(no subject)

[symmetrophobic]

*

“You’re tired.”

Jackson snaps out of his thoughts, realising that they’re back on campus grounds, and Yugyeom gives him a strange look, like he’s about to laugh.

“You okay?” he takes Jackson’s hand, nudging him with his shoulder, and Jackson makes an affronted noise.

“Just got a load of homework I have to get through tonight,” Jackson grumbles, heading towards the dorms. “Don’t laugh- I bet you’ve let a lot of shit pile up too.”

“True that,” Yugyeom sighs. “Skype at two?”

“Great, that’s like three hours to try to be productive before you barge into my screen and wreck all that,” Jackson grins, but his smile disappears as he hears the sound of a familiar group of people around the corner of the semi-crowded common room. “Hey,” he glances back at Yugyeom, feeling sweat start to prickle at the base of his neck. “See you later, okay? I gotta go now,” he chuckles faintly, guilt stabbing him in the gut as Yugyeom’s face configures into an expression of resignation once he gets it. “Better get that homework done.”

He dissociates from Yugyeom, covering the room in ten vital steps before he grabs Jungkook’s hand, grinning, pulling him into a quick bro hug. He glances back once quickly, but Yugyeom’s already gone.

“A little shabby for the party,” the freshman snickers- his college diplomatic immunity runs deep, from being the youngest member of Namjoon’s frat to being able to maintain a solid 4.0 GPA despite showing up at every party their frat gets invited to. “Don’t you think?”

“Party?” Jackson repeats blankly, and Jin rolls his eyes subtly.

“Uh, Jihyo’s sorority bash?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Jackson’s eyes widen in realisation.

“Right,” he breathes. Mark had mentioned something about Delta Chi Psi being invited to that, but it’d flown over Jackson’s head during the last meeting. He wonders why, for a moment, before remembering he’d been busy sending Yugyeom pictures of Jinyoung’s head photoshopped onto various nude Greek statues, because the two of them had had an argument that morning. “That.”

“You know we haven’t seen you around in ages,” Taehyung wraps an arm around his neck, dragging him along with them as they move along to exit the building. “Been busy with that freshman, haven’t you?”

“What freshman?” Jackson says weakly, voice considerably lower- he looks around, just making sure Yugyeom isn’t around any longer, before feeling slightly more at ease, then a lot more guilty.

“He make for a good fuck?” Yoongi asks conversationally. “That’s why you’ve been keeping him around, right?”

“Actually,” Jackson says, a little louder, not knowing why that statement rubs him the wrong way. “We haven’t slept together.”

“Oh,” Jungkook frowns at Jackson’s tone. “Well chill, man, we just don’t really know any other reason why you’d stick around him- I mean it can’t be for his money. Oh-…wow, okay listen to this, I’ve been wanting to tell you guys for ages,” he turns back to make sure the rest of them are listening, with a grin. “I share classes with the kid, and we’re stuck doing projects sometimes. We asked him to look a couple of vids up on the internet when we were there,” he rolls his eyes. “He couldn’t- his phone runs on a 200 megabyte data plan. His books are all second-hand too, they’ve got dicks graffitied onto every page, it’s hilarious.”

Jackson wants to say something, but the rest of them laugh, and he falls silent.

“We’re just saying,” Jin says, once they’re outside, and the guffaws subside. “You know, Jackson- don’t you have better things to do?”

“You’ve forgotten,” Jimin retorts, grinning. “He hasn’t even done the freshman yet.”

“You know,” Jackson announces, having had just about enough, wriggling out of Taehyung’s grasp. “You guys go ahead, I’ve got a lot of shit piled up, I better just give this one a miss and-…”

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi shoves him forward, looking annoyed. “We’re already here,” he looks Jackson up and down, dark eyes narrowed in suspicious slits. “You know, you’ve been acting weird, Jackson, going AWOL for parties, actually giving a fuck about homework, and Jin tells us you turned down Mina when she was practically begging you to fuck her a couple weeks back- it’s that freshman, isn’t it? He’s doing something to your head.”

