffy and a red splotch blossoming on his left cheek where he fell asleep on it. Spending his day off binge-watching The Walking Dead and napping in between episodes hadn’t been part of his plans, but he’d found himself in dire need for a break after working for ten days in a row.
He kicks an empty bag of chips and a can of soda on his way to the door, trying to rub away the sleep from his eyes but the only thing he gets from that is further blurring his vision and making himself upset over it. There’s another knock on the door, urging him to hurry and get whatever’s being delivered.
Not that he can remember placing an order anywhere, thus Kyungsoo decides to let the delivery boy know about this and hopefully he’ll make it in time to his actual destination.
“I’m sorry but you probably have the wrong address, as I didn’t-”
This is no regular delivery boy, Kyungsoo realises when he opens the door. Jongin is standing outside with a pizza box in his hands and a backpack slung over his right shoulder, dark strands of hair peeking out from underneath a red hat with some word embroidered on it.
“Oh, thank goodness. The lady from the 4B said you were home but I was starting to wonder if I had been lied to because you were taking forever to get the door.”
Kyungsoo blinks in confusion. “Slow down, I just woke up from a nap. What did I miss? Are you delivering food now?”
“No,” Jongin replies immediately, lifting an eyebrow as he lightly cocks his head to one side. “I texted you earlier that I’d be dropping by after work. With dinner. And wine.”
“Wine?”
Jongin rolls his eyes and walks past Kyungsoo, toeing his shoes off before stepping further inside the apartment. The trash scattered on the floor around the couch makes him frown but he refrains from calling Kyungsoo out. “It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon. I know nothing about wines but I asked around and apparently this one pairs up well with our loaded pizza. Today’s a special occasion so I thought we could indulge some.”
Kyungsoo, on the other hand, is still lost. “A special day? Please enlighten me. What do we need wine for? What are we celebrating?”
The pizza box is shoved into his hands and all Kyungsoo can do is watch in silence while Jongin unzips his backpack and pulls out a bottle of red wine, proudly showing it at the older boy before setting it down on the coffee table in the middle of the small living room. “You, of course!”
“Why me? Did I get promoted? Did I win the lottery?”
“Really? I can’t believe this,” Jongin huffs as he shakes his head, removing his hat at last as he makes his way into the kitchen to get a couple of glasses from the cupboard. “You’ve been nicotine-free for two whole months.”
“Two months.”
“Sixty days.” Jongin confirms, trudging back with the glasses in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. “That’s about 1,440 hours that you’ve been clean. When was the last time you smoked?”
Kyungsoo hums in thought as he sets the pizza box on the table and opens the lid, suddenly becoming aware of how hungry he is. The pizza is simply scrumptious -thick crust, extra tomato sauce, double cheese, topped with marinated chicken, sausage, olives, peppers, and red onion-and it’s enough for him to overlook Jongin’s guts and forgive him for waking him up from his nap.
“I had my last cigarette the night you gave your ex a broken nose. One minute I was having Cheerios and the next I had a cigarette perched between my lips.” Kyungsoo explains, flashing an apologetic smile that Jongin doesn’t catch, as he’s busy uncorking the bottle. “Then I switched to nicotine patches but threw them away as well.”
They fall into a comfortable silence while Jongin fills their glasses with wine, a concoction of different smells floating around them and heightening their senses. There’s cheese -mozzarella and cheddar- and meat and black currants and something else that Kyungsoo can’t quite put his finger on because he isn’t sure whether it’s coming from the wine or the boy sitting beside him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask what pushed you to smoke,” Jongin muses after a moment, his words catching Kyungsoo off guard while he sips at his wine. It’s dry, and it tastes like cherries and black pepper and a hint of vanilla. “And I’d still like to know your story, if you’re okay with telling it.”
Smoking. This is a subject that Kyungsoo would rather not discuss but Jongin has always been very outspoken about his life as well as his addictions and obsessions, whereas Kyungsoo has remained silent about his own. It was unfair, and maybe it was time for him to finally come to terms with himself and make amends to Jongin.
“Stress. Anxiety. I needed to let out my frustrations somehow and punishing my liver by getting drunk every other day wasn’t all that appealing me. I hate being hungover, too, so-”
“You chose to mess with your lungs, instead. Brilliant.” Jongin cuts him off while peeling some chicken off his slice and popping it into his mouth, licking his fingers afterwards. “But why?”
“That’s the thing, Jongin. There is no trigger; there was no traumatic childhood, no messy breakup, no death wish. One day I was stressed so I lit a cigarette and that was it.”
