Somewhere Only We Know (1/3)
Title: Somewhere Only We Know
Pairing: Sekai
Genre: bestfriends!au (but this is not platonic ♡), slice of life
Rating: R
Length: 25,800 words
Summary: Following a divorce, Jongin's high school love suddenly moves into his city. But it's been years--and Osaka is full of surprises.
Warnings: Minor character miscarriage
Notes: Named for the song by Keane, which will last forever.
Seoul, spring, senior year. The peach trees have burst into a symphony of pink. The grass in this jade park bends underfoot, freshly woken from winter sleep. The breeze is warm and fragrant, chamomile mild--like the breath of the boy whom Jongin has just kissed.
The boy is older. Jongin is seventeen, still baby-faced and completely bewildered with what his body has done on impulse.
The kiss was fleeting. Almost fragile. Nothing more than a brush of skin upon skin. But it stamps itself into Jongin's memory with a sting and a hiss, as though the meeting of their lips had burned him.
"You..." The boy's eyes are wide. His voice is soft. Jongin doesn't know what to think. "You're sweet, Jongin."
"I like you," Jongin tells him without delay. "So much."
He has fallen in love the way most people fall out of it. With stillness and an elegant sorrow; the sort of slow, creeping dread that leaves just enough room for wild hope.
The lines on the boy's forehead seem to melt into his skin. "Listen," he ventures, with the same tender eyes. "You're so sweet. Really. And you're important to me." His voice is kind enough to kill. "But you know I'm not...and I have a girlfriend now, Jonginnie."
Hope is the puff of a dandelion carried off by the wind. It vanishes.
"Oh," Jongin says. It's not a word. It's an exhale with a lament skating beneath it. "I didn't know."
"Yeah." The boy tries to smile. The air smells like flowers and this old bench and the boy's forgotten tea. It steams in a tumbler between them. "She's in your class."
Jongin locks his heart away, so the wind can't get to it. "Oh."
There is a hand resting now on his forearm. The boy's neck is long and pale, turned his way without a scarf. From the bob of his Adam's apple and the quiver of his mouth, Jongin can already tell. Game over.
"I'm sorry," the boy mutters. There is no consolation in his words or in the squeeze he gives Jongin's wrist. There is only the chill of early spring. "I've hurt you."
Gently, Jongin draws his arm away. It's silly and dramatic, and he's young and foolish--and he knows, deep down, that this will pass. But everything hurts, anyway.
"Mmm." The hum is noncommittal, even though his next words are designed to reassure. "I'm okay."
The boy's eyes light up. "Really?" He doesn't smile, but the slope of his brow signals relief. He wants to believe in the platitudes. Jongin can tell this, too.
So he smiles for the both of them. "Really," he answers, even as his heart shreds itself into more pieces than there are petals in the trees. "I'm happy for you, sunbae."
Osaka, 2020
Sooyoung's shampoo is ambiguously floral. Jongin catches a whiff of it when she bends to peck his cheek. Daisy, maybe, or orchid--certainly not rose. Rose would be much too heady, like an old woman's perfume. This scent reminds him of youth and innocence; things still in his possession on that fateful day, twelve years ago.
"God help me, it's cold." Sooyoung pulls back, pink-cheeked, shivering. "Happy birthday, handsome."
"Hi noona," he says, squeezing her shoulder and blinking away his thoughts. There's something sticky on the side of his face.
Sooyoung notices instantly. "Woops, got lipstick on you." She thumbs over the faint mark that has transferred from her kiss.
"Leave it," Jongin tells her, leaning back into his seat. Sooyoung's wearing a thick knit dress and boots that match the nude of her lips. Her coat is the one Jongin got her for Christmas. "I like your outfit."
"Thanks," Sooyoung replies, rubbing lipstick residue between her thumb and forefinger. "But don't change the subject."
Jongin doesn't listen. "I like how your hair smells, too. What is that?"
Sooyoung snorts, rolling her eyes. "Cherry blossom. It's by Shiseido, Jongin." Her smirk is calculated. "Would you like me to send you a bottle for your birthday, Twenty-Nine?"
Jongin smirks right back. "Yeah, but take it out of your husband's paycheck, Thirty-Two. Don't go spending your good money on me."
The laughter bubbles out of his companion with the force of a bath jet. "You little brat," Sooyoung whines, crossing her legs. "How dare you mention the unmentionable."
With a gentler, less teasing smile, Jongin bats his eyelashes at her. She's always said that they've gotten him out of trouble countless times.
"Don't you puppy-dog me, Kim Jongin."
"I'm sorry, noona." The younger clasps his hands together and bows his head. "I repent."
Sooyoung's forgiveness comes with a ruffle of his hair. "Dumb puppy."
"Heh." Jongin crinkles his eyes at her. "Thanks for coming." He pours her a mug of hot wine from the decanter on the table. In an instant, the deep, spicy aroma of it overpowers her hair. Jongin tries not to think about the smell any more than he should. Cherry blossoms--sakura, the Japanese call them--only remind him of heartbreak.
"Now tell me what you want for your present," Sooyoung is saying. She pushes her hair behind her ears, revealing two diamond stud earrings. "I haven't brought you one on purpose."
Jongin's breath is visible when he takes a sip from his mug. This is the only restaurant in Dotonbori that serves a mulled recipe. It's hardly a hotspot--most of the other patrons are probably in their forties (fifties?). But Jongin likes it here because they play all the old bluesy stuff his father used to listen to. Just now, in the background, Billie Holiday's pipes swell over the chorus of "I'll Be Seeing You."
"I don't want anything," he replies, licking his chops. "This is enough." They've put a little orange zest in the wine tonight, which he likes, but a touch too much nutmeg.
"We thought you'd say that," a familiar voice puts in, just as a suitcase-sized box lands in Jongin's lap. "So I brought that thing you were looking at the other day."
It's a PlayStation 4. Glacier White.
Jongin's eyes bug out of his head. "Holy shit."
"You're welcome!" Sooyoung and her companion exclaim at once.
"Oh, man," Jongin gushes, tingly and fidgety and joyously overwhelmed. He feels like it's Christmas morning, but better (this year, Chanyeol got him a Michael Jackson DVD; Sooyoung got him a power bank embossed to mimic The Hulk). "Thank you? I love you guys? So much?"
