✧ nothing's gonna change (my love for you) ✧ 2/3 ✧
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It’s back, Jongin can feel it lurking behind him, watching him. His room suddenly feels too small, morphing into a landscape of black, something crawling up his throat and lodging itself. He can’t scream, can barely breathe, but it’s there and it’s getting closer and he needs to run.
Jongin stumbles forward, nearly tripping as he pushes forward, the abyss in front of him extending in every direction. He’s not even sure how he can make sense of it, how the ants crawling under his skin, quick, quick, quick, haven’t swallowed him up yet. Bile rises up his esophagus, but he doesn’t have time to stop, can already feel the burn in his calves, naked feet thumping against the ground.
There’s something on his shoulder, a hand, no not quite, pushing him back, trying to turn him around, and Jongin’s skin is bubbling under the touch. He can’t breathe, he can’t --
“Fuck,” Jongin gasps, jolting up in bed. He’s drenched in sweat, bed too cold, apartment dark save for the moonlight trickling in from his window. He glances at the door of his room, lying open, and scrambles out of bed to close it, back pressing against the wood. It’s not until his breathing evens out that he manages to crawl back into his bed, grabbing a discarded hoodie along the way.
It’s only four. Jongin doesn’t need to be out of bed for another three hours.
☼
Nightmares had a tendency of keeping Jongin on edge for far longer than they reasonably should, but fear has him swimming through every little worry, over the very large and terrifyingly uncontrollable future.
The month was nearing its end, which meant he needed to get his next month’s rent ready, pay off his phone, internet, and cable, thankful that at least utilities were included in the rent. He had two papers due, plus readings for the next week, and he needed to get his application for his practicum in as soon as possible. Maybe ask Lu Han which department he wanted to work in.
“Earth to Jongin? Hello?” Jongdae waves a hand in his face, startling Jongin out of his thoughts. He doesn’t know how he’s ended up inside the diner, but Jongdae is staring at him with an amused grin, attempting to mask the worry in his eyes.
“Jongdae-hyung,” Jongin breathes, offering his best smile. It’s too bad he’s still wracked up with nerves, nearly jittery, almost nauseous. The scent of coffee wafting in the air doesn’t help. “Hi. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Oh, I thought maybe you were planning on spontaneous combustion, what with that look of extreme concentration. You’ll have wrinkles and grey hair soon enough,” Jongdae comments, laughing. Jongin finds it eases the edge off; distractions always did.
“Everything’s just a little hectic,” Jongin mumbles, slipping past Jongdae to get to the back. He’s working in the front today, and there’s no chance of switching, not when Jinki was the shift supervisor. He liked to push Jongin out of his comfort zone, something about character building. Jongin really just wanted to crawl under a table and hide there for a few hours. Days, maybe.
He throws on his apron, work uniform looking a little sad for wear. He needed to do laundry, too. And his room was a mess, and maybe he could get the kitchen cleaned up as well. Jongin knew there was a reason he didn’t particularly care for lists. Visibly staring at his endless to do list always made him feel closer to throwing up.
“Okay, no more thinking, just doing,” Jongdae instructs, pushing Jongin over to the espresso machine. “I need a double shot small mocha with whip.”
Jongin slips into the motions easy enough, grateful that Jongdae was letting him work the bar. Although, waiting tables did usually suck enough energy and focus out of him that he forgot about everything else accumulating in his life.
Jongdae likes to play jazz at the diner, goes from table to table with a little skip in his step, like he might break out into dance any moment. Jongin sincerely hopes he doesn’t, perfectly aware of Jongdae’s ‘extensive’ dance skills from prior social engagements.
The noontime rush whizzes past them, post two o’clock lull settling in with a grateful sigh, allowing Jongin to scramble to the back to restock everything on the bar. He checks his phone after he’s stocked milk in the fridge, pretty sure he’d seen Jongdae caught up in a conversation with Jinki in the back, Kibum wiping tables clean.
hey, you still up for coffee?
Jongin stares at the text message, lip caught between his teeth, the day’s worries piling up on one side of the scale, and the prospect of a few hours with Kyungsoo on the other. The scale teeter-totters, and Jongin finds that neither option really frees him from the stiffness building up in his shoulders, neck beginning to ache. It probably doesn’t help that he slept fitfully after the nightmare.
He’s about to reply when his phone’s snatched out of his hands with an almost cartoonish speed, leaving Jongin staring dumbly at his hands for a split second.
“Hyung! What the fuck are you doing?” Jongin hisses furiously, a few customers still lingering around the restaurant.
“Letting Kyungsoo, heart heart, know that you are most definitely up for coffee,” Jongdae grins, handing Jongin his phone back. Jongin stares horrified at the message Jongdae’s sent, emojis and hearts littered throughout as if Jongin had exploded glitter everywhere.
“Breathe,” Jongdae tells him, “you might burst a vein or something. Besides, it’s not like you were ever going to say yes. Give yourself a chance, nerd.”