Kyungsoo reaches for the leftover crust Jongin just tossed on the box (he never ate the crust) and dips it in garlic and herb dip, taking a bite as the younger boy slathers ketchup onto his second slice.
“I would have the occasional smoke to wind down after a long day, but then came the trigger that turned it into an addiction.” Kyungsoo pops the rest of the crust into his mouth and slowly looks up from his stained fingers to meet Jongin’s eyes. “It was you.”
“Me?”
Dread and guilt flash in Jongin’s eyes and Kyungsoo is quick to add, “No, not you. Rather, the situation you were in. I would see the bruises peeking from under your sleeves and how you’d flinch whenever someone raised their voice. I felt bad for you and I really wanted to ask if you needed help but we weren’t close and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I still don’t get it.”
Kyungsoo frowns.
“I couldn’t get you out of my head. What if you didn’t show up to work the next day? What if you were in trouble but were too scared to speak up? Smoking helped me forget about you and how helpless I felt. What I wasn’t expecting was for you to come to me.”
A pregnant pause follows Kyungsoo’s words, giving both boys enough time to collect their thoughts and mentally prepare because this is only the beginning of a conversation they should’ve had a long time ago.
They chug down the rest of the wine in their glasses and Jongin promptly refills them, and Kyungsoo takes one more sip before reaching for another slice of pizza to keep himself busy. However, that doesn’t stop him from voicing out what he’d been pondering over since Jongin first showed up outside his door and immediately jumped to defend his abusive boyfriend when he pointed out that he was no good.
“Why were you with him? You’re smart, you must’ve noticed that something was off.”
Jongin’s answer comes fast, faster than Kyungsoo expected, and he wonders if he’s been asking himself that same question every day, getting lost in the why’s and the how’s while trying to find answers.
“I wasn’t at my best. My father had just kicked me out, my mother was too scared to go against him and I was desperate for love and acceptance and had just become homeless.” Jongin pauses there to lick some grease and ketchup off his lips. “He gave me all that and more. He told me to move in with him, and promised to look after me. I didn’t know how to repay all those attentions so I decided to devote myself to him. I mistook gratitude for love and this is what I got in return.”
Jongin slumps against the couch with a sigh and tilts his head backwards, and Kyungsoo notices that this time his eyes don’t aimlessly wander over the ceiling trying to connect invisible dots and tracing maps that lead to nowhere. His gaze is steady, and Kyungsoo’s heart is all over the place.
“At some point, I started to believe that I deserved everything that was happening to me. That I had earned every bruise and insult and, whenever I had a bad thought about him, I felt ungrateful. He’d given me so much, after all, and no one else would love me if I left. I was so scared, Kyungsoo. I was frightened.”
Kyungsoo shifts in his seat and pulls his feet onto the couch, tucking his knees under his chin as Jongin produces a Snickers bar from his pocket, tearing the wrapper open with the pads of his fingers. Delicately. Carefully. Afraid of ripping it further than necessary. Maybe Kyungsoo is reading too much into it.
“I had sworn to never speak of it but you saw right through me, and it caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what to do. It made me embarrassed because if you saw it, did it mean that other people seen it, too? Was my façade crumbling? I didn’t want to admit it.”
Jongin takes a small bite of his candy bar and Kyungsoo watches in silence, expectant.
“The night I came here, I didn’t think that you’d let me in. I was really surprised when you said I could keep coming and at first I felt bad for taking up your time and invading your home, but my presence didn’t seem to annoy you. You never asked anything that might be too personal, never forced me to say more than I wanted. You made sure I stayed well fed and always replied to my texts, no matter how silly they were or how late it was. You believed I deserved better, even though I felt undeserving of everything.”
“Jongin, I-”
The younger boy’s lips form a bashful smile then and he slowly looks up from his lap, and Kyungsoo notices the pink dusted across his cheeks and the red collected on the tips of his ears.
“As the days went by, I became unhappy and unsatisfied with my situation. I dreaded the moment I had to say goodbye to you and go home. Maybe I do deserve better, I would think while on my way back. Why do I have to put up with someone that doesn’t love me, and whom I don’t love either?”
“Why didn’t you leave him then?”
“Because every action has a reaction. I was no longer afraid of not being loved, but rather of what his reaction might be.” Jongin explains calmly, and Kyungsoo slowly unfurls from his position to reach for his glass but he doesn’t drink. He knows he’s being watched.
Night has fallen already and, with it, an inevitable farewell. Is it late? Jongin must be tired after working all day, but he doesn’t want him to go. Could he stay a bit longer tonight?
“Why were you against me smoking?”
