Read You Like a Magazine (5/6) [for shrdmdnssftw]
one | two | three | four | part five | six
November comes and goes in a haze of false alarms of snow and biting cold. The end of the fall semester is fast approaching, but none of them have yet to discover exactly what Jaebum's being secretive about. Jinyoung has also not seen Jaebum outside of the few classes he shows up for, but that's neither here nor there.
He gets it. He's moping as badly as a puppy being crate trained, except this time Jinyoung's even more antsy without the release.
"Did he get someone pregnant?" Yugyeom muses aloud, interrupting him from his floundering. "Is he even straight?"
Yugyeom has plenty of time in his hands now, more than he knows what to do with after the weight of Sooneung passing in November. I'm giving up and not thinking about it until the results come in, he'd grumbled to Jinyoung when he'd picked him up afterwards, and promptly crashed in Jinyoung's room for the rest of his waking moment. Now he's developed a strange obsession with trawling weibo, ostensibly to practice his Chinese but really just hungry for mindless gossip; at least he's more focused than he's ever been outside of cramming for exams. Jinyoung regrets ever letting him near his laptop.
"No," Jinyoung growls out, rougher than he intends to. He quickly loosens his hold on the juice box he's holding onto, banana milk seeping out of the straw and ruining his shirt. "Shit!"
"Oh!" Yugyeom looks up, realization dawning on his face as quickly as the dread seeping into Jinyoung's stomach and the milk staining his clothes. "Maybe his agency is running a secret escort service and is selling him off to the highest bidder, hyung, what if."
"Where do you even get these ideas?" Jinyoung asks, genuinely baffled. He wrinkles his nose at the wasted milk and laps at a trail down his arm. "You're worse than a teenage girl that's just discovered the internet."
Yugyeom doesn't even bother to conceal his disgust, preferring to turn back to the more appealing tabloids than watching Jinyoung rummage through his closet for a fresh and equally ratty t-shirt. "Yeah, yeah, we know he only has eyes for yo -- ow!"
"Don't be an idiot," Jinyoung scolds. For all his lack of athleticism in general, Jinyoung has pretty good aim. The belt he's thrown at Yugyeom's direction weighs nothing, but Yugyeom's always been more keen on appealing to pity than shrugging things off.
"I'm just telling it like it is," Yugyeom says, pouting as he loops the belt around his wrist to keep it away from Jinyoung's hands. "You should listen to me more."
Jinyoung finishes tugging on a new shirt and leaves the stained one on the ground, along with the rest of his clothes. He'll pick it up later. Much later. "If I listened to you, I would have been in jail a long time ago, so no thanks."
He climbs back onto his bed and sidles up beside Yugyeom; Yugyeom makes a token effort to push him off, but Jinyoung is a stubborn person determined to get his daily dose of affection, with or without Im Jaebum. He makes a happy sound at the back of his throat when Yugyeom gives in and lets him tuck his head into the crook between Yugyeom's neck and shoulder.
"You're, like, the most boring person on earth, and yet you have so many interesting things happening because you keep screwing up," Yugyeom complains, opening an article with a new tab and scrolling past the blind items too quickly for Jinyoung to follow. "Where's the justice in that?"
"Who's the hyung again?" Jinyoung growls out, batting at him in irritation. "And go back up, what was that about Kang Sora?"
"If I were, there would be so many things I could teach you," Yugyeom says, shaking his head. "Also, I refuse to indulge in your petty quest to stalk JB through his colleagues and celebrity friends, so nope. I'm drawing the line at acting as your enabler, hyung."
"I hope you fail your exams," says Jinyoung, sincerely and with all the sweetness he could muster.
"Not until you fix your life," says Yugyeom, unfazed.
Contrary to Jinyoung's initial desire, Yugyeom doesn't fail Sooneung when the results are released in December.
Jinyoung pretends to groan at the screenshot of his scores, but arguably he's prouder than Yugyeom's own mother. Even the neighborhood ahjummas and ahjusshis know about it before Yugyeom's parents do. Jinyoung likes to talk, alright?