“What if I don’t want to go get coffee, don’t make decisions for me!” Jongin exclaims, incensed. There is, possibly, a small part of Jongin that is sighing in relief, but Jongin’s never been fond of people poking through his business.
“Aw, it’s cute how you think we don’t all know you’re smitten with this Kyungsoo guy,” Jongdae smiles rather smugly, stacking freshly cleaned mugs onto the cupboard behind Jongin.
“I’m not -- How do you even know about Kyungsoo?” Jongin huffs, shoving his phone into his back pocket with entirely too much effort.
“Are we forgetting about the part where I’m dating Byun Baekhyun, local gossipmonger,” Jongdae says sweetly. “But don’t worry, we all pretty much guessed what was happening when you since you go into fumbling, stuttering mode everytime he comes in here.”
“He’s been here like, twice,” Jongin exhales, mortified and contemplating the likelihood of an earthquake hitting just the two square feet around him so that he might disappear entirely into the depths of the earth.
Jongdae only laughs, ruffling Jongin’s hair as he finishes stacking the mugs. Jongin should have known better than to even bother checking his phone at work.
☼
Kyungsoo shows up at four pm on the dot, as if punctuality were some kind of Olympic sport. Jongin’s sure he would score tens across the board, but unfortunately for him Jongin’s too busy in the back trying to blend in with the walls.
“Are you just going to make him stand out there?” Jongdae asks, already changed out of his work clothes. Jongin’s clutching the off-white sweater he’d grabbed on his way out, already well on the road to fucking things up. “He looks so sad. Aw, so short and sad.”
“You’re the exact same height,” Jongin says slowly, as if talking to a child.
“Excuse me?”
Jongin’s almost sure Jongdae’s New Year’s resolution had been to look more intimidating but he’s not doing so well on that front. “Uh, you’re tiny, hyung. Check base with reality sometime.”
“After everything I’ve done for you,” Jongdae huffs, “this is how you repay me? With insults!”
Jongin just rolls his eyes, disappearing into the bathroom to change out of his somewhat grimy black dress shirt. The sweater’s a little itchy, but Jongin ignores the scratchy feeling, shoving his dress shirt into his backpack. He checks his hair in the mirror, flushing when he realises he’s fussing over it looking neat. They were catching up. On what, exactly, Jongin had no clue, because his life was about as exciting as watching grass grow.
Kyungsoo’s dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a double-breasted grey coat, hair a little messy. He’s making small talk with Kibum when he notices Jongin, smile blooming across his features instantly. Jongin’s heart skips a beat.
“Sorry for the wait, hyung,” Jongin mumbles, feeling a little shabby standing next to Kyungsoo.
“I just got here,” Kyungsoo says, lips quirking into an amused smirk. Jongin makes an effort to stop staring at Kyungsoo’s mouth, waving goodbye to Kibum as he leads Kyungsoo out the door.
“How was your shift?” Kyungsoo asks once they’re outside, cool autumn breeze sending a little shiver down Jongin’s spine. He digs his hands into his baseball jacket’s pockets, grateful for the warmth.
“It was good, went by quickly,” Jongin answers, shuffling beside Kyungsoo as they walk down the street. Jongin doesn’t bother mentioning that he spent nearly three hours freaking out about seeing Kyungsoo, nearly spilling scalding hot chocolate on himself twice. “How was your day, hyung?”
“Boring,” Kyungsoo says. “I had a lab I needed to finish.”
“Are you done?” Jongin asks, unsure what else to talk about.
“All finished.” Kyungsoo lightly takes hold of Jongin’s elbow as they cross the street, steering him left toward an empty little cafe hidden between a lady’s boutique and an optometrist’s. Jongin’s walked past it before, but he’s never been inside. It smells like vanilla, quaint little chairs settled along the walls, with colourful arrangements of gerberas settled on every table. It’s neat and clean, a little homey, and Jongin’s not surprised Kyungsoo likes it. The staff seems to recognize him, too.
Jongin glances around, notes a few patrons settled at some of the tables, and the cherrywood bookcase nestled against the back wall. There’s a tap against his bicep, catching Jongin’s attention. He glances back in Kyungsoo’s direction, expectant.
“What did you want to get?” Kyungsoo asks, fingers wrapping around Jongin’s elbow. Jongin catches himself trying to lean into the press of fingers, into Kyungsoo’s slight frame, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
“Just a coffee, black,” Jongin says, looking away from Kyungsoo quickly. The barista places a cozy red mug in front of Jongin, black coffee swirling against the white along the inside of the cup. Jongin takes it gingerly, the scent of something spicy underlying the smell of the coffee.
Kyungsoo tugs Jongin over to a table by the bookshelf, draping his coat over the back. Jongin pretends that he doesn’t look ridiculously attractive in the black sweater he’s wearing, stark white collar snug against Kyungsoo’s neck and the press of black fabric.
“Have you eaten yet?” Kyungsoo asks, focusing Jongin’s attention to his eyes and not the soft looking folds of his sweater.
“Uh, no, I wasn’t really hungry this morning,” Jongin answers, smoothing his hands over his thighs.