Sooyoung looks perfectly triumphant. "I think that just about covers it, Twenty-Nine."
An arm loops lazily over Jongin's shoulders. "I knew you'd like it," Chanyeol declares, so excited it's adorable. "Read the card, I wrote it."
The card is this splashy Mickey Mouse number that was clearly designed for a toddler. The first line reads: Repeat after me...
"Hyung," Jongin recites obediently, his grin stretching as wide as the Yodo River, "You are so handsome." That calls for a cackle. Typical Chanyeol. "I love you more than Sehun, and I promise never to look cute in front of Sooyoung, lest she be led astray by my beauty...!" Jongin punches him on the shoulder. "What the hell, hyung?"
Sooyoung punches the other shoulder--"Not funny"--and Chanyeol convulses with laughter.
"Kidding," he hiccups, pleased as punch with himself. "But to be fair--" this is addressed Sooyoung in a sulky aside, "you did call him a 'cutie' the other day."
"Because he is a cutie," is her unfazed response. "Look at his face. He could be an actor in a drama."
"True," Chanyeol concedes, pouting slightly at his younger friend. Jongin frames his chin with the hinge of his thumb and forefinger, and the pout flips into a grin.
Sooyoung taps the side of her cheek with a plum-slicked fingernail. "Kiss, please."
Chanyeol gives her two, one on top of the other, and preens.
Jongin's smile curls up like a kitten's. "I didn't think it was possible for you to be more whipped than you already were before you got married." He hugs his PlayStation to his chest and coquettishly tilts his head. "I guess I was wrong, hyung."
Chanyeol has tickled him into complete submission by the time Jongin's last guest arrives.
"Hun!" Jongin is half-giggling, half-sobbing. "Help me!"
The newcomer smiles fondly. "What did you do this time?" He squeezes the back of Sooyoung's neck and gives Chanyeol a high-five when the older man holds up his palm. "Hey, hyung."
"Hun." Jongin pulls another puppy-dog. It's the most persuasion he can manage, considering Chanyeol's got him in a headlock. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to be on my side."
Sehun's smile twitches by a hair. In a second, two of his fingers are jammed into Chanyeol's armpit, pinching the sensitive skin there.
With a yelp, Chanyeol swats at his attacker, effectively freeing Jongin from his grasp. Jongin sinks his fingers into Sehun's coat and pulls the other in front of him as a shield. Sehun's the youngest in their party, but he's the tallest, too.
As Jongin tries to catch his breath, Sehun brushes his bangs out of his eyes.
"Happy birthday, hopeless."
Jongin wipes at his mouth (is that drool?) with the back of one hand. He tugs at Sehun's coat-sleeve with the other. "I knew you'd come through for me." Chanyeol pulls a face, and Jongin ignores it, gesturing at the chair to his right. "Sit, Hun."
"Yes, everybody sit," Sooyoung commands, taking charge. "We haven't ordered a thing, and Jongin still has to blow out his birthday candles."
The birthday boy frowns. "Uh, no, Jongin doesn't."
Sehun slides out of his coat, looking fairly amused. "Told you," he murmurs under his breath.
Chanyeol shoots him a glare, then boomerangs it at Jongin.
"But I was going to order the green tea sponge," Sooyoung explains, her enthusiasm fading. "Chan said it was your favorite..."
Her devoted husband kicks Jongin under the table. Come on, he mouths, lifting his brows and sticking out his neck. Sooyoung waits for Jongin's response with bated breath and hope in her eyes.
Jongin can't resist her, honestly. He hates the whole song and cake spectacle people are subjected to on their birthdays--so embarrassing. But in the four years he's known Sooyoung, since he and Chanyeol and Sehun got reassigned to their company's Osaka office, he can't remember ever telling her no.
He stifles a sigh, conjuring up the brightest of smiles. "Just kidding, noona. I'll blow out my candles."
Sooyoung claps her hands like a little girl. She even lets a squeal escape her. "Yay!"
Jongin might not love her like Chanyeol does, but he does love her, the way he loves his two sisters back in Seoul.
"See," Chanyeol croons at her, chest out and cheeks high. And to Sehun: "Told you."
Sehun winks at Jongin, hands held up in surrender. Jongin winks back. Chanyeol steals a kiss from Sooyoung as she turns to call the waiter, and the way she scolds him makes the other men laugh.
Later, when they've gotten through the crispy karaage chicken and creamy takoyaki and oily yakisoba that Sooyoung's ordered for the whole table, Jongin blows out his birthday candles like he said he would. He lets Sooyoung personally slice him some matcha green tea cake, because he likes when she fusses over him.
Sehun examines the rich jade confection, showing the whites of his eyes. "I've never had this kind of cake before," he says in his quiet, curious way.
People always mistake Sehun for being haughty and supercilious--which he can be, with the wrong crowd--but the truth is that he's just shy. The truth is, Sehun is sweet and charming; a lamb in well-tailored wolf's clothing. So whenever he acts like this, like an innocent, Jongin finds it nothing short of endearing.
"You'll love it, Hun." Jongin spears a piece of his cake with a fork and holds it out. "Try it."
The jade sponge disappears behind two small lips. Sehun's tongue darts out to catch the smear of icing left on his Cupid's bow. Jongin reads the flutter in his eyelashes and knows, in that exact moment, that the cake is to his friend's liking.
"You're so pretty, Sehun," Sooyoung teases, leaning against Chanyeol's shoulder.
Chanyeol tucks her into his side with one long, strong arm. "Sehun's always been the prettiest. After me, of course."
Sooyoung is tipsy from the mulled wine--Jongin can tell, because Chanyeol doesn't get smacked for that comment. Sooyoung only laughs and snuggles against him. "Okay, Chan-ah, you're the prettiest."
"Don't be silly, noona." And Sehun rolls his eyes at Chanyeol. "You'll always be the prettiest."
"I don't know why you settled for hyung," Jongin chimes in, feeling mischievous. "You could have married that director who sent flowers to the office for you last year."
Sehun hums in agreement, taking the opportunity to feed him some green tea sponge.
Chanyeol balls up his cloth napkin and chucks it at Jongin's face. "Can I have that PlayStation back now?"
