he'll never love you (like i can) [i/ii]
Title: he’ll never love you (like i can)
Pairing: one sided!Kai/Kyungsoo, Chanyeol/Kyungsoo
Genre: angst
Length: 13618w
Warnings: This has not been edited… at all….
Summary: Jongin knows he should stop looking down all the wrong roads.
Jongin witnesses his world break apart and shatter right in front of his eyes on an unassuming August afternoon, his back leaning against the wall of the office pantry. He has a mug of coffee in his hands that’s steaming hot, the air from it rising into his face as he holds it halfway to his lips, and yet, his blood still manages to run cold. His fingers turn to ice picks, his limbs are frozen in place.
His mind is stuck on one man.
‘Jongin, are you alright?’ asks Kyungsoo, brow furrowed in concern. He blinks up at the younger, fingers coming up to brush against Jongin’s arm, but he never gets that far. Jongin flinches away, so violently that the coffee from his mug spills over, watery brown trails rolling down the sleeve of his white shirt, the heat of it scalding his skin through the fabric. In the background, he’s sure, a couple of his colleagues have stopped typing to look at him, have stopped speaking to stare, but he doesn’t register it. He’s deaf to them all.
Jongin’s heart is hammering so hard, it’s all he can really hear.
‘Jongin!’ Kyungsoo exclaims, quickly snatching up a couple of tissues. He moves to help wipe the younger down, but again, Jongin flinches away. There’s a look that’s a cross between confused and hurt painted on Kyungsoo’s features, and Jongin worries his bottom lip before speaking.
‘It doesn’t hurt that much,’ he says, stifling a hiss of pain when he presses down on a wet patch on his sleeve, irritating the probably-burnt skin underneath. He tries for a small smile, but it comes out pained, ingenuine, like a lie.
Still, Jongin thinks, he’s grateful it’s come at all.
The wrinkles between Kyungsoo’s eyebrows lessen, and the worry on his face seems to slip off, just a little. There’s still a shadow of doubt lingering on his face, but Jongin can tell Kyungsoo’s already relenting. Any minute now, he’s going to back off, go back to his cubicle, and leave Jongin alone.
‘You sure you’re okay?’
‘Positive,’
‘I’ll - I’ll just go, then.’
And right now, right at this moment - Jongin needs, so desperately, to be alone.
‘Alright.’
‘See you.’
‘Bye.’
Jongin busies himself with trying to get the stains out of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up to inspect the skin of his forearm when the worst of the damage to his clothing has been halfway repaired. He hears Kyungsoo walk away just as he turns the tap on, lets cool water soothe the reddened skin of his forearm. It doesn’t look too bad - a couple of hours should be enough to get it all looking back to normal.
He thinks all of this as he wrestles with his heart, trying to get it to lay calm in the middle of his chest, trying to keep the threads of it from unravelling, trying to keep himself from coming undone. He tries everything - takes deeper, steadier breaths, counts backwards from ten to one, but it doesn’t work. There’s a sharp, fresh pain in his ribs that he can’t fight out, and it makes him see red, makes him want to kick himself for being so stupid.
He shouldn’t care, not like this.
He shouldn’t care that, not fifteen minutes ago, Kyungsoo had shuffled along to the pantry, barely suppressing a grin, and held up his left hand.
He shouldn’t care that there was a ring around Kyungsoo’s fourth finger now, a sign that Chanyeol had, after six years, finally proposed to his best friend, and that it made him look like the sun had decided to rise in his eyes.
He shouldn’t care that it meant that Chanyeol, and not Jongin, was going to get to be with Kyungsoo for the rest of his life - he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care.
Right?
He manages to push the thoughts to the very back of his mind, but still, the question sits, insistent, refusing to fade as he turns the tap off, dabs the water off his skin and rolls his wrinkled sleeve back down. It whispers words of lost chances and lonely mornings and the sealing of his love as forever unrequited as he makes his way back to his chair, but he manages to shut it out for the rest of the day.
He turns back to his laptop, drowns himself in his work. He only finishes when the rest of the office is empty, when he’s done two days’ worth of work and his eyes are strained from having been trained on the monitor all day. He switches his laptop off, locks up, and leaves, the shadow of the question hazing back into his mind again.
By the time he gets home that night, it’s all he can think of.
‘He’s getting married,’ says Jongin, when the first days of September have rolled over and he’s finally had the chance to sit down with Sehun over a lunch at their old hangout. The younger has hair that’s been dyed a light blond this time, and he’s sporting a really stupid hairstyle, but Jongin - Jongin doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t have it in him to laugh at his old friend’s middle parting and frizzed out hair - he hasn’t had it in him to laugh at anything, these days, really.
Sehun sets his glass back down. He drops his gaze.
He clears his throat.
‘When?’ he asks, because the look on Jongin’s face - it doesn’t leave much question who he’s talking about. For Jongin, Sehun knows, it’s Kyungsoo. It’s always been Kyungsoo. The elder’s name has been painted on Jongin’s heart the way graffiti is painted on walls - it’s regarded as an act of vandalism, it isn’t meant to be there, but it is. Much in the same way that Jongin shouldn’t like Kyungsoo this much - but. Well.
The faraway look in Jongin’s eyes has the younger’s heart shrivel just the slightest, the pain in them far too big not to be felt, not to be shared. This is why Sehun won’t look at him.
‘December,’ says Jongin, and even though half his drink is gone, and he was fine earlier, his voice sounds like fresh sandpaper, grating roughly against Sehun’s senses. They snag on the single word, and it’s enough to get Sehun to look up.
‘Oh,’ is all Sehun says, and Jongin really can’t find it in him to blame the guy. What else do you say when your best friend’s just told you that the love of his life is getting married to someone else in a couple of months? ‘Um. How are you holding up?’ he asks, and Jongin pretends not to notice the awkward skitter in his friend’s voice.
‘I should have known that it was coming.’ says Jongin plaintively, trying to make himself believe the words as they flow out. ‘He and Chanyeol - I mean, they’ve been together for how long? It...’ Jongin takes a breath, buries his forehead in his palms. ‘It just… Makes sense, you know. Like I should have been expecting it.’
Sehun picks his glass up, sips his drink to fill the silence that’s congealed between them. He sets it back down a minute later, when he realises Jongin’s probably waiting for him to speak. He scratches the back of his neck. ‘Well - they’ve been together since college, right? I mean. So I guess… Yeah. You should’ve.’
Jongin winces at Sehun’s words. It isn’t that he’s surprised at what Sehun’s saying - in fact, he’d been expecting it - but the truth behind those words knocks every last breath out of him.
He wishes he could run away.
He wishes he could find it in him to pack up what little things he has that are precious to him, and leave town, never look back. He wishes he could find it in him to get up, to run, run until his lungs are screaming for breath and his legs are worn into protesting stumps, but - but now, with his entire being feeling like it’s made out of concrete and cement, he can’t even think of moving an inch, let alone running miles away.
‘I’m sorry, man,’ murmurs Sehun.
Sehun finishes his drink, waits another fifteen minutes with Jongin before he finally understands that the elder really just wants to be left alone. He pats Jongin on the back and goes to the counter, pays for both their meals before he leaves.
Chanyeol proposed to me.
December. The wedding’s going to be in December.
A winter wedding, that’s what he wanted.
New year’s eve - please come.
Jongin drags his palms down his face, drags the skin underneath it down, tries his best to pull himself together.
I’m sorry, man.
Another piece of him comes loose, and Jongin feels himself reach for it, only to have it slip right between his fingers.
New year’s eve - please come.
Please come.
They aren’t the words he’s looking for, but they stare him down, anyway.
Jongin lets them consume him.
Monday mornings, Jongin thinks, are always the hardest. He wakes up a good fifteen minutes later than he should on this particular October one, almost slips in his shower when he’s halfway through, and his hair doesn’t dry all the way before he reaches the office. When he gets there he’s greeted with a pile, rather than a stack of papers that has him immediately thinking of Zitao, sure that the haphazard tower of documents on his desk was his idea of delivering things in an organised fashion.
It wasn’t. As soon as Jongin pulled one piece of paper from the pile, it self-destructed.
Papers cascade everywhere in his cubicle, and Jongin bites back a scream when he realises he has to get them back in order and tab and annotate them in time for the meeting he’s supposed to go to before lunch.
He’s in the midst of putting his papers back in order when a head pops up over the wall of his cubicle, and Jongin promptly drops all his documents.
They’re out of order.
Again.
‘Fuck,’ he breathes, crouching down to clean up the mess. Today is not his day.
‘Sorry,’ says Kyungsoo, nose wrinkling. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he says, and Jongin shakes his head.
‘Not your fault,’ he mumbles, before straightening up and sitting down in his chair again. He begins resorting his documents. He manages a short, sidelong glance at Kyungsoo - he’d just washed his hair, Jongin can see. And he’s wearing the shirt Jongin got him for his birthday last year.
The thought makes him feel warm inside.
‘Still,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘I feel pretty bad. Treat you for lunch?’ he suggests, tilting his head.
Jongin presses his lips together. ‘I have a meeting to go to,’ he says, trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo. He’d spent the weekend halfway recovering - going out for lunch alone with Kyungsoo didn’t sound like it would help him much.
‘I know,’ says Kyungsoo, nodding. ‘Just - I mean, after that. I could wait,’ he suggests, shrugging. There’s still a smile on his face, and Jongin struggles with himself not to look at it.
‘I don’t know what time it’ll end,’
‘I’ll be in my cubicle.’
‘You might starve.’
‘Junmyeon doesn’t talk that much - ’
Jongin does look at Kyungsoo, then, and cocks an eyebrow. Kyungsoo shakes his head, relents. ‘Okay, so maybe he does. Still, I wouldn’t mind waiting. I have something to ask you. Also, Chanyeol cooked me a big breakfast this morning,’ he says, smiling.
Jongin ignores the prick in his chest. He’s gotten good at that, over the years.
‘If you say so,’ he hums, and Kyungsoo nods, tells him to have a good meeting, and goes back to his cubicle, leaving Jongin with his messed up documents.
He manages to get them sorted and done a good ten minutes before his meeting, sits through the entirety of it listening to Junmyeon drone on and on and on, and manages to stay awake throughout the whole thing. His day starts to look up midway through the meeting - Junmyeon agrees to take Jongin’s proposal up to his superiors, compliments him on a job well done.
Jongin begins to think that his day might turn out fine, after all - until he gets to his cubicle, and finds Kyungsoo sitting at his desk, playing Tetris.
Oh, yeah.
He clears his throat. ‘I don’t think Junmyeon approves of gameplay during work hours,’ scolds Jongin, grinning when Kyungsoo jumps and quickly clicks the game off.
‘You scared me,’ he says, halfway laughing through his words. The grin on Jongin’s face spreads wider.
‘Hungry yet?’ he asks, arranging his things back on his desk before he looks at Kyungsoo.
The latter nods. ‘I forgot how long Junmyeon’s meetings can run, sometimes,’ he grumbles, and Jongin laughs, the sound coming out amidst the words I told you so.
They end up getting lunch at the McDonald’s closest to the office, Kyungsoo too hungry to bother trying to find somewhere else to eat, Jongin simply following along behind him. Kyungsoo pays and Jongin gets the tray, and they sit across from each other, the former’s nose wrinkling when he notices the remnants of someone else’s lunch still on their table.
‘So how’d the meeting go?’ asks Kyungsoo, stuffing a few fries into his mouth. He looks at Jongin with interest, and the younger takes the bun off his burger to smear chilli sauce all over it.
‘Well - I’m not gonna lie, it was a bit chaotic at first. Apparently Zitao’s been going through this kind-of-artistic phase, and nobody can really find the files they need, so Junmyeon was in a pretty bad mood in the beginning,’ says Jongin, taking a large bite out of his food.
‘I don’t get why Junmyeon doesn’t just fire him,’ says Kyungsoo, unwrapping his burger. ‘I mean, I know he’s just an intern and all, but - if he can’t even do that right, then what are we supposed to do about it? Lose half our shit on a daily basis?’
Jongin nods understandingly, but grimaces. ‘There’s a rumour that Zitao’s dad has been planning a bit of a takeover,’ says Jongin, mouth full. ‘Last I checked, he’s holding close to 40% of our shares. And that’s not including the people who bought shares on his dime,’ he mumbles.
‘Mm,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, chewing on his food. ‘Guess I see what you mean. Junmyeon doesn’t really have a choice.’
‘Nope.’
They eat in silence for a bit, Jongin finishing first. He slumps back in his chair, full and content, and smiles as Kyungsoo stuffs the last few bites of burger into his mouth. When he finishes his drink, he fixes Jongin with a nervous look.
Jongin shifts in his seat. ‘What’s up?’ he asks, not used to the way Kyungsoo’s looking at him.
‘I don’t know, I guess I’m just a little nervous, is all,’ says Kyungsoo, laughing just a little as he scratches his shoulder. Jongin sits up slightly, leans forward, elbows on the table.
‘What is it?’ he asks, tilting his head.
‘I… I was wondering if you’d want to be my best man?’ asks Kyungsoo, somewhat sheepishly, and the half smile he gives Jongin stops the latter’s blood from running cold.
Jongin’s eyes still widen. ‘Me?’ he asks, incredulous. ‘Why me? I mean - why don’t you ask Junmyeon, or Jongdae, or - ’
‘Jongin, come on,’ says Kyungsoo rolling his eyes now. ‘There’s a reason I asked you, and not them. I… I kind of want it to be you, you know?’
Jongin hangs his head. In the back of his mind, he knows this is actually supposed to be a pretty touching moment, him being asked to be someone’s best man.
‘Come on, Jongin. It’s my wedding. It’s me.’
But this is Kyungsoo he’s talking about. This is Kyungsoo, and this is Jongin, and this is a love he’s harboured for far too long a time, not to make him hesitate.
‘And… It’s you. You’re, like, my best friend.’
And, only ever, a friend.
Jongin raises his head, looks Kyungsoo in the eye. The elder shrugs off his expression of worry, replaces it with the half smile from earlier.
‘So - what do you say?’ he asks, and there’s hope slipped between his words, and Jongin finds he already knows the answer.
‘Okay.’
Jongin 10:58pm
Dude
He fucking asked me
To be his best man
Sehun 11:46pm
Whaaaaaaaaat
When did that happen
Jongin 11:48pm
Over lunch
After lunch
Sehun 11:49pm
…
Alone?
Did you have lunch with him alone?
Jongin 11:49pm
Well
Yeah
Sehun 11:50pm
Not gonna say anything
But man no ok
Jongin 11:51pm
I know, I know
He’s engaged
It was a bad idea
Sehun 11:52pm
So
Jongin 11:52pm
?
Sehun 11:53pm
Are you gonna do it???
Jongin 11:53pm
…
Um
Sehun 11:54pm
YOU’RE GOING TO DO IT?
Man
What the fuck
Jongin 11:55pm
I know I know I know it was stupid I should have said no
Sehun 11:56pm
Damn right you should have said no
Do you know what a best man even does, Jongin?
He makes SURE the groom gets married that day
He carries the fucking ring around for the groom beforehand
Okay
You’re going to carry around CHANYEOL’s wedding ring
Before he marries
KYUNGSOO
Jongin 11:59pm
I know
I
I know.
Sehun 12:01am
Look
I’m sorry I blew up like that
But
I’m worried about you
How long have you been hung up over him?
Four years? Five?
Jongin 12:03am
Six. Almost seven, now.
I’m being stupid.
But Sehun
I couldn’t
I just. I couldn’t say no to him.
You know how it is.
Sehun 12:04am
I know.
Good luck, man
I’m here for you
Jongin 12:05am
I know
Thank you.
When Jongin reaches the office on a Wednesday morning in November, he should be surprised to see someone already sitting in his chair, taking a nap, the man’s head in his arms on the desk, but he isn’t. Because one poke to the man’s shoulder makes him wake up, and when he lifts his head, it’s Jongdae.
Jongin sighs.
‘I know your boyfriend’s my boss, but this isn’t exactly something I appreciate coming to work to,’ grumbles Jongin, frowning as the elder stretches. ‘Junmyeon’s office is that way. Get out of my chair.’
‘Touchy,’ comments Jongdae, working out the crick in his neck. ‘Besides, I’ve already seen Junmyeon. Didn’t come here this morning to spy on him. Came here to see you.’ He pokes Jongin right on the nipple, and Jongin backs away, scandalised. Jongdae just laughs.
‘Okay. What did you come here for, then?’ asks Jongin, still disgruntled because Jongdae is still in his chair. He has work he needs to be doing.
‘Came to ask you about Kyungsoo’s bachelor party,’ says Jongdae, smiling up at the younger’s dissatisfaction. ‘Heard you’re the best man, and so we decided you’d play the role of groom-handler.’
Jongin almost chokes. ‘We?’ he asks, and Jongdae nods.
‘Baekhyun and I. Chanyeol’s is being handled by his office friends, so we thought we could throw a little college reunion-cum-bachelor party for our favourite wide-eyed firecracker. What do you say?’ Jongdae asks, leaning back in Jongin’s chair.
‘What does a groom-handler have to do?’ asks Jongin, warily. He’s never trusted Jongdae - he isn’t really going to start now.
‘Just make sure he gets to the place on time, and make sure he gets home in one piece. That’s it, really.’ Jongdae replies.
Jongin sighs. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll do it - but only if you’ll get the fuck out of my chair and let me get to work before your boyfriend skins me alive.’
Jongdae gets up. ‘December 19th, alright? Don’t forget.’
‘I won’t.’
Work begins to pile up for Jongin, but he doesn’t see that as a bad thing. He begins to spend more days stretching his work hours into night than he used to, but the funny look Junmyeon has in his eye when he spots Jongin sometimes gives him a good feeling. Rumours begin to swirl about a new position opening up in Wonju, and even though Jongin knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up too high, he thinks moving out of town doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, after all.
Every time Jongin looks at Kyungsoo, now, he looks a little different. There’s more tiredness on his face, but he also wears a perpetual look of nervous anticipation - which one is more apparent, Jongin really doesn’t know.
He spends his days trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo.
December 19th, as it turns out, rolls around far quicker than Jongin would have liked. He makes a promise to get Kyungsoo out to Baekhyun’s bar by nine - ‘My boyfriend is your boss, Jongin, I will make him kick you out at six sharp, so don’t even try,’ Jongdae had threatened - and tells the groom-to-be that he’ll pick him up at 830.
It’s with a heavy heart that Jongin gets ready. He pulls his tie, dress shirt and slacks off slowly, gets into the shower and lets cold water pelt him for a bit before he adjusts the temperature. He towels off and is out by 730, rummages around in his wardrobe for something to wear.
He settles on some black jeans and a maroon sweater, and leaves his apartment at 8.
He’s at Kyungsoo’s by 815, and he’s suddenly thankful that Chanyeol isn’t in town this weekend. Kyungsoo had complained about it to him a couple of weeks ago, not being able to be with his fiance the weekend before their wedding, but Jongin had simply nodded and tuned him out. He was tired of listening to Kyungsoo talk about Chanyeol.
He was so tired all the time, now. It takes him a while to get to Kyungsoo’s unit, and when he gets there, he hesitates.
There isn’t much he can do, at this point.
He knocks.
‘Coming!’ calls Kyungsoo, and Jongin pockets his hands and presses his lips together. Think happy, idiot, you’re taking him to a party, he reminds himself, but the smile he pulls just before Kyungsoo answers the door doesn’t sit right on his lips.
‘Hey,’ says Kyungsoo, smiling. He pulls the door open wider. ‘Come in for a bit, I want to show you something,’ he says, and he steps back to let Jongin in.
The younger hesitates. ‘Jongdae made me promise to get you there by nine,’ he says, but Kyungsoo is adamant.
‘It won’t take long, I promise,’ he says, turning on his heel and heading to his bedroom. Jongin stands in the entrance, none too willing to set foot in the home Kyungsoo shares with Chanyeol. He’s been here before, of course, plenty of times, but - but that doesn’t mean he liked being there.
‘Here,’ says Kyungsoo, reappearing a few seconds later. He thrusts a small box in Jongin’s hand, and it doesn’t take the younger long to realise what it is. He opens it.
‘Chanyeol's wedding ring,’ he whispers, eyes registering the thick band of yellow gold. There’s a bit of a design engraved all around it, and Jongin can’t deny - it’s beautiful. It catches the light in an understated way, glistens just a little where the spotlight hits it.
‘His sister helped me pick it out last night,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, pulling his jacket on. ‘It was pretty hard for me to hide it from Yeol, and I mean - you’re my best man. I figured you could hold on to it, just for the next few days. For me.’
Jongin snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t want to walk around with this in his pocket. He doesn’t want to keep it in his apartment, doesn’t want another constant reminder that he’s about to lose Kyungsoo for good hanging around him. He doesn’t need it, but he knows what he’d agreed to - he can’t say no, at this point. So he settles for putting the ring own on the table by the doorway, avoids Kyungsoo’s gaze when he feels it fix on him.
‘Bars are prime ring-losing property,’ he mumbles, and Kyungsoo accepts the reasoning without contest. They lock up, they leave. Jongin tries not to think about how nicely Kyungsoo’s skin glows, even under the horrible yellow intensity of the streetlights.
‘Surprise, surprise - look who’s here on time!’ greets Jongdae, when Jongin pushes the bar door open with Kyungsoo trailing along behind him. The place looks as good as it did the last time Jongin came here - great atmosphere, good design. Baekhyun’s done a good job with the place.
‘I promised,’ mumbles Jongin, and he knows nobody’s listening to him because everyone’s starting to make a fuss over Kyungsoo. People they haven’t seen in years rush up to him, pat him on the back, ruffle his hair. Jongin hears someone call out a so you guys really managed to make it! over the crowd, and he grimaces.
He sits at the bar and orders a shot. He knows he isn’t really allowed to drink too much, what with it being his responsibility, making sure Kyungsoo gets home safe and sound and all, but.
He turns to look at Kyungsoo, who catches his eye and gives him a hopeless smile and an expression that screams save me as he’s being crushed by old classmate after old classmate, and Jongin feels himself begin to smile back.
He’s going to need every last drop of liquid courage he can get, tonight.
Jongdae and Baekhyun watch with amusement as Kyungsoo clings to Jongin, his head lolling on the younger’s shoulder, his lips fixed in a dreamy smile. He’s been like this for the past half hour, and still his friends haven’t gotten bored of it yet.
‘What a crazy thing, huh, Jongin?’ slurs Kyungsoo, now rolling his glass on the table with clumsy fingers, ignoring the dirty look the bartender sends his way. ‘Marriage! Me! Next week, a wedding with Chanyeol!’ he exclaims, and he doesn’t realise when Jongin stiffens, just the slightest.
‘Mmhmm,’ agrees Jongin, jaw clenching as he tries his best to stop himself from saying something he might regret, especially now, in front of all his old friends. ‘Crazy,’ he murmurs, nodding just a little. The minimal alcohol he’s consumed has been enough to make him feel considerably less inhibited, but it doesn’t take away the bitterness he tastes on his tongue when he has to respond to Kyungsoo talking to him about Chanyeol. He’s so, so tired of this.
‘Between you and me,’ mutters Kyungsoo, leaning up so his lips are hovering by Jongin’s ears, ‘I didn’t really think this day would ever come. It took him six whole years to propose! Crazy! Imagine - imagine if I got sick of him? What if I ran away? What if I ran away with you?’
Jongin’s hand balls into a fist where it lays on his knee. There were a lot of things he was willing to put up with for Kyungsoo, but this - this was not one of them.
He sits up straight. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s well past 1 in the morning, they’ve been there for long enough. He turns to face Jongdae and Baekhyun, struggles to inject something genuine in his pained smile.
‘I think it’s time I get the groom-to-be home,’ says Jongin as he stands, grabs Kyungsoo by the arm, and hauls him up with him. ‘Thank you for throwing him this party. He - looks like he’s had a lot of fun,’ he continues, just as Kyungsoo leans against him.
Jongdae grins. ‘Our pleasure,’ he says, satisfaction clear in his voice. ‘You get him home safe, officer!’ he jokes, and a large round of goodbyes are had, and Jongin leads Kyungsoo out of the bar into fresh, crisp night air. He feels as though he can breathe again.
Kyungsoo comes to stand next to him, his eyes not all the way open - and, upon further inspection, indicating that he’s not really all the way there, right now - and Jongin can’t help but reach out to ruffle his hair, bring the elder’s head to lean against his shoulder as they wait for a taxi to come by.
It’s stupid, he thinks, acting on this impulse, but under post-midnight blue and shine, with Kyungsoo so perfectly warm next to him, he thinks he doesn’t care. He won’t be getting any chances like this one anymore.
A taxi draws up within the next few minutes, and Jongin and Kyungsoo bundle into it and sit back, listening to the radio host take messages from people they don’t know.
Our next message comes from Busan, for a special someone in Seoul.
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything for a while, and when Jongin looks, he sees that the former has fallen asleep.
“There are things I could have said to you before you left, but I didn’t,”
Jongin lets his own eyes flutter shut.
“And not for lack of opportunity. I had plenty of those. I just didn’t know how to grab on to them, before it was too late.”
He feels Kyungsoo’s head fall against him, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t move, either.
“I’m drowning in regret, now, thinking of all of those wasted chances. I know I’ll get over it, I’ll get over you one day.”
They’re halfway to Kyungsoo’s place now, and Jongin keeps having to remind himself that falling asleep in a taxi isn’t exactly the safest thing to do, so he pinches himself from time to time.
“Today’s not that day.”
They stop at a traffic light, and Jongin watches as a woman playfully drags her partner along behind her, and when they get to the other side, she kisses him, and it’s a kiss of smiles.
“You might not be listening now, but I just thought you ought to know - I still think about you. All the time. And I hope - from the bottom of my heart - that you’re doing well for yourself, no matter where you are. I believed in you - and I always will.”
The sound of piano notes begin to float up to Jongin’s ears, and the voice of the main vocalist of a boyband he’s reluctantly admitted to liking before reaches from the speakers and caresses him, and it’s more a struggle than ever for him to stay awake.
They go over a speed bump. Kyungsoo’s head is jostled. He doesn’t wake.
Jongin smiles.
They reach Kyungsoo’s apartment complex a little while later, Kyungsoo slightly less tipsy now, but Jongin decides to see him upstairs, anyway.
‘That was fun,’ says Kyungsoo with a smile, once they’re both in the elevator. His eyes are on the digital number right above the door, watching as it climbs to his floor. ‘Seeing everyone was - it was great. I’m… Really happy right now.’ His smile blooms into a grin as he turns to look at Jongin, and he looks so heartachingly happy that the younger can’t help but smile back.
They step out once they reach Kyungsoo’s floor, and after he unlocks the door, he faces Jongin. ‘Thank you,’ he says, his eyes an intoxicating shade of brown, so soft in the minimal lighting. Jognin drops his gaze. ‘Hey - look at me,’ says Kyungsoo, softly, reaching out to touch his fingers to Jongin’s jaw. Jongin’s surprised by the action - he and Kyungsoo are comfortable with each other, of course, but Kyungsoo’s never touched him there, before.
Kyungsoo’s never looked at him in this particular way before, either.
‘What are you doing?’ Jongin tries to say, but his voice seems to lose its way halfway to his mouth. Instead what comes out is a barely audible whisper, and the next thing he knows, Kyungsoo’s lips are pressing right up against his, and there’s a fist in the front of his shirt, and Kyungsoo’s pulling him into the apartment. Jongin’s foot nudges the door closed on reflex, and they stumble clumsily over to Kyungsoo’s sofa.
Kyungsoo lands on top of Jongin, and the action knocks all the breath out of the younger, making Kyungsoo pull away. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine,’ murmurs Jongin, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows this is the very epitome of a bad idea, he pulls Kyungsoo in for another kiss, a starving man finally finding the sustenance he’s been looking for all these years.
This isn’t right
He cards fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, lays his hand on the elder’s waist.
You shouldn’t be doing this
Kyungsoo opens his mouth, lets Jongin taste, and the latter feels like crying. He’s been waiting so, so long for this moment. He doesn’t want to ruin it.
He belongs with Chanyeol
He does.
The words spill from Jongin’s lips without permission, his heart talking loudly over the protest that’s swirling in his mind: ‘Does Chanyeol make you feel like this?’ And Kyungsoo halts. He stops, he pulls away, the look in his eyes changing from something desirous, from something forbidden, to something shocked and afraid.
He pulls away, swipes the back of his hand over his lips. ‘This is not happening,’ he murmurs, blinking down at the floor as the haze in his brain clears, and the meaning - and the possible consequences - of his actions dawn on him. Jongin watches the change in expression and he scoots closer, in alarm, feeling this last chance, this last fragile grip he has on being with Kyungsoo begin to form cracks in its foundations, to begin its final path towards destruction.
‘You don’t have to fight this,’ he says, under his breath, the fear in his words disguised in his breathlessness.
‘You don’t understand,’ says Kyungsoo, not moving away when Jongin’s hand knots in the hair on the back of his head, warm breath on the skin of his neck.
‘What’s there to understand?’ asks Jongin, the desperation in his voice well-masked. ‘It’s pretty straightforward. You - ’
The rest of Jongin’s sentence never leaves his lips. Before he can register anything, there’s a dull pain in his lower back, and he’s all the way on the other end of Kyungsoo’s sofa, and it’s clear that the latter had just shoved him away, hard enough that the sofa’s armrest was beginning to give him a bruise.
It’s also clear, Jongin finds, that Kyungsoo is beginning to see red.
He spits the words out like venom, and they find their mark in the most tender spot in Jongin’s chest.
‘How could you do this to me?’
His voice is laced with undertones of fear, but they’re overshadowed by the anger that Kyungsoo doesn’t bother holding back.
‘Me?’ asks Jongin dumbly, barely understanding where all of this rage was coming from, all of a sudden.
‘Yeah, you,’ says Kyungsoo, his tone hard and accusing. ‘You were the one who kissed me!’ he shrieks, and if it hadn’t already done a couple of months earlier, Jongin’s sure his heart would have sunk to the bottommost part of his stomach by now.
His breathing gets heavy.
This can’t be happening.
‘I can explain - ’ it’s a stumble in the dark for Jongin, finding the right words, and he finds himself grasping at straws for any syllables, any sentences his tongue can curl around. Please, he thinks, don’t let things happen this way.
It’s a desperate cry for help that nobody really hears except himself.
‘There’s nothing to explain!’ says Kyungsoo, voice rising so rapidly that it’s starting to crack. ‘I’m getting married, and you have full knowledge of that - I asked you to be my best man, for crying out loud - ’
And these words - these words that Kyungsoo hurls at Jongin like burning charcoal - they make him realise something.
When you’re drowning in an empty river, surrounded by miles of nothing - the only one who can hear you is yourself. And no matter how hard you try - you can’t save yourself. You can’t throw yourself a rope or a life jacket, you can’t pull yourself out of the water that threatens to take you, mind and body and soul, claim you as its own - you will never be able to save yourself.
Jongin realises he’s tired of this feeling.
And so a fire sparks.
‘Excuse me?’ says Jongin, hotly, all the nerves and all the pain finally reaching their boiling point. ‘Are you saying this is all my fault?’ he spits, getting to his feet so his eyes are slightly above level with Kyungsoo’s.
‘Are you saying that it isn’t?’ challenges Kyungsoo, and those words are all Jongin needs. The floodgates break open, and before he has a chance to stop himself, to pull away from this and turn his back on Kyungsoo in silence, the thoughts and the feelings he’d been harbouring all these years finally bubble up to shore.
‘I didn’t make you go with me tonight,’ he begins, every word dripping toxic off his tongue. ‘I didn’t ask to get you alone just to ruin your stupid goddamned fairytale wedding, okay? I have better things to do than ruin someone else’s relationship. I have better things to do than try and wreck my best friend’s chances at happiness. I have better things to do than sit here, and let you blame me for something that I never set out to do, when all this time - ’ Jongin’s chest tightens here, and he hates himself for it, but he doesn’t try to hold it in any longer. He’s too tired of this.
‘All this time I have been sitting here, watching from the sidelines as you get ready for your wedding, sitting here just fucking loving you from afar, knowing I will never be lucky enough to be the one who gets to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Ever.’ He spits the last word out like it’s a poison pellet, and his chest is heaving, and his hands are balled into fists, and he’s torn between feeling like Atlas freed and feeling like a man who’d just been sent to meet Hades.
The silence that follows is a silent jeer, mocking him in the quiet, but Jongin doesn’t care.
It’s all out there now.
Kyungsoo knows, now.
And it’s the elder who breaks the silence.
‘Jongin,’ he says, at first, and his voice is so gentle and in such sharp contrast to the spikes of fire it had been earlier that it jolts Jongin, shakes the flames from his chest, makes him come to his senses again. ‘You - what?’
And this is the part where he says goodbye. He begins to gather up his jacket, his keys, conjures up a bit of a flurry while he gathers his things in silence. In his mind, Kyungsoo comes up to him, demands a proper explanation, doesn’t let him leave until he gets one.
In his reality, Kyungsoo stands stock still where he’d been for the past five minutes, his frame silhouetted against the moonlight.
‘Jongin,’ he finally croaks out, voice shakier than before. ‘Don’t go. We could - we could talk - ’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ snaps Jongin, and it’s impulse that makes him pick up Chanyeol’s wedding ring on the entryway table, it’s impulse that has him crossing the room to press the box into Kyungsoo’s palm. ‘I think you’d better find yourself a new best man.’ He crosses the room again in large strides, but he hesitates when his hands touch the knob.
‘Jongin,’ says Kyungsoo again, and the shadows that fall on his face would have made it hard for Jongin to see if he were crying or not, had the latter turned to look at him.
Jongin did no such thing. His forehead pressed to the door, he promises himself that he’ll never do such a thing, ever again.
Not even for Kyungsoo.
Especially not for Kyungsoo.
‘For the record,’ he says, as he turns the knob and lets the colder air of the building corridor seep into Kyungsoo’s unit -
‘You kissed me back.’
// two
Pairing: one sided!Kai/Kyungsoo, Chanyeol/Kyungsoo
Genre: angst
Length: 13618w
Warnings: This has not been edited… at all….
Summary: Jongin knows he should stop looking down all the wrong roads.
Jongin witnesses his world break apart and shatter right in front of his eyes on an unassuming August afternoon, his back leaning against the wall of the office pantry. He has a mug of coffee in his hands that’s steaming hot, the air from it rising into his face as he holds it halfway to his lips, and yet, his blood still manages to run cold. His fingers turn to ice picks, his limbs are frozen in place.
His mind is stuck on one man.
‘Jongin, are you alright?’ asks Kyungsoo, brow furrowed in concern. He blinks up at the younger, fingers coming up to brush against Jongin’s arm, but he never gets that far. Jongin flinches away, so violently that the coffee from his mug spills over, watery brown trails rolling down the sleeve of his white shirt, the heat of it scalding his skin through the fabric. In the background, he’s sure, a couple of his colleagues have stopped typing to look at him, have stopped speaking to stare, but he doesn’t register it. He’s deaf to them all.
Jongin’s heart is hammering so hard, it’s all he can really hear.
‘Jongin!’ Kyungsoo exclaims, quickly snatching up a couple of tissues. He moves to help wipe the younger down, but again, Jongin flinches away. There’s a look that’s a cross between confused and hurt painted on Kyungsoo’s features, and Jongin worries his bottom lip before speaking.
‘It doesn’t hurt that much,’ he says, stifling a hiss of pain when he presses down on a wet patch on his sleeve, irritating the probably-burnt skin underneath. He tries for a small smile, but it comes out pained, ingenuine, like a lie.
Still, Jongin thinks, he’s grateful it’s come at all.
The wrinkles between Kyungsoo’s eyebrows lessen, and the worry on his face seems to slip off, just a little. There’s still a shadow of doubt lingering on his face, but Jongin can tell Kyungsoo’s already relenting. Any minute now, he’s going to back off, go back to his cubicle, and leave Jongin alone.
‘You sure you’re okay?’
‘Positive,’
‘I’ll - I’ll just go, then.’
And right now, right at this moment - Jongin needs, so desperately, to be alone.
‘Alright.’
‘See you.’
‘Bye.’
Jongin busies himself with trying to get the stains out of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up to inspect the skin of his forearm when the worst of the damage to his clothing has been halfway repaired. He hears Kyungsoo walk away just as he turns the tap on, lets cool water soothe the reddened skin of his forearm. It doesn’t look too bad - a couple of hours should be enough to get it all looking back to normal.
He thinks all of this as he wrestles with his heart, trying to get it to lay calm in the middle of his chest, trying to keep the threads of it from unravelling, trying to keep himself from coming undone. He tries everything - takes deeper, steadier breaths, counts backwards from ten to one, but it doesn’t work. There’s a sharp, fresh pain in his ribs that he can’t fight out, and it makes him see red, makes him want to kick himself for being so stupid.
He shouldn’t care, not like this.
He shouldn’t care that, not fifteen minutes ago, Kyungsoo had shuffled along to the pantry, barely suppressing a grin, and held up his left hand.
He shouldn’t care that there was a ring around Kyungsoo’s fourth finger now, a sign that Chanyeol had, after six years, finally proposed to his best friend, and that it made him look like the sun had decided to rise in his eyes.
He shouldn’t care that it meant that Chanyeol, and not Jongin, was going to get to be with Kyungsoo for the rest of his life - he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care.
Right?
He manages to push the thoughts to the very back of his mind, but still, the question sits, insistent, refusing to fade as he turns the tap off, dabs the water off his skin and rolls his wrinkled sleeve back down. It whispers words of lost chances and lonely mornings and the sealing of his love as forever unrequited as he makes his way back to his chair, but he manages to shut it out for the rest of the day.
He turns back to his laptop, drowns himself in his work. He only finishes when the rest of the office is empty, when he’s done two days’ worth of work and his eyes are strained from having been trained on the monitor all day. He switches his laptop off, locks up, and leaves, the shadow of the question hazing back into his mind again.
By the time he gets home that night, it’s all he can think of.
‘He’s getting married,’ says Jongin, when the first days of September have rolled over and he’s finally had the chance to sit down with Sehun over a lunch at their old hangout. The younger has hair that’s been dyed a light blond this time, and he’s sporting a really stupid hairstyle, but Jongin - Jongin doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t have it in him to laugh at his old friend’s middle parting and frizzed out hair - he hasn’t had it in him to laugh at anything, these days, really.
Sehun sets his glass back down. He drops his gaze.
He clears his throat.
‘When?’ he asks, because the look on Jongin’s face - it doesn’t leave much question who he’s talking about. For Jongin, Sehun knows, it’s Kyungsoo. It’s always been Kyungsoo. The elder’s name has been painted on Jongin’s heart the way graffiti is painted on walls - it’s regarded as an act of vandalism, it isn’t meant to be there, but it is. Much in the same way that Jongin shouldn’t like Kyungsoo this much - but. Well.
The faraway look in Jongin’s eyes has the younger’s heart shrivel just the slightest, the pain in them far too big not to be felt, not to be shared. This is why Sehun won’t look at him.
‘December,’ says Jongin, and even though half his drink is gone, and he was fine earlier, his voice sounds like fresh sandpaper, grating roughly against Sehun’s senses. They snag on the single word, and it’s enough to get Sehun to look up.
‘Oh,’ is all Sehun says, and Jongin really can’t find it in him to blame the guy. What else do you say when your best friend’s just told you that the love of his life is getting married to someone else in a couple of months? ‘Um. How are you holding up?’ he asks, and Jongin pretends not to notice the awkward skitter in his friend’s voice.
‘I should have known that it was coming.’ says Jongin plaintively, trying to make himself believe the words as they flow out. ‘He and Chanyeol - I mean, they’ve been together for how long? It...’ Jongin takes a breath, buries his forehead in his palms. ‘It just… Makes sense, you know. Like I should have been expecting it.’
Sehun picks his glass up, sips his drink to fill the silence that’s congealed between them. He sets it back down a minute later, when he realises Jongin’s probably waiting for him to speak. He scratches the back of his neck. ‘Well - they’ve been together since college, right? I mean. So I guess… Yeah. You should’ve.’
Jongin winces at Sehun’s words. It isn’t that he’s surprised at what Sehun’s saying - in fact, he’d been expecting it - but the truth behind those words knocks every last breath out of him.
He wishes he could run away.
He wishes he could find it in him to pack up what little things he has that are precious to him, and leave town, never look back. He wishes he could find it in him to get up, to run, run until his lungs are screaming for breath and his legs are worn into protesting stumps, but - but now, with his entire being feeling like it’s made out of concrete and cement, he can’t even think of moving an inch, let alone running miles away.
‘I’m sorry, man,’ murmurs Sehun.
Sehun finishes his drink, waits another fifteen minutes with Jongin before he finally understands that the elder really just wants to be left alone. He pats Jongin on the back and goes to the counter, pays for both their meals before he leaves.
Chanyeol proposed to me.
December. The wedding’s going to be in December.
A winter wedding, that’s what he wanted.
New year’s eve - please come.
Jongin drags his palms down his face, drags the skin underneath it down, tries his best to pull himself together.
I’m sorry, man.
Another piece of him comes loose, and Jongin feels himself reach for it, only to have it slip right between his fingers.
New year’s eve - please come.
Please come.
They aren’t the words he’s looking for, but they stare him down, anyway.
Jongin lets them consume him.
Monday mornings, Jongin thinks, are always the hardest. He wakes up a good fifteen minutes later than he should on this particular October one, almost slips in his shower when he’s halfway through, and his hair doesn’t dry all the way before he reaches the office. When he gets there he’s greeted with a pile, rather than a stack of papers that has him immediately thinking of Zitao, sure that the haphazard tower of documents on his desk was his idea of delivering things in an organised fashion.
It wasn’t. As soon as Jongin pulled one piece of paper from the pile, it self-destructed.
Papers cascade everywhere in his cubicle, and Jongin bites back a scream when he realises he has to get them back in order and tab and annotate them in time for the meeting he’s supposed to go to before lunch.
He’s in the midst of putting his papers back in order when a head pops up over the wall of his cubicle, and Jongin promptly drops all his documents.
They’re out of order.
Again.
‘Fuck,’ he breathes, crouching down to clean up the mess. Today is not his day.
‘Sorry,’ says Kyungsoo, nose wrinkling. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he says, and Jongin shakes his head.
‘Not your fault,’ he mumbles, before straightening up and sitting down in his chair again. He begins resorting his documents. He manages a short, sidelong glance at Kyungsoo - he’d just washed his hair, Jongin can see. And he’s wearing the shirt Jongin got him for his birthday last year.
The thought makes him feel warm inside.
‘Still,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘I feel pretty bad. Treat you for lunch?’ he suggests, tilting his head.
Jongin presses his lips together. ‘I have a meeting to go to,’ he says, trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo. He’d spent the weekend halfway recovering - going out for lunch alone with Kyungsoo didn’t sound like it would help him much.
‘I know,’ says Kyungsoo, nodding. ‘Just - I mean, after that. I could wait,’ he suggests, shrugging. There’s still a smile on his face, and Jongin struggles with himself not to look at it.
‘I don’t know what time it’ll end,’
‘I’ll be in my cubicle.’
‘You might starve.’
‘Junmyeon doesn’t talk that much - ’
Jongin does look at Kyungsoo, then, and cocks an eyebrow. Kyungsoo shakes his head, relents. ‘Okay, so maybe he does. Still, I wouldn’t mind waiting. I have something to ask you. Also, Chanyeol cooked me a big breakfast this morning,’ he says, smiling.
Jongin ignores the prick in his chest. He’s gotten good at that, over the years.
‘If you say so,’ he hums, and Kyungsoo nods, tells him to have a good meeting, and goes back to his cubicle, leaving Jongin with his messed up documents.
He manages to get them sorted and done a good ten minutes before his meeting, sits through the entirety of it listening to Junmyeon drone on and on and on, and manages to stay awake throughout the whole thing. His day starts to look up midway through the meeting - Junmyeon agrees to take Jongin’s proposal up to his superiors, compliments him on a job well done.
Jongin begins to think that his day might turn out fine, after all - until he gets to his cubicle, and finds Kyungsoo sitting at his desk, playing Tetris.
Oh, yeah.
He clears his throat. ‘I don’t think Junmyeon approves of gameplay during work hours,’ scolds Jongin, grinning when Kyungsoo jumps and quickly clicks the game off.
‘You scared me,’ he says, halfway laughing through his words. The grin on Jongin’s face spreads wider.
‘Hungry yet?’ he asks, arranging his things back on his desk before he looks at Kyungsoo.
The latter nods. ‘I forgot how long Junmyeon’s meetings can run, sometimes,’ he grumbles, and Jongin laughs, the sound coming out amidst the words I told you so.
They end up getting lunch at the McDonald’s closest to the office, Kyungsoo too hungry to bother trying to find somewhere else to eat, Jongin simply following along behind him. Kyungsoo pays and Jongin gets the tray, and they sit across from each other, the former’s nose wrinkling when he notices the remnants of someone else’s lunch still on their table.
‘So how’d the meeting go?’ asks Kyungsoo, stuffing a few fries into his mouth. He looks at Jongin with interest, and the younger takes the bun off his burger to smear chilli sauce all over it.
‘Well - I’m not gonna lie, it was a bit chaotic at first. Apparently Zitao’s been going through this kind-of-artistic phase, and nobody can really find the files they need, so Junmyeon was in a pretty bad mood in the beginning,’ says Jongin, taking a large bite out of his food.
‘I don’t get why Junmyeon doesn’t just fire him,’ says Kyungsoo, unwrapping his burger. ‘I mean, I know he’s just an intern and all, but - if he can’t even do that right, then what are we supposed to do about it? Lose half our shit on a daily basis?’
Jongin nods understandingly, but grimaces. ‘There’s a rumour that Zitao’s dad has been planning a bit of a takeover,’ says Jongin, mouth full. ‘Last I checked, he’s holding close to 40% of our shares. And that’s not including the people who bought shares on his dime,’ he mumbles.
‘Mm,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, chewing on his food. ‘Guess I see what you mean. Junmyeon doesn’t really have a choice.’
‘Nope.’
They eat in silence for a bit, Jongin finishing first. He slumps back in his chair, full and content, and smiles as Kyungsoo stuffs the last few bites of burger into his mouth. When he finishes his drink, he fixes Jongin with a nervous look.
Jongin shifts in his seat. ‘What’s up?’ he asks, not used to the way Kyungsoo’s looking at him.
‘I don’t know, I guess I’m just a little nervous, is all,’ says Kyungsoo, laughing just a little as he scratches his shoulder. Jongin sits up slightly, leans forward, elbows on the table.
‘What is it?’ he asks, tilting his head.
‘I… I was wondering if you’d want to be my best man?’ asks Kyungsoo, somewhat sheepishly, and the half smile he gives Jongin stops the latter’s blood from running cold.
Jongin’s eyes still widen. ‘Me?’ he asks, incredulous. ‘Why me? I mean - why don’t you ask Junmyeon, or Jongdae, or - ’
‘Jongin, come on,’ says Kyungsoo rolling his eyes now. ‘There’s a reason I asked you, and not them. I… I kind of want it to be you, you know?’
Jongin hangs his head. In the back of his mind, he knows this is actually supposed to be a pretty touching moment, him being asked to be someone’s best man.
‘Come on, Jongin. It’s my wedding. It’s me.’
But this is Kyungsoo he’s talking about. This is Kyungsoo, and this is Jongin, and this is a love he’s harboured for far too long a time, not to make him hesitate.
‘And… It’s you. You’re, like, my best friend.’
And, only ever, a friend.
Jongin raises his head, looks Kyungsoo in the eye. The elder shrugs off his expression of worry, replaces it with the half smile from earlier.
‘So - what do you say?’ he asks, and there’s hope slipped between his words, and Jongin finds he already knows the answer.
‘Okay.’
Jongin 10:58pm
Dude
He fucking asked me
To be his best man
Sehun 11:46pm
Whaaaaaaaaat
When did that happen
Jongin 11:48pm
Over lunch
After lunch
Sehun 11:49pm
…
Alone?
Did you have lunch with him alone?
Jongin 11:49pm
Well
Yeah
Sehun 11:50pm
Not gonna say anything
But man no ok
Jongin 11:51pm
I know, I know
He’s engaged
It was a bad idea
Sehun 11:52pm
So
Jongin 11:52pm
?
Sehun 11:53pm
Are you gonna do it???
Jongin 11:53pm
…
Um
Sehun 11:54pm
YOU’RE GOING TO DO IT?
Man
What the fuck
Jongin 11:55pm
I know I know I know it was stupid I should have said no
Sehun 11:56pm
Damn right you should have said no
Do you know what a best man even does, Jongin?
He makes SURE the groom gets married that day
He carries the fucking ring around for the groom beforehand
Okay
You’re going to carry around CHANYEOL’s wedding ring
Before he marries
KYUNGSOO
Jongin 11:59pm
I know
I
I know.
Sehun 12:01am
Look
I’m sorry I blew up like that
But
I’m worried about you
How long have you been hung up over him?
Four years? Five?
Jongin 12:03am
Six. Almost seven, now.
I’m being stupid.
But Sehun
I couldn’t
I just. I couldn’t say no to him.
You know how it is.
Sehun 12:04am
I know.
Good luck, man
I’m here for you
Jongin 12:05am
I know
Thank you.
When Jongin reaches the office on a Wednesday morning in November, he should be surprised to see someone already sitting in his chair, taking a nap, the man’s head in his arms on the desk, but he isn’t. Because one poke to the man’s shoulder makes him wake up, and when he lifts his head, it’s Jongdae.
Jongin sighs.
‘I know your boyfriend’s my boss, but this isn’t exactly something I appreciate coming to work to,’ grumbles Jongin, frowning as the elder stretches. ‘Junmyeon’s office is that way. Get out of my chair.’
‘Touchy,’ comments Jongdae, working out the crick in his neck. ‘Besides, I’ve already seen Junmyeon. Didn’t come here this morning to spy on him. Came here to see you.’ He pokes Jongin right on the nipple, and Jongin backs away, scandalised. Jongdae just laughs.
‘Okay. What did you come here for, then?’ asks Jongin, still disgruntled because Jongdae is still in his chair. He has work he needs to be doing.
‘Came to ask you about Kyungsoo’s bachelor party,’ says Jongdae, smiling up at the younger’s dissatisfaction. ‘Heard you’re the best man, and so we decided you’d play the role of groom-handler.’
Jongin almost chokes. ‘We?’ he asks, and Jongdae nods.
‘Baekhyun and I. Chanyeol’s is being handled by his office friends, so we thought we could throw a little college reunion-cum-bachelor party for our favourite wide-eyed firecracker. What do you say?’ Jongdae asks, leaning back in Jongin’s chair.
‘What does a groom-handler have to do?’ asks Jongin, warily. He’s never trusted Jongdae - he isn’t really going to start now.
‘Just make sure he gets to the place on time, and make sure he gets home in one piece. That’s it, really.’ Jongdae replies.
Jongin sighs. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll do it - but only if you’ll get the fuck out of my chair and let me get to work before your boyfriend skins me alive.’
Jongdae gets up. ‘December 19th, alright? Don’t forget.’
‘I won’t.’
Work begins to pile up for Jongin, but he doesn’t see that as a bad thing. He begins to spend more days stretching his work hours into night than he used to, but the funny look Junmyeon has in his eye when he spots Jongin sometimes gives him a good feeling. Rumours begin to swirl about a new position opening up in Wonju, and even though Jongin knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up too high, he thinks moving out of town doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, after all.
Every time Jongin looks at Kyungsoo, now, he looks a little different. There’s more tiredness on his face, but he also wears a perpetual look of nervous anticipation - which one is more apparent, Jongin really doesn’t know.
He spends his days trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo.
December 19th, as it turns out, rolls around far quicker than Jongin would have liked. He makes a promise to get Kyungsoo out to Baekhyun’s bar by nine - ‘My boyfriend is your boss, Jongin, I will make him kick you out at six sharp, so don’t even try,’ Jongdae had threatened - and tells the groom-to-be that he’ll pick him up at 830.
It’s with a heavy heart that Jongin gets ready. He pulls his tie, dress shirt and slacks off slowly, gets into the shower and lets cold water pelt him for a bit before he adjusts the temperature. He towels off and is out by 730, rummages around in his wardrobe for something to wear.
He settles on some black jeans and a maroon sweater, and leaves his apartment at 8.
He’s at Kyungsoo’s by 815, and he’s suddenly thankful that Chanyeol isn’t in town this weekend. Kyungsoo had complained about it to him a couple of weeks ago, not being able to be with his fiance the weekend before their wedding, but Jongin had simply nodded and tuned him out. He was tired of listening to Kyungsoo talk about Chanyeol.
He was so tired all the time, now. It takes him a while to get to Kyungsoo’s unit, and when he gets there, he hesitates.
There isn’t much he can do, at this point.
He knocks.
‘Coming!’ calls Kyungsoo, and Jongin pockets his hands and presses his lips together. Think happy, idiot, you’re taking him to a party, he reminds himself, but the smile he pulls just before Kyungsoo answers the door doesn’t sit right on his lips.
‘Hey,’ says Kyungsoo, smiling. He pulls the door open wider. ‘Come in for a bit, I want to show you something,’ he says, and he steps back to let Jongin in.
The younger hesitates. ‘Jongdae made me promise to get you there by nine,’ he says, but Kyungsoo is adamant.
‘It won’t take long, I promise,’ he says, turning on his heel and heading to his bedroom. Jongin stands in the entrance, none too willing to set foot in the home Kyungsoo shares with Chanyeol. He’s been here before, of course, plenty of times, but - but that doesn’t mean he liked being there.
‘Here,’ says Kyungsoo, reappearing a few seconds later. He thrusts a small box in Jongin’s hand, and it doesn’t take the younger long to realise what it is. He opens it.
‘Chanyeol's wedding ring,’ he whispers, eyes registering the thick band of yellow gold. There’s a bit of a design engraved all around it, and Jongin can’t deny - it’s beautiful. It catches the light in an understated way, glistens just a little where the spotlight hits it.
‘His sister helped me pick it out last night,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, pulling his jacket on. ‘It was pretty hard for me to hide it from Yeol, and I mean - you’re my best man. I figured you could hold on to it, just for the next few days. For me.’
Jongin snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t want to walk around with this in his pocket. He doesn’t want to keep it in his apartment, doesn’t want another constant reminder that he’s about to lose Kyungsoo for good hanging around him. He doesn’t need it, but he knows what he’d agreed to - he can’t say no, at this point. So he settles for putting the ring own on the table by the doorway, avoids Kyungsoo’s gaze when he feels it fix on him.
‘Bars are prime ring-losing property,’ he mumbles, and Kyungsoo accepts the reasoning without contest. They lock up, they leave. Jongin tries not to think about how nicely Kyungsoo’s skin glows, even under the horrible yellow intensity of the streetlights.
‘Surprise, surprise - look who’s here on time!’ greets Jongdae, when Jongin pushes the bar door open with Kyungsoo trailing along behind him. The place looks as good as it did the last time Jongin came here - great atmosphere, good design. Baekhyun’s done a good job with the place.
‘I promised,’ mumbles Jongin, and he knows nobody’s listening to him because everyone’s starting to make a fuss over Kyungsoo. People they haven’t seen in years rush up to him, pat him on the back, ruffle his hair. Jongin hears someone call out a so you guys really managed to make it! over the crowd, and he grimaces.
He sits at the bar and orders a shot. He knows he isn’t really allowed to drink too much, what with it being his responsibility, making sure Kyungsoo gets home safe and sound and all, but.
He turns to look at Kyungsoo, who catches his eye and gives him a hopeless smile and an expression that screams save me as he’s being crushed by old classmate after old classmate, and Jongin feels himself begin to smile back.
He’s going to need every last drop of liquid courage he can get, tonight.
Jongdae and Baekhyun watch with amusement as Kyungsoo clings to Jongin, his head lolling on the younger’s shoulder, his lips fixed in a dreamy smile. He’s been like this for the past half hour, and still his friends haven’t gotten bored of it yet.
‘What a crazy thing, huh, Jongin?’ slurs Kyungsoo, now rolling his glass on the table with clumsy fingers, ignoring the dirty look the bartender sends his way. ‘Marriage! Me! Next week, a wedding with Chanyeol!’ he exclaims, and he doesn’t realise when Jongin stiffens, just the slightest.
‘Mmhmm,’ agrees Jongin, jaw clenching as he tries his best to stop himself from saying something he might regret, especially now, in front of all his old friends. ‘Crazy,’ he murmurs, nodding just a little. The minimal alcohol he’s consumed has been enough to make him feel considerably less inhibited, but it doesn’t take away the bitterness he tastes on his tongue when he has to respond to Kyungsoo talking to him about Chanyeol. He’s so, so tired of this.
‘Between you and me,’ mutters Kyungsoo, leaning up so his lips are hovering by Jongin’s ears, ‘I didn’t really think this day would ever come. It took him six whole years to propose! Crazy! Imagine - imagine if I got sick of him? What if I ran away? What if I ran away with you?’
Jongin’s hand balls into a fist where it lays on his knee. There were a lot of things he was willing to put up with for Kyungsoo, but this - this was not one of them.
He sits up straight. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s well past 1 in the morning, they’ve been there for long enough. He turns to face Jongdae and Baekhyun, struggles to inject something genuine in his pained smile.
‘I think it’s time I get the groom-to-be home,’ says Jongin as he stands, grabs Kyungsoo by the arm, and hauls him up with him. ‘Thank you for throwing him this party. He - looks like he’s had a lot of fun,’ he continues, just as Kyungsoo leans against him.
Jongdae grins. ‘Our pleasure,’ he says, satisfaction clear in his voice. ‘You get him home safe, officer!’ he jokes, and a large round of goodbyes are had, and Jongin leads Kyungsoo out of the bar into fresh, crisp night air. He feels as though he can breathe again.
Kyungsoo comes to stand next to him, his eyes not all the way open - and, upon further inspection, indicating that he’s not really all the way there, right now - and Jongin can’t help but reach out to ruffle his hair, bring the elder’s head to lean against his shoulder as they wait for a taxi to come by.
It’s stupid, he thinks, acting on this impulse, but under post-midnight blue and shine, with Kyungsoo so perfectly warm next to him, he thinks he doesn’t care. He won’t be getting any chances like this one anymore.
A taxi draws up within the next few minutes, and Jongin and Kyungsoo bundle into it and sit back, listening to the radio host take messages from people they don’t know.
Our next message comes from Busan, for a special someone in Seoul.
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything for a while, and when Jongin looks, he sees that the former has fallen asleep.
“There are things I could have said to you before you left, but I didn’t,”
Jongin lets his own eyes flutter shut.
“And not for lack of opportunity. I had plenty of those. I just didn’t know how to grab on to them, before it was too late.”
He feels Kyungsoo’s head fall against him, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t move, either.
“I’m drowning in regret, now, thinking of all of those wasted chances. I know I’ll get over it, I’ll get over you one day.”
They’re halfway to Kyungsoo’s place now, and Jongin keeps having to remind himself that falling asleep in a taxi isn’t exactly the safest thing to do, so he pinches himself from time to time.
“Today’s not that day.”
They stop at a traffic light, and Jongin watches as a woman playfully drags her partner along behind her, and when they get to the other side, she kisses him, and it’s a kiss of smiles.
“You might not be listening now, but I just thought you ought to know - I still think about you. All the time. And I hope - from the bottom of my heart - that you’re doing well for yourself, no matter where you are. I believed in you - and I always will.”
The sound of piano notes begin to float up to Jongin’s ears, and the voice of the main vocalist of a boyband he’s reluctantly admitted to liking before reaches from the speakers and caresses him, and it’s more a struggle than ever for him to stay awake.
They go over a speed bump. Kyungsoo’s head is jostled. He doesn’t wake.
Jongin smiles.
They reach Kyungsoo’s apartment complex a little while later, Kyungsoo slightly less tipsy now, but Jongin decides to see him upstairs, anyway.
‘That was fun,’ says Kyungsoo with a smile, once they’re both in the elevator. His eyes are on the digital number right above the door, watching as it climbs to his floor. ‘Seeing everyone was - it was great. I’m… Really happy right now.’ His smile blooms into a grin as he turns to look at Jongin, and he looks so heartachingly happy that the younger can’t help but smile back.
They step out once they reach Kyungsoo’s floor, and after he unlocks the door, he faces Jongin. ‘Thank you,’ he says, his eyes an intoxicating shade of brown, so soft in the minimal lighting. Jognin drops his gaze. ‘Hey - look at me,’ says Kyungsoo, softly, reaching out to touch his fingers to Jongin’s jaw. Jongin’s surprised by the action - he and Kyungsoo are comfortable with each other, of course, but Kyungsoo’s never touched him there, before.
Kyungsoo’s never looked at him in this particular way before, either.
‘What are you doing?’ Jongin tries to say, but his voice seems to lose its way halfway to his mouth. Instead what comes out is a barely audible whisper, and the next thing he knows, Kyungsoo’s lips are pressing right up against his, and there’s a fist in the front of his shirt, and Kyungsoo’s pulling him into the apartment. Jongin’s foot nudges the door closed on reflex, and they stumble clumsily over to Kyungsoo’s sofa.
Kyungsoo lands on top of Jongin, and the action knocks all the breath out of the younger, making Kyungsoo pull away. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine,’ murmurs Jongin, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows this is the very epitome of a bad idea, he pulls Kyungsoo in for another kiss, a starving man finally finding the sustenance he’s been looking for all these years.
This isn’t right
He cards fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, lays his hand on the elder’s waist.
You shouldn’t be doing this
Kyungsoo opens his mouth, lets Jongin taste, and the latter feels like crying. He’s been waiting so, so long for this moment. He doesn’t want to ruin it.
He belongs with Chanyeol
He does.
The words spill from Jongin’s lips without permission, his heart talking loudly over the protest that’s swirling in his mind: ‘Does Chanyeol make you feel like this?’ And Kyungsoo halts. He stops, he pulls away, the look in his eyes changing from something desirous, from something forbidden, to something shocked and afraid.
He pulls away, swipes the back of his hand over his lips. ‘This is not happening,’ he murmurs, blinking down at the floor as the haze in his brain clears, and the meaning - and the possible consequences - of his actions dawn on him. Jongin watches the change in expression and he scoots closer, in alarm, feeling this last chance, this last fragile grip he has on being with Kyungsoo begin to form cracks in its foundations, to begin its final path towards destruction.
‘You don’t have to fight this,’ he says, under his breath, the fear in his words disguised in his breathlessness.
‘You don’t understand,’ says Kyungsoo, not moving away when Jongin’s hand knots in the hair on the back of his head, warm breath on the skin of his neck.
‘What’s there to understand?’ asks Jongin, the desperation in his voice well-masked. ‘It’s pretty straightforward. You - ’
The rest of Jongin’s sentence never leaves his lips. Before he can register anything, there’s a dull pain in his lower back, and he’s all the way on the other end of Kyungsoo’s sofa, and it’s clear that the latter had just shoved him away, hard enough that the sofa’s armrest was beginning to give him a bruise.
It’s also clear, Jongin finds, that Kyungsoo is beginning to see red.
He spits the words out like venom, and they find their mark in the most tender spot in Jongin’s chest.
‘How could you do this to me?’
His voice is laced with undertones of fear, but they’re overshadowed by the anger that Kyungsoo doesn’t bother holding back.
‘Me?’ asks Jongin dumbly, barely understanding where all of this rage was coming from, all of a sudden.
‘Yeah, you,’ says Kyungsoo, his tone hard and accusing. ‘You were the one who kissed me!’ he shrieks, and if it hadn’t already done a couple of months earlier, Jongin’s sure his heart would have sunk to the bottommost part of his stomach by now.
His breathing gets heavy.
This can’t be happening.
‘I can explain - ’ it’s a stumble in the dark for Jongin, finding the right words, and he finds himself grasping at straws for any syllables, any sentences his tongue can curl around. Please, he thinks, don’t let things happen this way.
It’s a desperate cry for help that nobody really hears except himself.
‘There’s nothing to explain!’ says Kyungsoo, voice rising so rapidly that it’s starting to crack. ‘I’m getting married, and you have full knowledge of that - I asked you to be my best man, for crying out loud - ’
And these words - these words that Kyungsoo hurls at Jongin like burning charcoal - they make him realise something.
When you’re drowning in an empty river, surrounded by miles of nothing - the only one who can hear you is yourself. And no matter how hard you try - you can’t save yourself. You can’t throw yourself a rope or a life jacket, you can’t pull yourself out of the water that threatens to take you, mind and body and soul, claim you as its own - you will never be able to save yourself.
Jongin realises he’s tired of this feeling.
And so a fire sparks.
‘Excuse me?’ says Jongin, hotly, all the nerves and all the pain finally reaching their boiling point. ‘Are you saying this is all my fault?’ he spits, getting to his feet so his eyes are slightly above level with Kyungsoo’s.
‘Are you saying that it isn’t?’ challenges Kyungsoo, and those words are all Jongin needs. The floodgates break open, and before he has a chance to stop himself, to pull away from this and turn his back on Kyungsoo in silence, the thoughts and the feelings he’d been harbouring all these years finally bubble up to shore.
‘I didn’t make you go with me tonight,’ he begins, every word dripping toxic off his tongue. ‘I didn’t ask to get you alone just to ruin your stupid goddamned fairytale wedding, okay? I have better things to do than ruin someone else’s relationship. I have better things to do than try and wreck my best friend’s chances at happiness. I have better things to do than sit here, and let you blame me for something that I never set out to do, when all this time - ’ Jongin’s chest tightens here, and he hates himself for it, but he doesn’t try to hold it in any longer. He’s too tired of this.
‘All this time I have been sitting here, watching from the sidelines as you get ready for your wedding, sitting here just fucking loving you from afar, knowing I will never be lucky enough to be the one who gets to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Ever.’ He spits the last word out like it’s a poison pellet, and his chest is heaving, and his hands are balled into fists, and he’s torn between feeling like Atlas freed and feeling like a man who’d just been sent to meet Hades.
The silence that follows is a silent jeer, mocking him in the quiet, but Jongin doesn’t care.
It’s all out there now.
Kyungsoo knows, now.
And it’s the elder who breaks the silence.
‘Jongin,’ he says, at first, and his voice is so gentle and in such sharp contrast to the spikes of fire it had been earlier that it jolts Jongin, shakes the flames from his chest, makes him come to his senses again. ‘You - what?’
And this is the part where he says goodbye. He begins to gather up his jacket, his keys, conjures up a bit of a flurry while he gathers his things in silence. In his mind, Kyungsoo comes up to him, demands a proper explanation, doesn’t let him leave until he gets one.
In his reality, Kyungsoo stands stock still where he’d been for the past five minutes, his frame silhouetted against the moonlight.
‘Jongin,’ he finally croaks out, voice shakier than before. ‘Don’t go. We could - we could talk - ’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ snaps Jongin, and it’s impulse that makes him pick up Chanyeol’s wedding ring on the entryway table, it’s impulse that has him crossing the room to press the box into Kyungsoo’s palm. ‘I think you’d better find yourself a new best man.’ He crosses the room again in large strides, but he hesitates when his hands touch the knob.
‘Jongin,’ says Kyungsoo again, and the shadows that fall on his face would have made it hard for Jongin to see if he were crying or not, had the latter turned to look at him.
Jongin did no such thing. His forehead pressed to the door, he promises himself that he’ll never do such a thing, ever again.
Not even for Kyungsoo.
Especially not for Kyungsoo.
‘For the record,’ he says, as he turns the knob and lets the colder air of the building corridor seep into Kyungsoo’s unit -
‘You kissed me back.’
// two