“It’s four in the afternoon, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says. “Have you eaten anything all day?”
Jongin feels his cheeks heat up, shaking his head. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Are you sick?” The worry in Kyungsoo’s voice is near frantic, and Jongin’s not sure what he’s done to deserve so much.
“No, no. Just had another... I mean, I didn’t sleep very well,” Jongin replies, swallowing. He hasn’t really thought about the phone call since Lu Han had crashed at his place, didn’t really want to think about what it all meant. Kyungsoo’s frowning but he doesn’t press the matter
“Did you want to eat?” Kyungsoo asks, while Jongin fidgets with the hem of his sweater, staring at the menu in front of him. “We can go somewhere else.”
“Oh, no, I’ll be fine. I can eat when I get home,” Jongin rushes, leaning forward in his seat. Kyungsoo pushes the croissant he’d gotten with his latte toward Jongin. He gives Jongin a determined look, and Jongin knows better than to argue even if he wants to. Kyungsoo wasn’t very pliant when it came to taking care of people.
“How’s class? You have to start logging in clinical hours soon, right?” Kyungsoo inquires, taking a sip from his latte. Jongin thinks he could star in CF, hands steady and firm, eyes peering over the rim of his cup. He clenches his fingers around his mug, looking down at the little waves in his own cup. The watery blackness looks inviting, like Jongin could swim around in it with his myriad of thoughts.
“Busy, kinda overwhelming” Jongin says truthfully, figuring he may as well cave a little to all of Kyungsoo’s nagging. “We don’t start clinical hours until next semester, so there’s some time.”
“Are you nervous?”
Jongin wants to laugh, taking a sip of the coffee, bitterness rushing over his palette, but it’s refreshing, like a splash of cold water to the face in the morning. He blinks, taking in another gulp, careful not to burn his tongue. “Yeah. I mean, I’m worried about the workload. I don’t know if I can keep up.”
“You manage school and work now,” Kyungsoo reminds him. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble at all.”
Jongin swallows down the butterflies trying to lift him off his feet, swarming around happily at Kyungsoo’s praise. He feels ridiculous, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes. Kyungsoo’s staring at him, smile soft and encouraging, sending Jongin’s heart on a marathon.
“Ah, hyung, you’re too nice.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Jongin’s breath hitches as he feels Kyungsoo’s foot slide next to his, ankle hooking around Jongin’s, holding him in place. There isn’t even a hint of a blush on Kyungsoo’s cheeks and Jongin can’t fathom where he gets the confidence, let alone wrap his head around the warmness of Kyungsoo’s leg pressing into his.
They stay for longer than Jongin could have anticipated, Kyungsoo telling Jongin about his job as an assistant researcher to a professor, and how he’d recently started working at a small cafe to help Minseok out. A few shifts, here and there. Kyungsoo was pretty busy too, between classes and figuring out applications for medical school. Jongin listens carefully, swallowing every little detail until he has a belly full of them. He feels calm, content simply from the lull of Kyungsoo’s words, grateful that Kyungsoo never asked for more than Jongin could offer.
☼
“That’s it?” Lu Han says around a mouthful of noodles. Jongin’s not even disgusted, which should maybe cause him such concern, but he’s feeling properly hungry for the first time in days.
“What do you mean, that’s it?”
Jongin’s apartment isn’t furnished with much, the two-seater a gift from his sister and her husband and the television from his parents. He’d bought the small dining table from one of his neighbours when they were moving out, but Jongin rarely eats at it, not with the clutter of textbooks and old class notes and assignments spread out all over it.
They’re squished onto the couch together watching a pirated copy of 21 Jump Street, Jongin slumping down in his seat to rest his head against Lu Han’s shoulder.
“Well, good on you for not putting out,” Lu Han says, patting Jongin’s head. “He bought you a few coffees, it’s not much.”
“What?”
“He’s obviously trying to get into your pants,” Lu Han explains, guffawing as Captain Dickson yells at Schmidt for praying to Korean Jesus. Classic. Jongin had never really seen someone go from spectacularly good looking to god-awful ugly the way Lu Han always demonstrated when he started laughing, jaw unhinging like a python ready to swallow its prey whole.
“Hyung isn’t like that,” Jongin defends, stretching to put his empty plate on the ground. He settles back into Lu Han, absorbing his body heat.
“Oh, so you want him to get into your pants.”
“I didn’t say that, you dick,” Jongin mutters, even as his face colours pink.
“You don’t have to. I’ve seen you moon over Do Kyungsoo. He has tiny shoulders, man. You sure you want to commit to that?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Lu Han’s laugh rumbles around them, and Jongin likes the way it lingers in the air, fills the apartment up. Maybe after living in a house with four other people, living by himself had gotten old quickly. Loneliness certainly hadn’t snuck up on Jongin so much as it’d sunk its teeth right in.
“Did you think about it?” Jongin breaks the silence, stretching to look up at Lu Han. They’re probably a little too close for comfort, but Jongin’s too lazy to move, weary from too much excitement and the hours he’s spent on his anatomy homework. He should’ve dropped the last year, but showing up to the midterm without studying had predictably not worked in his favour.