Jongin grabs the birthday card, eyes curving into baby crescents and white teeth flashing in defeat. "Hyung, you are so handsome. I love you more than--" he dodges the second napkin Chanyeol throws at him. "More than Sehun, hyung!"
"Nah," Sehun deadpans, pulling Jongin's fork from his mouth. They're used to sharing. "I think I cemented my status back in college."
Something--a memory?--dawns across Chanyeol's face. "Oh, that reminds me, Jongin," he says, effectively putting the joke to bed. "I have some news for you."
Jongin bops his fist against Sehun's arm. "What?"
"Remember Joonmyun-sunbae?" Chanyeol curves his thumbs and forefingers into little circles and fits them over his eyes. "Harry Potter glasses?"
The sound of the name was completely unexpected. It makes Jongin's heart race. He licks jade mush off his gums, schooling his expression so the panic in it goes undetected. "Uh-huh."
"He and Soojung got divorced." Chanyeol clicks his tongue twice, the sound of it sympathetic. "And it was so bad, apparently, that he couldn't stay in Seoul. I saw him yesterday--he just moved to Osaka."
Everything screeches to a complete halt. Jongin loses the ability to chew. His jaw slackens. His lips freeze. He can't swallow, because his throat has cordoned itself off from everything--food, saliva, oxygen. The fingers holding Chanyeol's card tremble. Then, in slow motion, Mickey Mouse plummets face first to the ground.
"Hey." That's Sehun's low voice, warm in his ear. "Jongin."
And then everything taken away returns in a mad rush, like a scene played on fast-forward--movements too quick and jerky, voices squeaking from the speed.
"Jongin?"
"Yes, yes," the birthday boy responds, clearing his throat and rubbing the stubbly skin between his nose and upper lip. "Wow, hyung. That's...sad."
"Weren't you guys super close?" Chanyeol has some of his wine, now lukewarm. The strong, sweet aroma of it wafts up regardless.
"Yeah." Jongin bends to retrieve his card. Blood rushes to his head. "But that was a long time ago."
"I guess." Chanyeol strokes the crown of Sooyoung's head. Her eyes are closed. The wine was very strong tonight. "It's still weird that he got in touch with me instead of going straight to you though."
"Who are you talking about?" Sehun asks, a little mellow himself. The wine must have been very strong.
"Upperclassman from high school. Married a TV host." Jongin's reply is borderline robotic. "Jung Soojung."
"Ah," Sehun says. "That Soojung."
"Did he..." Jongin licks his lips. He sips his water. "Did he ask about me?"
"Sure did," Chanyeol tells him. "I mentioned that we worked together at MixTape, and he asked if he could have your number." Chanyeol taps the screen of his smartphone with a fingernail. "I gave it to him, 'kay?"
Jongin nods his yes. He's trying to play it cool, even as his heart inflates and deflates at an alarming speed inside his chest. His phone is on silent mode in his pocket. Surreptitiously, he reaches for it.
Sehun makes eye contact with him. It must be obvious that Jongin's acting weird. And--oh. Sehun's not drunk at all, Jongin realizes. His eyes are too clear. They study Jongin's face with the discretion of a person who misses nothing but thinks before he speaks.
Jongin musters up a quarter of a smile before he looks away. He activates his phone screen. He tries not to expect anything, but it's too late to control himself. It's all coming back to him now. Peach trees. Chamomile kiss.
But there's no way...is there?
The backlight goes on. The screen displays the photo of his dogs. And then--there it is.
One unread message. Unknown number.
The tension coils in Jongin's chest, tight as a spring. He taps the notification to access the text.
(And it's silly and dramatic, and Jongin is no longer young, and certainly not as foolish. He knows, deep down, that too much time has passed. But hope is as wild a creature as it was when he fell in love at seventeen. Jongin has always loved the wild.)
Jonginnie, the text begins. Remember me?
Jongin can't decide if the feeling in his chest is happiness or heartache.
It's Kim Joonmyun ^_^
When Jongin was growing up, he wasn't sure what he was going to be. All he knew was that he loved music--just music--and that he could never follow in his father's footsteps like most of his friends would theirs. Surgeons, after all, need a steely constitution.
There is not much in this world that frightens Jongin (besides natural disasters and the occasional horror movie). But every time he takes his puppies to the vet for their shots, his heart breaks a little. He tells Sehun it's because Jjanggu, Monggu, and Jjanggah look at him with such reproach, such deep-rooted betrayal, as soon as the needles pierce their skin. Sehun calls him precious, and Jongin grits his teeth and insists he's very manly. But Sehun makes it a point to accompany him to the animal clinic, anyway, every time "the kids" need to update their vaccinations. They can be manly together, Sehun says. It's what best friends-turned-flatmates do.
They've brought their work home with them again tonight. The puppies are asleep in Jongin's room, flopped on top of one another on Jongin's bed. The humans have cloistered themselves in the room across the hall (Sehun's), slaving away face to face with their respective headphones on.
Jongin is on the bed, combing painstakingly through his vast music archive. He needs a song for a top shot of a moving car, snaking through fir trees on the pale sliver of a mountain road. The director of this indie film had been very specific with his preferences: "Mysterious, soulful, with sex appeal."
Sehun sits across his bed, on the couch. Jongin knows he's working on the new Wong Kar Wai movie, and that collaborating with his idol for the very first time has given Sehun a case of the jitters. He'd asked Jongin earlier for a song for a kissing scene, only to press his lips together and shake his head at the first suggestion. "Not quite it," Sehun had mused in the MixTape pantry, slowly picking up his taro milk tea. "But thanks anyway."
Whenever new acquaintances ask Jongin what he does for a living, he always recycles the old company joke: "I make mixtapes." It's not far from the truth. MixTape is a screen music agency that churns out everything from curated song collections to original scores. They've got a department for music directors ("soundtrackers," Jongin and Sehun have nicknamed themselves), another one for composers (like Chanyeol, the wonder boy), and another simply called Band (the modest in-house orchestra that brings every composition and specially commissioned cover to life). Even though MixTape is still considered a start-up at seven years young, it's made quite a name for itself in Asian show business. And in January, all three of the offices (Seoul, Osaka, Taipei) go on full beast mode.