“Smoking kills,” Jongin answers without missing a beat, his eyebrows shooting up until they’re partially hidden behind a curtain of chocolate locks. “You looked sick and tired and I hated it. I guess I played hypocrite too, because I would scold you for smoking and then show up with bruises on my body.”
Jongin shifts and Kyungsoo’s breath hitches. He’s running out of time and soon Jongin will be getting up and walking out that door, glancing over his shoulder to wish him a goodnight, and he’ll be left alone with leftover pizza, a half-empty bottle of wine and the intricate web that his emotions and unspoken words have weaved in his heart and his head.
Pull the plug or you’ll drown.
“Want to hear something funny?” Jongin asks as he tilts his head, resting his cheek against the cushion. Kyungsoo nods. “One night I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while I waited for you to reply to my latest text. I waited and as the seconds passed, I started wondering if everything would’ve been different for me if I had met you sooner. If our paths had crossed before I got together with him. If I had fallen for you instead.”
Is Jongin speaking in tense or suggesting that he might have feelings for him? Kyungsoo can’t read him, and he blames it on the wine. Jongin’s cheeks look fuller now, a clear sign that he’s put on some weight over these past months, and Kyungsoo hasn’t spotted a single bruise on him ever since he moved back in with his mother.
“You’re often on my mind, especially when you’re not physically around.” Jongin continues, pausing to scratch the tip of his nose with his right forefinger. “Lately I’ve been thinking about how much fun it must be to date you and what a great boyfriend you’d make. It’s silly but I can’t help but feel a bit jealous of whoever gets to claim that privilege.”
“Dating me is no privilege. I’m not extraordinary nor have I ever done anything remarkable.”
“Stop being so humble, it’s infuriating.” Jongin huffs, lightly shaking his head. “You knew I wasn’t well yet you chose to stay instead of running away. I said it back then, didn’t I? That I didn’t need to be saved. And you listened. You stayed with me throughout the storm even though you didn’t have to. I needed a reason and you gave me so much more. You gave me hope. You showed me friendship. You-”
Kyungsoo doesn’t let Jongin finish. He shifts to sitting on his knees and leans forward to silence Jongin with his lips, expecting to be shoved away and yelled at for his audacity. Kyungsoo counts to three then pulls back, a tad scared of what he might see when he opens his eyes.
Jongin’s wine-stained lips come into sight first, followed by the small and faint freckles scattered over the bridge of his button nose and his cheeks. They’re dusted pink, presumably as a side effect of the alcohol in his body, and Kyungsoo can’t stop himself from reaching up to touch.
The skin beneath his fingertips is warm and soft (it makes him think of a bun fresh out of the oven), and he can’t hide his surprise and amusement when he experimentally dabs at Jongin’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and the lonely freckle there doesn’t smudge.
“Did you think they were fake?” Jongin asks, his voice barely above a whisper and a playful smile on his lips. “Take a closer look. I promise, they’re as real as they can get.”
Kyungsoo’s lack of response marks Jongin’s cue to jump into action, closing the gap between them to press their lips together once more. He hums a happy note when Kyungsoo brings his hands to his waist and he reciprocates the gesture by loosely wrapping his arms around his neck, tilting his head to one side to keep their noses from bumping.
The kiss starts out as tender and slow, and is loaded with all the unlabelled emotions they’d locked away long ago to protect themselves from getting hurt; they’re raw and too many to count, and small explosions are produced whenever all those emotions converge.
Boom. Boom.
Kyungsoo relishes in the feeling of having Jongin’s lips pressed firmly against his own and the shared body heat, tasting sugary chocolate and hints of wine when he gathers enough courage to run his tongue along the seam of his lips. He starts to pull back to catch his breath but Jongin is quick to chase after his lips, and the alcohol induced daze he’s still in renders Kyungsoo unable to resist when the younger boy threads his fingers through his hair to reel him back in.
A messier kiss ensues from Jongin’s eagerness and Kyungsoo’s inability to deny him, fragments of the story they’ve written together during the past months playing in the latter’s head as he further loses himself into the memories filling every corner of it, piling up like snowflakes on a windowsill.
Late night visits, cigarettes, and bruises. Heroes with no name, ships sinking and Cheerios. Ice cream scoops, a blue Ford pick-up truck, and nicotine patches. Wine, chocolate and Jongin’s cologne.
“Easy, Jongin.” Kyungsoo breaks the kiss when Jongin surprises him by nipping at his lower lip, bringing a hand to the younger boy’s chest to create some distance between them. He doesn’t miss the way his eyes grow dim, the TV light casting shadows over his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared that this might be a dream,” Jongin admits breathlessly, leaning into Kyungsoo’s touch when he cups his face. “What if I wake up to a different reality? What if you disappear when I open my eyes?”