“About what?” Lu Han’s got his plate sitting in his lap, clean of carrots Jongin had left behind on his own.
“Moving in,” Jongin says, glancing back at the television. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, and maybe Jongin should be a little more tactful, but he’s always been a bit shit at it.
“Give a dog a bone,” Lu Han sighs. “Do I get your bed if I move in?”
“It’s big enough -- we could share,” Jongin smiles, trying very hard to hide the surging joy. This tasted a little too much like victory.
“I don’t want your germs,” Lu Han gags, arm hanging off Jongin’s shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s why you eat food off my plate all the time,” Jongin snorts.
“We’re looking for a new place when your lease ends. I want my own room,” Lu Han tells him, and it’s as much agreement as Jongin’s going to get. He doesn’t complain, just nods, unable to hold back his smile.
☼
Lu Han moves in from the hole in the wall apartment he barely spends any time in by the end of the next week. He has less shit than Jongin, but they still struggle to drag the sofa bed up the stairs, the elevator of Jongin’s apartment having given up functionality almost six months ago. Luckily, he only lived on the third floor and the spiralling staircase leading up to his floor was wide enough that they could pause for rest.
They stick Lu Han’s sofa bed in front of the television, cramming Jongin’s couch along the wall of the small living room. It kinda looks nicer, Jongin’s green couch blending in with Lu Han’s brighter blue one. Lu Han also has a space heater, and Jongin’s never been so thankful about something in his life.
“So your toaster doesn’t actually work,” Lu Han deadpans.
“Uh, no,” Jongin answers, staring at the guilty appliance. Bonding with kitchen appliances was perhaps not the healthiest of things to do, but at last the toaster listened to him whine about the difficulty of his life.
“Right,” Lu Han says, grabbing it from off the counter and chucking it into the garbage bag he’d thrown half the contents of Jongin’s fridge into. Jongin is a little bad at throwing away expired condiments, no big deal. Everyone had flaws.
“Why are you throwing it away!” Jongin exclaims, making to pull the toaster out of the garbage bag.
“Because I have one that works,” Lu Han says slowly, eyeing Jongin with a certain level of concern. “And here I thought my life was in shambles next to yours.”
“Don’t worry, you’re still a loser,” Jongin defends, silently saying goodbye to Mr. Toaster.
Lu Han throws an empty instant noodles cup at Jongin, which he dodges expertly, laughing at Lu Han’s shitty aim. It’s nearly six in the evening, and Jongin’s tired beyond belief. They’d been at it since ten that morning, lugging Lu Han’s stuff around, and then cleaning up his mess of an apartment.
“What exactly do you eat? There’s no food in your house,” Lu Han huffs, collapsing onto the sofa. Jongin’s already sprawled out on the floor, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns between the scuffs and cracks.
“I ate at the diner two days in a row,” Jongin replies. “There’s coffee.”
“Of course. Kim Jongin’s essential food groups: coffee, Shin Ramyun, and fried chicken.”
“That’s basically all you eat,” Jongin yawns, mouth watering at the mention of fried chicken. He hasn’t gone grocery shopping in a more than a week, surviving off of coffee and take out. There hadn’t been any time between the upcoming test in his anatomy class (which he doesn’t feel so great about despite Lu Han’s poor attempts at consolation) and the midterm for his psychiatric mental health nursing class.
“I want to sleep,” Lu Han starts, “but my stomach might eat itself.”
“The grocery store’s like fifteen minutes away,” Jongin offers, eyes heavy with sleep. He thinks about the banana milk he could buy, and possibly even some bread now that he had a working toaster again.
Lu Han has to pull Jongin off the floor, before hauling him out of the apartment. They take nearly twice as long getting to the store, steps sluggish as they make their way over. Lu Han spots a butcher’s shop up head, telling Jongin they were going to have samgyeopsal tonight, poor or not.
Jongin heads for the Shin Ramyun, grabbing some vegetables along the way. The grocery store isn’t huge, but the scent of dried mushrooms and ginseng envelop every corner. He’s just thrown some shrimp crackers into his basket when Lu Han finds him, waving banana milk in one hand, white bag with their pork belly dangling from the other.
“Did you get carrots?” Lu Han asks, as they make it to the cashier to pay for everything.
“No, they’re gross,” Jongin replies, smiling at the old lady standing behind the register. Lu Han smacks him before disappearing and Jongin contemplates his success rate at perhaps accidentally losing the carrots Lu Han brings back seconds later.
“Thank you,” Lu Han smiles at the old lady, grabbing one of the bags. Jongin turns to follow, but he collides into someone, nearly tipping back into the counter.
“I’m so sorry,” Jongin rushes to say, reaching down to pick up a bottle of water. When he straightens out, he’s surprised to find Kyungsoo smiling at him in amusement, taking the water bottle Jongin awkwardly attempts to hand over. “Hyung…”
“Are you finally buying some real food?” Kyungsoo smiles, placing a few water bottles and a cluster of tomatoes on the counter.
