SBB 2015 ENTRY #20: The Usual Suspects (3/7)
Title: The Usual Suspects
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: R
Warnings: mild to moderate (mis)use of cursing and commas, violence, non graphic mentions of self harm and abuse
Final Word Count: 63,620
The red numbers of the clock hit seven AM before Jonghyun’s body finally accepted. Unfortunately, this sleep was short lived and he only managed about three hours before his eyes were wearily cracking open once more.
Sleep used to be easy, once.
Then something or other must have shifted in his mind, his body, because he was plagued with endless waves of anxiety and worry, and slowly it was becoming difficult to reach even six, five, four hours of sleep a night. The heat didn’t make it any easier, smothering him for hours on end so much so that his worn out body couldn’t even fall asleep despite the fact that he averaged barely more than two hours a night.
And then, when he was finally able to slip away at the time when some people were only just waking up, his mind churned into action, thoughts grinding away incessantly in his head until it wasn’t even worth it to try anymore, body too tired to even try lying in bed anymore. He would get up then, slogging throughout the rest of the morning until the restless energy kicked in and his body functioned half on autopilot and half out of a resigned sense that his body had adapted to running without sleep.
Jonghyun’s heart was pounding and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He wasn’t unused to the act of waking up like this, with his body already strung tight and nerves buzzing with fire. But this was different. Different in a way that was humiliating and made him feel like a pathetic little kid.
He woke up to a raging hard-on straining against dirty sheets and, amongst a jumble of blurred colors, a crystal clear image of Minho’s face.
He dropped a hand against his face (slapped it more than anything else, really), and rubbed it tiredly, trying to push the red out of his cheeks as if would do anything; he was alone in his room anyway. Jonghyun turned over on his side, steadfastly ignoring anything happening below his waist, and irately pushed his sheets off.
The room was sweltering, sweat built up behind his knees and at the back of his neck, and Jonghyun was disgusted with himself. Wet dreams at his fucking age. Ridiculous. The heat already made everything muggy and uncomfortable already, and now he had to deal with the mess inside both his boxers and his head. No - there was nothing wrong inside his head.
People had stupid, random dreams like that all the time and it didn’t mean anything. But it was still too damn hot to have to deal with anything else. His body ached, back tight with knots, and he was still tense. Jonghyun had been lying in bed, completely still, mind blank, for over half an hour and he still couldn’t calm down. He felt sick and he hadn’t even realized it until just now. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
Pushing the pads of his thumbs into the space between his brows, Jonghyun tried to massage away the headache. It was too damn early for any of this.
With a sigh, he rose from the bed and flipped the light switch. Even with the lights on, the room was dim, for all the good it did. He snagged a fresh pair of boxers and headed to the bathroom, trying not to notice the uncomfortable and incriminating stickiness between his legs.
Minho was in the kitchen when Jonghyun walked in, sitting at the table ladling spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
He looked up when Jonghyun made his way in, did a double take as his spoon hovered in the air, half way forgotten on its journey to his mouth. Jonghyun could imagine the state he was in: sleepy eyed, face covered in a light sheen of sweat, messy haired and only wearing a tank top and boxers. It was probably just as pretty as what he saw in the mirror. (Meaning: not at all.)
Jonghyun waved at him and willed his feet to take him over to the refrigerator. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him the whole time, burning hard into his back, and he felt like acid was trying to climb its way up his throat.
“’Sup,” he croaked.
“You okay?” Minho asked, eyeing him weirdly.
“Just perfect.”
Jonghyun just wanted to sleep.
-
The summer kept up its continuing record of triple digit temperatures, seemingly challenging itself to raise the number each day just another couple degrees. Jonghyun was sweating all the way from his bones and it almost wasn’t even worth it to stay inside because no matter what they did it didn’t seem to stave the heat in the slightest. So of course they did the logical thing and went outside.
“It’s hot as balls,” Kibum muttered, fanning himself with his hand.
“Yeah, remind me again why the hell we’re out here instead of at your house?” Taemin mocked, face scrunched up.
Kibum tossed a handful of grass at him. “Our air conditioner broke, you little shit.”
Taemin just pitched a handful back at him and war was silently declared.
Jonghyun groaned and flopped backwards, grass raining down across his stomach as his head hit Jinki’s legs. He looked up, Jinki’s pink-cheeked face, shaded in the brim of his hat, smiling back down at him. He gave a slow grin back and hiked up his shirt, trying to release as much heat from his body as possible.
“Gross,” Taemin teased as he sprinkled grass onto Jonghyun’s bare stomach.
“Are you kidding me,” Jonghyun deadpanned back, leveling him with a weak glare but too drained to brush it off. The blades of grass stuck to his sweat slicked body, an itchy prickling patch against his skin.
Jonghyun’s eyes slipped closed as a rush of dizziness washed over him. God, he needed to sleep. He was seriously contemplating sleeping, right then and there, in the middle of the grass and the heat and the lazy lullaby of conversation flittering over his head. But then a rustle of leaves caught his attention, dragged his eyes open and made them drift upwards, past Jinki and up into the tree.
He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, the world a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that he couldn’t make sense of. And then he blinked and it all slipped into focus, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree, fading in and out of the air as Minho’s swinging legs shook the branches.
Minho had climbed up there ages ago, declared that he was going to take a nap where it was cooler (heat rises, you dumbass, Kibum had called after him, Minho’s head already having disappeared in the leaves). Jonghyun didn’t know if he’d fallen asleep - Minho, himself - he honestly couldn’t really remember much of what was going on, what had happened since they got to the rundown park, since he woke up, really.
He watched Minho’s legs swing, slowly, calmly, steadily, back and forth like a metronome, tick tick tick tick, until his eyes were falling back out of focus and everything blurred together again. Jonghyun’s eyes were swimming, looping lazy circles around his brain and his head swayed, rocked against Jinki’s leg as he tried to keep a hold on his consciousness.
“Hey.” Jinki’s voice was as soft as the hand lightly patting Jonghyun’s cheek. “Jonghyun.”
Jonghyun opened his eyes and squinted, trying to keep a steady hold on Jinki’s face.
“How’ve you been sleeping?”
Jonghyun laughed, the alarmed look on Jinki’s face causing him to sloppily slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. “I haven’t.”
“Jonghyun…”
He knew that Jinki was worried - hell, Jonghyun probably should have been worried about himself too - but he’d been living like this for too long to really be phased by it anymore. Sometimes it was bad, sometimes it was really bad, and sometimes it was okay. (And then, very occasionally, when the planets all aligned, it was good). Recently it just happened to be really bad.
“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Jonghyun said, reaching back to pat Jinki’s arm as best he could. He missed a little, but he got it eventually. “I’ll probably crash soon. I just have to wait until then. It’ll be fine.”
Jinki shook his head but kept his lips pressed tightly together. He’d seen Jonghyun go through this routine of sleeplessness, passing out, lather rinse repeat, for years now. It didn’t make it any easier to sit through, Jonghyun knew, but there was no other choice. Jinki had been by his side as he tried everything in the book: aroma therapy, relaxation techniques, exhaustion, sleeping pill after sleeping pill until he just gave up. Nothing worked, so all that was left was to just ride it out.
(It helped, though, having people by him as he struggled through it. Jinki was there to steady him when he stumbled, and stumble he did.)
A shout broke through their lackadaisical bubble, the sound rushing in and setting their nerves on edge. The hushed rustling of leaves from above quieted and Jinki tensed beneath Jonghyun’s head, the muscles in his leg becoming firm, coiled.
Jonghyun sat up, ignoring the way the world pitched on its side. A group of four guys walked up to where they were splayed out, machismo radiating from every inch of them as they kicked up dirt beneath their boots. Who the fuck wore boots in heat like this, what the fuck was wrong with them? Jonghyun dragged his eyes up from their feet slowly, stopping on the leader’s face in the moment that they stopped in front of the shady tree Jonghyun was trying not to pass out under.
“Which one of you’s Jonghyun?” the leader asked. He was some stocky guy, a pug-like face buried behind a frizzy crop of hair.
“’S me,” Jonghyun answered, climbing to his feet with a great deal more bravado than he actually felt. Today wasn’t ideal for a fight, but he could already feel the adrenaline coursing through him, shaking the cobwebs from his addled head.
“Jonghyun, are you sure?” Jinki asked in his ear, worry thick in his voice.
Jonghyun waved a hand at him and focused on the group in front of them.
“You broke two of my brother’s ribs, you asshole,” he snarled. He pushed into Jonghyun’s face, staring down at him threateningly as his chest bumped into Jonghyun’s.
“Yeah?” He was nonchalant as he scratched behind an ear. “He probably deserved it, then.”
The guy twisted his fist into the front of Jonghyun’s shirt and then -
“Oh, fuck.”
Jonghyun looked over. Jinki pulled his hands away from his face, revealing the blood dripping down his chin and soaking into the front of his shirt. God damn it. Jinki had always been sensitive to the heat and he’d get massive, spontaneous nosebleeds whenever the air got too dry, too hot. It had been happening on and off all summer and, apparently, now was another one of those times.
One of the guys in the back laughed, his voice cutting through the air like a hyena’s cackle.
“Really? You’re bleeding already?” He walked forward, jeering. Jinki had given up trying to stifle the blood flow and kept his head forward leisurely. “We ain’t even hit you yet.”
And then Jinki’s head snapped up and, quick as a whip, his knuckles buried themselves in the guy’s nose. He took a crack at Jinki, so Jinki took a crack at him and he bled to match, red erupting from his nose in a violent spurt.