They’re all staring, forming an indistinct semicircle around Jackson, and he feels oddly cornered by the people who are supposed to be his friends. So he falls back on his first line of defence, chuckling weakly and shoving Yoongi back.

“Loosen up, asshole, or I’ll have to do it for you,” he grins, and Taehyung shrieks with laughter, probably just glad he’s going to get to go to his party after all. “No one does anything to my head unless they’re giving it.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you,” Namjoon wraps an arm around him, dragging him up the stairs, towards the sound of the music and people, and Jackson resigns himself to the reality that he’ll just be dragged everywhere people want him to be in life. “C’mon, let’s go. Mark and Jinyoung are already in there, and it’s a sorority party, man,” the rest of them snicker. “Jihyo’s entire lineup is going to be out and about tonight, and if you’re going to miss the drinks and the dancing, at least don’t miss the girls.”

*

Jackson disentangles himself from Namjoon as soon as they enter under the pretence of going to find Mark, planning to slip out through the back door, but then he bumps into Jinyoung, grinding against some guy he’s never seen before on the dancefloor, obviously drunk. Jackson scuttles away just as the other guy puts his hand down Jinyoung’s back pockets, pulling him closer, and walks into Mark, hand in hand with (speak of the devil) Myoui Mina, Jihyo’s sorority freshman, both giggly and intoxicated.

“Hey, man,” Mark half-shouts over the music- there’s a ridiculously cheesy lipstick stain near his mouth, and his expensive red dye job is in a mess. Mina’s pleated skirt is rumpled, crop top bunched a little, and Jackson cringes, not wanting to think about what they’d been doing before this. She stares him down, one arm wrapped possessively around Mark’s shoulder, as if expecting him to get down on his knees and beg for her to come back, now that she’s snagged his best friend. “Got any protection? Used up all of mine last week.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jackson mumbles, pulling a condom out of his wallet (he’d put that in two months ago- that’s how long he’s gone without a hookup, he realises) and tossing it to Mark. Mina lets out a giggly shriek, clinging onto Mark’s arm, and Jackson sidles away as they leave, the girl stumbling in her six-inch boots.

Now feeling vaguely displaced, Jackson wanders to the bar, shouting an order to the bartender he thinks the girl can’t hear anyway, because she makes him something that doesn’t look at all like the shot he’d wanted.

She slides it over, and Jackson struggles to catch it, almost spilling it on the boy sitting next to him. He mutters out an apology, before realising-…

“Shit, man, I didn’t even see you,” he breaks out into a proper, real smile for Youngjae, only to falter a little at the crestfallen look on the other boy’s face. “What’re you doing here by yourself?”

“Jinyoung’s sucking cock,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly, gesturing vaguely behind him without turning around, clearly already a little buzzed. “And Mark’s getting his cock sucked,” he points upwards to the second level. “And you haven’t been around for weeks.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, sipping his drink uncomfortably, grimacing a little. Discreetly, he wishes he had a supersized oreo cookie milkshake with him right now. “Uh.”

He’s never dealt with a drunk Youngjae before- he’d always been the one to get drunk first, he realises, when they still went out together. Whatever happened after that, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

“Not in the mood for a fuck?” Youngjae asks conversationally, fingers circling the rim of the glass, staring down in disinterest at his drink. Had he always cussed this much? Jackson doesn’t remember.

“Not really,” Jackson mumbles, knocking back his drink. It barely does anything- his face doesn’t even feel warm. They probably watered the alcohol down, he thinks. This doesn’t matter, because the bartender’s already making him another one, this one in some ghastly shade of cough-medicine pink.

There’s an awkward pause, before Jackson decides he should at least try to be a good friend and offer a listening ear.

“So,” he offers. “Wanna talk about it?”

He regrets it immediately.