"Do you think The Temper Trap is overused?" Jongin asks, prying off his right headphone so he doesn't end up shouting over the music. He's listened to "Rest" twice, and it's given him the same prickly chest feeling both times. The drums pound like a broken heart, and the percussion swells like the returning tide, and Dougy Mandagi sings like he's filled with grief and rage and resignation all at once. This, Jongin thinks, is the kind of song people Google after they leave a movie theater.
Whatever Sehun was listening to must have ended at the same time, because he answers with his headphones still on. "Not necessarily." He pulls in a breath laced with thought and stretches his arms above his head. His shoulders crick. "Depends what song you use." He looks over at Jongin expectantly.
"I was thinking 'Rest,'" Jongin replies, scratching under his eye where an eyelash is tickling him. "Need it for the car scene at the end."
"After Kiko Mizuhara's character dies?" Sehun's scowly brows shoot into his hairline. Then he's pursing his lips like he's totally impressed. "That's perfect."
Jongin takes particular pride in impressing Sehun. "Right?" Feeling accomplished, he makes a note of the song on his scene guide. He's finished the preliminary curation for the soundtrack of this film, and all that's left to do is present it to the director for a little fine-tuning. "Still need that makeout song?"
Sehun clucks his tongue. "It's the first kiss between two twelve-year-olds, Jongin. Were you listening to anything I was saying in the pantry earlier?"
"Oh, oh, I have one!" Jongin clicks his fingers. "Remember that cover of 'Fools Rush In' they played in Marie Antoinette? Kirsten Dunst is coming back from that ball she snuck off to with Jason Schwartzman, and they're racing home in her carriage to make the palace curfew or whatever--"
"And the song starts playing while she's looking out the window and remembering that noble guy she flirted with." Sehun's eyes light up, and he's typing something straightaway. "It's 'Fools Rush In' by Bow Wow Wow. Damn, Jongin, you're on a roll tonight."
Jongin grins. "First kissish enough for you?" He pushes his headphones all the way back until they hang from his neck. "You know, Annabella Lwin was only fourteen when she started singing for the band. Fits your tween makeout sesh to a T, don't you think?"
Sehun rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his smile. "Now you're just showing off, Twenty-Nine."
Jongin cocks an eyebrow. "You're calling me that now, too?"
A placid Sehun makes no reply, but he's typing something else into his laptop now, which means he's already penciling in the track. Jongin knows Wong Kar Wai likes a good throwback song, so he has high hopes for Sehun's success rate with this one.
Lazily, he peels himself off the bed so he can squeeze in next to Sehun on the couch. "Will you order us some dinner, Hun?"
"Hold on." Sehun's fingers scroll purposefully over his trackpad.
Jongin snuggles his cheek into his friend's arm (it used to be softer, more comfortable, but the guy works out every day now). The moment they'd gotten home, Sehun had tossed on some sweats and a ratty old house shirt to be more comfortable while working. Jongin hasn't bothered to change out of the turtleneck sweater and dress pants he wore to work. But for some reason, Sehun's skin beneath the worn cotton feels warmer than his own wrapped in expensive wool.
The keys of Sehun's laptop clack underneath his swift fingers.
"Sehunnie." Jongin presses his face against the other's arm until his lips puff out. "Food."
"You could do it yourself, if you want?"
Jongin mumbles his answer into Sehun's shirt. "Your Japanese is better."
He can't see Sehun's face from this angle, but Jongin can tell he's smiling by the lift in his cheek. "Two seconds, Jongin."
"One." Jongin hooks his arms around Sehun's narrow waist. "Two."
Sehun strikes one final key: ENTER. He shuts his laptop. "All right, done."
Jongin whoops, hooking his chin over Sehun's shoulder like an attention-starved child and rattling off suggestions. "Can you order that pasta from Mister Pasta with the brie and the basil and the cherry tomatoes? Or, like, that fish thing from last week with the lemon butter sauce?" Jongin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and gnaws on it excitedly. "I really liked that lemon butter sauce."
"We can get both," Sehun says amiably, trying to wrest out of Jongin's hold. "I'm starving." When Jongin clings on even tighter, Sehun flicks him on the forehead.
"Ouch." Jongin winces, releasing his prey. "Why you gotta be so mean?" He singsongs it to the melody of "Rude," tragically off-key.
"You're in a cutesy mood," Sehun observes, rubbing his palm over his sleeve. It's the same one Jongin had been crushing his face into a moment before. "Should I be honored? You usually save the aegyo for Sooyoung-noona."
"I do not," Jongin protests, and that gets him a throw pillow in the face. Sehun's expression doesn't even flicker. He's a deadpan pro. "Okay, maybe I do," Jongin yields, "but that's only because aegyo gets things done faster than traditional debate."
"You're also an incurable flirt," Sehun declares, moving out of his bedroom into the living area. "And you're lucky Chanyeol-hyung knows we like men," he calls over his shoulder. "Otherwise, he wouldn't let you within five miles of her."
Jongin tails after him, scowling slightly, but ever the obedient pup. "Okay, now, listen here, Hun--I never flirt with noona."
Sehun's standing in the kitchen now, and the richness of his laughter bounces off the gray tile. He leans against the counter of the bar that separates the kitchen from the dining area, lips screwy. Then he points at himself. "I never flirt with noona, Jongin. I'm a great example of a professional unflirty person. To you, on the other hand, it comes as naturally as breathing."
Jongin sputters. Sehun smirks, and he deliberately rakes his fingers through his hair. He tinkers with his expression, too--the slope of his brow, the puff of his lips, the two curves of his eyes. Jongin can make out the minute adjustments to the muscles underneath Sehun's smooth complexion. When he pulls back to take in the full effect, Jongin realizes--aw, dammit--that's supposed to be an impression of him.
"Noona," Sehun starts, in a discreet, nasal tone that sounds very familiar. "I like your outfit today."
Jongin clamps his lips together, but his giggle escapes through his nostrils. "Hun."
"I never noticed before," Sehun persists in the same saccharine voice, "but you've got almost no Cupid's bow. Almost like a doll."
Jongin spits out his laughter. "I only said that one time, damn you."
Sehun flutters his lashes, pursing his lips. "Noonas of the universe," he coos, widening his eyes so that Jongin doubles over again. Puppy-dog. "I'm Jongin, and I'm the fairest in all the land."