“Uh, sort of,” Jongin replies, holding the bag of instant noodles and banana milk a little tighter. Of course Lu Han would grab the bag with the real food in it. “What’re you doing here? I mean, you don’t live around here, right?”
“No,” Kyungsoo responds, handing the cashier money to pay for his groceries. “I had to go over to a friend’s to work on an assignment.”
“Oh,” Jongin says, trying hard not to sound put out. Kyungsoo obviously had friends, and it’s not like he could just be in love with all of them, or something. “I hope you worked hard.”
Kyungsoo’s smirking at him, that knowing twinkle in his eyes. He slips the bag of groceries into his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder afterward. “I did. And you, what’ve you been up to? Besides helping your friend move in.”
Jongin had, for once, made an effort to keep up with Kyungsoo’s texts, keeping his phone very far away from Jongdae’s snooping eyes. Yixing had told him to follow his heart, so he was attempting to do something like that. It was unfortunate that Jongin’s heart was easily scared.
“Hey Jongin! Where did you -- Oh…” Lu Han’s eyes widen as he spots Kyungsoo standing next to Jongin, a blush rising to his cheeks as Lu Han’s look of surprise morphs into knowing satisfaction.
Jongin jumps into action, bowing to the old lady as he shuffles Lu Han out of the shop, threatening to switch his favourite hand cream with gochujang if he says anything incriminating. Kyungsoo follows them out, putting a quick end to Jongin’s threats, which were probably a waste of breath anyway, what with the devilish smirk on Lu Han’s lips.
“Kyungsoo, right?” Lu Han greets, when they’re not blocking the entrance to the shop. “Jongin loves talking about you. It’s unfortunate I couldn’t go to high school with you, too. I’m Lu Han.”
Jongin elbows Lu Han as discreetly as possible, fighting the heat spreading from his cheeks all the way to his ears. Oh god, could this get any worse.
“Oh, I didn’t know Jongin liked talking about me so much,” Kyungsoo smirks, eyeing Jongin from the corner of his eye. Jongin thinks he might explode from sheer embarrassment, opting to look anywhere but at his friends. “But it’s nice to meet you, Lu Han. I’m glad this idiot has someone looking after him.”
“We were just about to have dinner, actually. Did you want to come over? Since you’re in the neighbourhood and all,” Lu Han smiles sweetly, using his best church choir boy voice. It was usually reserved for begging professors for extensions.
“Is that okay with you Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks, fingers finding the cuff of his jacket, smoothing over the small jut of bone at his wrist.
“Uh, of course, why wouldn’t it be,” Jongin says, stumbling over the words before sending Lu Han a glare. Maybe if he stared long enough, Lu Han would drop dead.
“I’d be honoured, then,” Kyungsoo smiles, always polite.
Jongin spends the walk back to their apartment in silence, leading the way back home, and trying very hard not to listen to Lu Han make less than subtle comments about Jongin’s infatuation with Kyungsoo. To Kyungsoo’s credit, he laughs along, getting along with Lu Han better than Jongin expects.
Jongin knows he’s been doing better since Lu Han’s finally caved in to the idea of moving in with Jongin. Feeling flustered and anxious at smaller tasks occurs a little less, and even the sadness is a little easier to shake off. There’s a thin, flickering ray of hope dangling in the future, and it puts Jongin a little at ease. He could handle this dinner, of course he could.
Taking a deep breath, Jongin lets himself into the apartment, Lu Han trailing after him. He’s thankful they cleaned up a little before the grocery store adventure, even if Lu Han had proven what a horrible, traitorous friend he was. Jongin knew Yixing was the only one who really cared about him.
“I don’t think I’ve been here since you moved in,” Kyungsoo mentions as he slides his coat off, draping it over the back of the sofa. Lu Han’s thrown his over a dining room chair, bringing the groceries to the kitchen. Jongin stands awkwardly in the living room, aligning their shoes properly against the welcome mat, hanging his coat up in the closet.
“Oh, did you help Jongin move in?” Lu Han asks, pulling vegetables out of the bags. Jongin has a sinking feeling about this whole cooking thing, especially considering that between Lu Han and him, they had about a fifty percent success rate at making real food.
“Yeah, his parents were worried about him moving out,” Kyungsoo replies. “They called my mother and asked her if I could help him out. Jongin’s hair had been a mess back then, too long.”
There’s a creeping fondness in Kyungsoo’s voice that Jongin doesn’t know what to do with, but his heart is galloping ahead of him, fingers itching to trace down his shoulders, feel the softness of Kyungsoo’s skin under his sweater. Jongin stays quiet, though, untrusting of what stupid things he might say if he gives his mouth free reign. Instead, he helps Lu han quietly unpack everything, wishing they’d grabbed some beer from the convenience store on the way back.
“Are you making samgyeopsal?” Kyungsoo settles into the kitchen like the apartment is his, grabbing the pot in Jongin’s hand and placing it on the stovetop himself.