The hand that had fisted in Jonghyun’s shirt tightened, its owner remembering where he was, and Jonghyun pulled back sharply as he dodged a punch from its twin. He was pretty sure the world flipped itself upside down momentarily, but by the time he’d straightened up once more it didn’t really matter. Jonghyun didn’t have boots on, so his three year old chucks would have to do the job.
He kicked out, catching the guy in the pelvis. With his hand still gripping Jonghyun’s shirt, Jonghyun stumbled forward with him as the guy lost his balance, toppling backwards into the grass. Jonghyun’s wrist was jarred a little as he hit the ground, a sharp pain shooting up his forearm briefly before he shook it out and pushed himself to his feet. With his muddled head, being anywhere near the ground was probably not the best option.
Jonghyun flitted in and out of realization for the next few minutes. He could hear shoes scuffing against the ground and the muted grunts of the people around him. He couldn’t tell if it was from his friends or the other guys. The solid impact of knuckles on skin rang the clearest, sounding all around him like the thundering of drums.
He was not doing so good. Jonghyun’s vision swam as he sloppily dodged another punch and it clipped the edge of his jaw like a streaking bullet. His adrenaline was still running high but with the lack of sleep and his inability to focus, it was just making everything hyper-real, too bright and fast to catch properly.
Someone grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and Jonghyun shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself as he swung around. The collar of his shirt was twisted against his neck, almost choking him, and he lost balance as his captor pulled forward. He went down.
Huddled in the dirt and prepared for the inevitable, Jonghyun braced himself for an impact that never came.
“Shit!”
The shout drew his attention, his eyes flying open to see a body standing above him, bracketed by sunlight. Jonghyun blinked, straining against the light to see who it was that had smashed the teeth of the guy who’d brought Jonghyun down. The guy from the other gang was cradling his jaw, teeth covered in red as he spit a wad of blood into the dirt.
The person in front of Jonghyun lifted his leg, the long limb flying out and catching the bloodied boy in front of him in the stomach. Then, as he was turning around, Jonghyun felt another pair of hands on his shoulders, sleeves practically ripping off as he was dragged backwards. Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought.
It was the leader again, back from wherever the hell he’d gone when Jonghyun had gotten knocked down by one of his members. Pain bloomed across Jonghyun’s shoulder. Dazedly, he realized that he’d been kicked and he should probably move if he didn’t want it to happen again, but instead he fell back into the dirt, eyes refusing to uncross.
This is fucking bullshit, raced through his panicked mind as he managed to bring his arms up in time to block a hit to hit face.
His arms took a beating, punch after punch trying to break through his feeble barricade to get to the grand prize. Jonghyun thought of trying to shake the guy off, unbalance him enough so that Jonghyun could stand up and really fight him but it seemed useless. Jonghyun was weak, his body faulting under the lack of sleep harder than it usually did and there was nothing he could do but defend.
When the guy finally got the bright idea to pull his arms away, Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut, head turned away in anticipation of the hit that would come. But this one didn’t either. He stomach clenched as the guy sitting on him was dragged off and thrown into the dirt next to him.
Dirt flew into his eyes and he rubbed at them hastily. By the time he’d cleared them up enough to see, the guy had rolled his attacker over into the dirt and they were struggling against each other. Through their arms, Jonghyun caught a flash of a green tank top and suddenly realized who had been standing before him, a sense of déjà vu whipping through him as he watched Minho’s back get slammed into the ground.
They wrestled each other, Minho being taller (and probably stronger, Jonghyun mused) but losing against the leverage that the stockier leader had. His back was pressed into the ground, scraping against the dirt and rocks and twigs as he fought to gain the upper hand. Jonghyun could see a fierce look on his face, defiant and protective and something surged through him, shook him all the way down to the marrow of his bones when he thought that look was maybe, just maybe, because of him.
Minho managed to get a knee up between them and pushed, catapulting the leader backwards and into a bench. His head hit the metal with an uncomfortable clang. By this time, his members had been worn down, racing to his side to pull him up and away as they scuttled off with bitter glares directed back at them.
Everyone was a little worse for wear but Jonghyun didn’t see any serious injuries right off the bat and figured everything else could be dealt with later. Jonghyun stared at the sky blearily, not a cloud in sight to block the harsh sun or hide his beaten pride. He should have done better; he was their leader and he couldn’t even fight for them for god’s sake.
A hand appeared in front of his face and Jonghyun swiped a hand across his eyes before he grabbed it and was hauled up. Minho smiled at him, cracked lips split with thin lines of blood. Jonghyun’s legs were weak as he shook the dirt from his hair, roughly smacking the dust off his jeans.
“Thanks, man,” he muttered.
Minho paused, hesitation marking his large frame before he breathed out and brushed off Jonghyun’s back, a calm smile still playing across his lips.
“No problem.”
They gathered themselves up and wandered away aimlessly, leaving behind blood-speckled dirt and crushed grass. Almost nothing had changed. On their way back into civilization, Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin cut away to get food, waving them off with dirt smeared faces and cut lips. But they looked happy enough and Jonghyun guessed that his failure today hadn’t shaken their confidence in him, even if it had made him feel worthless.
Minho was quiet as they walked, like he usually was, but somehow this was more stifling. Jonghyun wished he’d say something, anything - you really dropped the ball today, hyung. Guess I was the one to save you this time, huh? What should we make for dinner? As long as he said something, Jonghyun could ignore the crushing agitation snapping at him from all sides.
Jonghyun was toeing his shoes off at the door when Minho finally murmured, “it’s not your fault, you know.”
Jonghyun watched his back as he walked away. What the fuck.
He found Minho in the bathroom, door open as he pulled up the back of his shirt to inspect his back in the mirror. Jonghyun leaned on the doorframe, surveying him with a critical eye.
“What do you mean it’s not my fault?” He asked, watching Minho struggle to see the full extent of the damage.
“I mean,” Minho said, dropping his shirt back down and tugging at the collar to look at a raised welt on his neck. “That you did what you could today.”
Jonghyun grit his teeth, about to snap back when Minho continued. “And that’s good enough for us, hyung.”
His hands clenched into fists. “Get out here,” he barked.
Confused, Minho stepped out of the bathroom but Jonghyun pushed his way inside, rifling under the sink to grab a small cardboard box. Cocking his head, he signaled for Minho to follow him out to the living room, making a short detour to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sat down on the couch, back against the arm of it and legs pulled up. The box was nestled in the circle of his legs, stuffed to the brim with gauze and anti-bacterial wipes.
This was their version of a first aid kit. It was cheap and had to be restocked just about every other month but it worked for them.
Minho stood beside him, clearly still not grasping the situation if the vacant look on his face was any indication.
“Sit down and take off your shirt,” Jonghyun commanded, already pulling out a clean cloth from the box. He grabbed the water bottle and pressed it into the wash cloth as Minho finally got it, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the coffee table.
He sat in front of Jonghyun, broad back littered with scrapes and welts; long, angry lines zigzagging across his skin like lightning strikes. Jonghyun whistled lowly, bringing the cool cloth to Minho’s back.
“Jeez, what the hell. He really did a number on your back.”
“Yeah?” Minho asked, looking over his shoulder.
Jonghyun nudged his face forward again. “Yeah. Looks like a freaking scratching post back here.”
The rest of his back wasn’t as badly affected as the uncovered, unprotected skin of his shoulders. They were scraped up badly, congealed blood clotting in ugly shapes in the dips of his shoulder blades, dirt getting caught in the edges. Jonghyun winced. Minho was like this because Jonghyun couldn’t fight well enough to protect himself, or any of them apparently.
He cleaned the worst of the blood away, wetting the washcloth with more water as it slowly dyed the cloth a pink color. He wiped it over the rest of Minho’s back lightly, trying not to agitate any of the shallow cuts. It came away discolored with dirt and blood when he was finished, but Jonghyun couldn’t see any dirt stuck in any of the cuts so he figured everything would be fine.
Pulling out two of the wipes, Jonghyun ripped one open and ran it over his hands. It bit at him as he wiped the dirt from his hands. Ripping open the other one, he warned, “this is going to sting” before he pressed it against Minho’s skin.
Minho sucked in air sharply through his teeth, the sound cutting through the room. Jonghyun could see his jaw working and he tried to clean up as quickly as possible. He crumpled the thin wipe, tossed it on the table, and pulled out a tube of antibiotic. Better safe than sorry.
Popping the cap, Jonghyun could see Minho tense again, probably expecting another shock of pain to hit his back. Jonghyun squeezed the amorphous substance onto his hands and pressed the cool gel against Minho’s skin gently, apologetically trying to soothe the sting. Minho’s back relaxed beneath his hands. Jonghyun rubbed the antibiotic into Minho’s skin, working it lightly against the cuts so that they wouldn’t reopen. The room was quiet, only their steady breathing audible as Jonghyun’s hands passed over Minho’s back. When he finished, he tapped Minho’s shoulders to get him to turn around.
“Let’s take a look at that face now,” he said, grabbing Minho’s face between his hands, angling him this way and that so that he could get a better look.
Minho laughed, hands coming up to cover Jonghyun’s. “Hyung,” he chuckled. “I can do my face myself.”
“Nope!” Jonghyun said cheerily. “I’ve already got you here. I’m finishing.”
He pressed a cotton ball against the lip of the bottle and wet it. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, gently rubbing the cotton ball against a cut underneath Minho’s eye.
Minho made this difficult by crinkling his eyes in silent laughter, an easy smile playing on his lips. But Jonghyun could work past that - he had a patient to take care of, after all.