It's enough to get him through an entire day of fiscal policy and stamping books for checkout, and he's glad Yugyeom isn't around to make fun of him in his rare moments of positivity. He wonders what that says about him in general. Whatever. He's too insanely stoked to care about appearances.
"You're like a really embarrassing mother hen," Jimin teases when she catches him beaming at his phone for the nth time at work. "If this is how you are with childhood friends, I feel sorry for your future kids."
"I'm a miracle worker," Jinyoung brags. "A few months ago he wouldn't even pick up his homework. I should be a teacher."
"So you can teach Jaebum-oppa how to make miracles with you?" Jimin suggests, leering from the other end of the counter.
"Please stop making me reevaluate my stance on hitting girls," Jinyoung says, smiling with teeth.
"Sheesh," says Jimin, holding her hands up. "Sorry I even said anything."
On the other end of the weighing scale called his life, fate seems to shove precarious incidents to balance out his happiness. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it's filling him up too fast that he can't quite stop the instinctive fluttering in his throat when he meets Jaebum in the lobby that afternoon, about to punch out of his shift. He almost yells in surprise.
Jaebum is dressed in an overly formal-looking trench coat, a far cry from the letterman jackets or bubble coats Jinyoung's pictured him in over the past few weeks, when winter had crept in as silently as the way Jaebum had seemed to slip out, elusive and inscrutable in the way friends regressing to acquaintances do. Jinyoung doesn't mean to gape, but he does, biting his lip and trying not to scuff his shoe against the tiled floor, feeling too casual and ungainly in Jaebum's presence. The coiffed and freshly-dyed hairstyle - didn't he just change it weeks ago? -- isn't doing anything to Jinyoung's articulation at all.
"Hey stranger," he says, finally, with a wave.
Jaebum huffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't move away. "Are you on your way home?" Jaebum politely asks.
"Uh, yeah," says Jinyoung, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. Then, because he is an expert at putting himself in awkward situations, he offers, "Do you wanna go part of the way together?"
This is the part when Jinyoung braces himself for rejection; in the course of a few weeks, he's understood how much it must have sucked for Jaebum to catch his attention the first few times, and it's not like Jaebum owes him anything when they're barely passing off as friends. It's why it's such a surprise when Jaebum fixes him with a long, considering look, and seems to falter at Jinyoung's uncertainty.
"Sure," says Jaebum, a small smile on his face, "I think I'd like that."
He waits for Jinyoung to gather the rest of his things from the staff room (read: erupt in a panic attack while hovering over the coffee machine), Jimin making a face at him and cooing about how cute you're being, oppa, you're never this adorable around anyone else! Jinyoung bats her away with a library fine and a hidden stash of caramel candies and prays that Jaebum doesn't have excessively good hearing.
From the strange look Jaebum is giving him, he's sure the acoustics are doing nothing to save face for Jinyoung. Jaebum doesn't bring it up, but he does look more at ease than Jinyoung's seen him since that failure of a football game.
They're arguing over the merits of taking the train versus a cab ("Not all of us have bank accounts that aren't dying, hyung.") as they cross the hall and come closer to the main entrance. Jinyoung is about to take a step out of the door and down the stairs when Jaebum suddenly grabs at his arm, keeping him in place. Ajdhafkh, Jinyoung's brain fizzles at the touch; it takes all of his effort to focus on the apprehension at war with confusion on Jaebum's face.
"Fuck," Jaebum curses, loud enough for Jinyoung to hear as he narrows his eyes outside. "What are the paparazzi doing here?"
"Why would reporters be here?" Jinyoung asks, craning his head forward absently. "Is there another idol here or something?"
Jaebum reaches out to yank him back, trapping him behind the pillar. Jinyoung can smell his cologne from this close. He can't breathe. "Not that I know of," Jaebum mutters, conflicted and completely oblivious to Jinyoung's internal struggle.
"Relax," says Jinyoung, choked. "They probably won't crowd around you too much. What are they gonna do with a former teen star turned student, right?"