“Hyung, you should sit, we can make the food,” Jongin insists, about to tug Kyungsoo out of the kitchen.
“Is Lu Han a good cook?” Kyungsoo holds Jongin still with just his eyes, wide and breathtaking. “I know you’re not.”
Lu Han breaks out into laughter, pointing at Jongin as if he hadn’t burnt congee once, when he’d been trying to nurse Jongin back to health. Jongin throws an empty plastic bag at him, satisfied when it hits him in the face.
“Lu Han hyung can’t cook for shit,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo with a glare sent in Lu Han’s direction -- which is how they’re both shooed out of the kitchen by Kyungsoo, who works effortlessly and efficiently by himself, occasionally asking Jongin where certain things were located. Lu Han uses the time to nap, and Jongin spends it staring at Kyungsoo none too subtly, if the number of times he gets caught is anything indication.
“You know, I won’t disappear,” Kyungsoo tells him when Jongin gets caught the tenth time, hooded eyes flickering in Jongin’s direction. Jongin ignores the heat travelling down his abdomen, settling between his legs rather unfortunately.
“I know,” Jongin breathes, grabbing a bottle of banana milk from the fridge. He needed to distract himself, somehow. Maybe he could do some of his readings, but he wanted to be available if Kyungsoo needed anything. He felt bad enough that Kyungsoo was cooking for them when this wasn’t even his home.
“How about you get some plates and bowls?” Kyungsoo instructs, and Jongin scrambles to help, the desire to please Kyungsoo something Jongin shoves into the same compartment he keeps all his other troubling Kyungsoo-related feelings.
When he turns around, plates in hand, he nearly drops everything, Kyungsoo suddenly way too close, way too fast. Jongin doesn’t even breathe as Kyungsoo’s hand braces over his abdomen, sliding lower slowly as he leans around Jongin. He pulls back with a sheet of paper towel in hand, smile anything but innocent. Jongin shudders as his eyes drag up to meet Kyungsoo’s, smirk small but visible.
“Go wake up Lu Han, food’s ready.”
Jongin bolts out of the kitchen, plates left forgotten on the counter as his heart hammers against his rib cage, skin burning where Kyungsoo had pressed into him. Jongin’s hands quiver as he shakes Lu Han awake, mouth dry. Lu Han grumbles as he wakes up, the allure of food dragging him to the table. Jongin’s pretty sure he wasn’t this bad at getting up, even if he tended to only be half-alert for the first few hours of his wakefulness.
Kyungsoo brings the samgyeopsal to the table, while Jongin pours everyone a bowl of rice, setting the table as he attempts not to even accidentally brush against Kyungsoo. He grabs the kimchi, and the oijangajji his mother sent him, noticing that Kyungsoo’s made kongnamul. Jongin’s not sure when, but it’s not like he was paying attention to what Kyungsoo was cooking. Just Kyungsoo.
He flushes at the thought, jerking in surprise when a hand smooths over his back, breath caught in his throat. Kyungsoo just smiles taking the kongnamul from Jongin before taking a seat at the table. Jongin slides into the chair next to Kyungsoo, tucking a foot under his thigh as he sits.
Still sleepy, Lu Han hums contently as he eats, Jongin keeping his focus on the food this time, and maybe sometimes glancing at the shape of Kyungsoo’s hands. They eat quietly, Jongin’s hand brushing Kyungsoo’s once when they both go to grab a piece of lettuce. Jongin flinches away, apologising to Kyungsoo before shoving rice into his mouth. Lu Han quirks an eyebrow at him, but Jongin ignores it, feeling excessively stupid for being so conscious of himself.
He stares at his rice instead, wondering if it were possible to sink into them and disappear, never to be found again. All you do is look for places to get lost, he tells himself, appetite suddenly gone.
“I’ll get the dishes,” Lu Han says, taking his bowl to the sink. “That was literally the best food I’ve had in months. Thanks so much, Kyungsoo.”
“You need to raise your standards,” Kyungsoo grins. “My mother’s is ten times better than this.”
“I guess I’ll have to meet your parents then,” Lu Han snickers, sending Jongin a wink. Jongin rolls his eyes, avoiding eye contact with Kyungsoo as he begins tidying the table.
“Did you want to take the leftovers home, hyung?” Jongin asks, shier than he wants to be. He couldn’t believe himself.
“I’m capable of cooking for myself. I’ll leave you two unfortunate souls with the last remnants of actual food in your apartment,” Kyungsoo replies, a little smug.
“You’re far too kind, Do-sshi,” Lu Han plays along. “So merciful.”
“Everyone has to make sacrifices,” Kyungsoo says solemnly, helping Jongin transfer things into tupperware. Jongin’s pretty sure he has more than half his mother’s collection at this point, making a note to take some of it back. His parents weren’t made of money.
Jongin tunes out the conversation between Lu Han and Kyungsoo, focusing on not squeaking every time Kyungsoo so much as brushes against Jongin. In high school, Jongin used to drape himself over Kyungsoo, using his height as leverage for backhugs. Now, Jongin’s having heart palpitations standing in the same room as Kyungsoo.