Jongin sticks out his tongue. "You forget that I'm naturally tan."
Sehun finally lets up, clearing his throat to get rid of all the Jongin. "How could I forget?" He picks up their wireless house phone, punching in a number by muscle memory. "You walk around the apartment naked every day."
"Don't say it like you don't like it," Jongin quips, unapologetic. "How else would you know where your abs stand against my abs?"
"Jongin." There is a soupcon of annoyance in the way Sehun says it. "It's weird."
"No, it's not." Jongin frowns at him. "I see you naked all the time."
Phone pressed to ear, Sehun sends him a sidelong glance. "That's because you insist on showering with me to 'save on water,'" he cages the phrase in air quotes, "even when I say I'm not--yes, hello?"
"You don't really mind," Jongin mutters under his breath. Now he's annoyed. Or is it uncomfortable?
He gets poked in the cheek. "Yes, this is Oh Sehun. Yes, Shinsaibashi address." Sehun's still got a Seoul boy accent, but his Japanese is pretty passable. "Could I get two margherita pastas and the lemon-butter fish fingers? Yes. Yes." He covers the mouthpiece with his hand. "Do you want extra sauce?"
Jongin's still moping. "Mmhmm."
Sehun pokes him again on the same cheek and sweetly brushes his knuckle over the spot. "Yes, with extra sauce, please."
Jongin turns his face to nip Sehun's knuckle. He misses.
"That's the total? Okay, no need for change." Sehun slaps at Jongin's mouth with the very tips of his fingers. "Got it. Thank you very much." He hangs up--and picks up right where their conversation dropped off. "Even when I say I'm not game, you come barging into the goddamn shower like you own the place." He grabs Jongin's face and kneads it like Play-Doh. "You like me that much, cupcake?"
Jongin's eyes blaze. "I'm your hyung by three months, Twenty-Eight." The words leave his mouth garbled as Sehun gleefully squishes his cheeks. "Okay, stop."
"'Kay." Sehun drops his hands, rubbing them over his shorts. "Wash your face. You're so oily."
Jongin sends him a disbelieving glare, and Sehun pecks him on the forehead before heading to the fridge. That's a habit he picked up after years of rooming with Jongin. Sehun was the shyest, stiffest kid at the dorm as a college freshman, but Jongin's touchy-feely ways eventually broke him. He's always doing things like that now. Jongin usually does them back, but he's still too busy pretending to be miffed.
Sehun cracks open a beer. The fizz cuts through the still air in the apartment. "Did you ever get back to that text?"
Jongin takes the can before Sehun's even had a sip. "What text?" The beer slides down his throat, ice cold and deliciously sharp.
"The one from your high school sunbae."
Jongin hasn't told Sehun much about it since his birthday dinner three nights ago. Only that the guy Chanyeol was talking about had just texted him, and that his name was Kim Joonmyun.
"Ah." Jongin takes another swig of Sehun's beer, then hands it back. "Nope."
The lip of the can is wet. "You don't like him as much as you used to?" Sehun doesn't bother wiping it off; he just slurps up the excess. "Hyung seems to think you guys were as thick as thieves."
"We were."
Jongin rubs the back of his neck. He met Sehun at K-ARTS two years after Joonmyun graduated and moved to Boston to attend Harvard. Joonmyun used to send him emails every month or so--hi-hello-how-are-you emails that Jongin sometimes answered, sometimes ignored, depending on how masochistic he was feeling. After a while, Joonmyun got busy with whatever brilliant Harvard undergrads get busy with. The emails stopped. By the he moved back to Seoul, newly-engaged to Star TV's Jung Soojung (she was in Jongin's class), it had been almost five years since sunbae and hoobae had had any communication.
Sehun tenderly musses Jongin's bangs. "It's not like you to be awkward with old friends. You're always the one people want to see most after they've been out of town for a while."
Jongin looks up from where he's been studying his bare toes. Everyone always says Sehun has one expression: blank. But Jongin's spent enough time with him to know that the look Sehun's giving him is his warmest, most understanding, and most perceptive. Sehun tugs the corner of his mouth up into a half-smile and withdraws his hand.
It comes up as word vomit. "He was my first kiss."
Sehun's mouth slackens imperceptibly. "I thought your first kiss was with Kyungsoo, just before you got together?"
Jongin shakes his head. "Kyungsoo was my first boyfriend." He observes the thread of confusion that knits Sehun's brows together. "Not my first kiss."
"You came back to the dorm all starry-eyed that day." Sehun licks his lips. "We were already sophomores, and you were swooning over a harmless little peck, so I thought..."
"I loved Kyungsoo," Jongin says easily. "You know I did. Even after we broke up, and I couldn't understand why." He rubs the underside of his chin, casting about for words. "Joonmyun-sunbae...I'd met him in high school, you know, years and years before. So even if I felt the way I did about Kyungsoo, sunbae was--"
"Your first love." Sehun rests his beer on the kitchen counter. He's wearing that blank expression everybody talks about. "You never told me about this, Jongin."
The latter attempts a shrug. His shoulders are a little tight.
Sehun drinks some more beer. The sound of his swallow is loud and sticky. "So when did he kiss you?"
Silence hangs between them for several seconds. "I kissed him," Jongin admits. He almost laughs at how Sehun's eyelids shutter, then snap closed and wide open, then disappear entirely behind the whites of his eyes. That shocked him. There's something else in Sehun's expression, too, swirling incognito with the surprise, but Jongin glosses over it in favor of his confession. "I was seventeen and smitten. Sunbae was nineteen, and so...so..." Jongin drops his eyes. "I dunno. Nice to me, I guess. And handsome--the clean-cut kind my mom was always looking for in the guys my sisters brought home. And he was smart, too. So smart. Captain of the debate team. Valedictorian." Jongin trails off, clearing his throat. It makes him self-conscious, sharing mundane details he remembers about a boy he's never forgotten. "But the day I kissed him, he was already dating his future wife--ex-wife--unbeknownst to me."
Sehun presses his lips together. "Then what happened?"
"Oh, you know." Jongin waves a hand in the air, as if to dissipate the melancholy surrounding his story. "He let me down easy. Then he tried to stay friends when he went away for college, but that made it even worse."