“You know,” Youngjae says after a flat, cold pause, twirling his glass bitterly, before tipping the rest of the drink down his throat. “I used to think, if you loved someone enough, if you did everything you could to show them how much you care, if you were always there,” he rolls his eyes a little here. “Even if both of you were completely different, they’d love you too.”

Jackson doesn’t quite know what to say, or who Youngjae’s talking about, even, so he sits silently, deciding to let Youngjae rant.

“You think just because you’ve got a lot of your parents’ money,” Youngjae jabs a finger at Jackson, who jumps, his mind a mess of oh shit what did I do I didn’t do anything what do I do. “You think just because you’re so fucking popular, because girls and boys fall at your feet with their legs open whenever you walk by, because you were blessed with a great face and you know how to do a couple of fancy tricks,” he lets out a sharp laugh. “You think you can mess with someone’s heart because of that?”

Jackson’s a little slack-jawed, stunned that Youngjae would throw it all out in the open like that- has he always been thinking about it this way? Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

“Some people have feelings,” Youngjae snarls, looking back into his glass. “Just because some fuckers were born without hearts doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be okay-…” he chokes up a little, and Jackson resists the urge to pat his back. “Okay when we realise you don’t care. That you never will.”

“Look,” Jackson’s feeling progressively worse and more uncomfortable- he didn’t think Youngjae, of all people, would throw him and shoot him while he’s down like this, but then again, he should’ve expected this. Youngjae would be the only one who cares enough to do it. “Look, I know what I’m doing is wrong, but it’s-…it’s different with him. I’m-…I don’t know, I’m confused as fuck too, okay? I kind of, sometimes,” Jackson doesn’t know why it’s all coming out now- it occurs to him that Youngjae’s the only person whom he thinks might be able to help.

“I feel like I wouldn’t mind, you know, dating him properly, but sometimes-…” he takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m just scared as fuck, you know? I’m scared I’ll have to give everything else up just to be with him without looking over my shoulder every five seconds- these are people I care about, my friends, my frat brothers,” he looks at Youngjae, eyes pleading with him to understand. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

Youngjae stares at him, frowning a little, eyes unfocused from the alcohol.

“Who are you talking about?”

Jackson blinks. “What?”

“Mark. I’m talking about Mark,” Youngjae says, gears clicking behind his dark eyes, and Jackson’s mind reels. “You’re talking about Yugyeom, aren’t you?”

“Wait, you-…” Jackson glances wildly at the stairs. “You and Mark? Really? You like Mark?”

Youngjae scoffs quietly, taking another drink. “Trust someone like you not to notice.”

“I never knew,” the fencer stares, baffled. “But he just-…he and Mina-…”

“I know,” Youngjae snaps, and Jackson immediately shuts up.

“Why don’t you,” he eventually mumbles, as Youngjae finishes the other drink. “You know. Tell him?”

Youngjae looks at him like he’s just realised just how stupid Jackson actually is.

“How about you tell me why you started dating Yugyeom in the first place?” he says, eyes dark, apparently not under any inhibition to back while under the influence. “You wanna know why I can’t tell someone like Mark I like him? Because of people like you, Jackson. Because some people will just never take relationships seriously, and people like you make that seem okay, so it’s Yugyeom’s fault if he ever once believed you loved him when you up and go. You know sometimes I wish I was just like you and Mark,” he spits, eyes flashing. “So I could hurt people the way you do and blame them for it.”

Jackson stares at Youngjae, the younger boy’s form crumpled and quiet against the bar table, now, his glass empty and dangling dangerously from his slack fingers, back rising and falling with laboured breaths.

“Youngjae,” he starts uncertainly. “Fuck, I never knew-…”

“I know,” Youngjae mumbles, staring dead into his glass. “I guess that makes it okay.”

They sit in silence for a while longer, before Youngjae gets up heavily, shoulders hunched.

“I’ll help you-…” Jackson starts, but Youngjae pushes his hand away.

“Go away,” he sways a little as he stands, head ducked, taking the single step down from the bar. “If you want to disappoint someone else further, how about you just go tell Yugyeom the truth.”

Jackson feels spectacularly like a pile of elephant shit as Youngjae disappears into the crowd, then, the desolate hunch of his back barely visible in the throng of people.

He’s got half a mind to get up and follow the younger man back to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, when someone props themselves up on the barstool Youngjae had just evacuated, glittery gold stilettoes clicking against the foot ring.

Im Nayeon props her pretty face up on her open palm, fake extension nails sparkling in the most impractical ways against her cheeks, blush blossoming under from both makeup and alcohol. Her hairline glistens with a little perspiration, slightly breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly after the dancing.

“Buy me a drink?” she smiles- crossing her slender legs, so, on purpose or accidentally, her pleated miniskirt slides back, revealing the tops of her black lace garter. Jackson briefly wonders if that’s the fashion now. “You know I haven’t seen you around in the longest time, Jackson-oppa. Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” Jackson gives a strained smile, wondering whether to be polite or to walk away. He’s not quite sure if there’s a way to do both without it coming back to bite him in the ass- Jihyo’s got connections outside of college, and he’s heard stories about what happens to people who mess with her girls. To be polite, he turns to the bartender. “One bloody mary, please.”

Nayeon smiles, clearly pleased. “You still remember,” she tilts her head, high ponytail falling to one side- she’s sprayed that with glitter hairspray, too. She gives him a coy smile. “You know a little bird happened to talk this evening,” her dark eyes flick up to his, stare bold and challenging, as Jackson accepts the drink from the bartender. “Told me you were interested. And if you weren’t,” she plucks the drink from Jackson’s hand, taking a sip. “You are now.”

Jackson wonders why he isn’t more excited this is happening- after all, the whole mess with Yugyeom had been started because he wanted Nayeon. He could just do it, tonight, break it off with the freshman tomorrow morning, start over with her, and no one would say a word in protest.

“Wonder how the bird got that idea,” Jackson chooses to say conversationally, and Nayeon puts the glass down- if she’s put off by his lack of enthusiasm, she doesn’t show it.

“Your friend- the rich, quiet one,” she says, a mocking little tilt to her pretty lips. “He’s a lot more talkative in bed,” Jackson rolls his eyes internally- of course Mark would manage to screw up his life just a little bit more. “The bird didn’t talk, tonight, it sang,” she giggles at the thought. “So,” she swivels the barstool to face him, heels nudging his calves. “Ready to sing, oppa?”

“There are many things you don’t want to hear, and my singing is one of them,” Humour is Jackson’s first line of defence, so he laughs as he gets off the stool, before setting down a bill on the countertop, something properly decided in him now. “Hope you like the drink- I’m late to meet someone. See you around.”

He doesn’t look back- following Youngjae’s path right out of the living room, down the front stairs, walking silently all the way back to the dorms.

*

It’s almost one in the morning when he arrives at a particular door- the light’s still on, shining out from under the door, to his relief, and he just barely hears music, turned down quiet enough so it won’t disturb the neighbours.

Jackson stands outside for almost five minutes, throat dry, summarising all the things he wants to say in his head, before raising his fist, and knocking thrice.

Someone inside grumbles about better not be some lost drunk asshole, before there’s the sharp tap of footsteps, and someone opens the door.

Jackson blinks, staring at the boy he’s only ever seen up close on the other side of a Youtube screen, and Bambam raises a brow, a smudge of white on the side of his face- he’d obviously been in the middle of some facial moisturising routine before Jackson knocked.

“Hey,” he eventually calls back, rolling his eyes. “He’s here.”

Jackson looks over Bambam’s shoulder, seeing Yugyeom get up, in a pair of grey sweats and a soft blue hoodie, a pen still in his hand, looking slightly amused.

“You were the one talking about being up to here in homework, hyung,” he grins. “Why the sudden visit?”

Jackson inhales, steeling himself. “We need to talk.”

Both boys in the room tense a little at that statement- Bambam takes an awkward step back, glancing at Yugyeom for confirmation.

The freshman’s frowning, a little confused, a little worried, and he half-shrugs, half-nods.

“Uh,” Yugyeom says uncertainly. “Sure.”

Bambam discreetly slides around Jackson to grab his moisturiser and a literature textbook, popping a highlighter between his teeth.

“Well, then, I’m just going to uhm,” he looks from Yugyeom to Jackson, words muffled around the highlighter. “Step out for a bit. You guys have fun. Don’t touch my shit.”

Jackson feels impossibly more uncomfortable as the door clicks shut quickly behind Bambam.

“Is something…wrong, hyung?” Yugyeom’s still standing on the side of the room that isn’t bleeding fabulous, looking a little lost, and Jackson stands stiffly, inhaling deeply.

“I have to tell you something,” he starts feebly. “About, uh, the night we met.”

“…yeah?” Yugyeom looks thoroughly uncomfortable now. “What about it?”

“I was-…” Jackson fumbles, not quite sure where to start the story. “I was drunk,” that’s a very bad start. “I was drunk, and I said something to Jinyoung-…you know who he is-…”

“Yeah, the guy who sits on the Lit prof’s desk and calls him by his first name when he goes to ask questions after seminars, right?” Yugyeom says, still a little apprehensive. Jackson chooses not to ask how the younger boy even knows that, and forges ahead.

“Yeah, well, so anyway, he uh, he asked-…uh. He dared me. To,” he grimaces. “He dared me to ask you out.”

There’s a long pause after that.

Jackson doesn’t even dare to look Yugyeom in the eye now. “I was dared to ask you out. But it’s not-…” he quickly adds, looking up worriedly. “It’s not like that now, I mean I-…I would. You know. Want to-…uh, wouldn’t mind dating you. Properly. Now.”

If Jackson could, he would slap himself, but his arms feel like jelly. He can’t even run in shame, because his feet feel like blocks of concrete, locked into the ground.

Yugyeom doesn’t look very surprised. Nor does he look very hurt. Maybe this is why Jackson’s so worried.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking a little, so the words sound higher than they should be. “I just thought-…thought you should know. So if you wanna break up, now-…”

“I knew.”

Jackson blinks. “What?”

“I knew you were dared to ask me out,” Yugyeom says, shrugging, averting Jackson’s eyes.

“Since when?” Jackson splutters. It was Youngjae, definitely, or maybe Mark was even more of an idiot than Jackson ever thought he could be-…

“Since before you asked me out,” Yugyeom looks up, a hint of defiance smothered in the nonchalance he’s trying to portray. “Bambam and I sort of figured it out by the way you guys were talking and looking over. I thought you were going to ask him out, but then you asked me, so.”

“All this time- you knew?” Jackson wheezes. “Then why…? Why’d you say yes?”

Yugyeom’s jaw is set, eyes dull with…anger? Guilt? Jackson watches as he reaches down, into the wastepaper basket beside his table, pushing past crumpled pieces of paper and sweet wrappers, before lifting a ziplock bag, and setting it quietly on the table.

It’s full of very familiar looking chocolates.

“You were going to-…” Jackson’s voice goes unnaturally high.

“I was,” Yugyeom emphasises quickly, eyes darting to Jackson. “I wanted-…college was taking up so much time, I wasn’t able to stick around the rest of the guys so much anymore. I wanted to-…to impress Jaebum-hyung. To make sure I was still-…you know. Still his favourite.”

Jackson’s reeling at the idea, breath catching in his chest. He takes a step back, and Yugyeom seems to catch that, panicking a little.

“I don’t-…didn’t want to do it. I thought-…” he falters. “I thought the same way they did. I thought you were just rich and obnoxious and that you didn’t care about anyone. I heard stories about you, and I just thought they were all true: the ones about you drugging girls and breaking hearts and squandering your parents’ money, and even then, it-…it was wrong. And I know it’s-…I know it’s not like that now.”

Despite the betrayal and his (severely ignored) survival instincts, Jackson doesn’t turn around and walk out right now.

Instead, he asks quietly, “Then why didn’t you?”

Yugyeom seems to clam up at that, walls up again- he’s having reservations, the same way Jackson is now.

“You tell me,” he mumbles quietly, like the words are sticking a barb in his side. “Why didn’t you break it off earlier and go with Nayeon?”

Jackson’s beginning to realise Yugyeom knows a lot of things he probably shouldn’t, and wonders why he didn’t join the dots earlier.

There’s a standstill, now, in the battlefield, the confession they both share in no man’s land, both of them waiting for the other to budge first. It’s so unfair, Jackson thinks, because he was totally the one who came to Yugyeom’s door first, and it should be his turn now, but then again if he hadn’t started the dare then none of this would’ve happened, so it technically brings them back to square one.

He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself.

“Because I realised I really liked you.”

They’re both staring at each other, mouths still half-open from what they’d just said, not quite sure of what just happened. It’s surreal.

Jackson, of course, opens his mouth first.

“That was the cheesiest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me,” he announces, more to defuse the tension than anything, though he is pretty flabbergasted. “And I should be angrier about everything that’s happened, but I’m not.”

What happens next transcends cheesy, Jackson swears, because he’s barely finished talking when he’s backed up against the door, and he takes a split second to realise, grouse over and subtly appreciate how much taller Yugyeom actually is than him, before they’re kissing.

It’s so ridiculous Jackson’s skin is crawling. This is corny and stupid and resolving nothing, except he honestly feels a lot better than he has in months. He kind of likes it. And he should probably get that looked into.

“That,” Jackson says indignantly, once they part for breath. “Was the cheesiest fucking-…”

“You’re really noisy, hyung,” Yugyeom’s voice ebbs relief and exhaustion and happiness, all in one pained mix, and the sound of it brings Jackson one step closer to closing this part of his life off, and starting another.

*

(Bambam bangs on the door a minute later, grumpy and cold and complaining that his moisturising ritual will be incomplete if he doesn’t apply eye cream within the next forty-five seconds.

The rest of the night is disappointingly normal- Jackson actually goes back and finishes his essay, because that shit is graded and if he doesn’t scrape something decent for this then next term’s going to be hell.

He crashes after sending the essay in at 10am, waking up groggily at three in the afternoon to a cute text from Yugyeom asking if he wants to meet for video games tonight.

It does such a good job of cheering him up he doesn’t even care when Mark stumbles in, hungover, covered in lip gloss and half-dressed, before knocking over their shoe rack and falling asleep on the floor.)

*

A month later, and Jackson’s still the only one smiling at dinner.

There’d been a party at the Epsilon Theta house last night all of them had gone to, and Jackson had stayed long enough to laugh at Taehyung, who’d been dared to squirt whipped cream up a half-drunk Yoongi’s right nostril, which had resulted in the drunk college equivalent of World War II. Then Jackson had (with much swagger) left to crash Yugyeom’s place for Netflix and video games.

(One girl did kinda notice him carrying two boxes of pizza and a cold 1.2 litre bottle of Dr Pepper out the back door, but then she tottered to the bathroom to throw up, so Jackson’s good.)

Jinyoung’s fidgeting and wincing on his seat, clearly sore, Mark’s still hungover, vocally trying to remember what happened last night and where his various credit cards are now, and Youngjae’s brooding into his chicken slices.

Jackson had treaded cautiously around Youngjae after that night, but the sophomore wasn’t reciprocating the awkwardness- Jackson had realised after a few days that the younger boy just didn’t remember what had happened that night.

“Well someone’s clearly got sunshine coming out of their ass,” Jinyoung says irritably, after he’s thrown five insults Jackson’s way and none of them have managed to get a rise out of him.

“Better sunshine than something else,” Jackson says sweetly, stuffing a pork dumpling into his mouth.

“What, you mean like, shit?” Mark asks in vague interest.

There’s a moment of silence after that, one that’s becoming alarmingly frequent. Jinyoung makes vomiting motions into his ramen.

Jackson turns pityingly to Youngjae, feeling invincible enough even to joke around with the younger man. “You know, I still don’t get how you do it.”

“Do what?” Youngjae asks blankly, with a hint of suspicion in his voice- Jackson had done this a few times, and while he was probably testing his luck, it was frustrating just sitting around and doing nothing about it.

“Want to get into Mark’s pants, obviously,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, and Jackson pauses with a dumpling halfway to his mouth.

Youngjae’s staring at Jinyoung, Jackson’s staring at Youngjae, Jinyoung’s blinking, just realising what he’d said.

“What the fuck,” Youngjae hisses, and Jinyoung pales a little.

“Whoa, okay, hang on,” Jackson declares, waving his dumpling around. “Let’s come to a democratic decision on this-…”

“Huh?” Mark says through a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallows with some difficulty, before frowning. “Wait. This isn’t about the shit joke, is it-…”

“No,” Jinyoung bursts out, pointing his chopsticks at him- the exasperation apparently winning out against the survival instincts. “No it isn’t, you stupid rich moron, and that wasn’t even a joke, it was a prime example of your sheer idiocy. We were talking about how Youngjae’s liked you since goodness knows when, and seeing you bed every person that shows the slightest interest in your dick or your money was kind of getting on his nerves, and frankly seeing both of you like this was getting on mine too.”

Jackson’s wide-eyed, now, holding his dumpling protectively to his chest, watching fearfully as Youngjae glares daggers at Jinyoung, Mark stares at Youngjae, and Jinyoung looks defiantly at Mark.

“Well uh, I’m just going to-…” Jackson tries to sidle out of the booth.

“Wait,” Mark demands, directly to Jackson, the highest display of intellectual conversation they’ve had in a while. “Wait, did you know about this?”

“Uh,” Jackson says, extremely unused to any sort of communication with Mark that isn’t about food, sex or what homework was due last week. “Uh, well, yeah-…”

“Seriously?” Mark’s starting to look a little overloaded right now. “All of you? What kind of conspiracy-…”

Jackson learns all sorts of new things about his friends every day, and today he learns Mark is capable of words beyond the monosyllabic.

“I’m out,” Youngjae takes his tray and exits before things can get impossibly worse, sounding angry and hurt and embarrassed, and Jackson would feel sorry for him if he weren’t fearing for his life.

“Well, don’t expect me to stick around,” Jinyoung shrugs, hobbling out after Youngjae.

Jackson stuffs his dumpling into his mouth.

“Wait,” Mark says, trying to wrap his small, pampered brain around the concept of someone liking him for something other than his money or his face. “Jackson-…”

“I’m late to meet Gyeom, see you back at the room later, bye!” Jackson shouts through his mouthful, turning and almost spilling his noodles all over-…

He swallows nervously. “Hey Nayeon.”

Nayeon raises a brow, obviously unamused by what happened at the party last month. He’d been avoiding the entire sorority to the best of his ability, but it was difficult when Jihyo had eyes and ears everywhere. “And you are?”

“Trying to get around you to return my tray,” he sweeps around her. “Hope you have a great night. See you around.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real venom in that- Jackson’s relieved, because he’s honestly not looking forward to limiting all his jaunts outside of campus to strictly daytime for the rest of the year.

Things are looking up for the first time in months.

*

“Don’t talk to me,” Jackson says dramatically as he walks in, before falling onto the couch. “I’ve just had an episode.”

Yugyeom glances back, before returning his eyes to the video game he’s setting up. “Sure.”

Jackson looks over, annoyed. “Ask me what happened to make me so distraught.”

“What happened to make me so distraught.”

“Jinyoung just spilled the beans on how Youngjae’s wanted to be Mark’s one and only since forever,” Jackson sighs, the back of his hand on his forehead. “My life is always so full of drama, it’s terrible.”

“Tragic,” Yugyeom comments. “Catch.”

Jackson almost misses the controller that Yugyeom tosses his way. He settles down beside him grumpily, grabbing a potato chip from the bowl on the coffee table.

“I’m surprised you weren’t the one responsible for it,” Yugyeom’s knee nudges his, and Jackson nudges back, trying to one up him, before realising belatedly that this isn’t the best idea he’s had in a while, because the last time Yugyeom “nudged” him properly, he’d been sent windmilling into the bed. “I thought you would’ve spilled it the moment you found out.”

Jackson has absolutely no clue how Yugyeom even knows Youngjae, or the fact that he likes Mark, or how Jackson knows anything about this, but he’s starting to resign himself to the fact that the freshman knows everything.

“You think too lowly of me,” Jackson says, actually confident of that statement, now. He crams a fistful of chips in his mouth. “It’s cute.”

Yugyeom snickers, cupping Jackson’s chin and tapping his cheek with a finger. “You’re one to talk, hyung.”

Jackson pulls away, properly insulted and about to launch into a spiel about how Yugyeom obviously meant Wild and Sexy™, not cute, but then Yugyeom’s phone rings obnoxiously loud, rattling against the table.

The younger boy makes an indistinct noise when he checks the screen, before tossing it back on the couch. Jackson chances a glance over, waiting a couple seconds before daring to ask.

“Who was it?”

“Junhyuk. We’re going for dinner tomorrow,” Yugyeom’s voice becomes unnaturally pleasant, like it does every time he talks about them. “He just wanted to text to say Younghyun’s not coming.”

“So,” Jackson says, trying to sound conversational. “They were-…they didn’t mind? You making it official that you’re-…” leaving is such a bad word, so Jackson scrambles for an alternative. “Not dancing with them anymore?”

“Nah, Jaebum says he saw it coming a mile away,” Yugyeom shrugs, trying to smile. “We’re still talking, so that’s good.”

“You,” Jackson says carefully. “Take care of yourself tomorrow, okay?”

Yugyeom chuckles, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be fine, hyung, I’ve been hinting at this for months, anyway. I’m just-…” he shrugs. “I won’t get to hang out with them so much anymore. That’s all.”

Jackson can feel the disappointment in his voice, and shoulders him, uncertain of how else to check if he’s okay.

“You’re joining the college modern dance team, though, right?”

Yugyeom snorts. “Tried out last week. They didn’t want me- only accept those who’ve received formal training, and if I’ve never pursued dance seriously then I shouldn’t waste my time.”

Jackson makes a “tch” sound. “Tell me who did it- I’ve got connections in there, I’ll make them accept you.”

“Don’t embarrass me further, please,” Yugyeom laughs- the sound’s a relief. “It’s fine, I’ve got Bambam and some guys from lectures to hang out with. And now you’re here nosing your way into everything I do-…”

“Consider yourself blessed,” Jackson declares, turning up his nose. “Now how about we shut up and play. Then let’s go out and eat something unhealthy and fried. And get a milkshake.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the freshman grins, selecting a game. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Jackson’s sticking out his tongue, trying to select the most badass looking outfit for his avatar.

“For being arou-…uh. An asshole.”

Jackson squints. “You weren’t going to say that before.”

Yugyeom doesn’t budge. “Sorry, I meant asswipe.”

“Such language,” Jackson tsks, shaking his head.

“I learn only from the best.”

“And I suppose that would be me,” the older boy preens.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom chuckles, starting the game. “I guess it would.”

fin