-
They didn’t fight dirty. They weren’t about the whole knives and chains bullshit that some people tried to come at them with. Jonghyun had never touched a gun. He had a utility knife he kept on his keychain but he wasn’t going to use something like that in a fight, only kept it for convenience and tight spots. He preferred to let his fists do the talking and if some guy pulled a knife on any of them you could be sure as hell that they’d book it right out of there without a second thought. They liked to fight but they weren’t fucking stupid and no way in hell were they going to jail over something as stupid as that.
Taemin used to have long coppery hair that he kept tied back when they fought. It was almost like his symbol: a long, silky, red mane that cut through the air like a whip as he dashed and dodged. His long bangs had fallen messily into his eyes, mysterious, dangerous, sexy. Everyone knew him by that hair, like the flick of it was his calling card.
But when a guy from another gang grabbed hold of his hair and pulled a switchblade tight against Taemin's neck that changed. Scared out of his mind, Taemin came back the next day, hair chopped too short to pull into a ponytail. He hadn't kept it long since.
Taemin had regained his broken spirit, fought back harder than he had before as his hair faded back to black. He was like wildfire, his energy blazing with every step he took. He didn’t need the flashy hair anymore; just the way he walked did the trick now. He missed it sometimes, even if it usually had been a ratty mess most of the time. It had been one of the first things he’d ever done for himself, no matter how bad of a decision it had turned out to be.
There was one good thing to his hair being kept shorter, though - at least now his dad couldn’t grab hold of it either.
-
“Truth or dare?”
“Really, Kibum?” Minho raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m bored as fuck over here and none of you are talking.” Kibum looked around the room threateningly. “Truth of dare?”
After a beat of silence, Jinki said, “truth.”
“How old were you when you had your first kiss?”
“Are we really starting off with the fourth grade questions?” Jonghyun muttered, eyes still glued to his phone.
Ignoring him, Jinki calmly answered, “fourteen”, his voice not giving anything away. Taemin let out a low whistle.
Jinki’s eyes locked on him. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Taemin said, not missing a beat.
“Go commando for the rest of the night.”
“Done and done.” Taemin stood up and made his way down to the bathroom. Jinki and Minho were already chuckling but when Taemin came back, hands suspiciously empty, it was Jonghyun who was howling with laughter.
Taemin gave a saucy smile and sat back down.
“Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin said, lounging back against the arm of the couch. The little shit had his legs spread wide, comfortably reminding the rest of the room of his current state of dress. “Truth or dare?”
Jonghyun raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”
That was kind of a dangerous choice when it was Taemin doing the daring, but Jonghyun felt like he wanted to be a little dangerous tonight.
“Go give Minho hyung a lap dance.”
Jonghyun was taken aback for approximately 0.35 seconds before he shrugged and stood up, sashaying his way over to Minho in the most exaggerated way he could muster. Try as he might, Minho couldn’t keep a straight face when Jonghyun approached him, amused smile sneaking onto his lips as Jonghyun slapped his hands on Minho’s shoulders.
“Can’t a guy get some music up in here?” He demanded, and within seconds Kibum’s phone was playing a sultry rhythm for him to follow.
“You ready for this, big boy?” He murmured in his greasiest voice, throwing an over-the-top wink in Minho’s direction.
He wasn’t going to take this seriously. They were just having fun and besides, Jonghyun liked to play up to the attention thrown his way as he did excessive body rolls and threw out disgusting flying kisses. And as he shook his hips, sliding a hand dramatically over Minho’s stomach, it was worth it to see Minho laugh so brightly.
When the short song came to a close, Jonghyun dipped into a low bow, one hand flying out to the side as he accepted the “applause” from his friends.
“Okay, Kibummie,” he said as he sank back down into his own seat instead of Minho’s lap. “Truth or dare?”
They played for a while, the dares getting stupider and the truths getting more embarrassing. It was all pretty par for the course among a group as close knit as them. They all knew each other too well to really push any boundaries they knew shouldn’t be crossed, but that didn’t stop them from toeing a few lines.
“Jonghyun.” Kibum leveled him with a sly stare.
“Dare.”
Jonghyun had sensed a theme running through Kibum’s questions since the beginning but had decided to keep quiet on it; if he brought it up, he’d be put in the line of fire and he was riding easy - he wanted to keep it that way.
It seemed he wasn’t going to be so lucky. Kibum was nothing if not consistent.
“Put your hands on the body part you admire the most on someone else.”
Jonghyun froze for a second, a list of things running through his head. There were images flashing rapid fire behind his eyes, skin skin skin, but it was the muscles that rolled to a stop in his mind, sirens blaring as he fought the heat that tried to rise to his cheeks. So he was a guy that liked to work out, no big deal. He could admire another guy’s muscles, be jealous of the definition there that Jonghyun still had to work on.
He stood up, face blank as he walked over. If they watched him, they probably wouldn’t notice the uneven way he walked. Not like it mattered - this was just admiration, nothing more.
Jonghyun stood in front of a shocked Minho and lifted his hands, planting them firmly against his chest.
“Truth or dare?” Taemin scoffed a moment later. “More like: how gay can you be with your best friend without it getting weird.”
“Shut up, Taemin,” Minho grunted, voice tight. Jonghyun could feel Minho’s heartbeat pounding away steadily against his palm.
His hands slipped away a second later and he turned on his heel, dropped down into his seat and finally unclenched his jaw.
“So!” He exclaimed, forced indifference coating his voice. “Who’s next?”
They had some more dumb dares (take a shot, spin around, and say the first pick up line that comes to mind with whoever you make eye contact with) and some even dumber questions (when did you stop wetting the bed?). When it circled back around to Kibum, he already had a target picked out.
“Minho.”
“Truth.”
“Who here do you want to kiss the most?” The question was ready on Kibum’s tongue, waiting to jump off like a lick of fire.
But with the way Minho shifted uncomfortably, something in the air shifted with him. Electricity was crackling through the room and suddenly everyone was alert, all eyes and ears on Minho as they waited for his answer.
“I…”
Kibum’s lips pursed and he stared at Minho expectantly. There was no way Minho was getting out of this.
“I mean. Well.” He was floundering. “I don’t actually want to kiss him. But…”
Minho’s eyes darted back and forth across all of them nervously. There was a light blush sitting high on his cheeks and Jonghyun could see the tips of his ears starting to turn red. Minho’s eyes locked with his for a moment before he broke away, but Jonghyun sat frozen, heart stopped in his chest.
“I guess - if I had to choose -” Minho cut off and shifted again, looking away from all of them.
“Jonghyun,” he finally mumbled.
It felt like a whoosh of air was knocked out of Jonghyun, like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. He was almost seeing stars as a rush of dizziness swept over him, zipping all the way down to his fingertips as he stared at the top of Minho’s head.
He was broken out of it once all the whooping and hollering started, cat calls sounding from all sides. Minho’s head snapped up and he cursed them all out, adding more fuel to the fire. Jonghyun tried to roll with it, tried to pull the focus away from the actual matter at hand (“who wouldn’t want to kiss me?” He crowed. “Look at these lips”). But there was something heavy sitting in his gut, threatening to crawl its way up into his throat and strangle him.
Minho grew quiet and that was when the teasing stopped. Things got weird after that, a little too tense from all sides even though everyone was clearly trying to act like something unspoken actually hadn’t clicked into and out of place right before their eyes. It wasn’t a big deal or anything - why would any of them care? Why would Jonghyun care? He didn’t care. Not one bit. But even so, Jonghyun thanked his lucky stars when Taemin got Kibum back, just before they called it a night.
“Do you spit or swallow?”
Kibum choked, saliva caught in his throat as he coughed violently at the unexpected question.
“Hmm. Must be “spit” then,” Taemin said, examining his nails.
And that was that.
-
Jonghyun was seventeen the first time he saw the rows of long, thin cuts on the inside of Kibum’s thighs. He had gone over to Kibum’s house to spend the night and was lounging on his bed, reading a comic book when he glanced over. Kibum had been changing out of his uniform and he had pulled down his pants. Normally Jonghyun wouldn’t have cared much, he might have been a little embarrassed but really, they were two guys and it didn’t really matter if he saw his friend getting undressed because he was cool with that kind of thing.
But he’d seen the thin lines on Kibum’s thighs, peeking out just below the hem of his boxers and, if he was honest with himself, it had scared him. It had scared him so much that he couldn’t bring himself to ask Kibum about it until two weeks later when he patted Kibum’s leg and the other boy flinched in pain. And then it rushed out of him, the dam broken, and he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.
It had taken Kibum a long time to open up to him and finally tell Jonghyun about it. He squeezed Jonghyun’s hand as he told him about how he’d taken one of the blades out of his razor and the plate he pushed away during dinner. And Jonghyun had squeezed his hand back as Kibum rolled up his shorts and showed Jonghyun, up close and personal, just how many lines Kibum had scratched into his skin.
Jonghyun was the first person to know that sometimes Kibum hated himself so much that he couldn’t even look in the mirror.
He tried to help Kibum, but sometimes a friend just wasn’t enough to make your head stop screaming at you. So the best he could do is distract him, just try to make him forget for a little while, and every once in a while he was successful. Kibum had thanked him, kept thanking him for what he knew Jonghyun was trying to do for him, and in return, he had Jonghyun watch as he threw out his blades, broke his scale into a hundred pieces, and finally held himself up with confidence. (That confidence wasn’t always real, but it was a start.)
Jonghyun pulled up in front of Kibum’s house and honked the horn twice, two sharp blasts, while he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Kibum came out of the house, jacket thrown over his shoulder and sunglasses already perched on his face, looking every bit the picture of the glamorous and bold person that everyone thought he was.
Jonghyun smiled, waved to him as Kibum walked up to his car, but the smile slipped off his face as Kibum got closer.
Kibum was wearing longer shorts again and Jonghyun's heart dropped.