Things changed, of course. Kyungsoo had never dragged his fingers down Jongin’s back so slowly before, Jongin’s thin t-shirt barely hiding the shiver in his spine.
☼
The house is a maze, morphing from his own childhood bedroom to the halls of his high school. Jongin stumbles through everything, bright light pouring in from the windows, blurring everything under a fuzzy shine. His body feels sluggish, fingers trailing behind him as he lets them drag against the wall.
Jongin turns a corner, realises that he hasn’t heard a single sound since he left his apartment, knocking two fingers against the glass of a window. He regrets it immediately, stumbling backwards as an alarm goes off when the windows shatter, a shower of glass shards exploding outwards.
The light’s gone, and Jongin knows it’s here. It’s coming.
He trips, like always, picking himself up in a daze of rushing fear, running in the opposite direction. His legs never carry him fast enough, blackness creeping in around him, swallowing everything whole. Jongin’s lungs burn, and he watches the endless hallway disappear, a little speck of white at the end.
It’s behind him, it’s so close, Jongin’s being swallowed, tendrils of darkness pulling him back. He can’t hear himself scream, he can’t --
“Jongin!” Lu Han’s voice, Lu Han’s hands shaking him awake. Lu Han.
Jongin’s eyes finally focus in on his friend, fingers curling into his t-shirt, impossibly tight. It wasn’t there, it couldn’t be. Just Lu Han.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was a nightmare, shh,” Lu Han whispers, allowing Jongin to pull him closer, arms enveloping Jongin in a hug. His hand runs through Jongin’s hair, holds Jongin a little closer. Jongin’s ear presses against Lu Han’s chest, heartbeat a little panicked but calmer than Jongin’s, not erratic. Lu Han smells like stale laundry detergent.
Jongin’s breathing settles after a few minutes, Lu Han’s constant flow of reassurance cocooning Jongin like a safety net. He falls back into his bed, blinking back tears. Lu Han’s looking at him with wide eyes, but he’s still there, he hasn’t left yet.
“You were screaming,” Lu Han explains, pulling away from Jongin slowly, hand still tangled in Jongin’s hair. “Good thing I’m a light sleeper, hmm.”
“I’m sorry,” Jongin exhales, refusing to let go of Lu Han. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something would gobble him up the second Lu Han left, the second he let go.
“For having a nightmare? I don’t think that’s your fault,” Lu Han sighs, relieved. He’s still there, and not for the first time, Jongin is grateful that he moved in, that Lu Han is reliable, and comforting, and weirdly good at supporting Jongin.
“You barely sleep as is,” Jongin mumbles, head settling against Lu Han’s thigh. There are goosebumps forming along Jongin’s arms, the hairs along the back of his neck standing upright, shiver setting in. He’s drenched in sweat again.
“Move over,” Lu Han says, sneaking in under Jongin’s blanket. Lu Han is impossibly warm, and Jongin burrows into him a little shamelessly, shivering. Lu Han doesn’t seem to mind, hand smoothing over Jongin’s back repeatedly. “I sleep pretty well here, you know. Living by yourself is lonely.”
Jongin snuffles in agreement, Lu Han’s quiet laugh reverberating through Jongin soundlessly.
☼
For the first time since Jongin’s favourite nightmare began, he manages to sleep afterward. Lu Han spends the morning fretting over Jongin, and Jongin lets him, especially since the dark circles under Lu Han’s eyes look especially bad today.
Jongin makes it through class in once piece, drained of energy, the promise of fried chicken bringing him to his last task of the day. Dance class.
Yixing’s already inside, a few of their students piled in, stretching. Jongin slips his bag off his shoulder, placing it next to Yixing’s before joining him at the front of the room. He’s in a snapback today, the one Jongin had bought him for his birthday, floral print as wildly colourful as Yixing himself.
“Hey hyung.”
Yixing perks up at the sound of Jongin’s voice, looking up toward Jongin. He’s sitting with his right leg extended, the other bent inwards as he leans over in the direction of the extended leg. “Jongin-ah! You made it, I was getting a little worried.”
“I never miss class,” Jongin says, taking a seat next to Yixing.
“I know, that’s why I was worried. Taehyung’s mother sent us oranges, take them home with you, okay.”
“I thought they were for us,” Jongin points out, bending over his legs to touch his feet.
“You need them,” Yixing insists, the more left unsaid. Jongin wants to smack Yixing, but he feels closer to crying than anything else. Emotional instability really wore a person thin.
Yixing gets the class rolling after that, Jongin running through the choreo with the kids as Yixing walked around the room, correcting footwork and posture. They made a good team, Yixing’s patience like an endless stream. Jongin could at least attest that he wasn’t complete shit at dancing, even if he’d fucked up his K-Arts audition thanks to sheer panic.
“She totally has a crush on you,” Jongin laughs, as one of the girls waves goodbye to Yixing for the nth time. Young love.
“She’s also thirteen,” Yixing reminds Jongin, smacking him.
“I didn’t say you should date her, gross hyung,” Jongin says with a wrinkle of his nose, laughing when Yixing just misses the kick he’s aimed at Jongin’s ass. Jongin sticks out his tongue, grabbing his water bottle.
“Speaking of dating, how’s your loverboy?” Yixing asks, catching up to Jongin. He tips Jongin’s water bottle forward, splashing water all over Jongin’s face, Jongin’s gasps unheard over Yixing’s laughter. There’s water running down Jongin’s neck, soaking his t-shirt so Jongin does the only sensible thing and splashes the remnants of his bottle all over Yixing.
“He’s doing better than you,” Jongin snickers, Yixing’s offended squawking finally coming to an end.
“So does that mean you grew a pair?”
“Hyung,” Jongin gasps, throwing the empty bottle at Yixing, who’s too busy laughing to even bother dodging. “You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“And why’s that, hmm?” Yixing asks through a giant smile. He loops his arm over Jongin’s shoulders, dragging him out of the room. “What’s the hold up?”
“Dating people is terrifying,” Jongin answers. “And I mean, he’s Kyungsoo.”
“So? You’re Jongin,; anyone would be lucky to have you. Don’t be a moron,” Yixing argues, patting Jongin’s shoulder. They make it to the front doors, a few of the kids still waiting for their parents to pick them up. They’re busy amongst themselves, leaving Jongin and Yixing alone.
Jongin bites back the I’m a loser, hyung that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue, smiling defeatedly instead. “The only person I ever dated was Jung Soojung, and that was because she wouldn’t leave me alone. Coincidentally, also thirteen.”
“Thirteen year olds are persistent,” Yixing nods.
“I dunno, it’s scary.”
“Life is scary, but if that’s your only excuse, then it’s shit.”
“Thanks, hyung. Great talk.”
“How about you try telling him you like him and go from there? I don’t even know the guy, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be falling all over yourself if he didn’t seem a little interested.”
“Stop doing that,” Jongin huffs, spotting Lu Han through the doors.
“Doing what?”
“Being all wise and sensible,” Jongin answers as he makes to open the door for Lu Han. There’s one more boy waiting for his mother, so Jongin just pulls Lu Han in. Yixing looks a little surprised by Jongin’s company, but he smiles warmly.
“Hyung, this is my best friend Lu Han!” Jongin introduces. “Lu Han, this is Yixing-hyung.”
Whatever Yixing says isn’t in Korean and suddenly Jongin is caught off-guard in the midst of quick, excited Mandarin. It’s a little weird, standing there without knowing anything being said save for the few times his name pops up. Jongin smiles encouragingly though, waving goodbye to the last kid as he disappears through the doors.
The loud bang of the door shutting behind him cuts the conversation short, as Yixing flinches, looking over Lu Han’s shoulder. “Everyone’s left?”
“Just us, hyung,” Jongin responds, grinning knowingly at Lu Han. He’s staring at Yixing like he’s never seen another human being before, entirely enraptured. Yixing gives him a big smile, the sweet, kind ones he reserves mostly for Jongin when it’s clear Jongin’s feeling miserable.
“Oh, well, we should get going. I have to get back to the restaurant. It was very nice to meet you,” Yixing smiles, directing the last bit to Lu Han. He adds something in Mandarin that Lu Han responds to before murmuring a goodbye to Jongin.
Jongin stares at Lu Han, eyebrow raised, lips pressed together to hold back the giant grin trying to burst forward. Maybe this was why Lu Han loved teasing Jongin about his love life related woes. Lu Han only pushes Jongin out the door, keeping steadfastly quiet until Jongin’s smug silence breaks his resolve.
“That job you mentioned earlier, is it still up for grabs?” Lu Han asks, attempting to sound disinterested. Jongin stifles his laughter. “Not that I want it, or anything,” he adds quickly, hands digging into the pockets of his coat.
“Really? Why the interest then?”
“I’m just curious,” Lu Han mumbles.
“It’s open. I’ll let the owner know you’re interested,” Jongin smirks, rather satisfied with this turn of events. Lu Han, despite making friends everywhere he went, always kept careful distance between himself and others. Jongin had slipped through the cracks but Yixing seemed to have created a few cracks of his own.
“I hate you,” Lu Han mutters, before adding in a quick thanks. Jongin lets him have it, the bus stop near. When they make it there, Lu Han sighs, glancing at Jongin. “Yixing seemed... nice.”
“You sound awfully eager,” Jongin sings teasingly, eyebrow quirked up at Lu Han.
“And if I am?” Lu Han shoves at Jongin, ducking his head down. Jongin knows he’s blushing and he kind of wants to shove his phone in Lu Han’s face and take a dozen pictures.
“It’s okay hyung. You have my blessing, but if you break Yixing-hyung’s heart, I’ll rip your dick off.”
“Should I give that same speech to Kyungsoo?”
Jongin almost succeeds in shoving Lu Han into a garbage bin.
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