Sehun's eyes soften, but it's a restrained kind of softness. Not pity. Not fondness, either. The timbre of his voice is much the same way. "You never got over him, did you?"
Jongin fiddles with the high neck of his sweater and wishes he'd changed out of it. "When Chanyeol-hyung dropped his name that night, I went as stiff as a board." His left cheek puffs out at the force of his exhale. "I know it's dumb, Hun. It was so long ago, and I was just a kid back then. I had no idea what real love was supposed to be like."
"No one does." Sehun turns away to place his beer back in the fridge. "I had no idea you were so good at keeping secrets." He says this casually, like he's speaking about a change in weather.
But Jongin knows when Sehun is keeping something from him. "Does it bother you that I didn't tell you?"
"A little."
Jongin blinks. He barely catches the blip of frustration that surfaces in Sehun's face; a breeze over a lake. Then the lake is still again, and Sehun looks up and smiles.
"Maybe I'm just being possessive," he jokes offhandedly, the tilt of his brows playing up the joke. "Never thought you'd be more obsessed with anyone than you are with me."
Jongin lets his smile come out crooked. "Listen, Twenty-Eight," he drawls, echoing Sehun's nonchalance, "you'll always be my only cupcake."
He expects Sehun to cackle in surprise at the use of his own endearment. To narrow his naturally unamused eyes into deliberately unamused slits. To coolly tell Jongin he's not funny--at all.
But Sehun only lets his smile dip into a smaller, more mysterious one. "Answer your text," is what he tells Jongin instead, heading back into his room to do a little more work. "We both know you want to."
Late into the night, when he's back in his own room and Sehun is fast asleep in his, Jongin finally types out his reply.
Sunbae, it's been so long. Would you like to meet for lunch?
The server holds his notepad out in front of him. "So, that'll be two bowls of red miso soup, the assorted tempura platter, and a large order of kimchi rice, extra nori flakes."
"That's right," Jongin replies, nodding politely.
The server clicks his pen. "And for your drinks?"
"Cold barley tea for me." Jongin turns to his side, eyes amiable. "Hun?"
"Asahi Super Dry, please," Sehun directs to the server. Jongin frowns. "The coldest one you have."
"Of course, sir." The server tucks the pad and pen into the breastpocket of his black apron. "I'll be back in a moment with your drinks." He excuses himself, leaving the two men alone in their quiet booth.
Sehun folds his menu. His arms are so long; he barely has to lean forward to place the menu next to the third, unclaimed table setting across his and Jongin's.
Joonmyun is running late.
Jongin permits only a few more seconds of this awkward silence before hooking a hand over Sehun's nape. "Huuun." He scratches his nails against scalp and soft hair. "Are you still annoyed?"
Sehun looks straight ahead. His mouth is a hyphen, terse and straight. "Yes."
Jongin grins. "But you came." He runs his thumb over the knobs at the back of Sehun's neck. Gym buff or not, his friend's always been on the bony side. "So I guess you can't be that mad."
Sehun relaxes under the touch. But he mutters, "I am," anyway, his mouth stretching into a tighter line. "Get off me, Jongin."
Jongin perches his chin on Sehun's shoulder in complete disregard. "I told you I'd do all the cleaning at home for a week," he replies, traces of aegyo tiptoeing into his tone. He pets Sehun's hair gingerly, like he's a testy stray whose next move Jongin can't predict. "Should I make it two?"
He's so close to Sehun's face, he practically feels the clench in Sehun's jaw. "You better."
Sehun is the more effective cleaner between the two of them, but this is Jongin's biggest bargaining chip. A week's worth of household chores managed to get his best friend to third-wheel at this sunbae-hoobae reunion. Two weeks' worth should keep Sehun from punishing him for it.
(Jongin knows it's weak of him--weak and childish. But meeting Joonmyun alone, after all these years, is right up there with surgery and vet visits on the list of things Jongin doesn't have the stomach for.)
So he puts his other hand over Sehun's chest, right where his heart is, and pats a promise into it. "Deal." Then he bites Sehun's shoulder.
"Ow!" Sehun jerks and tries to pull away. Jongin fists the hair at his nape to root him in place. He plants a kiss on Sehun's cheek, lips smacking with relish.
Sehun groans in rebellion. He wriggles indignantly in Jongin's hold--and Jongin, who is stronger, laughs at this exercise in futility.
Sehun stops struggling. He sighs and hangs his head, low and limp. "I hate you."
Jongin pats his hair back into place. He relishes this inkling of power--and it's a tiny one, but Jongin is shallow like that--before finally releasing his friend. "And I love you."
Sehun blinks in his direction so they make eye contact. Jongin's smile is instant, and the wink that follows it purely instinctual. Sehun seems to study his expression (stoic, unmoved) before blinking away. But there is a sweet little curl in the corner of his mouth. Jongin has to bend to see it, but he sees it, all right.
"I really do," he says frankly, trying to get Sehun to look at him again. "Thanks for letting me drag you into this, Hun."
"Yeah, yeah," is Sehun's gruff reply. "I've accepted it as my lot in life, you know. Getting dragged into shit by a fake hyung."
"Fake?" Jongin tries to smooth down the front of his sweater and the collar of the starched shirt underneath it at once. "Nothing fake about my three-month lead, Sehunnie." The collar flips comically in his haste.
Sehun swats at his hands. "You're an idiot," he opines, folding Jongin's collar back down. He does the rogue button at the throat, so Jongin's shirt doesn't go crooked again. His fingers linger over the fabric. "Is this new?"
"The shirt?" Jongin shakes his head. It's just a plain blue button-down; chambray, slightly frayed at the cuffs. "I wear this to work twice a week."
"I meant the sweater." Sehun takes his hands away, rests them on his knees. "It's new, right?"
"Oh." Heat pricks at Jongin's cheeks. "Right."
He'd bought this deep green cable knit specifically for this lunch, the day after Joonmyun had texted him back.
Lunch would be great! I thought you'd forgotten about me ^_^
Jongin can't count how many times he's read the message. He'd read it at the counter of the H&M in Dotonbori, where he got the sweater. He'd read it again this morning after he put the sweater on. Every time, the ten words (and that terribly fitting emoticon--so Joonmyun) leave him giddy and achy all over. Like the Glico Man, he'd thought to himself as he left H&M, spotting the immense fluorescent landmark across the Ebisu Bridge. A giant cartoon athlete runs towards onlookers, his arms thrust victoriously in the air and a smile cracking across his face. If the Glico Man was a real person, Jongin had imagined, frivolously, he'd feel just like I do right now.