“Kibum,” he said quietly, brokenly. Kibum wouldn't look at him.
With a shuttered sigh, Jonghyun pulled away from the curb and drove. They sat in silence as Jonghyun drove away from the city, breezing along the coast with the sound of the wind and the radio to fill in for the words that should have been there. Jonghyun’s hands were tight against the wheel as he tried to think of what to say. This shouldn’t have been so hard.
“Not today, Jjong,” Kibum said quietly, laying a hand on Jonghyun’s arm. He could feel the way Kibum’s fingers trembled. “Okay? Tomorrow. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just…not today.”
“Yeah,” Jonghyun said, breathing out. “Okay.”
The ocean came into view, blue sparkling underneath a hazy layer of grey. It was cloudy, the sun fighting desperately to filter through and failing miserably, but the air was brisk and salty and calm as Jonghyun pulled up along the shoulder of the road. He shook himself out and climbed out of the car, opening the back door to grab the basket he’d put their lunch in.
“Really? You actually did it?” Kibum asked from the other side of the car as he spotted it.
Jonghyun grinned at him. “Of course.”
“You romantic,” Kibum said, shaking his head. But the tension was lifted and Jonghyun could breathe easier again.
They found a cozy spot up on a cliff, atop a craggy rock face surrounded by the ocean. Kibum pulled his jacket around himself as the walked out near the edge, stopped a far enough distance away that neither of them would feel like falling off but close enough that they still felt like they were sitting in the sky. Jonghyun laid a blanket out in the grass and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, sitting down when Jonghyun made a humble, sweeping gesture like a prince.
Even with the basket beside them, they sat in unmoving silence, watching the waves crash before them, pushing and pulling against the horizon. Kibum leaned against Jonghyun, his head dropping onto Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun brought an arm up around him, tucking him in close to his side as he laid his head on top of Kibum’s.
“Thanks for bringing me out here.” Kibum’s voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the sea.
“Hey,” Jonghyun said, squeezing Kibum close. “Of course. Who else would I bring?”
Kibum mumbled something that Jonghyun didn’t catch.
“Kibum.” Jonghyun became serious. “Really. I’m glad you’re here with me. It’s been too long.”
“It has,” Kibum sighed as he closed his eyes. “I’m so glad we’re out of the town, even for a little while. It’s so suffocating sometimes.”
“I know what you mean.”
Jonghyun stared out at the water, eyes going fuzzy as he lost himself. It was nice to go away for a bit, especially if you knew you had somewhere to go back to. But everything had felt so...complicated, so heavy lately that he didn’t know what he would have done with himself if he’d had to stay. Kibum always got that about him, because he was the same.
The cuts on his thighs were the proof that he needed to get away sometimes, too. But Jonghyun had hoped at least that part would have stopped. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t talk about it today, but wishing that he could anyway.
Instead, he squeezed Kibum once more and pulled over the basket, passing a sandwich to Kibum. Kibum’s grateful smile lightened his heart and Jonghyun swore that tomorrow they’d talk and he’d do everything he could to keep the smile on Kibum’s face instead of that sad look.
-
Jonghyun buried his fist in the guy’s face just seconds before he felt the first drop. And then, all at once, the clouds hurtled in and the previously clear sky grew dark, opened itself up, and let loose. Thick, fat drops started raining down hard, striking like pieces of hail they were so heavy, and the guys from the other gang began scrambling.
They were new; young guys who wanted to prove themselves and thought that they were the strongest just because. Jonghyun hadn’t been fighting seriously, none of them had been, it was just an easy little fight to blow off some steam and have some fun but it had still gotten messy. At the first roll of thunder, the other gang fled, picking themselves and sprinting off like the crack of lightning was the starting gun.
But this was when they came alive, spirits shooting to life as water poured down all around them. Jinki tackled Jonghyun playfully, knocking him down into the mushy ground and the rest of the boys quickly followed, dog piling on them even as the sky darkened.
Jonghyun can feel the energy crackling in him, electric like the light in the sky. He can tell they all feel it too, from Jinki’s powerful movements to Taemin’s wild smile, Kibum’s bright, sharp eyes, and the way Minho’s hair is whipped up by the wind, fluttering around his face like he could control the earth with a twitch of his fingertips. This was where Jonghyun felt at home.
The air was coursing through them, just as turbulent as it was outside, and it wasn’t long before they were shouting and smiling, pushing each other as they broke out into a run down the streets. Jonghyun felt happy - knew they felt it too - even though the rain was gross and warm and it felt like a fucking shower; they were happy because they felt alive, and their shouts were chorused by the boom of thunder. They felt like gods.
The five of them ran through the streets, laughing at the top of their lungs with dirt and blood streaking down their faces. By the time they reached Jonghyun and Minho’s place, their clothes were laden with water, hanging heavily off their skinny frames. They were dripping everywhere but it didn’t matter - every time lightning struck the sky there was a flash of teeth as they grinned at each other, an arm going around a set of shoulders with every crack of thunder.
Jonghyun pushed open the door, everyone tripping through to toe off their shoes and drip their way into the kitchen. Minho brought back a bundle of towels and tossed them at Kibum. Jonghyun stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, toweling his hair as he watched Taemin and Jinki wrestle for a towel.
He caught Minho’s eye, followed a drop of water trace a line down his face from his bangs, Minho’s eyes hooded from the towel draped over his head. Jonghyun shook himself, roughly bringing the towel down over his head. Dropping it on the ground to soak up the puddles of water they were creating, Jonghyun made his way back to the bedrooms. He gathered a pile of clothing for everyone to change into and, once they were all as dry as they would be, they migrated to the living room.
Like clockwork, everyone collapsed into their regular spots. After a beat, Jonghyun exhaled loudly.
“Whose a guy gotta sleep with around here to get a cigarette?”
Kibum snorted as Jinki fished a pack out from his jeans. He pulled one out and made a face, throwing Jonghyun an apologetic look.
“They got too wet,” he said, tossing the pack on the coffee table. Jonghyun briefly mourned the loss before he was smacked in the face with something small and hard.
He sputtered and grabbed the sucker from his lap. Minho fixed him with a look from the couch, like he was personally offended that Jonghyun had let himself get hit or something.
“What,” Jonghyun said, slightly defensive.
“Eat that instead,” Minho replied, nodding at the sucker. “It’s better for you and it doesn’t make the whole room smell like shit.”
“Fine,” Jonghyun said as defiantly as he could while still popping the candy into his mouth.
The sucker dyed his lips red and he was still licking the sugar away that night when Minho’s hand settled on his shoulder, heavy and warm, before his door closed.
-
Jinki was hands down - or hands on - the best at playing gay chicken. There was a shamelessness in him that was unmatched by Kibum or Taemin or even Jonghyun, and he had a hidden competitive streak that rivaled Minho's. He just couldn’t be fazed. None of them ever really planned to play it, it just kind of happened. Jonghyun would put his hand on Taemin's leg while he talked and he'd forget it was there. And so obviously the only logical course of action would be for Taemin to put his own hand up higher on Jonghyun's leg.
There was no point to any of it. All of it was just in good fun and the spirit of a little healthy competition. Or something like that.
Jinki's hand slipped up to the top of Kibum's thigh and Kibum yelped and pulled away, signaling his resignation from the impromptu game. There was a light flush across his cheeks and, if Jonghyun didn't know better (and maybe he didn't), he'd say that Kibum was embarrassed. Just after, for whatever reason, Jinki decided to call it a day at that and backed out, seated next to Kibum with a small smile on his face.
Meanwhile, all eyes were on Jonghyun and Taemin as Taemin's hand snuck around Jonghyun's waist, laying dangerously close to the front of his pants. But Jonghyun liked skinship and was always just a tad bit too enthusiastic when he played, so he unceremoniously stuck his hand down the back of Taemin's pants and grabbed. Taemin's hand tensed on his stomach and pulled away, smacking the back of Jonghyun's head as he laughed.
That only left Minho. A knot grew in Jonghyun's stomach, a hot little coal nestled right in the pit. He swallowed it back down and put on a grin. Aside from Jinki, Minho really was his best competition because he was surprisingly daring and he tried to catch Jonghyun off guard every time. He showed it right off the bat too, as he leaned in close.
Jonghyun was familiar with this game because it was one that they played often. It was always Minho who started it. He'd come in real close, like he was leaning in to kiss Jonghyun, and then it was up to them to see who pulled back first. None of the others played it this way, kept to hands only, so this was Jonghyun's and Minho's game.
Minho's breath was hot on Jonghyun's face as he inched closer, a tiny, mischievous smile lifting the corners of his lips. Jonghyun could see that gleam in his eye, the one that Minho got when he was having fun, and he decided to up the ante. He swooped in closer, nose bumping against Minho's, and Minho almost pulled back in surprise before he caught himself, his own nose nudging just a little closer.
Jonghyun knew he wouldn't pull back today; he could win this one - he wanted to win this one. So he pushed forward a little more, nose sliding past Minho's and hitting his cheek. He could feel Minho's body tense in front of him, could feel the muscles in Minho's leg coiling tightly beneath his palm. Jonghyun parted his lips and breathed out slowly and he was so close he could almost feel the press of Minho's chapped lips against his.
He was a hair's breadth away when Minho sucked in a breath and pulled back.
Jonghyun caught a sliver of Minho's shocked expression before it was replaced with bashfulness.
“Guess you win this one,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.
“What kind of fucking foreplay...” Kibum muttered to Jinki as he stood up. Jinki just shook his head.
Jonghyun was unofficially announced the winner and they headed towards the door to go grab a bite to eat. But as he pulled on his shoes, Jonghyun couldn't shake the phantom feeling that he'd still lost.