“I promise you that this is not a dream. You’re awake. I’m here, and I won’t go anywhere.”
But it’s not enough. Kyungsoo can see that Jongin is genuinely frightened about the possibility of this moment being nothing more than a figment of his imagination, of losing everything they’ve built thus far. It’s understandable that he feels this way, especially if all the nasty things he was told by his ex-boyfriend were taken into account.
Jongin’s eyes widen in horror when the older boy detaches entirely from him and stands up from the couch, wondering if his insecurities had scared him off. “Kyungsoo…?”
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
When Kyungsoo returns to the dimly lit living room, he finds Jongin curled into himself and quietly sipping at his wine, visibly upset over what just happened. Hopefully he can change his frown into a smile.
“Hey,” he greets as he reoccupies his spot on the couch and uncaps a black Sharpie with his mouth, quietly reaching for Jongin’s free hand. “I’ll borrow this for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”
The tip of the marker glides easily over Jongin’s skin as Kyungsoo traces straight lines and perfectly round o’s, brushing his fingertips over the words written in black ink before Jongin draws back his hand and brings it to his eye level for further examination.
If lost, return to Do Kyungsoo.
That’s enough.
Kyungsoo spots two moles on the left side of Jongin’s stomach when he strips him out of his shirt, and he presses a kiss to each one as he works on undoing the front of his pants. A muffled giggle coming from the boy beneath him exposes his stomach as a ticklish spot and Kyungsoo uses this new information to his advantage, peppering more soft kisses over the expanse of soft skin around his navel.
Giggles turn into weak whimpers as Kyungsoo grazes his teeth over Jongin’s hipbones and runs his hands up and down his bare thighs, pausing his ministrations to peer up at the younger boy. He’s agitated, his hair messy from constantly running his fingers through it and lower lip still swollen from their previous make out session and all the biting he’s been doing to muffle whatever noise threatens to leave his mouth.
“Is something wrong?” Jongin asks at last, confused.
Kyungsoo smiles and crawls up to hover above him, settling between his thighs with his hands placed at either side of the younger’s head and heart beating fast. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why did you stop?” Jongin insists, urgency tinging his voice. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head and breathes out a sigh, resting his forehead against Jongin’s. “I was just thinking that we’ve been through a lot. And that you’re absolutely gorgeous.”
“So you don’t think we’re going too fast, or that this is all a mistake? Aren’t you worried that you might regret this in the morning?”
Jongin gasps when a firm hand hooks around his thigh and fingertips sink into his skin as it’s lifted and brought to wrap around Kyungsoo’s waist, his attention diverting to his upper body when the older boy starts pressing kisses along his jawline and down the column of his neck.
“I like you a lot, Jongin.” Kyungsoo slips his free hand into Jongin’s and intertwines their fingers, drawing a breathy moan from the younger boy when he undulates his hips down and nips at the skin on the base of his neck. “You’re my favourite person in the entire world.”
The first thing Kyungsoo sees when he opens his eyes is a bird outside his window, jet black and an immaculate white contrasting against the pale blue sky. What kind of bird is it? Upon further inspection, Kyungsoo learns that the feathers on its back, tail and wings show a purplish-blue iridescence. Weird.
Is it a raven? The main subject of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem comes to his mind and Kyungsoo stares at the bird currently flapping its wings and singing a tune, almost as if he was expecting the bird to suddenly croak out the iconic nevermore from the poem. But it doesn’t, because it isn’t a raven.
It’s a magpie.
Once the mystery of the bird’s identity has been solved, Kyungsoo finally starts becoming aware of his body and acknowledging his surroundings. He’s lying onto his stomach with his right cheek squished against the pillow and blanket pooling around his hips, leaving his bare back exposed. Oh, and he’s naked.
What time is it? Is he late for work? How long has he been sleeping? The amount of wine he had couldn’t have been enough to knock him out for ten hours or make him hungover. Bits of last night’s events flash beneath his eyelids when he blinks, overlapping with the present where the pillow beside him is empty and he’s left to wonder-where is Jongin?
They went to bed together last night and he remembers pulling the blanket higher up Jongin’s body when he got up to use the bathroom around 3 a.m. He’d even combed his fingers through his hair and stroked his cheek when he came back, and his heart had almost leapt out of his chest when Jongin smiled in his sleep and leaned into his touch. Everything had seemed perfect then, but now not so much.