"Jonginnie?"
The voice is soft and hesitant; a brush of velvet over an earlobe. But Jongin processes it like a knife slash. His breath hitches in a silent gasp. That nickname...
A throat clears. The voice is louder this time, and more certain: "Kim Jongin."
Jongin looks up, and Kim Joonmyun beams at him.
"Jonginnie." This time, the endearment sends a bolt of electricity zinging through Jongin's synapses. "It's me."
Joonmyun's eyes are smile-shaped. His hair is shorter than it was in high school, dyed a grown-up jet black. He's bundled up in a trench coat, and his glasses are nowhere to be seen. His face hasn't aged a day.
"Sunbae," Jongin murmurs in wonder. "Hi." He forgets himself completely as Joonmyun's smile deepens. The sort-of-dimples that Jongin always liked appear under the apples of his cheeks. He still has those...
"Hi," Joonmyun replies, and he points cutely, with both forefingers, at the empty bench in their booth. "Can I sit here?"
That sets off an alarm in Jongin's head. He leaps to his feet, startling Sehun. Then he bows as low as his clothes will let him, flustered and wringing his hands. "I'm sorry, sunbae! I'm being so rude." He bows again, holding his arm out towards the free seat. "Please make yourself comfortable."
Sehun stands, too, albeit with more composure. "Hello, sunbae," he says, dipping his head politely. "I'm Oh Sehun. Jongin asked me to keep him company."
Joonmyun nods cheerfully. The way he's smiling pushes his cheeks up, up, up, until they infringe on his lower lashes. "Boyfriend?"
Jongin gapes, splaying his fingers out in front of him. "No, no," he says hurriedly. He feels caught out, as though Joonmyun has already sensed Jongin's inability to meet with him alone. "Sehun's my best friend, sunbae. We live together."
Sehun's arms hang at his sides. When Jongin glances at him, pleading for backup, Sehun rubs both hands over his jeans. "That's right," is all he says.
Joonmyun produces another smile. Even when they were younger, he'd always had so many. Different shapes and sizes and speeds of disclosure--all of which Jongin filed away like printouts from a photo booth. He watches this new one unfurl from a pursed little ring into a bright white slice.
"Sounds like fun!" Joonmyun reaches out for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Sehun."
The younger man obliges, brisk and businesslike. "Same here." he replies, looking Joonmyun in the eye. "Jongin's told me so much about you."
Lunch lasts for two hours--which, in Japanese time, is an eternity.
Joonmyun heads the Google office in Osaka now. They've got a small space in Ogimachi, according to him--much smaller than the office in Seoul (where he came from) and the one in Tokyo (which he'll be visiting soon).
"But it's a fun place to work," Joonmyun shares. "Although probably not as fun as listening to music all day." He licks miso soup off his lips and fondly regards the younger man in front of him. "You know, Jonginnie, I always sit through the credits now to see if you've worked on a movie soundtrack."
Jongin rubs the back of his neck, all bashful. That was a surprise. "Didn't you just hear about my job from Chanyeol-hyung?"
"Nah. I already knew you worked in ~showbiz~." Joonmyun's eyes are twinkling. "I just didn't want to seem like a stalker when Chanyeol told me."
That sounded like a compliment wrapped in a little self-deprecation. Jongin will take it. "You make it sound more glamorous than it is," he offers in return. "But who told you about my work, sunbae? I'm really curious."
"This is going to sound dorky," Joonmyun tells him, brows lifting in warning, "but I'm pretty active on our high school alumni Facebook page. They keep tabs on everyone there, you know."
Jongin does not know. In fact, he's constantly blocking notifications from that very same Facebook page, which he's always thought of as lame. Joonmyun, on the other hand, is completely adorable.
"That's so like you," Jongin murmurs, somewhat pleased to find that some things never change.
"I know, I know." Joonmyun's rolling his eyes, grinning. "Once a geek, always a geek."
Harry Potter heartthrob is the exact phrase that flits through Jongin's mind, but he wisely keeps it to himself. "Not at all, sunbae," he replies. "You've always been cool to me."
"Pfft. You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Jongin demurs, directing his eyes to the backs of his hands. It feels comfortable, this banter. Comfortable and disconcerting at the same time.
Joonmyun brings his soup bowl to his mouth. Jongin looks across the table, ready with his next question--and there, right there, just for a moment, he sees the cheerfulness slip from Joonmyun's face. A chink in the armor.
Jongin experiences a surge of empathy, warm as water on his face. "Sunbae, I heard." Mellow eyes, mellow mouth. "About you and Soojung."
"Ah," Joonmyun says, in no particular tone of voice. "The divorce. Did Chanyeol tell you?"
"He did." Jongin blinks more than he should, ducking his chin. "I was sorry when I got the news."
"Don't be." Joonmyun sets down his bowl. He angles his face--casually, but strategically--so Jongin can't read it. "It was for the best."
Jongin only nods because he isn't sure what else to do. "What happened?"
Joonmyun's voice doesn't change. "Nothing dramatic." But when he raises his eyes, the sadness in them is like a soft color. "I'll tell you some other time, okay?"
Jongin backtracks immediately, flinching inside. "Of course." Idiot, idiot, idiot. "I didn't mean to pry, sunbae."
Joonmyun shakes his head, it's fine. His next smile is practically fluorescent, and the conversation pivots. "How long have you been in Osaka now?"
"Four years." Jongin rubs his chin. He's got a little stubble. "But I still can't believe it's been that long."
Joonmyun hums with interest. "Do you like it here?"
"I do." Jongin bites his lips. He has to summon up the nerve to say this next thing: "I...can take you around the city some time, if you like."
"It's a date," Joonmyun replies swiftly. His eyes don't look so sad anymore. Just grateful.
Jongin uses his own chopsticks to place the largest piece of prawn tempura on the older man's plate.
"What a nice hoobae you are," Joonmyun teases. "I should be the one doing that." He ceremoniously deposits a helping of kimchi rice into Jongin's empty soup bowl. "Are you sure you don't want to save any of this for Sehun?"
Jongin is eager to please, so he almost answers before he's heard the whole question. The chipper yes, sunbae dies in his throat.
Sehun had excused himself shortly after the food arrived.
The server had reappeared, laden with steaming bowls and painted plates. Joonmyun had gone to the restroom to wash his hands. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sehun had slipped his phone, wallet, and house keys back into his pockets.
"Where're you going?" Jongin had asked, curling his fingers around Sehun's wrist. "Don't leave."
"You don't need me," Sehun had said simply.
Jongin had tightened his grip. "Of course I do."
"You guys have been talking for twenty minutes straight without a hitch," Sehun had reasoned. "You're doing just fine, Jongin." He'd mustered up a semblance of a smile. Then he'd removed Jongin's hand and slid out of their booth.
Jongin had tried to slide out, too, only to have Sehun nudge him back down. "But you haven't had lunch," Jongin had protested. "Aren't you hungry?"
The shake of Sehun's head had been determined. "Nope."
"But--"
"You can take a week off our cleaning arrangement," Sehun'd informed him with a pointed, playful look. "I'm the one bailing, anyway."
Jongin had been far from amused. More...concerned. Sehun had looked strange just then--a little off--almost like he was pretending to be in a good mood. "You're mad because I forced you to come with me for nothing, right?" And this time, Jongin had bypassed Sehun's wrist in favor of his hand.
Sehun had let their fingers lace. Jongin had observed him seriously, awaiting a response.
The sound of a door creaking open and closed carried over the muted pop song in the background.
Quickly, Sehun bent to peck the crown of Jongin's head. "Nah," he'd replied, pulling their fingers apart. His breath had smelled faintly of beer. "I just want to get back to the puppies, that's all."
It was a flimsy excuse, if Jongin'd ever heard one. "Hun--"
"I'll see you at home," Sehun had declared with a smile. He'd put a finger to his lips, leading Jongin's gaze over his shoulder with a jerk of the chin. Joonmyun was walking back to their booth, reading something off his phone.
Sehun had taken his leave without further delay. He and Joonmyun had exchanged a few pleasantries--great meeting you, too bad you can't stay, see you next time. There was another smile sent Jongin's way; this one even more reassuring than the last. Then Sehun had exited the restaurant.
Jongin had texted him right away, under the table, just to make sure they were okay.
Have fun! Sehun had texted back. You can tell me all about it later.
That had put Jongin at ease.
"Don't worry about it, sunbae," he tells Joonmyun, back in the present. He reaches for the menu the server left on their table, trying to recall what Sehun had ordered the last time they were here alone.
"Still hungry?" Joonmyun's mouth is half-packed with rice. He covers it when he speaks.
"I'm good," Jongin replies, putting the menu aside for a moment to refill Joonmyun's cold tea. "I want to order some other things Sehun likes, so I can take them home to him. You know," he catches Joonmyun's gaze, "he only eats the tempura here because it's my favorite. The serving's too big for one person to finish. We've been coming here forever because it's so close to the apartment. And he thinks he's been so stealthy about it, too."
Joonmyun's eyes crinkle up. He looks like a character from a manhwa--the gentle, oblivious one that all the other characters have a crush on. "That's sweet."
Jongin tries not to get distracted. "Yeah, well..." He opens up the menu, folding in a smile. The pitcher of barley tea perspires next to him, ice crackling delicately. "That's Sehun."
They never do discuss the lunch with Joonmyun.
Jongin comes home that afternoon bearing stir-fried soba noodles and enough shiso-marinated tonkatsu to feed their entire building. (It's an acquired taste for non-locals, but Sehun loves the sour plum flavor.)
There he is on their Muji sofa--still in his lunch clothes, fast asleep. He has Jjanggah in his arms, and she wags her tail when she sees Jongin at the door. Sehun doesn't stir.
He never takes naps--not unless he's feeling really crappy. Says they give him headaches when he wakes up. Once, in college, a high fever had forced him back to bed in the middle of the day, but that's about it.
Standing in the foyer, silent as a mouse, Jongin studies his friend's sleeping form. Monggu and Jjanggu pitter-patter out of his room, alerted by the smell of food; they rush to greet him, paws slipping over the smooth floor in their excitement. Jongin bends to scratch behind their ears--but his eyes stay on Sehun, worry rising like a temperature.
He puts the takeout down where the puppies can't reach it. Then he slides his socked feet over to the sofa and drops to his knees. Jjanggah licks his face as he fits a palm over Sehun's forehead. He presses the other palm to his own as a gauge.
The movement under Sehun's lids is a delicate quivering. He blinks, bleary-eyed. "Jongin?"
"How bad is it?" Jongin flips his palm, pressing the back of his hand over Sehun's throat. "You don't feel too warm, but I'll need to get the thermometer to be sure. Is it still in the drawer by your bed?"
Sehun chuckles soundlessly. "Slow down." His lips are so dry, they barely move. "I'm not sick."
Huh. That's the sound Jongin makes in his head. It reads on his face like a traffic sign. He leans back on his haunches to ask, "Why are you sleeping then?" And under his breath: "You're freaking me out."
Sehun hears. "Cute," he murmurs, shutting his eyes for a second. "I'm just tired, Jongin. Long week."
Guilt is a sneaky emotion, sidling up to Jongin with a nod and a whisper. His bottom lip slinks back into the comfort of his mouth. "Sorry. Go back to your nap."
Then Sehun is looking at him again. "Well, I can't go back now." His voice is so droll. "You brought me food, didn't you? I can smell the shiso from here. Good choice."
Jjanggah pants softly between them. She looks like she's laughing--and Jongin is so pleased with himself. He completely forgets to bring up Sehun's unforeseen exit from earlier; the very exit that had prompted him to bring this food home in the first place. Consolation prize.
They spend the next few hours lazing about on that sofa, getting trampled by tiny poodles. Sehun munches on his pork cutlet, trying to keep it from Monggu's jaws. Jongin flips through Japanese game shows, sipping green tea. They strike up one of those long, aimless, unmemorable conversations that only close friends can keep going for the sake of it. A little office gossip, a little reality TV talk, some viral video give-and-take.
Joonmyun just never comes up.
Part 2