<< Part Two | Part Four >>
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: R
Warnings: mild to moderate (mis)use of cursing and commas, violence, non graphic mentions of self harm and abuse
Final Word Count: 63,620
The red numbers of the clock hit seven AM before Jonghyun’s body finally accepted. Unfortunately, this sleep was short lived and he only managed about three hours before his eyes were wearily cracking open once more.
Sleep used to be easy, once.
Then something or other must have shifted in his mind, his body, because he was plagued with endless waves of anxiety and worry, and slowly it was becoming difficult to reach even six, five, four hours of sleep a night. The heat didn’t make it any easier, smothering him for hours on end so much so that his worn out body couldn’t even fall asleep despite the fact that he averaged barely more than two hours a night.
And then, when he was finally able to slip away at the time when some people were only just waking up, his mind churned into action, thoughts grinding away incessantly in his head until it wasn’t even worth it to try anymore, body too tired to even try lying in bed anymore. He would get up then, slogging throughout the rest of the morning until the restless energy kicked in and his body functioned half on autopilot and half out of a resigned sense that his body had adapted to running without sleep.
Jonghyun’s heart was pounding and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He wasn’t unused to the act of waking up like this, with his body already strung tight and nerves buzzing with fire. But this was different. Different in a way that was humiliating and made him feel like a pathetic little kid.
He woke up to a raging hard-on straining against dirty sheets and, amongst a jumble of blurred colors, a crystal clear image of Minho’s face.
He dropped a hand against his face (slapped it more than anything else, really), and rubbed it tiredly, trying to push the red out of his cheeks as if would do anything; he was alone in his room anyway. Jonghyun turned over on his side, steadfastly ignoring anything happening below his waist, and irately pushed his sheets off.
The room was sweltering, sweat built up behind his knees and at the back of his neck, and Jonghyun was disgusted with himself. Wet dreams at his fucking age. Ridiculous. The heat already made everything muggy and uncomfortable already, and now he had to deal with the mess inside both his boxers and his head. No - there was nothing wrong inside his head.
People had stupid, random dreams like that all the time and it didn’t mean anything. But it was still too damn hot to have to deal with anything else. His body ached, back tight with knots, and he was still tense. Jonghyun had been lying in bed, completely still, mind blank, for over half an hour and he still couldn’t calm down. He felt sick and he hadn’t even realized it until just now. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
Pushing the pads of his thumbs into the space between his brows, Jonghyun tried to massage away the headache. It was too damn early for any of this.
With a sigh, he rose from the bed and flipped the light switch. Even with the lights on, the room was dim, for all the good it did. He snagged a fresh pair of boxers and headed to the bathroom, trying not to notice the uncomfortable and incriminating stickiness between his legs.
Minho was in the kitchen when Jonghyun walked in, sitting at the table ladling spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
He looked up when Jonghyun made his way in, did a double take as his spoon hovered in the air, half way forgotten on its journey to his mouth. Jonghyun could imagine the state he was in: sleepy eyed, face covered in a light sheen of sweat, messy haired and only wearing a tank top and boxers. It was probably just as pretty as what he saw in the mirror. (Meaning: not at all.)
Jonghyun waved at him and willed his feet to take him over to the refrigerator. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him the whole time, burning hard into his back, and he felt like acid was trying to climb its way up his throat.
“’Sup,” he croaked.
“You okay?” Minho asked, eyeing him weirdly.
“Just perfect.”
Jonghyun just wanted to sleep.
-
The summer kept up its continuing record of triple digit temperatures, seemingly challenging itself to raise the number each day just another couple degrees. Jonghyun was sweating all the way from his bones and it almost wasn’t even worth it to stay inside because no matter what they did it didn’t seem to stave the heat in the slightest. So of course they did the logical thing and went outside.
“It’s hot as balls,” Kibum muttered, fanning himself with his hand.
“Yeah, remind me again why the hell we’re out here instead of at your house?” Taemin mocked, face scrunched up.
Kibum tossed a handful of grass at him. “Our air conditioner broke, you little shit.”
Taemin just pitched a handful back at him and war was silently declared.
Jonghyun groaned and flopped backwards, grass raining down across his stomach as his head hit Jinki’s legs. He looked up, Jinki’s pink-cheeked face, shaded in the brim of his hat, smiling back down at him. He gave a slow grin back and hiked up his shirt, trying to release as much heat from his body as possible.
“Gross,” Taemin teased as he sprinkled grass onto Jonghyun’s bare stomach.
“Are you kidding me,” Jonghyun deadpanned back, leveling him with a weak glare but too drained to brush it off. The blades of grass stuck to his sweat slicked body, an itchy prickling patch against his skin.
Jonghyun’s eyes slipped closed as a rush of dizziness washed over him. God, he needed to sleep. He was seriously contemplating sleeping, right then and there, in the middle of the grass and the heat and the lazy lullaby of conversation flittering over his head. But then a rustle of leaves caught his attention, dragged his eyes open and made them drift upwards, past Jinki and up into the tree.
He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, the world a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that he couldn’t make sense of. And then he blinked and it all slipped into focus, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree, fading in and out of the air as Minho’s swinging legs shook the branches.
Minho had climbed up there ages ago, declared that he was going to take a nap where it was cooler (heat rises, you dumbass, Kibum had called after him, Minho’s head already having disappeared in the leaves). Jonghyun didn’t know if he’d fallen asleep - Minho, himself - he honestly couldn’t really remember much of what was going on, what had happened since they got to the rundown park, since he woke up, really.
He watched Minho’s legs swing, slowly, calmly, steadily, back and forth like a metronome, tick tick tick tick, until his eyes were falling back out of focus and everything blurred together again. Jonghyun’s eyes were swimming, looping lazy circles around his brain and his head swayed, rocked against Jinki’s leg as he tried to keep a hold on his consciousness.
“Hey.” Jinki’s voice was as soft as the hand lightly patting Jonghyun’s cheek. “Jonghyun.”
Jonghyun opened his eyes and squinted, trying to keep a steady hold on Jinki’s face.
“How’ve you been sleeping?”
Jonghyun laughed, the alarmed look on Jinki’s face causing him to sloppily slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. “I haven’t.”
“Jonghyun…”
He knew that Jinki was worried - hell, Jonghyun probably should have been worried about himself too - but he’d been living like this for too long to really be phased by it anymore. Sometimes it was bad, sometimes it was really bad, and sometimes it was okay. (And then, very occasionally, when the planets all aligned, it was good). Recently it just happened to be really bad.
“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Jonghyun said, reaching back to pat Jinki’s arm as best he could. He missed a little, but he got it eventually. “I’ll probably crash soon. I just have to wait until then. It’ll be fine.”
Jinki shook his head but kept his lips pressed tightly together. He’d seen Jonghyun go through this routine of sleeplessness, passing out, lather rinse repeat, for years now. It didn’t make it any easier to sit through, Jonghyun knew, but there was no other choice. Jinki had been by his side as he tried everything in the book: aroma therapy, relaxation techniques, exhaustion, sleeping pill after sleeping pill until he just gave up. Nothing worked, so all that was left was to just ride it out.
(It helped, though, having people by him as he struggled through it. Jinki was there to steady him when he stumbled, and stumble he did.)
A shout broke through their lackadaisical bubble, the sound rushing in and setting their nerves on edge. The hushed rustling of leaves from above quieted and Jinki tensed beneath Jonghyun’s head, the muscles in his leg becoming firm, coiled.
Jonghyun sat up, ignoring the way the world pitched on its side. A group of four guys walked up to where they were splayed out, machismo radiating from every inch of them as they kicked up dirt beneath their boots. Who the fuck wore boots in heat like this, what the fuck was wrong with them? Jonghyun dragged his eyes up from their feet slowly, stopping on the leader’s face in the moment that they stopped in front of the shady tree Jonghyun was trying not to pass out under.
“Which one of you’s Jonghyun?” the leader asked. He was some stocky guy, a pug-like face buried behind a frizzy crop of hair.
“’S me,” Jonghyun answered, climbing to his feet with a great deal more bravado than he actually felt. Today wasn’t ideal for a fight, but he could already feel the adrenaline coursing through him, shaking the cobwebs from his addled head.
“Jonghyun, are you sure?” Jinki asked in his ear, worry thick in his voice.
Jonghyun waved a hand at him and focused on the group in front of them.
“You broke two of my brother’s ribs, you asshole,” he snarled. He pushed into Jonghyun’s face, staring down at him threateningly as his chest bumped into Jonghyun’s.
“Yeah?” He was nonchalant as he scratched behind an ear. “He probably deserved it, then.”
The guy twisted his fist into the front of Jonghyun’s shirt and then -
“Oh, fuck.”
Jonghyun looked over. Jinki pulled his hands away from his face, revealing the blood dripping down his chin and soaking into the front of his shirt. God damn it. Jinki had always been sensitive to the heat and he’d get massive, spontaneous nosebleeds whenever the air got too dry, too hot. It had been happening on and off all summer and, apparently, now was another one of those times.
One of the guys in the back laughed, his voice cutting through the air like a hyena’s cackle.
“Really? You’re bleeding already?” He walked forward, jeering. Jinki had given up trying to stifle the blood flow and kept his head forward leisurely. “We ain’t even hit you yet.”
And then Jinki’s head snapped up and, quick as a whip, his knuckles buried themselves in the guy’s nose. He took a crack at Jinki, so Jinki took a crack at him and he bled to match, red erupting from his nose in a violent spurt.
The hand that had fisted in Jonghyun’s shirt tightened, its owner remembering where he was, and Jonghyun pulled back sharply as he dodged a punch from its twin. He was pretty sure the world flipped itself upside down momentarily, but by the time he’d straightened up once more it didn’t really matter. Jonghyun didn’t have boots on, so his three year old chucks would have to do the job.
He kicked out, catching the guy in the pelvis. With his hand still gripping Jonghyun’s shirt, Jonghyun stumbled forward with him as the guy lost his balance, toppling backwards into the grass. Jonghyun’s wrist was jarred a little as he hit the ground, a sharp pain shooting up his forearm briefly before he shook it out and pushed himself to his feet. With his muddled head, being anywhere near the ground was probably not the best option.
Jonghyun flitted in and out of realization for the next few minutes. He could hear shoes scuffing against the ground and the muted grunts of the people around him. He couldn’t tell if it was from his friends or the other guys. The solid impact of knuckles on skin rang the clearest, sounding all around him like the thundering of drums.
He was not doing so good. Jonghyun’s vision swam as he sloppily dodged another punch and it clipped the edge of his jaw like a streaking bullet. His adrenaline was still running high but with the lack of sleep and his inability to focus, it was just making everything hyper-real, too bright and fast to catch properly.
Someone grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and Jonghyun shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself as he swung around. The collar of his shirt was twisted against his neck, almost choking him, and he lost balance as his captor pulled forward. He went down.
Huddled in the dirt and prepared for the inevitable, Jonghyun braced himself for an impact that never came.
“Shit!”
The shout drew his attention, his eyes flying open to see a body standing above him, bracketed by sunlight. Jonghyun blinked, straining against the light to see who it was that had smashed the teeth of the guy who’d brought Jonghyun down. The guy from the other gang was cradling his jaw, teeth covered in red as he spit a wad of blood into the dirt.
The person in front of Jonghyun lifted his leg, the long limb flying out and catching the bloodied boy in front of him in the stomach. Then, as he was turning around, Jonghyun felt another pair of hands on his shoulders, sleeves practically ripping off as he was dragged backwards. Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought.
It was the leader again, back from wherever the hell he’d gone when Jonghyun had gotten knocked down by one of his members. Pain bloomed across Jonghyun’s shoulder. Dazedly, he realized that he’d been kicked and he should probably move if he didn’t want it to happen again, but instead he fell back into the dirt, eyes refusing to uncross.
This is fucking bullshit, raced through his panicked mind as he managed to bring his arms up in time to block a hit to hit face.
His arms took a beating, punch after punch trying to break through his feeble barricade to get to the grand prize. Jonghyun thought of trying to shake the guy off, unbalance him enough so that Jonghyun could stand up and really fight him but it seemed useless. Jonghyun was weak, his body faulting under the lack of sleep harder than it usually did and there was nothing he could do but defend.
When the guy finally got the bright idea to pull his arms away, Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut, head turned away in anticipation of the hit that would come. But this one didn’t either. He stomach clenched as the guy sitting on him was dragged off and thrown into the dirt next to him.
Dirt flew into his eyes and he rubbed at them hastily. By the time he’d cleared them up enough to see, the guy had rolled his attacker over into the dirt and they were struggling against each other. Through their arms, Jonghyun caught a flash of a green tank top and suddenly realized who had been standing before him, a sense of déjà vu whipping through him as he watched Minho’s back get slammed into the ground.
They wrestled each other, Minho being taller (and probably stronger, Jonghyun mused) but losing against the leverage that the stockier leader had. His back was pressed into the ground, scraping against the dirt and rocks and twigs as he fought to gain the upper hand. Jonghyun could see a fierce look on his face, defiant and protective and something surged through him, shook him all the way down to the marrow of his bones when he thought that look was maybe, just maybe, because of him.
Minho managed to get a knee up between them and pushed, catapulting the leader backwards and into a bench. His head hit the metal with an uncomfortable clang. By this time, his members had been worn down, racing to his side to pull him up and away as they scuttled off with bitter glares directed back at them.
Everyone was a little worse for wear but Jonghyun didn’t see any serious injuries right off the bat and figured everything else could be dealt with later. Jonghyun stared at the sky blearily, not a cloud in sight to block the harsh sun or hide his beaten pride. He should have done better; he was their leader and he couldn’t even fight for them for god’s sake.
A hand appeared in front of his face and Jonghyun swiped a hand across his eyes before he grabbed it and was hauled up. Minho smiled at him, cracked lips split with thin lines of blood. Jonghyun’s legs were weak as he shook the dirt from his hair, roughly smacking the dust off his jeans.
“Thanks, man,” he muttered.
Minho paused, hesitation marking his large frame before he breathed out and brushed off Jonghyun’s back, a calm smile still playing across his lips.
“No problem.”
They gathered themselves up and wandered away aimlessly, leaving behind blood-speckled dirt and crushed grass. Almost nothing had changed. On their way back into civilization, Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin cut away to get food, waving them off with dirt smeared faces and cut lips. But they looked happy enough and Jonghyun guessed that his failure today hadn’t shaken their confidence in him, even if it had made him feel worthless.
Minho was quiet as they walked, like he usually was, but somehow this was more stifling. Jonghyun wished he’d say something, anything - you really dropped the ball today, hyung. Guess I was the one to save you this time, huh? What should we make for dinner? As long as he said something, Jonghyun could ignore the crushing agitation snapping at him from all sides.
Jonghyun was toeing his shoes off at the door when Minho finally murmured, “it’s not your fault, you know.”
Jonghyun watched his back as he walked away. What the fuck.
He found Minho in the bathroom, door open as he pulled up the back of his shirt to inspect his back in the mirror. Jonghyun leaned on the doorframe, surveying him with a critical eye.
“What do you mean it’s not my fault?” He asked, watching Minho struggle to see the full extent of the damage.
“I mean,” Minho said, dropping his shirt back down and tugging at the collar to look at a raised welt on his neck. “That you did what you could today.”
Jonghyun grit his teeth, about to snap back when Minho continued. “And that’s good enough for us, hyung.”
His hands clenched into fists. “Get out here,” he barked.
Confused, Minho stepped out of the bathroom but Jonghyun pushed his way inside, rifling under the sink to grab a small cardboard box. Cocking his head, he signaled for Minho to follow him out to the living room, making a short detour to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sat down on the couch, back against the arm of it and legs pulled up. The box was nestled in the circle of his legs, stuffed to the brim with gauze and anti-bacterial wipes.
This was their version of a first aid kit. It was cheap and had to be restocked just about every other month but it worked for them.
Minho stood beside him, clearly still not grasping the situation if the vacant look on his face was any indication.
“Sit down and take off your shirt,” Jonghyun commanded, already pulling out a clean cloth from the box. He grabbed the water bottle and pressed it into the wash cloth as Minho finally got it, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the coffee table.
He sat in front of Jonghyun, broad back littered with scrapes and welts; long, angry lines zigzagging across his skin like lightning strikes. Jonghyun whistled lowly, bringing the cool cloth to Minho’s back.
“Jeez, what the hell. He really did a number on your back.”
“Yeah?” Minho asked, looking over his shoulder.
Jonghyun nudged his face forward again. “Yeah. Looks like a freaking scratching post back here.”
The rest of his back wasn’t as badly affected as the uncovered, unprotected skin of his shoulders. They were scraped up badly, congealed blood clotting in ugly shapes in the dips of his shoulder blades, dirt getting caught in the edges. Jonghyun winced. Minho was like this because Jonghyun couldn’t fight well enough to protect himself, or any of them apparently.
He cleaned the worst of the blood away, wetting the washcloth with more water as it slowly dyed the cloth a pink color. He wiped it over the rest of Minho’s back lightly, trying not to agitate any of the shallow cuts. It came away discolored with dirt and blood when he was finished, but Jonghyun couldn’t see any dirt stuck in any of the cuts so he figured everything would be fine.
Pulling out two of the wipes, Jonghyun ripped one open and ran it over his hands. It bit at him as he wiped the dirt from his hands. Ripping open the other one, he warned, “this is going to sting” before he pressed it against Minho’s skin.
Minho sucked in air sharply through his teeth, the sound cutting through the room. Jonghyun could see his jaw working and he tried to clean up as quickly as possible. He crumpled the thin wipe, tossed it on the table, and pulled out a tube of antibiotic. Better safe than sorry.
Popping the cap, Jonghyun could see Minho tense again, probably expecting another shock of pain to hit his back. Jonghyun squeezed the amorphous substance onto his hands and pressed the cool gel against Minho’s skin gently, apologetically trying to soothe the sting. Minho’s back relaxed beneath his hands. Jonghyun rubbed the antibiotic into Minho’s skin, working it lightly against the cuts so that they wouldn’t reopen. The room was quiet, only their steady breathing audible as Jonghyun’s hands passed over Minho’s back. When he finished, he tapped Minho’s shoulders to get him to turn around.
“Let’s take a look at that face now,” he said, grabbing Minho’s face between his hands, angling him this way and that so that he could get a better look.
Minho laughed, hands coming up to cover Jonghyun’s. “Hyung,” he chuckled. “I can do my face myself.”
“Nope!” Jonghyun said cheerily. “I’ve already got you here. I’m finishing.”
He pressed a cotton ball against the lip of the bottle and wet it. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, gently rubbing the cotton ball against a cut underneath Minho’s eye.
Minho made this difficult by crinkling his eyes in silent laughter, an easy smile playing on his lips. But Jonghyun could work past that - he had a patient to take care of, after all.
-
They didn’t fight dirty. They weren’t about the whole knives and chains bullshit that some people tried to come at them with. Jonghyun had never touched a gun. He had a utility knife he kept on his keychain but he wasn’t going to use something like that in a fight, only kept it for convenience and tight spots. He preferred to let his fists do the talking and if some guy pulled a knife on any of them you could be sure as hell that they’d book it right out of there without a second thought. They liked to fight but they weren’t fucking stupid and no way in hell were they going to jail over something as stupid as that.
Taemin used to have long coppery hair that he kept tied back when they fought. It was almost like his symbol: a long, silky, red mane that cut through the air like a whip as he dashed and dodged. His long bangs had fallen messily into his eyes, mysterious, dangerous, sexy. Everyone knew him by that hair, like the flick of it was his calling card.
But when a guy from another gang grabbed hold of his hair and pulled a switchblade tight against Taemin's neck that changed. Scared out of his mind, Taemin came back the next day, hair chopped too short to pull into a ponytail. He hadn't kept it long since.
Taemin had regained his broken spirit, fought back harder than he had before as his hair faded back to black. He was like wildfire, his energy blazing with every step he took. He didn’t need the flashy hair anymore; just the way he walked did the trick now. He missed it sometimes, even if it usually had been a ratty mess most of the time. It had been one of the first things he’d ever done for himself, no matter how bad of a decision it had turned out to be.
There was one good thing to his hair being kept shorter, though - at least now his dad couldn’t grab hold of it either.
-
“Truth or dare?”
“Really, Kibum?” Minho raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m bored as fuck over here and none of you are talking.” Kibum looked around the room threateningly. “Truth of dare?”
After a beat of silence, Jinki said, “truth.”
“How old were you when you had your first kiss?”
“Are we really starting off with the fourth grade questions?” Jonghyun muttered, eyes still glued to his phone.
Ignoring him, Jinki calmly answered, “fourteen”, his voice not giving anything away. Taemin let out a low whistle.
Jinki’s eyes locked on him. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Taemin said, not missing a beat.
“Go commando for the rest of the night.”
“Done and done.” Taemin stood up and made his way down to the bathroom. Jinki and Minho were already chuckling but when Taemin came back, hands suspiciously empty, it was Jonghyun who was howling with laughter.
Taemin gave a saucy smile and sat back down.
“Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin said, lounging back against the arm of the couch. The little shit had his legs spread wide, comfortably reminding the rest of the room of his current state of dress. “Truth or dare?”
Jonghyun raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”
That was kind of a dangerous choice when it was Taemin doing the daring, but Jonghyun felt like he wanted to be a little dangerous tonight.
“Go give Minho hyung a lap dance.”
Jonghyun was taken aback for approximately 0.35 seconds before he shrugged and stood up, sashaying his way over to Minho in the most exaggerated way he could muster. Try as he might, Minho couldn’t keep a straight face when Jonghyun approached him, amused smile sneaking onto his lips as Jonghyun slapped his hands on Minho’s shoulders.
“Can’t a guy get some music up in here?” He demanded, and within seconds Kibum’s phone was playing a sultry rhythm for him to follow.
“You ready for this, big boy?” He murmured in his greasiest voice, throwing an over-the-top wink in Minho’s direction.
He wasn’t going to take this seriously. They were just having fun and besides, Jonghyun liked to play up to the attention thrown his way as he did excessive body rolls and threw out disgusting flying kisses. And as he shook his hips, sliding a hand dramatically over Minho’s stomach, it was worth it to see Minho laugh so brightly.
When the short song came to a close, Jonghyun dipped into a low bow, one hand flying out to the side as he accepted the “applause” from his friends.
“Okay, Kibummie,” he said as he sank back down into his own seat instead of Minho’s lap. “Truth or dare?”
They played for a while, the dares getting stupider and the truths getting more embarrassing. It was all pretty par for the course among a group as close knit as them. They all knew each other too well to really push any boundaries they knew shouldn’t be crossed, but that didn’t stop them from toeing a few lines.
“Jonghyun.” Kibum leveled him with a sly stare.
“Dare.”
Jonghyun had sensed a theme running through Kibum’s questions since the beginning but had decided to keep quiet on it; if he brought it up, he’d be put in the line of fire and he was riding easy - he wanted to keep it that way.
It seemed he wasn’t going to be so lucky. Kibum was nothing if not consistent.
“Put your hands on the body part you admire the most on someone else.”
Jonghyun froze for a second, a list of things running through his head. There were images flashing rapid fire behind his eyes, skin skin skin, but it was the muscles that rolled to a stop in his mind, sirens blaring as he fought the heat that tried to rise to his cheeks. So he was a guy that liked to work out, no big deal. He could admire another guy’s muscles, be jealous of the definition there that Jonghyun still had to work on.
He stood up, face blank as he walked over. If they watched him, they probably wouldn’t notice the uneven way he walked. Not like it mattered - this was just admiration, nothing more.
Jonghyun stood in front of a shocked Minho and lifted his hands, planting them firmly against his chest.
“Truth or dare?” Taemin scoffed a moment later. “More like: how gay can you be with your best friend without it getting weird.”
“Shut up, Taemin,” Minho grunted, voice tight. Jonghyun could feel Minho’s heartbeat pounding away steadily against his palm.
His hands slipped away a second later and he turned on his heel, dropped down into his seat and finally unclenched his jaw.
“So!” He exclaimed, forced indifference coating his voice. “Who’s next?”
They had some more dumb dares (take a shot, spin around, and say the first pick up line that comes to mind with whoever you make eye contact with) and some even dumber questions (when did you stop wetting the bed?). When it circled back around to Kibum, he already had a target picked out.
“Minho.”
“Truth.”
“Who here do you want to kiss the most?” The question was ready on Kibum’s tongue, waiting to jump off like a lick of fire.
But with the way Minho shifted uncomfortably, something in the air shifted with him. Electricity was crackling through the room and suddenly everyone was alert, all eyes and ears on Minho as they waited for his answer.
“I…”
Kibum’s lips pursed and he stared at Minho expectantly. There was no way Minho was getting out of this.
“I mean. Well.” He was floundering. “I don’t actually want to kiss him. But…”
Minho’s eyes darted back and forth across all of them nervously. There was a light blush sitting high on his cheeks and Jonghyun could see the tips of his ears starting to turn red. Minho’s eyes locked with his for a moment before he broke away, but Jonghyun sat frozen, heart stopped in his chest.
“I guess - if I had to choose -” Minho cut off and shifted again, looking away from all of them.
“Jonghyun,” he finally mumbled.
It felt like a whoosh of air was knocked out of Jonghyun, like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. He was almost seeing stars as a rush of dizziness swept over him, zipping all the way down to his fingertips as he stared at the top of Minho’s head.
He was broken out of it once all the whooping and hollering started, cat calls sounding from all sides. Minho’s head snapped up and he cursed them all out, adding more fuel to the fire. Jonghyun tried to roll with it, tried to pull the focus away from the actual matter at hand (“who wouldn’t want to kiss me?” He crowed. “Look at these lips”). But there was something heavy sitting in his gut, threatening to crawl its way up into his throat and strangle him.
Minho grew quiet and that was when the teasing stopped. Things got weird after that, a little too tense from all sides even though everyone was clearly trying to act like something unspoken actually hadn’t clicked into and out of place right before their eyes. It wasn’t a big deal or anything - why would any of them care? Why would Jonghyun care? He didn’t care. Not one bit. But even so, Jonghyun thanked his lucky stars when Taemin got Kibum back, just before they called it a night.
“Do you spit or swallow?”
Kibum choked, saliva caught in his throat as he coughed violently at the unexpected question.
“Hmm. Must be “spit” then,” Taemin said, examining his nails.
And that was that.
-
Jonghyun was seventeen the first time he saw the rows of long, thin cuts on the inside of Kibum’s thighs. He had gone over to Kibum’s house to spend the night and was lounging on his bed, reading a comic book when he glanced over. Kibum had been changing out of his uniform and he had pulled down his pants. Normally Jonghyun wouldn’t have cared much, he might have been a little embarrassed but really, they were two guys and it didn’t really matter if he saw his friend getting undressed because he was cool with that kind of thing.
But he’d seen the thin lines on Kibum’s thighs, peeking out just below the hem of his boxers and, if he was honest with himself, it had scared him. It had scared him so much that he couldn’t bring himself to ask Kibum about it until two weeks later when he patted Kibum’s leg and the other boy flinched in pain. And then it rushed out of him, the dam broken, and he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.
It had taken Kibum a long time to open up to him and finally tell Jonghyun about it. He squeezed Jonghyun’s hand as he told him about how he’d taken one of the blades out of his razor and the plate he pushed away during dinner. And Jonghyun had squeezed his hand back as Kibum rolled up his shorts and showed Jonghyun, up close and personal, just how many lines Kibum had scratched into his skin.
Jonghyun was the first person to know that sometimes Kibum hated himself so much that he couldn’t even look in the mirror.
He tried to help Kibum, but sometimes a friend just wasn’t enough to make your head stop screaming at you. So the best he could do is distract him, just try to make him forget for a little while, and every once in a while he was successful. Kibum had thanked him, kept thanking him for what he knew Jonghyun was trying to do for him, and in return, he had Jonghyun watch as he threw out his blades, broke his scale into a hundred pieces, and finally held himself up with confidence. (That confidence wasn’t always real, but it was a start.)
Jonghyun pulled up in front of Kibum’s house and honked the horn twice, two sharp blasts, while he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Kibum came out of the house, jacket thrown over his shoulder and sunglasses already perched on his face, looking every bit the picture of the glamorous and bold person that everyone thought he was.
Jonghyun smiled, waved to him as Kibum walked up to his car, but the smile slipped off his face as Kibum got closer.
Kibum was wearing longer shorts again and Jonghyun's heart dropped.
“Kibum,” he said quietly, brokenly. Kibum wouldn't look at him.
With a shuttered sigh, Jonghyun pulled away from the curb and drove. They sat in silence as Jonghyun drove away from the city, breezing along the coast with the sound of the wind and the radio to fill in for the words that should have been there. Jonghyun’s hands were tight against the wheel as he tried to think of what to say. This shouldn’t have been so hard.
“Not today, Jjong,” Kibum said quietly, laying a hand on Jonghyun’s arm. He could feel the way Kibum’s fingers trembled. “Okay? Tomorrow. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just…not today.”
“Yeah,” Jonghyun said, breathing out. “Okay.”
The ocean came into view, blue sparkling underneath a hazy layer of grey. It was cloudy, the sun fighting desperately to filter through and failing miserably, but the air was brisk and salty and calm as Jonghyun pulled up along the shoulder of the road. He shook himself out and climbed out of the car, opening the back door to grab the basket he’d put their lunch in.
“Really? You actually did it?” Kibum asked from the other side of the car as he spotted it.
Jonghyun grinned at him. “Of course.”
“You romantic,” Kibum said, shaking his head. But the tension was lifted and Jonghyun could breathe easier again.
They found a cozy spot up on a cliff, atop a craggy rock face surrounded by the ocean. Kibum pulled his jacket around himself as the walked out near the edge, stopped a far enough distance away that neither of them would feel like falling off but close enough that they still felt like they were sitting in the sky. Jonghyun laid a blanket out in the grass and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, sitting down when Jonghyun made a humble, sweeping gesture like a prince.
Even with the basket beside them, they sat in unmoving silence, watching the waves crash before them, pushing and pulling against the horizon. Kibum leaned against Jonghyun, his head dropping onto Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun brought an arm up around him, tucking him in close to his side as he laid his head on top of Kibum’s.
“Thanks for bringing me out here.” Kibum’s voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the sea.
“Hey,” Jonghyun said, squeezing Kibum close. “Of course. Who else would I bring?”
Kibum mumbled something that Jonghyun didn’t catch.
“Kibum.” Jonghyun became serious. “Really. I’m glad you’re here with me. It’s been too long.”
“It has,” Kibum sighed as he closed his eyes. “I’m so glad we’re out of the town, even for a little while. It’s so suffocating sometimes.”
“I know what you mean.”
Jonghyun stared out at the water, eyes going fuzzy as he lost himself. It was nice to go away for a bit, especially if you knew you had somewhere to go back to. But everything had felt so...complicated, so heavy lately that he didn’t know what he would have done with himself if he’d had to stay. Kibum always got that about him, because he was the same.
The cuts on his thighs were the proof that he needed to get away sometimes, too. But Jonghyun had hoped at least that part would have stopped. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t talk about it today, but wishing that he could anyway.
Instead, he squeezed Kibum once more and pulled over the basket, passing a sandwich to Kibum. Kibum’s grateful smile lightened his heart and Jonghyun swore that tomorrow they’d talk and he’d do everything he could to keep the smile on Kibum’s face instead of that sad look.
-
Jonghyun buried his fist in the guy’s face just seconds before he felt the first drop. And then, all at once, the clouds hurtled in and the previously clear sky grew dark, opened itself up, and let loose. Thick, fat drops started raining down hard, striking like pieces of hail they were so heavy, and the guys from the other gang began scrambling.
They were new; young guys who wanted to prove themselves and thought that they were the strongest just because. Jonghyun hadn’t been fighting seriously, none of them had been, it was just an easy little fight to blow off some steam and have some fun but it had still gotten messy. At the first roll of thunder, the other gang fled, picking themselves and sprinting off like the crack of lightning was the starting gun.
But this was when they came alive, spirits shooting to life as water poured down all around them. Jinki tackled Jonghyun playfully, knocking him down into the mushy ground and the rest of the boys quickly followed, dog piling on them even as the sky darkened.
Jonghyun can feel the energy crackling in him, electric like the light in the sky. He can tell they all feel it too, from Jinki’s powerful movements to Taemin’s wild smile, Kibum’s bright, sharp eyes, and the way Minho’s hair is whipped up by the wind, fluttering around his face like he could control the earth with a twitch of his fingertips. This was where Jonghyun felt at home.
The air was coursing through them, just as turbulent as it was outside, and it wasn’t long before they were shouting and smiling, pushing each other as they broke out into a run down the streets. Jonghyun felt happy - knew they felt it too - even though the rain was gross and warm and it felt like a fucking shower; they were happy because they felt alive, and their shouts were chorused by the boom of thunder. They felt like gods.
The five of them ran through the streets, laughing at the top of their lungs with dirt and blood streaking down their faces. By the time they reached Jonghyun and Minho’s place, their clothes were laden with water, hanging heavily off their skinny frames. They were dripping everywhere but it didn’t matter - every time lightning struck the sky there was a flash of teeth as they grinned at each other, an arm going around a set of shoulders with every crack of thunder.
Jonghyun pushed open the door, everyone tripping through to toe off their shoes and drip their way into the kitchen. Minho brought back a bundle of towels and tossed them at Kibum. Jonghyun stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, toweling his hair as he watched Taemin and Jinki wrestle for a towel.
He caught Minho’s eye, followed a drop of water trace a line down his face from his bangs, Minho’s eyes hooded from the towel draped over his head. Jonghyun shook himself, roughly bringing the towel down over his head. Dropping it on the ground to soak up the puddles of water they were creating, Jonghyun made his way back to the bedrooms. He gathered a pile of clothing for everyone to change into and, once they were all as dry as they would be, they migrated to the living room.
Like clockwork, everyone collapsed into their regular spots. After a beat, Jonghyun exhaled loudly.
“Whose a guy gotta sleep with around here to get a cigarette?”
Kibum snorted as Jinki fished a pack out from his jeans. He pulled one out and made a face, throwing Jonghyun an apologetic look.
“They got too wet,” he said, tossing the pack on the coffee table. Jonghyun briefly mourned the loss before he was smacked in the face with something small and hard.
He sputtered and grabbed the sucker from his lap. Minho fixed him with a look from the couch, like he was personally offended that Jonghyun had let himself get hit or something.
“What,” Jonghyun said, slightly defensive.
“Eat that instead,” Minho replied, nodding at the sucker. “It’s better for you and it doesn’t make the whole room smell like shit.”
“Fine,” Jonghyun said as defiantly as he could while still popping the candy into his mouth.
The sucker dyed his lips red and he was still licking the sugar away that night when Minho’s hand settled on his shoulder, heavy and warm, before his door closed.
-
Jinki was hands down - or hands on - the best at playing gay chicken. There was a shamelessness in him that was unmatched by Kibum or Taemin or even Jonghyun, and he had a hidden competitive streak that rivaled Minho's. He just couldn’t be fazed. None of them ever really planned to play it, it just kind of happened. Jonghyun would put his hand on Taemin's leg while he talked and he'd forget it was there. And so obviously the only logical course of action would be for Taemin to put his own hand up higher on Jonghyun's leg.
There was no point to any of it. All of it was just in good fun and the spirit of a little healthy competition. Or something like that.
Jinki's hand slipped up to the top of Kibum's thigh and Kibum yelped and pulled away, signaling his resignation from the impromptu game. There was a light flush across his cheeks and, if Jonghyun didn't know better (and maybe he didn't), he'd say that Kibum was embarrassed. Just after, for whatever reason, Jinki decided to call it a day at that and backed out, seated next to Kibum with a small smile on his face.
Meanwhile, all eyes were on Jonghyun and Taemin as Taemin's hand snuck around Jonghyun's waist, laying dangerously close to the front of his pants. But Jonghyun liked skinship and was always just a tad bit too enthusiastic when he played, so he unceremoniously stuck his hand down the back of Taemin's pants and grabbed. Taemin's hand tensed on his stomach and pulled away, smacking the back of Jonghyun's head as he laughed.
That only left Minho. A knot grew in Jonghyun's stomach, a hot little coal nestled right in the pit. He swallowed it back down and put on a grin. Aside from Jinki, Minho really was his best competition because he was surprisingly daring and he tried to catch Jonghyun off guard every time. He showed it right off the bat too, as he leaned in close.
Jonghyun was familiar with this game because it was one that they played often. It was always Minho who started it. He'd come in real close, like he was leaning in to kiss Jonghyun, and then it was up to them to see who pulled back first. None of the others played it this way, kept to hands only, so this was Jonghyun's and Minho's game.
Minho's breath was hot on Jonghyun's face as he inched closer, a tiny, mischievous smile lifting the corners of his lips. Jonghyun could see that gleam in his eye, the one that Minho got when he was having fun, and he decided to up the ante. He swooped in closer, nose bumping against Minho's, and Minho almost pulled back in surprise before he caught himself, his own nose nudging just a little closer.
Jonghyun knew he wouldn't pull back today; he could win this one - he wanted to win this one. So he pushed forward a little more, nose sliding past Minho's and hitting his cheek. He could feel Minho's body tense in front of him, could feel the muscles in Minho's leg coiling tightly beneath his palm. Jonghyun parted his lips and breathed out slowly and he was so close he could almost feel the press of Minho's chapped lips against his.
He was a hair's breadth away when Minho sucked in a breath and pulled back.
Jonghyun caught a sliver of Minho's shocked expression before it was replaced with bashfulness.
“Guess you win this one,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.
“What kind of fucking foreplay...” Kibum muttered to Jinki as he stood up. Jinki just shook his head.
Jonghyun was unofficially announced the winner and they headed towards the door to go grab a bite to eat. But as he pulled on his shoes, Jonghyun couldn't shake the phantom feeling that he'd still lost.
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