A nagging tiny voice in his head is telling him that he should’ve foreseen this, especially after Jongin asked if he thought that they were going too fast and mentioned something about having ‘morning after’ regrets. Kyungsoo had been clear about not harbouring any doubts regarding what they were doing and his feelings towards Jongin, but this new day has brought along a million new questions.
“Fuck.”
Sighing, Kyungsoo makes a move to start rolling over. He needs to find Jongin and sort things out before it’s too late.
“Stop right there!” Comes a cry from the door and Kyungsoo freezes, slowly returning to his previous position, and then turns his head in the direction of the voice. “I’ve worked very hard on this and you’re not going to ruin it.”
Jongin walks into the room carrying a bunch of coloured markers in a hand and a glass of milk in the other, which he sets on the nightstand before carefully climbing onto the bed and sitting cross-legged next to a shocked Kyungsoo. Now it’s his time to wonder if he’s the one stuck in a dream.
The boy is wearing an oversized yellow sleeveless shirt and nothing underneath, and Kyungsoo counts two hickeys on the right side of his neck and one on the inner side of his left thigh. His chest swells up from fondness upon seeing that the words he wrote on the back of his hand are still there, albeit slightly smudged around the edges.
“I thought you had gone home.” Kyungsoo says at last, folding his arms and propping them under his chin as he glances up at Jongin. “I woke up and you weren’t around so I thought-”
“I know, and I’m sorry about the scare.” Jongin laughs and picks up a purple marker, uncapping it to inspect it. He seems satisfied with its shade so he sets it aside, picking up another marker. “And I’m a bit hurt that you assumed I had left, but I can understand why you thought that. Truthfully, I did consider it and I was this close from running away.”
Kyungsoo gulps. “Was I that bad?”
“No!” Jongin replies immediately, the hot pink marker slipping from his grasp and landing on the bed. “No, you were great. I was so happy when I woke up and saw you next to me, but then I became scared of facing you. I hadn’t been with anyone in months and it terrified me that you would remember everything and regret sleeping with me.”
“Don’t say such things.” Kyungsoo reaches out to tip Jongin’s chin down, offering him a small smile. “I don’t regret it in the slightest. I really like you, silly.”
Boom. Boom. Another set of small explosions goes off inside Kyungsoo.
Jongin’s cheeks redden upon hearing those words and he breathes out a chuckle, picking the blue marker this time and nodding to himself in approval. He removes the cap and Kyungsoo follows its trajectory until it pokes at his shoulder blade, shuddering when the cold and moist tip is pressed against his skin.
“I’m glad that you didn’t leave. But why weren’t you in bed, and how long have I been out?”
“I was cleaning up the mess we left in the living room. There were clothes and pizza crust scattered on the floor.” Jongin hums, and Kyungsoo wonders what in earth he’s doing with that marker. “It was a quarter past seven when I woke up and it’s been about an hour since then.”
Kyungsoo sighs. “We have the closing shift today, right?”
“Mm.”
Silence. Jongin sets down the blue marker and picks up the black Sharpie, resuming his work; he connects the beauty marks scattered over Kyungsoo’s back with thick black lines, then sets to diligently fill the shapes he just traced with yellow, blue, and whatever bright colours he can get his hands on. Kyungsoo is starting to get sleepy again, lulled by Jongin’s soothing touch.
“What are you doing there?”
“I’m painting.” Jongin answers, and Kyungsoo forces his gaze away when he catches a glimpse of the younger boy’s crotch. He focuses on the shirt he’s wearing, instead. (And he’s sure that it’s his.)
“I didn’t know that you painted.”
“I don’t, but I’m in the mood.”
Kyungsoo hums. “What are you working on?”
“Butterflies.” And, before Kyungsoo can ask about the reason behind his choice for the subject of his art, he adds, “There were too many flapping about in my stomach and I needed to get them out somehow.”
Kyungsoo ignores Jongin’s whines of “I told you to stay put, you’re ruining it!” and “Don’t be an asshole, Do Kyungsoo,” as he rolls over onto his back and pulls Jongin atop him, crashing their lips together to silence his protests even before they’ve properly settled down.
The colour markers roll off the bed and land on the floor, some rolling underneath. The glass filled with chilled milk is left forgotten, condensation dripping down its surface and pooling around the base. Kyungsoo runs his hands up Jongin’s thighs and slips the tips of his fingers past the hem of the oversized sleeveless shirt, making the younger boy squirm and giggle under his breath.
The magpie standing on the windowsill extends its wings and then flies away, up into the sky, aiming for the stars of the milky way.
“You know that place between asleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan