Round 01: Of Pipe Dreams and Reclamation
Title: Of Pipe Dreams and Reclamation
Team: Canon/Alternate Reality (AR)
Rating: R
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Kai/Luhan, Kai/Sehun
Summary: In which Luhan tries to reclaim Jongin, and Jongin tries to reclaim his dignity. (Alternatively: Luhan drags Jongin to China to show him the taste of home.)
Author's Note: The original Korean title translates to You're Beautiful Enough.
Prompt Used: Verbal Jint - You Deserve Better
He's not sure when hurried handjobs and stolen kisses turned into feelings, but he has a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't in it for the sex since the beginning. If he really thinks about it, he's always noticed Sehun, faintly remembers training his eyes on the younger boy through the reflections of the wall-length practice room mirror as they ran through the moves for their first joint teaser. I'm just spotting him, he thought then. He knows better now.
There's always that nagging feeling at the back of his head which tells him flat out, Sehun simply doesn't want the same things Jongin wants. He tells himself it's okay. Jongin is young; he doesn’t need commitments. His only commitments are EXO and his parents, and to please his parents and fans, he needs to do well as EXO. There’s no time for anything other than a quick blowjob in the shower or a messy jerk-off session in the hotels between Seoul and Beijing. He repeats this like a mantra when Sehun swipes his fingers across Jongin's hips and dips his tongue into his collarbones: This is just a distraction, this means nothing. He almost believes it.
Until the day he woke up snuggled into Sehun's side and thought that he could give up everything just to stay in Sehun's arms. It was okay until Jongin watched Sehun sleep, the lightest snore slipping out of Sehun's mouth, and realised, Fuck, I'm in love.
The realisation is thrilling, the secret a precious treasure he has to hold, delicate and sacred. It settles at the back of his throat, but it's not unpleasant. Being in love means that even after a gruelling round of dance practice, a smile from Sehun revitalises him enough for three hours more. Being in love means he feels warm just being next to Sehun, a sense of contentment that spreads from his fingers holding onto the edge of Sehun’s shirt to his entire body.
Jongin has never had a relationship before― his entire life has been about SM entertainment, dance practices and music lessons stealing all the energy and dedication that the other teens gave to flings. He doesn't know how to toe the line between casual and committed relationships, and he doesn’t know the boundaries that separate adoration from addiction. Love is terrifying, yet empowering. It’s a whole new experience, one that he’s all too ready to explore.
Some days he wonders what made him fall for Sehun but the answer is startling clear. Because the day before Jongin shot his first solo teaser, Sehun was by his side, gently encouraging him and working his way through the dance steps with him until Sehun knew the choreography just as well as Jongin did. And the minute before Jongin stepped onstage alone at the Seoul debut showcase, Sehun squeezed his hand and traced little messages onto his palm- hwaiting, himnae, I'm hungry, buy me food later- and it was more encouraging than anything Joonmyun had said. Because Jongin is lonely, and Sehun has been a constant in his life for the past 5 years and while other boys had girls, Jongin had Sehun.
In the bedroom, when it's just the two of them, Sehun is completely different, loving, even. He's a thoughtful lover, making sure that Jongin is satisfied before he takes care to clean them both off. Basked in the warm afterglow, Sehun lets Jongin hold him close and he nuzzles into the crook of Jongin's neck, breath tickling the fine hairs along the skin.
And when Sehun gently runs a thumb across Jongin's cheek and tells him he's beautiful, Jongin thinks that he could let this continue forever. In hindsight, Jongin doesn't even blame himself.
It’s one of those rare days when there’s no schedule in Daejeon or Pusan, or even Seoul until the late afternoon, so they have the freedom to sleep in. Jongin, though, circadian clock already wired in place, wakes up at the crack of dawn.
He tries not to move too much to avoid waking Sehun, cuddled in his arms, face pressed against Jongin’s chest and drooling a dark patch on his bare skin. Jongin lies still and watches the sunrise, rays slowly moving across Sehun’s sleeping face, and once again, feels a wave of overwhelming adoration rush through him.
Just then, Sehun stirs, a low-pitched whine escaping his throat as sleep loses its hold on him.
“Hey sleepyhead.”
Sehun grunts and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Breakfast in bed?" Jongin gently brushes Sehun’s bangs out of his eyes and cringes at how whipped he sounds.
"You're acting like a clingy boyfriend," Sehun grumbles, pushing Jongin away and snuggling back into the covers. When Jongin gives no response, Sehun lifts his head slowly and squints at Jongin. "You know we're not, right? Boyfriends, I mean."
He’s been expecting this, but Jongin still feels like he's been splashed in the face. No amount of acting lessons pushed on by the company could've made him school his features into one that isn't hurt.
"Fuck." Sehun has the decency to look stricken. "Jongin, I didn't- I didn't know you thought we were being serious?" Sehun sounds uncertain and small, a far cry from the dominating boy Jongin knows.
“What did you think then?” Jongin spits out, and revels in the guilty look that springs up on Sehun’s face.
"But this won't stop, right?"
For a moment, Jongin is stunned into disbelief.
Sehun pulls his knees up to his chin and waves a hand awkwardly at the sheets. “I mean, we're both teenage boys with needs-"
"Fuck your fucking needs." Jongin shoves a pillow in Sehun’s face, ignoring Sehun’s splutters of indignation and stalks out of the bedroom. He’s fuming so badly that his hand shakes when he brings it up to wipe at his eyes, surprised at the tears that have formed. He’s furious at himself for crying over something like this, for crying over someone like Sehun.
See if I ever go back to you again, he thinks furiously, storming back to his room and scaring Kyungsoo with his tear-streaked face.
Kyungsoo jumps up from where he was curled up in bed with a book and hurries over to flutter around Jongin worriedly. “What’s wrong, Jongin? Are you crying?”
“I’m just tired,” Jongin offers, and Kyungsoo knows better than to ask more.
Still, when Sehun comes to him that night, soft touches and whispered apologies, Jongin lets himself be caught up in it all once again.
So it continues.
Four months later, nothing has changed. Jongin wakes up with cum drying on his stomach, a scratchy voice and the realisation that something needs to be Done.
There's a scratch across his chest, stretching from his collarbone to underneath his left nipple, a souvenir from Sehun who likes to mark his targets. Jongin absentmindedly picks at the raised skin because it itches a bit, and takes in the empty space next to him with an overwhelming urge to cry.
After the day of the confrontation, Sehun never stayed till morning, even though he only sleeps in the bedroom next door. It really makes no difference― the whole of EXO-K knows of their nightly encounters anyway. It’s more of a warning than anything else; a constant reminder that although they sleep together on a weekly basis, there are no extra feelings between them that justify him sleeping over. The line is drawn clearly and boldly in red, underline twice for extra emphasis.
Picking himself carefully off the sheets, Jongin winces at the pain in his back and makes the walk of shame to the bathroom. The dorm is small enough to make hiding places close to impossible. He’s hoping that no one’s there, but he’s wrong. Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows, and Jongin burns under the scrutiny of Joonmyun’s disapproving gaze.
“You don’t judge Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and they’re twice as loud,” Jongin points out, unable to stand the weight of Joonmyun’s judgement anymore.
Joonmyun sighs and tries to pull Jongin into a hug, which Jongin resists. “Just try not to get yourself hurt okay? I’m not sure- I’m not sure Sehun’s good for you.”
Jongin opens his mouth automatically to defend his relationship, but he stops short. What relationship? Sehun certainly didn’t think they were anything; he made that loud and clear by carefully drawing that line. They aren’t like Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who obviously adore and dote on each other openly in public. They aren’t even like Joonmyun and Kyungsoo, who are simply just friends, friends who are definitely more caring to each other than Sehun is ever going to be to Jongin. Outside the walls of the bedroom, Sehun indulges Jongin sometimes with smiles and hugs, but he directs those to the other members too. Most days, he smiles even wider at the others than to Jongin.
And that’s when it really sinks in. This is a spiral of self-destruction, not only ripping the bandage off the wound without letting it heal, but drenching it with alcohol for maximum impact. If Joonmyun, who avoids unpleasant confrontations at all cost, is worried about Jongin, there must seriously be something wrong about what Jongin and Sehun have.
You never forget your first kiss and your first love, and Sehun is both of that.
Exactly how do you make yourself fall out of love?
(How do you make yourself fall out of love and come out of it whole?)
You don't.
His plan to avoid Sehun almost works, except for the fact that he still manages to be convinced into Sehun’s bed at least once a week.
He’s still determined to try, though, and when they fly to Bangkok for a performance and he gets paired off with Sehun for room arrangements, he starts to cling to Lu Han.
“Hyung~ Room with me~ We haven’t talked in a while.”
“Dumbass,” Lu Han laughs, and Jongin kicks at his shin in spite.
Lu Han presses a kiss to Jongin's cheek and Jongin lets out a little whine, pushing the older man away. "But I promised Yixing I would room with him." The smile Lu Han gives him is so motherly, Jongin wouldn't be surprised if Lu Han started used his own spit to wipe a smudge off Jongin's mouth or something.
They've always been touchy; he doesn't think too much of it until Baekhyun frowns at him. "You two seem awfully close."
"We're best friends. Unlike you and Chanyeol, we do not feel the need to have at each other's throats every time we meet."
Chanyeol smacks him on the back of the head with his palm as he passes by, causing Jongin's head to jerk forward painfully.
He ends up rooming with Zitao and gets pushed into various yoga positions to ‘improve his zen’ and Jongin doesn’t dance right for a week.
Comeback is looming, which means there are more hours in the practice room spent running over the choreography. The new song is challenging. When the music cuts, all the members flop to the floor, chests heaving to take in the stale air.
Joonmyun sits down next to Jongin and tosses him a towel, which Jongin accepts gratefully.
"Don't wind yourself up too much," Joonmyun warns, running a warm palm across Jongin's back. It's a soothing gesture, but Jongin's shoulder blades tighten against his will. If Joonmyun notices, he doesn't say anything.
"If he's a wind up clock, is that his pendulum?" Baekhyun leers and gestures to a particular part of Jongin's anatomy.
Jongin kicks Baekhyun in the shin, then proceeds to ignore him as he spews out curses fluently. "You can't overwind a clock, hyung. My springs won't break; I'm stronger than you think."
It is almost impossible to break the springs of a clock, but it is all too easy to break the key that winds it.
Jongin's key snaps two months shy of their first anniversary.
It's taken Jongin five years of training to get to where he is right now, and Oh Sehun only six months to take it all away.
Of course, it’s unfair to put all the blame on Sehun. It's the accumulation of the little things that lead up to the breakdown, but Sehun is the catalyst. In January, Jongin is forced to sit out of the idol sports championship. Kyungsoo nurses him and tries to cheer him up as they read quick updates from Baekhyun and Chanyeol about how bored they are. Then, at the airport back from the Golden Disk Awards in Malaysia, he takes a fall amongst the frantic crowd of fangirls, slamming his shoulder against one of the pillars.
Jongin is nineteen, looks twenty two, moves like he's fifteen, and his body creaks and aches like he's thirty. Age is a number you give yourself, and Jongin wouldn't even call himself nineteen. In this industry, a day passes like a minute, a year like a decade. Jongin can't tell the difference between weekends and weekdays, mornings and nights. He enters the dark studio in the day and exits the practice room at midnight. The only time he feels the sun on him is during the quick seconds when they dash from van to company, studio to home.
Jongin is burnt out, but he keeps on going, because Kai is but a character in a carefully staged play. The show must go on.
They’re on stage for the opening of the Gwangyang International Flower Festival when the clockwork breaks.
Suddenly, he can’t breathe. The world is closing in, and his throat is swelling. There is no space anymore, only black and white flashing in front of his eyes. Distantly, he sees the spotlights, the cameramen and Baekhyun shooting him a quick look of confusion as he misses the next step. He’s gone through the MAMA discography so many times that it’s ingrained in him, so his limbs move to the beat of the music, but his lungs are not as reflexive. They aren’t taking in the air his body needs, and the lack of oxygen is turning his movements sluggish. Jongin tries to take sharp breaths, opening and closing his mouth in quick succession, but it’s crushing him inside out. Joonmyun looks over, just as a loud gasp escapes from his lips.
“Stop the recording!” Joonmyun yells. Jongin must really look awful for Joonmyun to speak out like that. They’re rookies; even if they are SM Entertainment rookies, they aren't in any position to have a say in the recording process. No one questions Joonmyun, though, and the producer even seemed worried as he gestures for everything to stop.
Jongin starts feeling claustrophobic. Panic sweeps over him, tears well in his eyes. His hands search for Sehun out of instinct, trying to grab onto something familiar. The next thing he knows he's on the ground, a sharp pain shooting like lightning down his spine. He's used to sore backs, but never as severe as this. This feels like his back is breaking into two, a few bones or so dislodged. Fuck.
"Jongin?" Joonmyun's voice reaches him first, frantic and concerned.
"Hyung." Jongin smiles up at the leader, marvelling at how good Joonmyun looks even through his blurred vision; then the world fades out.
Jongin is forced to stay in Korea as the rest of EXO-K fly off to Japan to film for Dream Team.
Dream Team launched many careers, helped give idols a means to promote themselves to the general public. Dongjun, Minho, Baro- Korea knows them now, not just the teenage girls. Jongin knows all too well if he performed well on Dream Team, it would be the ticket to bigger fame, unprecedented exposure. If there's one thing Jongin is confident in other than his dancing abilities, it's his sports ability. Jongin has been looking forward to this all his trainee life.
It just wasn't fair.
"You'll be staying at M's dorm for the next week," Seunghwan says, patting him on the back. His voice is firm; there is no room for discussion. There never is.
Jongin can only nod and limp off to his room.
Jongin doesn't know what to expect when he lugs a backpack one floor down to the M dorm, but it isn't this. The door swings open before he finishes punching in the code, and Yifan is there, taking the backpack from his shoulder and ushering him in.
"Oh, you're here?" Minseok asks, but his tone is higher than usual. The smile stretched across his face is too much like Xiumin's smile for it to be real.
Ah, they've heard. How could they have not? Jongin knows for a fact that Zitao, at least, regularly searches for EXO on Naver, just to keep updated on the other team's schedules and what netizens say about EXO. Sometimes Zitao screencaps the good comments and mass sends it to the whole of EXO. He doesn't send the negative remarks, but there will always be a cryptic post on QQ about working harder, and fans will fall over themselves worrying about 'poor baby Tao.’
Zitao probably knows K's schedule better than Jongin does; it could largely be due to the fact that Jongin is either half-asleep in all his schedules or busy trying to stay as far away from Sehun as physically possible without everyone else catching on.
The one good thing about being as aloof as he is- no one finds it out of the ordinary that he shies away from Sehun's touch.
"You're here!" Lu Han cheers, happiness dissolving the awkwardness and the slightly sombre mood. "Just in time for the adventure."
"Adventure?" Jongin echoes, looking at Yifan for an explanation.
Yifan merely shrugs.
The adventure turns out to be a gastronomical one, when Lu Han appears in the living room later donning a lopsided chef hat, left hand yielding a spatula.
"Today," Lu Han announces, pausing for dramatic effect, "we will introduce Jongin to the taste of home!"
"Home tastes different to all of us," Yifan deadpans as he walks into the room, fresh out of a quick shower. He hangs the towel that he was using to dry his hair around his neck and flicks Lu Han's hat off with his free hand.
Beijing food is common and familiar, a whole world away from the tongue-numbing spiciness of Changsha, the taste Yixing is most familiar with. Yifan is equally at home with both the more subdued taste of Cantonese cuisine or black pepper steaks, and Zitao knows the freshness of the sea better than anyone else. Home comes in many different flavours.
"To the taste of China!" Lu Han improvises, not deterred by the less-than-enthusiastic response of his teammates.
"No, really, I'm fine-" Jongin begins, but is cut off by Yixing's hand on his shoulder.
"Is he doing this for you, or is he doing this for himself?" For all the absentmindedness Yixing shows, more often than not, he displays a scary intuition which makes him a voice of reason among a group too distracted by fame and a desperate need to survive. In his moments of startling clarity, Yixing says things that makes Jongin's head reel, and the younger boy has trouble deciding whether Yixing is a pure genius or just plain ditsy.
Since Minseok and Jongin cannot stomach spicy food, they abandon Changsha cuisine (much to Yixing’s chagrin) and decide on Cantonese food instead.
“It’s simpler,” Yifan explains, patting Yixing on the back, “and we can’t handle the seafood Qingdao is famous for anyway.”
Yifan and Yixing are in charge of soup, which is the easiest task. Dump chopped lotus roots and groundnuts in chicken stock, then let it simmer.
“My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I used stock instead of real chicken,” Yifan murmurs as he stirs the little block of stock into the boiling water.
Yixing smiles up at him and sets aside the slices of lotus roots. “Your mother would be surprised to see you even cooking.”
Zitao and Minseok try their hand at fried beef and green peppers, and no one but Minseok sees Zitao accidentally dump half the bottle of black bean sauce into the pan.
Lu Han leads Jongdae and Jongin off to the dining table and points at the dough. “Attention, Jongs! We are making dumplings! I spent all morning preparing the dough, so if you mess up, I will kill you.” Lu Han says this all with a smile, but the twitch in his eye makes Jongin and Jongdae hurry to sit at the table in sheer terror.
Jongin's fingers are clumsy, unable to control the right amount of pressure needed to form perfect little dumplings like the ones Lu Han makes.
"You are terrible," observes Jongdae, showing off his petite dumplings.
“Small and compact,” Jongin praises, “just like you are.”
Lu Han laughs as Jongdae mashes the only two dumplings that Jongin was proud of.
Jongdae only manages to escape being mauled by Jongin because Zitao sticks his head between them and loudly demands for everyone to taste test his food. Minseok's smile is stiff again, so for a moment, no one volunteers. Then Zitao's bottom lip starts jutting out bit by bit, and they automatically look to Yifan, seeing how long it will take before he cracks. Yifan's face screws up comically for a moment before sighing as he grabs a fork. "Come."
Zitao beams so brightly that some of the sunshine transfers onto Yifan's face, making the older man attempt a lopsided grin. Yifan peers at the dish for a few seconds before he spears a piece of beef and chews on it slowly. Zitao holds his breath as he waits for Yifan's reaction.
Yifan's tongue darts out, and he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. "Well, the flavour's a bit strong, but I guess it's okay."
Jongdae scrambles over to pop a piece into his mouth and immediately gags. "Are your taste buds broken? This tastes like a salt mine!"
Yifan shrugs. "I'm Canadian; it's only polite."
The joke is lost on everyone, as unfamiliar with Western stereotypes that they are. Yixing wrinkles his nose, like he always does when Yifan identifies as being Canadian instead of being Chinese. "Don't talk about Canada when you're here making the dish of your hometown," Yixing says, chucking a black bean at Yifan.
Dinner is a noisy affair; the boys are pleased and proud, especially those of them whose first attempts at cooking were today. They dig in with extra relish, because eating your own creation is always more satisfying than eating out.
Ever so often, someone -mostly Lu Han- sneaks a look at Jongin, careful and quick. He thinks he should be offended, maybe, at how much they baby him when he's almost an adult; instead, he feels loved, cherished. It's comforting to know there are people who care for you, even if some others don't.
"Minseok hyung, you're not eating your greens," Jongin tsks. He uses his chopsticks to drop some bok choy into Minseok's bowl.
It's a transparent ploy to distract others from noticing that he isn't eating his own vegetables, but a quick look from Lu Han silences Jongdae, who opens his mouth to point that out.
After an intense round of rock paper scissors, Zitao and Jongdae grudgingly do the dishes while the rest of the team lounge around in the living room to watch a rerun of Gag Concert.
Jongin is laughing at the 500 won joke when he feels the couch dip next to him. Instinctively, he holds an arm out and allows Lu Han to curl into him.
"Are you feeling better now?" Lu Han asks softly, breath tickling Jongin’s ear.
Jongin buries his face into Lu Han's shoulder and breathes in. He smells like baby powder and fresh laundry. "Are you?"
That's when Lu Han brings out the beer.
Jongin doesn't drink because dancing is all about control, but Lu Han convinces him that dancing is about losing yourself in the realm of control.
"The fluidity and grace of letting loose," Lu Han warbles, opening the tab on a can so roughly that the clear beer sloshes out, "only achievable through a nice dose of alcohol. Don't you want a try? You need the experience."
"You'll be the death of me," Jongin laughs. He accepts the can and tentatively brings it to his lips, Lu Han nodding encouragingly. “You could convince me to do anything.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
Yifan frowns at them, but he doesn't voice out his disapproval, because Jongin is finally legal now, and if he wants to make some bad choices, who's to stop him?
"Relax, duizhang, it's the lesser of the few evils." The way Jongin drawls out the term of affection makes it sound like a challenge, but his words cannot be denied. Some idols take to drugs to help them cope with the never-ending schedules and lack of sleep. Some idols smoke, giving a rough edge to their voices and stealing away their stamina with each puff. Jongin knows for a fact Yifan's way of dealing with things is to line up his soft toys and talk to them. Yixing once told him he walked in on Yifan giving his soft toy dragon a skincare tutorial.
Lu Han flashes a grin at Yifan and makes a show out of doing a loveshot with Jongin, hands tugging at a confused Jongin to get him to comply. Yifan casually flips him off, drawing a bubble of laughter out of Lu Han.
The past few months has revolved around Sehun, but tonight, Jongin doesn’t think of Sehun even once.
Jongin wakes up feeling more than a little disoriented. The pain drumming away at his head is unlike the pain he's used to from his injured waist or his bruised back; it's brutal and relentless, his blood vessels expanding and contracting to punish him for his actions last night. At some point Lu Han had brought out the soju and introduced Jongin to the concept of soju bombs, a deadly drink that had him going from mildly tipsy to clambering all over Lu Han in a single glass. Jongin is surprised Yifan didn't stop them.
"Fuck." Jongin runs his tongue across his sticky front teeth and pushes up his bangs. "Why didn't anyone stop me."
Lu Han hums in understanding and gives Jongin a flask. "Honey water."
Jongin takes a dutiful sip, but the sweet water does little more than make his stomach churn once again. His mouth feels a little less gross. He opens his eyes and closes them again when the light attacks him. There are vibrations beneath him, but alarm doesn't register in his sleep-fogged mind until he hears a loud honk. "Where are we?"
"Taxi."
"Hyung," it's a warning and a question and a cry of shock all at once.
Lu Han grins, and throws his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "Come on, live a little! I just wanted to show you what home is.”
"I told the company," Lu Han says, and Jongin relaxes a little. Lu Han pauses a few moments to watch Jongin gulp down the rest of the honey water before he continues, "they just never replied."
Jongin chokes.
Jongin only dares to turn on his phone once they're safely in a taxi shuttling off to the hotel Lu Han has booked them into. The hotel is located in one of the side alleys down Wang Fu Jing street, a few minutes away from the food street itself, but hidden enough to be cheap for accommodation on prime property
There are, surprisingly, only two messages.
The first one is from Baekhyun and simply says, you're an idiot.
The second one is from Seunghwan hyung. Are you with Lu Han?
Jongin worries his bottom lip, typing out and erasing a reply a few times before he finally settles on, am I in trouble?
It takes barely five minutes for his phone to buzz with Seunghwan's message. No, just stay safe. Have fun, and watch Lu Han. Remember not to tire yourself out. Just the basics, the bare minimum of what a manager needs to remind his charge of, and nothing more. It's all too easy to imagine Seunghwan hunched in Lu Han and Yixing's empty room, typing out the message with the drawn out sigh of the long suffering, too tired to protest what cannot be undone.
Jongin tosses his phone back into his backpack and pokes Lu Han in the shoulder. "Hey, make me forget." He doesn't really think about what he's saying, and Lu Han's blinding smile is enough to make him relax into the leather seats.
At the hotel, Jongin flops onto the bed nearest to the window. “MINE MINE MINE.”
“Little brat,” Lu Han coos and ruffles Jongin’s hair.
Just then, Lu Han’s cellphone rings. Lu Han takes a glance at the caller ID and frowns. “I’ll take this outside,” he says distractedly, already moving to the door.
Jongin nods and watches Lu Han close the door before he dashes over and presses his ear against it. There's a long moment of silence and Jongin wonders if the door is too thick for him to hear, or if Lu Han has walked too far away. Then he hears Lu Han's terse, raised voice, muffled by the wood, "I will do what I have to."
By the time Lu Han steps back into the room, Jongin is curled up in his bed's blankets.
"Was that the company?" Jongin peeks out of the cocoon he's fashioned and asks, giving Lu Han the easy way out.
"Yeah, I told them not to worry, so you shouldn't, too." Lu Han sounds distracted. He grabs fresh clothes from his bag and pads off to the bathroom for a shower.
The phone buzzes again. Fighting a battle with his conscience, Jongin counts to 10 before he grabs it. It takes him two tries before he gets the message box open, his hand trembling in his haste, but the message is displayed loud and clear.
From: Xingxing
Kidnapping him won't make him love you.
Lu Han insists on dragging him off to the tourist sites the next day. He pushes the cap on Jongin's head lower and says, "Day one’s itinerary: China, as the tourists know it!" EXO K has been to China so many times but they've never even gone to the Forbidden Palace. "It's my home country! You have to know all about it! This has to change."
"What if the fans see us?"
Lu Han scoffs at Jongin's worry. "It's the week before Qingming; everyone has to work hard if they want to take next week off to pay their respects to their ancestors. If they wanted to go sightseeing they would’ve went during the Golden Week of the Lunar New Year.”
It makes sense. The crowds are thin, but Jongin is still wary as they walk through the courtyard of the Forbidden Palace, caps pressed low.
Beijing is like Seoul, but shaved of the colours. Stepping onto the busier streets in the middle of Seoul city sometimes feels like an assault of neon lights but Beijing is more homely, a little more subdued. Beijing feels like a shy cousin, a late bloomer just waiting to spread her wings and shine, but for now, is overshadowed by the louder, flashier Shanghai.
However, there is nothing subtle about the Forbidden Palace. No expense is spared for the royal family, and Seoul’s palaces pale in comparison. Jongin marvels at the intricate design of one of the larger palaces when a flash catches his attention.
“Is that girl taking our picture?”
“She’s taking a picture of the scenery.”
“She’s zooming in!”
“The Qing dynasty vase behind you is very lovely, dear. Now take a picture of me pretending to push it off its stand.”
Later, Lu Han brings him to Wang Fu Jing food street, one of the most iconic streets in Beijing. It stocks everything from the traditional Bintanghulu, which is fruits dipped in glazed sugar, to the familiar Ddokbeokki, to more exotic tastes.
“This is a tourist area with overpriced food,” Lu Han explains as Jongin buys a starfish on a stick and nibbles on it hesitantly. It tastes like rock. “Locals wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”
“You’re not dead yet.”
Lu Han eyes the starfish. “I bet if you finished that, you would be.”
“Hyung!” Jongin takes selca of himself with the stick of starfish and decidedly dumps it into the nearest trashcan. Lu Han’s wrinkles- sorry, laugh lines, come out in full blast.
Just wandering around the city wears them out quickly, so they take an early dinner and head back to the hotel.
Jongin turns on the television and laughs at commercials that he doesn’t understand while Lu Han watches him.
After a while, Jongin simply turns off the television and faces Lu Han. “What?”
Lu Han sucks his bottom lip in and says, “Why do you let Sehun do this to you?”
In an instant, the good mood he’s had all day disappears. Jongin makes a show of fluffing up his pillow and pointedly avoids Lu Han’s eyes. "You don't understand."
Lu Han laughs bitterly. "I've been in a one sided love for the past four years. I think I understand."
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who Lu Han’s referring to, but four years? That’s an awfully long time. "It's not the same."
"Then tell me."
And Jongin does. He tells Lu Han about how he may have fallen for Sehun the first time he saw him, a young, pale boy peeking into the practice room curiously. He talks about how his first kiss was to Sehun in the fall of 09’, initiated by Jongin but drawn out by Sehun. "I wanted to know how kissing felt like too." Sehun had shrugged, and Jongin had tried not to let his happiness show.
He finishes with Sehun's indifference, and how it hurt more than rejection, because at least being rejected showed that he cared enough to do it, but not bothering to do anything about it...
"Oh, Jongin," Lu Han says when Jongin stops to angrily wipe away unshed tears. He says it with pity, and Jongin lets himself be pulled into a hug. "You're beautiful enough to survive alone," Lu Han whispers, hand rubbing soft circles on Jongin's back. "But if you find that you can't brave it all by yourself, you'll always have me."
There's more to that sentence that Lu Han lets on, that much is obvious. "Lu Han..." Jongin trails off, the warning in those two syllables clear. This seems familiar, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. Same scenario, modified script, different characters. The director needs to yell cut before the actors start to derail.
Jongin doesn't want Lu Han to continue talking, but Lu Han has pulled the cork and now years of pent up feelings tumble out. "I tried to forget it at first, you know? Tried to ignore the way I wanted to explode from a single touch of yours. And then I saw it- how you looked at Sehun, and how you put this possessive arm around him sometimes. I kind of hate that I'm in love with you, but I can't bring myself to hate you."
Jongin can't breathe. He's reminded of the day he broke down on stage, the reason why he's on this trip in the first place.
Lu Han is still babbling, eyes wide and wild. "Why you? I could have loved Yixing. That would’ve been easier-"
The world is getting smaller again.
"And fuck, the time I saw you and Sehun making out in the practice room, I punched the bathroom mirror so hard-"
"Lu Han!" Lu Han stops and his eyes fly up to Jongin. Deer in headlights has never been a more apt description.
"I'm in love with Sehun," Jongin says. His voice sounds loud to his own ears, echoing in the room.
"You are getting over Sehun," Lu Han corrects. He brushes his thumb over Jongin's cheek, "and I will help you." Then he lies back down in his own bed and turns over so that his back faces Jongin, and the conversation ends.
Once upon a time, Jongin’s parents had disapproved of his decision to dance. They called it a career choice, but Jongin calls it a dream. They tried to send him to Taekwondo lessons, English classes, advanced math tutorials, anything to get young Jongin offstage and into a practical future.
The nail that sticks out gets hammered. That's how Asia is- how Asia was? But people are bound to be dissatisfied. You can’t force people to conform, just like you can’t force feelings to appear and disappear as you please.
You can’t hammer love, but you can shape it, carefully, nudge it in the direction you want. Jongin looks at Lu Han’s silhouette in the dark and he finds himself wishing, maybe… just hammer a little harder.
The second day starts with Lu Han jumping on Jongin's bed and jostling him awake with an off-key rendition of Baby Don’t Cry.
"For our lead singer," Jongin grumbles, "you are terrible."
Lu Han merely grins in response and tugs Jongin's blankets away from him. "On today's schedule, China, as my teenage self knew it."
There is an unspoken agreement to forget last night. Trying not to think about Lu Han's outburst makes Jongin's head hurt, so he stops trying, and it's actually easier to slip back into the easy friendship they have when he's not fixated on choosing his words.
He lets Lu Han's fingers curl around his wrist and pull him out the door, because it's just so much simpler to indulge in whatever Lu Han wants.
Teenage Lu Han apparently was rich.
Lu Han brings him to a large departmental mall with rows and rows of pastel coloured clothes that look too stiff to be worn. The sales assistants are all dressed in crisp uniforms, and politely greet the both of them when they pass by. Even walking down the aisles makes Jongin feel burdened.
Jongin randomly picks up the price tag of a shirt and flips it around to glance at it. "Oh my God." He does a quick mental conversion in his head; if one hundred yuan is eighteen thousand won, then how much does this shirt with the four-digit price tag cost? "Fuck, I-" The price tag drops from his hand, fluttering back down against the silk shirt.
Lu Han laughs and gingerly inserts the price tag back into the shirt pocket. "Emerging economic powerhouse China; better get used to it."
"You shopped here?" Jongin carefully darts around the clothes on display, afraid that he might dirty any of the three-thousand-dollar coats. He's used to wearing thousand-dollar shirts and socks that cost more than the average part timer's monthly pay, but those were sponsored items. Sometimes he forgets that the whole point of him wearing these overpriced items is so that privileged little punks can buy them for themselves.
"No, but I liked to be seen here. I had a dream." Lu Han sounds wistful, but only for a few moments, because he spots the makeup counter, and there he goes again, tugging Jongin off to play with the makeup.
"This is not normal guy bonding activity," Jongin quips. He uncaps a stick of liquid eyeliner and tests it on the back of his hand, pretending that he actually knows what he's doing.
("One of your eyes seems to be bigger than the other. It's weird.")
Out of nowhere, Sehun’s voice pops up in his mind, and the image of a sneering Sehun flashes before his eyes.
Jongin's hand shakes so much he drops the eyeliner. No, of all times- No.
There it is again-the prickling in his palm, the shortness of breath, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. His knees weaken but that’s okay, because, Lu Han is by his side, arm around his shoulder and gently steering him out of the mall. “I’ve got you,” Lu Han says, just like I always have.
They make the way back to the hotel in silence. Jongin feels like he has failed Lu Han.
They have become very good at not talking about the necessary things.
Lu Han stops by at a noodle stall for dinner and forces Jongin to choke down every bit of the too-oily beef noodles, with Jongin protesting about the big portions. Then he hurries Jongin into the shower, staying outside the bathroom door and shouting out directions and countdowns so that Jongin has to hurry to finish showering in the ten minute limit Lu Han has given him. It isn’t until Jongin’s safely wrapped up in his covers that he has time to think about what happened earlier today, and suddenly he feels so grateful to have Lu Han by his side. He doesn’t deserve him. Lu Han would make a great boyfriend, just not his.
The bed dips, and soon he feels a warmth against his back, Lu Han carefully slipping under the covers. Lu Han leaves enough space for Jongin to pull away, but Jongin keeps himself still, so Lu Han takes it as permission and presses himself into Jongin’s frame, arms slipping around Jongin’s waist.
Jongin hasn't gotten himself off since that last messy blowjob that Sehun gave him in the shower, teeth too rough and knees slipping against wet tiles. That was two months ago. It had taken all his willpower to say no to Sehun the next time the other boy asked for a quickie, and the quick sneer of disbelief on Sehun's face was enough to put him off any sexual situations since.
Feeling Lu Han pressed against him stirs up unwanted feelings, a heat in the bottom of his stomach and an erratic drumming in his heart.
With any other person, Yifan and his hands roaming across Jongin's body, or maybe Baekhyun, a cheeky grin before he bites down on Jongin's earlobe, he would feel the same, he reasons. Just thinking about it sends another spike of arousal through him. See, it's not just Lu Han. The thought has him satisfied enough that he can ignore his erection until it wills away.
On the third day, Jongin wakes up alone in bed.
At least tell us you're okay, you bastard, is what he sees when he turns on his phone. It's Baekhyun, probably prodded by Joonmyun to send the message because Joonmyun didn't want to do it himself. Joonmyun is big on giving his members "personal space" but he still worries about them nonetheless.
Jongin sends back a picture of Lu Han choking on his noodles.
He finds Lu Han lounging outside the hotel, a plastic bag in his hand holding soya milk and fried dough with spring onions.
Jongin accepts the offered soya milk and blows on it before taking a small sip. "Where are you bringing me now?"
Lu Han smiles into his cup. "China, as Lu Han knows it."
Jongin amuses himself by using his tongue to stretch the sticky malt lollipop that Lu Han gave him into various shapes. Lu Han claimed that he wanted Jongin to try the snacks of his childhood but Jongin knows that the candy was more to pacify him than anything else. It gives him something to do with his mouth other than bombarding Lu Han with questions like where are we going and are we lost. They are heading out of the city, because they've changed trains twice and boarded a bus that’s been chugging along for twenty minutes now.
"We just left second ring road," Lu Han announces, pointing to a green overhead sign. Jongin only has a brief idea of Beijing's geography, but he knows enough to wonder why Lu Han is bringing him this far away from the city. Outside, the tall buildings blend into shorter, stocky flats. The bright bursts of colours and loud billboards are washed out by orange and tan bricks. It's like they boarded a time machine and Jongin half expects someone to hop on the bus dressed like one of those characters he sees on the period dramas that Zitao sometimes watches.
It takes another half of the lollipop to disappear before Lu Han jumps up and tells him to get off.
Jongin looks around him in fascination as they make their way through little back alleys to one of the older flats. This area has been around for a while, mold dominating the brick walls of the buildings and paint chipping off the doors. Even though Jongin has always been a Seoulite and grew up in the better parts of the city, he feels strangely at home.
Did Lu Han even grow up here? His pale skin stands out among the tanned residents around them. The country folk in Korea have tanned skin too, left over from ancestors who toiled in the sun for crops. For the first time, Lu Han's skin tone is the one that stands out. This time, it’s Jongin that fits in, and Lu Han the pale doll that everyone stares at.
Scrubbed clean of makeup, the only thing special about Jongin is his height, but even that is nothing to write home about. The past few months have worn away at Jongin, stealing whatever’s left over of his baby fat (and his innocence with it). Now there is only a tragic kind of beauty- sunken cheekbones and deep-set eyes, stunning if brought out with a dash of bronzer under the spotlight, but in a natural setting, the best way to describe him is gaunt.
The residents here seem friendly enough, nodding to them as they walk past, a far cry from his two days in the city where no one even gave them a passing glance. The formalities of tradition and respect, lost in the crowds of the city, but revived in the suburbs.
The delicate balance between tradition and modernisation wavers with each passing day and the dizzying race of globalisation has rushed the people into a state of confusion. Capitalism soars at the expense of humanity, which is understandable because it’s like when you strike the lottery and get quick money - you spend it all at once without caring that you’ve hurt one or two along the way.
Still, Beijing feels like Seoul to Jongin, especially when another youngster bumps into him on the subway without apologising. Even across borders and languages, some things remain the same. Be it in Seoul or Beijing, people still spit in public, people still hold doors open. There is a difference in the language, but nothing more.
They make it to a large dirt courtyard surrounded by four stock flats.
A little boy wearing a bright red pikachu shirt runs over, his cheeks ruddy red from the cold. "Gege!"
Lu Han laughs and picks the boy up to swing him around easily, the child letting out a squeal of delight.
"Do you know him?" Jongin asks, even though it's obvious that Lu Han does, from the way the little boy is laughing happily with his fat fingers reaching for Lu Han's hair.
Lu Han speaks a string of Mandarin to the little boy and the boy nods before running up one of the nearby stairwells.
“Let’s follow.”
Where they are finally dawns on Jongin. "Family?"
Lu Han doesn't answer, merely hums non-committedly, but the significance of this hangs heavy in the room. Lu Han never talks about family. It’s one of the first things everyone learns about him. Jongin feels rightfully honoured.
"Aunt was the only one who helped me when I fell out with my parents," Lu Han explains, using the term for his father’s cousin.
The door is already open, waiting for them, and the little boy from before peeks out cheekily before ducking back in. Lu Han toes off his shoes in the foyer and Jongin follows suit, eyes exploring the small flat.
“Lu Han?” A warm, grandmotherly voice comes in disbelief, and an old lady of about seventy walks out, body weight pressed on a walking stick.
“Biao gu!” Lu Han steps forwards and sweeps his aunt into a hug, pressing a warm kiss to her wrinkly cheek.
"Aunt's a bit of a rebel," Lu Han confides conspirationally as they follow her into the house, "never found a good enough husband and so stayed single. We're the black sheep of the family."
Ah, to wed and bear children is the wish of all mothers for their daughters. In the eyes of the elders, still trapped in their webs of tradition, Lu Han's aunt has failed the ultimate task. Jongin doesn't get to dwell on this because Lu Han is pushing him into the kitchen.
"We're making dumplings!" Lu Han says, holding up the ball of dough with a flourish.
Jongin scrunches up his face in dismay. Lu Han giggles and swipes some flour across Jongin's cheek.
Jongin watches Lu Han and admires the way he scrunches up his nose with concentration while carefully crafting his dumplings. Lu Han wears the apron well, the pink shade a nice complement to his skin, but most of all, he looks relaxed, the months of endless schedules melting away with each pinch of the dough.
The early afternoon sunlight filters in through the small window and brings out the highlights in Lu Han’s hair and suddenly Jongin feels a lump in his throat. He wants this, wants someone waiting for him when he gets home, ready to prepare a warm handmade meal at any time. He wants to love someone like Lu Han, someone who can love him back.
Lu Han looks up and catches him staring, and Jongin covers up by complaining loudly, “Even after watching you make a million of those, I can’t get mine right!”
“Patience, my little one. Patience is all you need.”
Jongin is better at making them now. His dumplings are only slightly misshapen, and only one falls apart when put into the boiling water.
"Progress!" Lu Han cheers, fishing the last of Jongin's dumplings out of the soup.
They sit down at the small dining table, Lu Han eagerly filling in his aunt about everything that’s happened since she’s seen him. Jongin knows that Lu Han is only telling the filtered, rose-tinted glasses version of his life, because that’s the story you tell everyone who cares about you. The ones who love you don’t need to know about the crippling exhaustion or the constant hunger or the fear of being watched and followed 24/7.
Every once in a while, Lu Han’s aunt attempts to include Jongin in the conversation, and when Lu Han isn’t busy laughing at Jongin’s fumbling attempts to speak Mandarin, he acts as their translator, switching between the two languages effortlessly.
"I'll take this to the back!" Lu Han says, picking up the bowls after they’re done, "and you'll just sit here and bond with Aunt."
"But I-" Jongin snaps his mouth shut when Lu Han raises an eyebrow at him. But he doesn't speak Mandarin?
Jongin is so busy panicking that he doesn't realise that Aunt is talking to him, her low, rumbly tone pleasant and familiar. "Excuse me?" he says carefully in Mandarin, trying desperately to recall the months of Mandarin classes forced on by the company.
"He makes you smile," Aunt repeats, and Jongin understands that much at least. He glances at the doorway that Lu Han has disappeared into and nods. "Yeah, he does."
Aunt smiles knowingly and pats him on the back of his hand, her paper thin skin feeling like leather against his. "Keep him well."
It's only an automatic response that has Jongin dragging his eyes away from Lu Han's direction and back to meet Aunt’s gaze. "I will."
There is sadness across the old woman’s face, the years of hardship showing with one sentence, “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
After dinner they make the trip back to the hotel in silence, Jongin falling asleep and drooling all over Lu Han's shoulder. Lu Han hooks an arm under Jongin's arms and half carries a sleepy Jongin to their room.
Then Lu Han climbs into bed with him, and Jongin tenses up. Yesterday night comes back to him, and he's all too awake now.
Luhan ignores Jongin’s stiffness and pats his hair, slipping his fingers through the strands like Jongin’s mother used to do. Jongin relaxes despite himself, and Lu Han presses even closer, fitting his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. "Jongin, what am I to you?" His tone is light and breezy, but the question is anything but.
It's a familiar question, one that Lu Han has asked many times in the past. Jongin has always brushed it past as one of Lu Han's weird quirks, what with his need for constant validation.
“What… What do you want me to say?”
There’s a moment of silence, and just when Jongin thinks that Lu Han won’t answer, Lu Han’s arms tighten around his waist and he whispers into Jongin’s shirt, “Mine.”
This is dangerous territory. This is Lu Han opening up and becoming completely raw. Jongin pulls into a sitting position, and Lu Han rises as well, looking so vulnerable that Jongin can’t possibly say no. Instead he says gently, "What if you're my rebound?"
"I don't mind. I won't make you cry." He says this with so much earnestness that Jongin wants to shake Lu Han because Lu Han doesn't understand.
"But what if I make you cry?"
"What makes you think you haven't already done that?" Lu Han snaps, but as soon as the word leaves his lips, his face softens. “No, I didn’t mean-“
Jongin's face crumples immediately. He turns his head so that he’s looking out of the window, and gets out of bed. "I'm going to wash up."
The hotel room is small, and Jongin didn't close the washroom door, so he hears Lu Han's whisper, not meant for his ears. "It would have been easier if you loved me instead."
Jongin can't help it. He accidentally applies too much pressure on the tube of toothpaste and it squirts out a string of blue and white striped paste on the mirror. Startled, Jongin drops the tube of toothpaste and it lies on the floor, a sorry sight. What a shame, since it's a new tube, but now half of it is smeared across the mirror. Jongin tries to scoop the toothpaste up and salvage some of it, but it just doesn't fit back into the tube.
Some things simply can't be taken back, especially secrets that shouldn't be told.
When Jongin wakes up the next morning, the space beside him is cold, and he feels a little empty inside.
The flight back is silent, the taxi back to the dorm even more so. They sit by the windows of the car, an empty space wide between them.
"I had fun," Jongin says, a weak attempt to break the silence that's followed them since Lu Han's ‘I'll hail a cab’ at the airport. It’s only been four days, but he feels completely lightened now, a renewed vigour drumming in his veins, and he’s itching to get into the practice room to make up for what he’s missed.
"Yeah?" Lu Han only spares Jongin a quick smile before he turns his attention back to the scenery outside. The radio is playing SNSD's I Got a Boy, and Jongin wonders if the taxi driver even knows whom he has in his car.
Baekhyun pounces on him the minute his foot crosses into the dorm, drawing a yelp and causing him to crash into the door. "How was your honeymoon!"
"Hey." Joonmyun sets a warning hand on Baekhyun.
Jongin looks at Sehun to catch his reaction but the younger boy mere glances up once from in his manga with mild interest before returning to the book.
Baekhyun scoffs, shrugging off Joonmyun's hand. "He loves you enough to whisk you to another country because our little Jonginnie was sad. I heard the managers saying that they're punishing him with an extra hour of practice every day for two weeks."
“He’s in trouble?”
Joonmyun sighs and finally adds, “So were you, but Lu Han talked them into letting him take all the blame.”
Baekhyun takes in Jongin’s stricken expression and brushes his bangs away. “It’s not too late, Jongin.”
There’s still time to back out, Jongin thinks, as he rings the doorbell two days later. Two days of tossing and turning and a lot of dirty looks from Baekhyun, and he’s finally here. He hops nervously from foot to foot, and prays that he isn’t making a mistake.
Lu Han opens the door with a quirk of the eyebrow. “You know the password; you can just come in.”
“You forgot your cap,” Jongin says lamely, holding up the blue cap.
“Thanks.” Lu Han takes the cap and makes to close the door.
"Wait, Lu Han." Jongin sticks a leg through the doorway and winces when the door slams onto his foot.
For a moment something flares in Lu Han's eyes but then he blinks and his eyes are downcast and sullen again.
"I am not ready for a relationship," Jongin begins, fingers twisting the bracelet on his wrist.
Lu Han flickers his gaze up and smiles bitterly. "I guessed that."
"But!" Jongin raises his voice loud enough to cut off Lu Han, and he rushes the words out. "Can you wait for me?"
This time the look on Lu Han’s face is of genuine surprise. There is no going back now.
"Can you wait for me?" A cheeky grin sneaks his way across Jongin’s face. "Because I'm beautiful enough, because I’m worth it."
Sometimes Jongin is afraid.
When he got an A in math, his dog ran away.
When Jongin debuted, he threw his back.
When he met Sehun, he signed his sanity away.
Good things come at a price, and now Lu Han is offering himself. What will happen next?
He's worked hard for almost six years to be an idol. Because of Sehun, he almost lost it all. But maybe this time, he deserves better.
Poll Round 01: Of Pipe Dreams and Reclamation
Team: Canon/Alternate Reality (AR)
Rating: R
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Kai/Luhan, Kai/Sehun
Summary: In which Luhan tries to reclaim Jongin, and Jongin tries to reclaim his dignity. (Alternatively: Luhan drags Jongin to China to show him the taste of home.)
Author's Note: The original Korean title translates to You're Beautiful Enough.
Prompt Used: Verbal Jint - You Deserve Better
He's not sure when hurried handjobs and stolen kisses turned into feelings, but he has a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't in it for the sex since the beginning. If he really thinks about it, he's always noticed Sehun, faintly remembers training his eyes on the younger boy through the reflections of the wall-length practice room mirror as they ran through the moves for their first joint teaser. I'm just spotting him, he thought then. He knows better now.
There's always that nagging feeling at the back of his head which tells him flat out, Sehun simply doesn't want the same things Jongin wants. He tells himself it's okay. Jongin is young; he doesn’t need commitments. His only commitments are EXO and his parents, and to please his parents and fans, he needs to do well as EXO. There’s no time for anything other than a quick blowjob in the shower or a messy jerk-off session in the hotels between Seoul and Beijing. He repeats this like a mantra when Sehun swipes his fingers across Jongin's hips and dips his tongue into his collarbones: This is just a distraction, this means nothing. He almost believes it.
Until the day he woke up snuggled into Sehun's side and thought that he could give up everything just to stay in Sehun's arms. It was okay until Jongin watched Sehun sleep, the lightest snore slipping out of Sehun's mouth, and realised, Fuck, I'm in love.
The realisation is thrilling, the secret a precious treasure he has to hold, delicate and sacred. It settles at the back of his throat, but it's not unpleasant. Being in love means that even after a gruelling round of dance practice, a smile from Sehun revitalises him enough for three hours more. Being in love means he feels warm just being next to Sehun, a sense of contentment that spreads from his fingers holding onto the edge of Sehun’s shirt to his entire body.
Jongin has never had a relationship before― his entire life has been about SM entertainment, dance practices and music lessons stealing all the energy and dedication that the other teens gave to flings. He doesn't know how to toe the line between casual and committed relationships, and he doesn’t know the boundaries that separate adoration from addiction. Love is terrifying, yet empowering. It’s a whole new experience, one that he’s all too ready to explore.
Some days he wonders what made him fall for Sehun but the answer is startling clear. Because the day before Jongin shot his first solo teaser, Sehun was by his side, gently encouraging him and working his way through the dance steps with him until Sehun knew the choreography just as well as Jongin did. And the minute before Jongin stepped onstage alone at the Seoul debut showcase, Sehun squeezed his hand and traced little messages onto his palm- hwaiting, himnae, I'm hungry, buy me food later- and it was more encouraging than anything Joonmyun had said. Because Jongin is lonely, and Sehun has been a constant in his life for the past 5 years and while other boys had girls, Jongin had Sehun.
In the bedroom, when it's just the two of them, Sehun is completely different, loving, even. He's a thoughtful lover, making sure that Jongin is satisfied before he takes care to clean them both off. Basked in the warm afterglow, Sehun lets Jongin hold him close and he nuzzles into the crook of Jongin's neck, breath tickling the fine hairs along the skin.
And when Sehun gently runs a thumb across Jongin's cheek and tells him he's beautiful, Jongin thinks that he could let this continue forever. In hindsight, Jongin doesn't even blame himself.
It’s one of those rare days when there’s no schedule in Daejeon or Pusan, or even Seoul until the late afternoon, so they have the freedom to sleep in. Jongin, though, circadian clock already wired in place, wakes up at the crack of dawn.
He tries not to move too much to avoid waking Sehun, cuddled in his arms, face pressed against Jongin’s chest and drooling a dark patch on his bare skin. Jongin lies still and watches the sunrise, rays slowly moving across Sehun’s sleeping face, and once again, feels a wave of overwhelming adoration rush through him.
Just then, Sehun stirs, a low-pitched whine escaping his throat as sleep loses its hold on him.
“Hey sleepyhead.”
Sehun grunts and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Breakfast in bed?" Jongin gently brushes Sehun’s bangs out of his eyes and cringes at how whipped he sounds.
"You're acting like a clingy boyfriend," Sehun grumbles, pushing Jongin away and snuggling back into the covers. When Jongin gives no response, Sehun lifts his head slowly and squints at Jongin. "You know we're not, right? Boyfriends, I mean."
He’s been expecting this, but Jongin still feels like he's been splashed in the face. No amount of acting lessons pushed on by the company could've made him school his features into one that isn't hurt.
"Fuck." Sehun has the decency to look stricken. "Jongin, I didn't- I didn't know you thought we were being serious?" Sehun sounds uncertain and small, a far cry from the dominating boy Jongin knows.
“What did you think then?” Jongin spits out, and revels in the guilty look that springs up on Sehun’s face.
"But this won't stop, right?"
For a moment, Jongin is stunned into disbelief.
Sehun pulls his knees up to his chin and waves a hand awkwardly at the sheets. “I mean, we're both teenage boys with needs-"
"Fuck your fucking needs." Jongin shoves a pillow in Sehun’s face, ignoring Sehun’s splutters of indignation and stalks out of the bedroom. He’s fuming so badly that his hand shakes when he brings it up to wipe at his eyes, surprised at the tears that have formed. He’s furious at himself for crying over something like this, for crying over someone like Sehun.
See if I ever go back to you again, he thinks furiously, storming back to his room and scaring Kyungsoo with his tear-streaked face.
Kyungsoo jumps up from where he was curled up in bed with a book and hurries over to flutter around Jongin worriedly. “What’s wrong, Jongin? Are you crying?”
“I’m just tired,” Jongin offers, and Kyungsoo knows better than to ask more.
Still, when Sehun comes to him that night, soft touches and whispered apologies, Jongin lets himself be caught up in it all once again.
So it continues.
Four months later, nothing has changed. Jongin wakes up with cum drying on his stomach, a scratchy voice and the realisation that something needs to be Done.
There's a scratch across his chest, stretching from his collarbone to underneath his left nipple, a souvenir from Sehun who likes to mark his targets. Jongin absentmindedly picks at the raised skin because it itches a bit, and takes in the empty space next to him with an overwhelming urge to cry.
After the day of the confrontation, Sehun never stayed till morning, even though he only sleeps in the bedroom next door. It really makes no difference― the whole of EXO-K knows of their nightly encounters anyway. It’s more of a warning than anything else; a constant reminder that although they sleep together on a weekly basis, there are no extra feelings between them that justify him sleeping over. The line is drawn clearly and boldly in red, underline twice for extra emphasis.
Picking himself carefully off the sheets, Jongin winces at the pain in his back and makes the walk of shame to the bathroom. The dorm is small enough to make hiding places close to impossible. He’s hoping that no one’s there, but he’s wrong. Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows, and Jongin burns under the scrutiny of Joonmyun’s disapproving gaze.
“You don’t judge Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and they’re twice as loud,” Jongin points out, unable to stand the weight of Joonmyun’s judgement anymore.
Joonmyun sighs and tries to pull Jongin into a hug, which Jongin resists. “Just try not to get yourself hurt okay? I’m not sure- I’m not sure Sehun’s good for you.”
Jongin opens his mouth automatically to defend his relationship, but he stops short. What relationship? Sehun certainly didn’t think they were anything; he made that loud and clear by carefully drawing that line. They aren’t like Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who obviously adore and dote on each other openly in public. They aren’t even like Joonmyun and Kyungsoo, who are simply just friends, friends who are definitely more caring to each other than Sehun is ever going to be to Jongin. Outside the walls of the bedroom, Sehun indulges Jongin sometimes with smiles and hugs, but he directs those to the other members too. Most days, he smiles even wider at the others than to Jongin.
And that’s when it really sinks in. This is a spiral of self-destruction, not only ripping the bandage off the wound without letting it heal, but drenching it with alcohol for maximum impact. If Joonmyun, who avoids unpleasant confrontations at all cost, is worried about Jongin, there must seriously be something wrong about what Jongin and Sehun have.
You never forget your first kiss and your first love, and Sehun is both of that.
Exactly how do you make yourself fall out of love?
(How do you make yourself fall out of love and come out of it whole?)
You don't.
His plan to avoid Sehun almost works, except for the fact that he still manages to be convinced into Sehun’s bed at least once a week.
He’s still determined to try, though, and when they fly to Bangkok for a performance and he gets paired off with Sehun for room arrangements, he starts to cling to Lu Han.
“Hyung~ Room with me~ We haven’t talked in a while.”
“Dumbass,” Lu Han laughs, and Jongin kicks at his shin in spite.
Lu Han presses a kiss to Jongin's cheek and Jongin lets out a little whine, pushing the older man away. "But I promised Yixing I would room with him." The smile Lu Han gives him is so motherly, Jongin wouldn't be surprised if Lu Han started used his own spit to wipe a smudge off Jongin's mouth or something.
They've always been touchy; he doesn't think too much of it until Baekhyun frowns at him. "You two seem awfully close."
"We're best friends. Unlike you and Chanyeol, we do not feel the need to have at each other's throats every time we meet."
Chanyeol smacks him on the back of the head with his palm as he passes by, causing Jongin's head to jerk forward painfully.
He ends up rooming with Zitao and gets pushed into various yoga positions to ‘improve his zen’ and Jongin doesn’t dance right for a week.
Comeback is looming, which means there are more hours in the practice room spent running over the choreography. The new song is challenging. When the music cuts, all the members flop to the floor, chests heaving to take in the stale air.
Joonmyun sits down next to Jongin and tosses him a towel, which Jongin accepts gratefully.
"Don't wind yourself up too much," Joonmyun warns, running a warm palm across Jongin's back. It's a soothing gesture, but Jongin's shoulder blades tighten against his will. If Joonmyun notices, he doesn't say anything.
"If he's a wind up clock, is that his pendulum?" Baekhyun leers and gestures to a particular part of Jongin's anatomy.
Jongin kicks Baekhyun in the shin, then proceeds to ignore him as he spews out curses fluently. "You can't overwind a clock, hyung. My springs won't break; I'm stronger than you think."
It is almost impossible to break the springs of a clock, but it is all too easy to break the key that winds it.
Jongin's key snaps two months shy of their first anniversary.
It's taken Jongin five years of training to get to where he is right now, and Oh Sehun only six months to take it all away.
Of course, it’s unfair to put all the blame on Sehun. It's the accumulation of the little things that lead up to the breakdown, but Sehun is the catalyst. In January, Jongin is forced to sit out of the idol sports championship. Kyungsoo nurses him and tries to cheer him up as they read quick updates from Baekhyun and Chanyeol about how bored they are. Then, at the airport back from the Golden Disk Awards in Malaysia, he takes a fall amongst the frantic crowd of fangirls, slamming his shoulder against one of the pillars.
Jongin is nineteen, looks twenty two, moves like he's fifteen, and his body creaks and aches like he's thirty. Age is a number you give yourself, and Jongin wouldn't even call himself nineteen. In this industry, a day passes like a minute, a year like a decade. Jongin can't tell the difference between weekends and weekdays, mornings and nights. He enters the dark studio in the day and exits the practice room at midnight. The only time he feels the sun on him is during the quick seconds when they dash from van to company, studio to home.
Jongin is burnt out, but he keeps on going, because Kai is but a character in a carefully staged play. The show must go on.
They’re on stage for the opening of the Gwangyang International Flower Festival when the clockwork breaks.
Suddenly, he can’t breathe. The world is closing in, and his throat is swelling. There is no space anymore, only black and white flashing in front of his eyes. Distantly, he sees the spotlights, the cameramen and Baekhyun shooting him a quick look of confusion as he misses the next step. He’s gone through the MAMA discography so many times that it’s ingrained in him, so his limbs move to the beat of the music, but his lungs are not as reflexive. They aren’t taking in the air his body needs, and the lack of oxygen is turning his movements sluggish. Jongin tries to take sharp breaths, opening and closing his mouth in quick succession, but it’s crushing him inside out. Joonmyun looks over, just as a loud gasp escapes from his lips.
“Stop the recording!” Joonmyun yells. Jongin must really look awful for Joonmyun to speak out like that. They’re rookies; even if they are SM Entertainment rookies, they aren't in any position to have a say in the recording process. No one questions Joonmyun, though, and the producer even seemed worried as he gestures for everything to stop.
Jongin starts feeling claustrophobic. Panic sweeps over him, tears well in his eyes. His hands search for Sehun out of instinct, trying to grab onto something familiar. The next thing he knows he's on the ground, a sharp pain shooting like lightning down his spine. He's used to sore backs, but never as severe as this. This feels like his back is breaking into two, a few bones or so dislodged. Fuck.
"Jongin?" Joonmyun's voice reaches him first, frantic and concerned.
"Hyung." Jongin smiles up at the leader, marvelling at how good Joonmyun looks even through his blurred vision; then the world fades out.
Jongin is forced to stay in Korea as the rest of EXO-K fly off to Japan to film for Dream Team.
Dream Team launched many careers, helped give idols a means to promote themselves to the general public. Dongjun, Minho, Baro- Korea knows them now, not just the teenage girls. Jongin knows all too well if he performed well on Dream Team, it would be the ticket to bigger fame, unprecedented exposure. If there's one thing Jongin is confident in other than his dancing abilities, it's his sports ability. Jongin has been looking forward to this all his trainee life.
It just wasn't fair.
"You'll be staying at M's dorm for the next week," Seunghwan says, patting him on the back. His voice is firm; there is no room for discussion. There never is.
Jongin can only nod and limp off to his room.
Jongin doesn't know what to expect when he lugs a backpack one floor down to the M dorm, but it isn't this. The door swings open before he finishes punching in the code, and Yifan is there, taking the backpack from his shoulder and ushering him in.
"Oh, you're here?" Minseok asks, but his tone is higher than usual. The smile stretched across his face is too much like Xiumin's smile for it to be real.
Ah, they've heard. How could they have not? Jongin knows for a fact that Zitao, at least, regularly searches for EXO on Naver, just to keep updated on the other team's schedules and what netizens say about EXO. Sometimes Zitao screencaps the good comments and mass sends it to the whole of EXO. He doesn't send the negative remarks, but there will always be a cryptic post on QQ about working harder, and fans will fall over themselves worrying about 'poor baby Tao.’
Zitao probably knows K's schedule better than Jongin does; it could largely be due to the fact that Jongin is either half-asleep in all his schedules or busy trying to stay as far away from Sehun as physically possible without everyone else catching on.
The one good thing about being as aloof as he is- no one finds it out of the ordinary that he shies away from Sehun's touch.
"You're here!" Lu Han cheers, happiness dissolving the awkwardness and the slightly sombre mood. "Just in time for the adventure."
"Adventure?" Jongin echoes, looking at Yifan for an explanation.
Yifan merely shrugs.
The adventure turns out to be a gastronomical one, when Lu Han appears in the living room later donning a lopsided chef hat, left hand yielding a spatula.
"Today," Lu Han announces, pausing for dramatic effect, "we will introduce Jongin to the taste of home!"
"Home tastes different to all of us," Yifan deadpans as he walks into the room, fresh out of a quick shower. He hangs the towel that he was using to dry his hair around his neck and flicks Lu Han's hat off with his free hand.
Beijing food is common and familiar, a whole world away from the tongue-numbing spiciness of Changsha, the taste Yixing is most familiar with. Yifan is equally at home with both the more subdued taste of Cantonese cuisine or black pepper steaks, and Zitao knows the freshness of the sea better than anyone else. Home comes in many different flavours.
"To the taste of China!" Lu Han improvises, not deterred by the less-than-enthusiastic response of his teammates.
"No, really, I'm fine-" Jongin begins, but is cut off by Yixing's hand on his shoulder.
"Is he doing this for you, or is he doing this for himself?" For all the absentmindedness Yixing shows, more often than not, he displays a scary intuition which makes him a voice of reason among a group too distracted by fame and a desperate need to survive. In his moments of startling clarity, Yixing says things that makes Jongin's head reel, and the younger boy has trouble deciding whether Yixing is a pure genius or just plain ditsy.
Since Minseok and Jongin cannot stomach spicy food, they abandon Changsha cuisine (much to Yixing’s chagrin) and decide on Cantonese food instead.
“It’s simpler,” Yifan explains, patting Yixing on the back, “and we can’t handle the seafood Qingdao is famous for anyway.”
Yifan and Yixing are in charge of soup, which is the easiest task. Dump chopped lotus roots and groundnuts in chicken stock, then let it simmer.
“My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I used stock instead of real chicken,” Yifan murmurs as he stirs the little block of stock into the boiling water.
Yixing smiles up at him and sets aside the slices of lotus roots. “Your mother would be surprised to see you even cooking.”
Zitao and Minseok try their hand at fried beef and green peppers, and no one but Minseok sees Zitao accidentally dump half the bottle of black bean sauce into the pan.
Lu Han leads Jongdae and Jongin off to the dining table and points at the dough. “Attention, Jongs! We are making dumplings! I spent all morning preparing the dough, so if you mess up, I will kill you.” Lu Han says this all with a smile, but the twitch in his eye makes Jongin and Jongdae hurry to sit at the table in sheer terror.
Jongin's fingers are clumsy, unable to control the right amount of pressure needed to form perfect little dumplings like the ones Lu Han makes.
"You are terrible," observes Jongdae, showing off his petite dumplings.
“Small and compact,” Jongin praises, “just like you are.”
Lu Han laughs as Jongdae mashes the only two dumplings that Jongin was proud of.
Jongdae only manages to escape being mauled by Jongin because Zitao sticks his head between them and loudly demands for everyone to taste test his food. Minseok's smile is stiff again, so for a moment, no one volunteers. Then Zitao's bottom lip starts jutting out bit by bit, and they automatically look to Yifan, seeing how long it will take before he cracks. Yifan's face screws up comically for a moment before sighing as he grabs a fork. "Come."
Zitao beams so brightly that some of the sunshine transfers onto Yifan's face, making the older man attempt a lopsided grin. Yifan peers at the dish for a few seconds before he spears a piece of beef and chews on it slowly. Zitao holds his breath as he waits for Yifan's reaction.
Yifan's tongue darts out, and he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. "Well, the flavour's a bit strong, but I guess it's okay."
Jongdae scrambles over to pop a piece into his mouth and immediately gags. "Are your taste buds broken? This tastes like a salt mine!"
Yifan shrugs. "I'm Canadian; it's only polite."
The joke is lost on everyone, as unfamiliar with Western stereotypes that they are. Yixing wrinkles his nose, like he always does when Yifan identifies as being Canadian instead of being Chinese. "Don't talk about Canada when you're here making the dish of your hometown," Yixing says, chucking a black bean at Yifan.
Dinner is a noisy affair; the boys are pleased and proud, especially those of them whose first attempts at cooking were today. They dig in with extra relish, because eating your own creation is always more satisfying than eating out.
Ever so often, someone -mostly Lu Han- sneaks a look at Jongin, careful and quick. He thinks he should be offended, maybe, at how much they baby him when he's almost an adult; instead, he feels loved, cherished. It's comforting to know there are people who care for you, even if some others don't.
"Minseok hyung, you're not eating your greens," Jongin tsks. He uses his chopsticks to drop some bok choy into Minseok's bowl.
It's a transparent ploy to distract others from noticing that he isn't eating his own vegetables, but a quick look from Lu Han silences Jongdae, who opens his mouth to point that out.
After an intense round of rock paper scissors, Zitao and Jongdae grudgingly do the dishes while the rest of the team lounge around in the living room to watch a rerun of Gag Concert.
Jongin is laughing at the 500 won joke when he feels the couch dip next to him. Instinctively, he holds an arm out and allows Lu Han to curl into him.
"Are you feeling better now?" Lu Han asks softly, breath tickling Jongin’s ear.
Jongin buries his face into Lu Han's shoulder and breathes in. He smells like baby powder and fresh laundry. "Are you?"
That's when Lu Han brings out the beer.
Jongin doesn't drink because dancing is all about control, but Lu Han convinces him that dancing is about losing yourself in the realm of control.
"The fluidity and grace of letting loose," Lu Han warbles, opening the tab on a can so roughly that the clear beer sloshes out, "only achievable through a nice dose of alcohol. Don't you want a try? You need the experience."
"You'll be the death of me," Jongin laughs. He accepts the can and tentatively brings it to his lips, Lu Han nodding encouragingly. “You could convince me to do anything.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
Yifan frowns at them, but he doesn't voice out his disapproval, because Jongin is finally legal now, and if he wants to make some bad choices, who's to stop him?
"Relax, duizhang, it's the lesser of the few evils." The way Jongin drawls out the term of affection makes it sound like a challenge, but his words cannot be denied. Some idols take to drugs to help them cope with the never-ending schedules and lack of sleep. Some idols smoke, giving a rough edge to their voices and stealing away their stamina with each puff. Jongin knows for a fact Yifan's way of dealing with things is to line up his soft toys and talk to them. Yixing once told him he walked in on Yifan giving his soft toy dragon a skincare tutorial.
Lu Han flashes a grin at Yifan and makes a show out of doing a loveshot with Jongin, hands tugging at a confused Jongin to get him to comply. Yifan casually flips him off, drawing a bubble of laughter out of Lu Han.
The past few months has revolved around Sehun, but tonight, Jongin doesn’t think of Sehun even once.
Jongin wakes up feeling more than a little disoriented. The pain drumming away at his head is unlike the pain he's used to from his injured waist or his bruised back; it's brutal and relentless, his blood vessels expanding and contracting to punish him for his actions last night. At some point Lu Han had brought out the soju and introduced Jongin to the concept of soju bombs, a deadly drink that had him going from mildly tipsy to clambering all over Lu Han in a single glass. Jongin is surprised Yifan didn't stop them.
"Fuck." Jongin runs his tongue across his sticky front teeth and pushes up his bangs. "Why didn't anyone stop me."
Lu Han hums in understanding and gives Jongin a flask. "Honey water."
Jongin takes a dutiful sip, but the sweet water does little more than make his stomach churn once again. His mouth feels a little less gross. He opens his eyes and closes them again when the light attacks him. There are vibrations beneath him, but alarm doesn't register in his sleep-fogged mind until he hears a loud honk. "Where are we?"
"Taxi."
"Hyung," it's a warning and a question and a cry of shock all at once.
Lu Han grins, and throws his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "Come on, live a little! I just wanted to show you what home is.”
"I told the company," Lu Han says, and Jongin relaxes a little. Lu Han pauses a few moments to watch Jongin gulp down the rest of the honey water before he continues, "they just never replied."
Jongin chokes.
Jongin only dares to turn on his phone once they're safely in a taxi shuttling off to the hotel Lu Han has booked them into. The hotel is located in one of the side alleys down Wang Fu Jing street, a few minutes away from the food street itself, but hidden enough to be cheap for accommodation on prime property
There are, surprisingly, only two messages.
The first one is from Baekhyun and simply says, you're an idiot.
The second one is from Seunghwan hyung. Are you with Lu Han?
Jongin worries his bottom lip, typing out and erasing a reply a few times before he finally settles on, am I in trouble?
It takes barely five minutes for his phone to buzz with Seunghwan's message. No, just stay safe. Have fun, and watch Lu Han. Remember not to tire yourself out. Just the basics, the bare minimum of what a manager needs to remind his charge of, and nothing more. It's all too easy to imagine Seunghwan hunched in Lu Han and Yixing's empty room, typing out the message with the drawn out sigh of the long suffering, too tired to protest what cannot be undone.
Jongin tosses his phone back into his backpack and pokes Lu Han in the shoulder. "Hey, make me forget." He doesn't really think about what he's saying, and Lu Han's blinding smile is enough to make him relax into the leather seats.
At the hotel, Jongin flops onto the bed nearest to the window. “MINE MINE MINE.”
“Little brat,” Lu Han coos and ruffles Jongin’s hair.
Just then, Lu Han’s cellphone rings. Lu Han takes a glance at the caller ID and frowns. “I’ll take this outside,” he says distractedly, already moving to the door.
Jongin nods and watches Lu Han close the door before he dashes over and presses his ear against it. There's a long moment of silence and Jongin wonders if the door is too thick for him to hear, or if Lu Han has walked too far away. Then he hears Lu Han's terse, raised voice, muffled by the wood, "I will do what I have to."
By the time Lu Han steps back into the room, Jongin is curled up in his bed's blankets.
"Was that the company?" Jongin peeks out of the cocoon he's fashioned and asks, giving Lu Han the easy way out.
"Yeah, I told them not to worry, so you shouldn't, too." Lu Han sounds distracted. He grabs fresh clothes from his bag and pads off to the bathroom for a shower.
The phone buzzes again. Fighting a battle with his conscience, Jongin counts to 10 before he grabs it. It takes him two tries before he gets the message box open, his hand trembling in his haste, but the message is displayed loud and clear.
From: Xingxing
Kidnapping him won't make him love you.
Lu Han insists on dragging him off to the tourist sites the next day. He pushes the cap on Jongin's head lower and says, "Day one’s itinerary: China, as the tourists know it!" EXO K has been to China so many times but they've never even gone to the Forbidden Palace. "It's my home country! You have to know all about it! This has to change."
"What if the fans see us?"
Lu Han scoffs at Jongin's worry. "It's the week before Qingming; everyone has to work hard if they want to take next week off to pay their respects to their ancestors. If they wanted to go sightseeing they would’ve went during the Golden Week of the Lunar New Year.”
It makes sense. The crowds are thin, but Jongin is still wary as they walk through the courtyard of the Forbidden Palace, caps pressed low.
Beijing is like Seoul, but shaved of the colours. Stepping onto the busier streets in the middle of Seoul city sometimes feels like an assault of neon lights but Beijing is more homely, a little more subdued. Beijing feels like a shy cousin, a late bloomer just waiting to spread her wings and shine, but for now, is overshadowed by the louder, flashier Shanghai.
However, there is nothing subtle about the Forbidden Palace. No expense is spared for the royal family, and Seoul’s palaces pale in comparison. Jongin marvels at the intricate design of one of the larger palaces when a flash catches his attention.
“Is that girl taking our picture?”
“She’s taking a picture of the scenery.”
“She’s zooming in!”
“The Qing dynasty vase behind you is very lovely, dear. Now take a picture of me pretending to push it off its stand.”
Later, Lu Han brings him to Wang Fu Jing food street, one of the most iconic streets in Beijing. It stocks everything from the traditional Bintanghulu, which is fruits dipped in glazed sugar, to the familiar Ddokbeokki, to more exotic tastes.
“This is a tourist area with overpriced food,” Lu Han explains as Jongin buys a starfish on a stick and nibbles on it hesitantly. It tastes like rock. “Locals wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”
“You’re not dead yet.”
Lu Han eyes the starfish. “I bet if you finished that, you would be.”
“Hyung!” Jongin takes selca of himself with the stick of starfish and decidedly dumps it into the nearest trashcan. Lu Han’s wrinkles- sorry, laugh lines, come out in full blast.
Just wandering around the city wears them out quickly, so they take an early dinner and head back to the hotel.
Jongin turns on the television and laughs at commercials that he doesn’t understand while Lu Han watches him.
After a while, Jongin simply turns off the television and faces Lu Han. “What?”
Lu Han sucks his bottom lip in and says, “Why do you let Sehun do this to you?”
In an instant, the good mood he’s had all day disappears. Jongin makes a show of fluffing up his pillow and pointedly avoids Lu Han’s eyes. "You don't understand."
Lu Han laughs bitterly. "I've been in a one sided love for the past four years. I think I understand."
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who Lu Han’s referring to, but four years? That’s an awfully long time. "It's not the same."
"Then tell me."
And Jongin does. He tells Lu Han about how he may have fallen for Sehun the first time he saw him, a young, pale boy peeking into the practice room curiously. He talks about how his first kiss was to Sehun in the fall of 09’, initiated by Jongin but drawn out by Sehun. "I wanted to know how kissing felt like too." Sehun had shrugged, and Jongin had tried not to let his happiness show.
He finishes with Sehun's indifference, and how it hurt more than rejection, because at least being rejected showed that he cared enough to do it, but not bothering to do anything about it...
"Oh, Jongin," Lu Han says when Jongin stops to angrily wipe away unshed tears. He says it with pity, and Jongin lets himself be pulled into a hug. "You're beautiful enough to survive alone," Lu Han whispers, hand rubbing soft circles on Jongin's back. "But if you find that you can't brave it all by yourself, you'll always have me."
There's more to that sentence that Lu Han lets on, that much is obvious. "Lu Han..." Jongin trails off, the warning in those two syllables clear. This seems familiar, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. Same scenario, modified script, different characters. The director needs to yell cut before the actors start to derail.
Jongin doesn't want Lu Han to continue talking, but Lu Han has pulled the cork and now years of pent up feelings tumble out. "I tried to forget it at first, you know? Tried to ignore the way I wanted to explode from a single touch of yours. And then I saw it- how you looked at Sehun, and how you put this possessive arm around him sometimes. I kind of hate that I'm in love with you, but I can't bring myself to hate you."
Jongin can't breathe. He's reminded of the day he broke down on stage, the reason why he's on this trip in the first place.
Lu Han is still babbling, eyes wide and wild. "Why you? I could have loved Yixing. That would’ve been easier-"
The world is getting smaller again.
"And fuck, the time I saw you and Sehun making out in the practice room, I punched the bathroom mirror so hard-"
"Lu Han!" Lu Han stops and his eyes fly up to Jongin. Deer in headlights has never been a more apt description.
"I'm in love with Sehun," Jongin says. His voice sounds loud to his own ears, echoing in the room.
"You are getting over Sehun," Lu Han corrects. He brushes his thumb over Jongin's cheek, "and I will help you." Then he lies back down in his own bed and turns over so that his back faces Jongin, and the conversation ends.
Once upon a time, Jongin’s parents had disapproved of his decision to dance. They called it a career choice, but Jongin calls it a dream. They tried to send him to Taekwondo lessons, English classes, advanced math tutorials, anything to get young Jongin offstage and into a practical future.
The nail that sticks out gets hammered. That's how Asia is- how Asia was? But people are bound to be dissatisfied. You can’t force people to conform, just like you can’t force feelings to appear and disappear as you please.
You can’t hammer love, but you can shape it, carefully, nudge it in the direction you want. Jongin looks at Lu Han’s silhouette in the dark and he finds himself wishing, maybe… just hammer a little harder.
The second day starts with Lu Han jumping on Jongin's bed and jostling him awake with an off-key rendition of Baby Don’t Cry.
"For our lead singer," Jongin grumbles, "you are terrible."
Lu Han merely grins in response and tugs Jongin's blankets away from him. "On today's schedule, China, as my teenage self knew it."
There is an unspoken agreement to forget last night. Trying not to think about Lu Han's outburst makes Jongin's head hurt, so he stops trying, and it's actually easier to slip back into the easy friendship they have when he's not fixated on choosing his words.
He lets Lu Han's fingers curl around his wrist and pull him out the door, because it's just so much simpler to indulge in whatever Lu Han wants.
Teenage Lu Han apparently was rich.
Lu Han brings him to a large departmental mall with rows and rows of pastel coloured clothes that look too stiff to be worn. The sales assistants are all dressed in crisp uniforms, and politely greet the both of them when they pass by. Even walking down the aisles makes Jongin feel burdened.
Jongin randomly picks up the price tag of a shirt and flips it around to glance at it. "Oh my God." He does a quick mental conversion in his head; if one hundred yuan is eighteen thousand won, then how much does this shirt with the four-digit price tag cost? "Fuck, I-" The price tag drops from his hand, fluttering back down against the silk shirt.
Lu Han laughs and gingerly inserts the price tag back into the shirt pocket. "Emerging economic powerhouse China; better get used to it."
"You shopped here?" Jongin carefully darts around the clothes on display, afraid that he might dirty any of the three-thousand-dollar coats. He's used to wearing thousand-dollar shirts and socks that cost more than the average part timer's monthly pay, but those were sponsored items. Sometimes he forgets that the whole point of him wearing these overpriced items is so that privileged little punks can buy them for themselves.
"No, but I liked to be seen here. I had a dream." Lu Han sounds wistful, but only for a few moments, because he spots the makeup counter, and there he goes again, tugging Jongin off to play with the makeup.
"This is not normal guy bonding activity," Jongin quips. He uncaps a stick of liquid eyeliner and tests it on the back of his hand, pretending that he actually knows what he's doing.
("One of your eyes seems to be bigger than the other. It's weird.")
Out of nowhere, Sehun’s voice pops up in his mind, and the image of a sneering Sehun flashes before his eyes.
Jongin's hand shakes so much he drops the eyeliner. No, of all times- No.
There it is again-the prickling in his palm, the shortness of breath, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. His knees weaken but that’s okay, because, Lu Han is by his side, arm around his shoulder and gently steering him out of the mall. “I’ve got you,” Lu Han says, just like I always have.
They make the way back to the hotel in silence. Jongin feels like he has failed Lu Han.
They have become very good at not talking about the necessary things.
Lu Han stops by at a noodle stall for dinner and forces Jongin to choke down every bit of the too-oily beef noodles, with Jongin protesting about the big portions. Then he hurries Jongin into the shower, staying outside the bathroom door and shouting out directions and countdowns so that Jongin has to hurry to finish showering in the ten minute limit Lu Han has given him. It isn’t until Jongin’s safely wrapped up in his covers that he has time to think about what happened earlier today, and suddenly he feels so grateful to have Lu Han by his side. He doesn’t deserve him. Lu Han would make a great boyfriend, just not his.
The bed dips, and soon he feels a warmth against his back, Lu Han carefully slipping under the covers. Lu Han leaves enough space for Jongin to pull away, but Jongin keeps himself still, so Lu Han takes it as permission and presses himself into Jongin’s frame, arms slipping around Jongin’s waist.
Jongin hasn't gotten himself off since that last messy blowjob that Sehun gave him in the shower, teeth too rough and knees slipping against wet tiles. That was two months ago. It had taken all his willpower to say no to Sehun the next time the other boy asked for a quickie, and the quick sneer of disbelief on Sehun's face was enough to put him off any sexual situations since.
Feeling Lu Han pressed against him stirs up unwanted feelings, a heat in the bottom of his stomach and an erratic drumming in his heart.
With any other person, Yifan and his hands roaming across Jongin's body, or maybe Baekhyun, a cheeky grin before he bites down on Jongin's earlobe, he would feel the same, he reasons. Just thinking about it sends another spike of arousal through him. See, it's not just Lu Han. The thought has him satisfied enough that he can ignore his erection until it wills away.
On the third day, Jongin wakes up alone in bed.
At least tell us you're okay, you bastard, is what he sees when he turns on his phone. It's Baekhyun, probably prodded by Joonmyun to send the message because Joonmyun didn't want to do it himself. Joonmyun is big on giving his members "personal space" but he still worries about them nonetheless.
Jongin sends back a picture of Lu Han choking on his noodles.
He finds Lu Han lounging outside the hotel, a plastic bag in his hand holding soya milk and fried dough with spring onions.
Jongin accepts the offered soya milk and blows on it before taking a small sip. "Where are you bringing me now?"
Lu Han smiles into his cup. "China, as Lu Han knows it."
Jongin amuses himself by using his tongue to stretch the sticky malt lollipop that Lu Han gave him into various shapes. Lu Han claimed that he wanted Jongin to try the snacks of his childhood but Jongin knows that the candy was more to pacify him than anything else. It gives him something to do with his mouth other than bombarding Lu Han with questions like where are we going and are we lost. They are heading out of the city, because they've changed trains twice and boarded a bus that’s been chugging along for twenty minutes now.
"We just left second ring road," Lu Han announces, pointing to a green overhead sign. Jongin only has a brief idea of Beijing's geography, but he knows enough to wonder why Lu Han is bringing him this far away from the city. Outside, the tall buildings blend into shorter, stocky flats. The bright bursts of colours and loud billboards are washed out by orange and tan bricks. It's like they boarded a time machine and Jongin half expects someone to hop on the bus dressed like one of those characters he sees on the period dramas that Zitao sometimes watches.
It takes another half of the lollipop to disappear before Lu Han jumps up and tells him to get off.
Jongin looks around him in fascination as they make their way through little back alleys to one of the older flats. This area has been around for a while, mold dominating the brick walls of the buildings and paint chipping off the doors. Even though Jongin has always been a Seoulite and grew up in the better parts of the city, he feels strangely at home.
Did Lu Han even grow up here? His pale skin stands out among the tanned residents around them. The country folk in Korea have tanned skin too, left over from ancestors who toiled in the sun for crops. For the first time, Lu Han's skin tone is the one that stands out. This time, it’s Jongin that fits in, and Lu Han the pale doll that everyone stares at.
Scrubbed clean of makeup, the only thing special about Jongin is his height, but even that is nothing to write home about. The past few months have worn away at Jongin, stealing whatever’s left over of his baby fat (and his innocence with it). Now there is only a tragic kind of beauty- sunken cheekbones and deep-set eyes, stunning if brought out with a dash of bronzer under the spotlight, but in a natural setting, the best way to describe him is gaunt.
The residents here seem friendly enough, nodding to them as they walk past, a far cry from his two days in the city where no one even gave them a passing glance. The formalities of tradition and respect, lost in the crowds of the city, but revived in the suburbs.
The delicate balance between tradition and modernisation wavers with each passing day and the dizzying race of globalisation has rushed the people into a state of confusion. Capitalism soars at the expense of humanity, which is understandable because it’s like when you strike the lottery and get quick money - you spend it all at once without caring that you’ve hurt one or two along the way.
Still, Beijing feels like Seoul to Jongin, especially when another youngster bumps into him on the subway without apologising. Even across borders and languages, some things remain the same. Be it in Seoul or Beijing, people still spit in public, people still hold doors open. There is a difference in the language, but nothing more.
They make it to a large dirt courtyard surrounded by four stock flats.
A little boy wearing a bright red pikachu shirt runs over, his cheeks ruddy red from the cold. "Gege!"
Lu Han laughs and picks the boy up to swing him around easily, the child letting out a squeal of delight.
"Do you know him?" Jongin asks, even though it's obvious that Lu Han does, from the way the little boy is laughing happily with his fat fingers reaching for Lu Han's hair.
Lu Han speaks a string of Mandarin to the little boy and the boy nods before running up one of the nearby stairwells.
“Let’s follow.”
Where they are finally dawns on Jongin. "Family?"
Lu Han doesn't answer, merely hums non-committedly, but the significance of this hangs heavy in the room. Lu Han never talks about family. It’s one of the first things everyone learns about him. Jongin feels rightfully honoured.
"Aunt was the only one who helped me when I fell out with my parents," Lu Han explains, using the term for his father’s cousin.
The door is already open, waiting for them, and the little boy from before peeks out cheekily before ducking back in. Lu Han toes off his shoes in the foyer and Jongin follows suit, eyes exploring the small flat.
“Lu Han?” A warm, grandmotherly voice comes in disbelief, and an old lady of about seventy walks out, body weight pressed on a walking stick.
“Biao gu!” Lu Han steps forwards and sweeps his aunt into a hug, pressing a warm kiss to her wrinkly cheek.
"Aunt's a bit of a rebel," Lu Han confides conspirationally as they follow her into the house, "never found a good enough husband and so stayed single. We're the black sheep of the family."
Ah, to wed and bear children is the wish of all mothers for their daughters. In the eyes of the elders, still trapped in their webs of tradition, Lu Han's aunt has failed the ultimate task. Jongin doesn't get to dwell on this because Lu Han is pushing him into the kitchen.
"We're making dumplings!" Lu Han says, holding up the ball of dough with a flourish.
Jongin scrunches up his face in dismay. Lu Han giggles and swipes some flour across Jongin's cheek.
Jongin watches Lu Han and admires the way he scrunches up his nose with concentration while carefully crafting his dumplings. Lu Han wears the apron well, the pink shade a nice complement to his skin, but most of all, he looks relaxed, the months of endless schedules melting away with each pinch of the dough.
The early afternoon sunlight filters in through the small window and brings out the highlights in Lu Han’s hair and suddenly Jongin feels a lump in his throat. He wants this, wants someone waiting for him when he gets home, ready to prepare a warm handmade meal at any time. He wants to love someone like Lu Han, someone who can love him back.
Lu Han looks up and catches him staring, and Jongin covers up by complaining loudly, “Even after watching you make a million of those, I can’t get mine right!”
“Patience, my little one. Patience is all you need.”
Jongin is better at making them now. His dumplings are only slightly misshapen, and only one falls apart when put into the boiling water.
"Progress!" Lu Han cheers, fishing the last of Jongin's dumplings out of the soup.
They sit down at the small dining table, Lu Han eagerly filling in his aunt about everything that’s happened since she’s seen him. Jongin knows that Lu Han is only telling the filtered, rose-tinted glasses version of his life, because that’s the story you tell everyone who cares about you. The ones who love you don’t need to know about the crippling exhaustion or the constant hunger or the fear of being watched and followed 24/7.
Every once in a while, Lu Han’s aunt attempts to include Jongin in the conversation, and when Lu Han isn’t busy laughing at Jongin’s fumbling attempts to speak Mandarin, he acts as their translator, switching between the two languages effortlessly.
"I'll take this to the back!" Lu Han says, picking up the bowls after they’re done, "and you'll just sit here and bond with Aunt."
"But I-" Jongin snaps his mouth shut when Lu Han raises an eyebrow at him. But he doesn't speak Mandarin?
Jongin is so busy panicking that he doesn't realise that Aunt is talking to him, her low, rumbly tone pleasant and familiar. "Excuse me?" he says carefully in Mandarin, trying desperately to recall the months of Mandarin classes forced on by the company.
"He makes you smile," Aunt repeats, and Jongin understands that much at least. He glances at the doorway that Lu Han has disappeared into and nods. "Yeah, he does."
Aunt smiles knowingly and pats him on the back of his hand, her paper thin skin feeling like leather against his. "Keep him well."
It's only an automatic response that has Jongin dragging his eyes away from Lu Han's direction and back to meet Aunt’s gaze. "I will."
There is sadness across the old woman’s face, the years of hardship showing with one sentence, “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
After dinner they make the trip back to the hotel in silence, Jongin falling asleep and drooling all over Lu Han's shoulder. Lu Han hooks an arm under Jongin's arms and half carries a sleepy Jongin to their room.
Then Lu Han climbs into bed with him, and Jongin tenses up. Yesterday night comes back to him, and he's all too awake now.
Luhan ignores Jongin’s stiffness and pats his hair, slipping his fingers through the strands like Jongin’s mother used to do. Jongin relaxes despite himself, and Lu Han presses even closer, fitting his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. "Jongin, what am I to you?" His tone is light and breezy, but the question is anything but.
It's a familiar question, one that Lu Han has asked many times in the past. Jongin has always brushed it past as one of Lu Han's weird quirks, what with his need for constant validation.
“What… What do you want me to say?”
There’s a moment of silence, and just when Jongin thinks that Lu Han won’t answer, Lu Han’s arms tighten around his waist and he whispers into Jongin’s shirt, “Mine.”
This is dangerous territory. This is Lu Han opening up and becoming completely raw. Jongin pulls into a sitting position, and Lu Han rises as well, looking so vulnerable that Jongin can’t possibly say no. Instead he says gently, "What if you're my rebound?"
"I don't mind. I won't make you cry." He says this with so much earnestness that Jongin wants to shake Lu Han because Lu Han doesn't understand.
"But what if I make you cry?"
"What makes you think you haven't already done that?" Lu Han snaps, but as soon as the word leaves his lips, his face softens. “No, I didn’t mean-“
Jongin's face crumples immediately. He turns his head so that he’s looking out of the window, and gets out of bed. "I'm going to wash up."
The hotel room is small, and Jongin didn't close the washroom door, so he hears Lu Han's whisper, not meant for his ears. "It would have been easier if you loved me instead."
Jongin can't help it. He accidentally applies too much pressure on the tube of toothpaste and it squirts out a string of blue and white striped paste on the mirror. Startled, Jongin drops the tube of toothpaste and it lies on the floor, a sorry sight. What a shame, since it's a new tube, but now half of it is smeared across the mirror. Jongin tries to scoop the toothpaste up and salvage some of it, but it just doesn't fit back into the tube.
Some things simply can't be taken back, especially secrets that shouldn't be told.
When Jongin wakes up the next morning, the space beside him is cold, and he feels a little empty inside.
The flight back is silent, the taxi back to the dorm even more so. They sit by the windows of the car, an empty space wide between them.
"I had fun," Jongin says, a weak attempt to break the silence that's followed them since Lu Han's ‘I'll hail a cab’ at the airport. It’s only been four days, but he feels completely lightened now, a renewed vigour drumming in his veins, and he’s itching to get into the practice room to make up for what he’s missed.
"Yeah?" Lu Han only spares Jongin a quick smile before he turns his attention back to the scenery outside. The radio is playing SNSD's I Got a Boy, and Jongin wonders if the taxi driver even knows whom he has in his car.
Baekhyun pounces on him the minute his foot crosses into the dorm, drawing a yelp and causing him to crash into the door. "How was your honeymoon!"
"Hey." Joonmyun sets a warning hand on Baekhyun.
Jongin looks at Sehun to catch his reaction but the younger boy mere glances up once from in his manga with mild interest before returning to the book.
Baekhyun scoffs, shrugging off Joonmyun's hand. "He loves you enough to whisk you to another country because our little Jonginnie was sad. I heard the managers saying that they're punishing him with an extra hour of practice every day for two weeks."
“He’s in trouble?”
Joonmyun sighs and finally adds, “So were you, but Lu Han talked them into letting him take all the blame.”
Baekhyun takes in Jongin’s stricken expression and brushes his bangs away. “It’s not too late, Jongin.”
There’s still time to back out, Jongin thinks, as he rings the doorbell two days later. Two days of tossing and turning and a lot of dirty looks from Baekhyun, and he’s finally here. He hops nervously from foot to foot, and prays that he isn’t making a mistake.
Lu Han opens the door with a quirk of the eyebrow. “You know the password; you can just come in.”
“You forgot your cap,” Jongin says lamely, holding up the blue cap.
“Thanks.” Lu Han takes the cap and makes to close the door.
"Wait, Lu Han." Jongin sticks a leg through the doorway and winces when the door slams onto his foot.
For a moment something flares in Lu Han's eyes but then he blinks and his eyes are downcast and sullen again.
"I am not ready for a relationship," Jongin begins, fingers twisting the bracelet on his wrist.
Lu Han flickers his gaze up and smiles bitterly. "I guessed that."
"But!" Jongin raises his voice loud enough to cut off Lu Han, and he rushes the words out. "Can you wait for me?"
This time the look on Lu Han’s face is of genuine surprise. There is no going back now.
"Can you wait for me?" A cheeky grin sneaks his way across Jongin’s face. "Because I'm beautiful enough, because I’m worth it."
Sometimes Jongin is afraid.
When he got an A in math, his dog ran away.
When Jongin debuted, he threw his back.
When he met Sehun, he signed his sanity away.
Good things come at a price, and now Lu Han is offering himself. What will happen next?
He's worked hard for almost six years to be an idol. Because of Sehun, he almost lost it all. But maybe this time, he deserves better.
Poll Round 01: Of Pipe Dreams and Reclamation