Jaebum flinches, and it's this that makes Jinyoung stand up a bit straighter, alert now. He forgets about Jaebum's scent, the way it traps him still. Forgets about the slack grip on his arm, the warmth of his touch. How close he is now, and still far off.
Because Jinyoung may be a bit slow on the uptake for some things, and he might pay attention selectively, but it's fragments like this that make him stutter and stop, the sinking feeling as familiar as a shaky anchor dropped into sea, breaking the stillness and disturbing everything beneath the surface, as quick as a ripple slicing through water. But that's not right, he thinks. It can't be.
It can't.
"Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum. He doesn't look particularly happy. Just resigned. "I think they're here for me."
"Why? Are you gonna release a new music video or something?" Jinyoung scoffs to hide his hysteria, then backtracks. "Wait, are you gonna come out with an album in the middle of finals week?"
"I didn't wanna tell you this," says Jaebum - and here is the part that Jinyoung really should just shut his eyes and mute out his words because nothing good ever comes out of those words, but -- "I'm gonna quit school for a while."
"What?" Jinyoung asks, weakly.
Jaebum swallows, and his smile is grim. "I'm thinking of going back to show business."
It's nothing big, Jaebum assures him, just a supporting role where he breaks up with the female lead and continues to ruin the blossoming relationship of the main couple, yadda yadda yadda. Jinyoung tunes him out, the minute he's mentioned his not-girlfriend for the film, because as far as he knows, there are few girls consistently linked to Im Jaebum's list of maybe-possibly-could-be behind the scenes girlfriends, and one of them is Kang Sora, who is going to be his on and off girlfriend in a movie. This is exactly the kind of shit scandals are made of, easy prey for tabloids to scoop up.
And Jinyoung realizes, with sinking dread - the styled hair, the increasing frequency of his absences, the new contact details he's never given anyone, not even Jackson - it's then that he remembers exactly what Jaebum is, and what Jinyoung isn't, and who Jaebum is supposed to end up on the cover of a magazine with, good publicity or not.
It's not Jinyoung.
"Jinyoung," Jaebum says, hesitantly touching his shoulder. "We should go."
"They're still there," Jinyoung points out, dumbly.
"Do you want a ride?" Jaebum asks, fiddling with his phone. "I texted my manager to pick us up."
Jinyoung doesn't say anything. There's about a foot of space between the two of them, but the SLRs and the photographers make him feel antsy and nauseous. Is the distance safe enough for them not to end up on the front page of a nationwide scandal about JB's non-existent relationship with a male student? Jinyoung doesn't know the proper protocol for this, and it's now that he remembers all the initial fears and reservations that may have plagued his mind the first few times Jaebum had pressed a can of coffee into his hands with an unsure smile, the beginning of a tentative friendship.
Jinyoung - he's not prepared at all.
Jaebum seems to be itching to say something, but he keeps his words to himself. Is he ashamed to be seen with Jinyoung? Of all the people he had to get stuck with in the face of professional cameras, it had to be a rejected hopeful without the social skills of his other, cooler friends. The thought of it makes Jinyoung's frown deepen, because fuck that. Maybe Jaebum should just go back to his celebrity peers that throw cool parties and not keel over from an hour of physical exercise, people that can actually hold their drinks and manage to look perfectly calm and collected in the middle of winter. The only thing Jinyoung manages to do is shiver and sneeze.
"Here," is all Jaebum says before holding out his scarf. Jinyoung looks at him with wide eyes, shaking his head, but Jaebum groans and pulls him away from the doorway, keeping them hidden behind a column inside as he loops the blue and black fabric around Jinyoung's bare neck.
"I'm fine," Jinyoung insists, flushing. "You're the one who's gonna freeze to death!"
"I'll live," Jaebum snorts, waving off his protests.
"They could have seen you wearing it earlier," Jinyoung retorts. "Do you wanna give them more fodder when they see me walking out with it?"
"Keep it," Jaebum insists, tersely.
Ten minutes later, Seunghoon, Jaebum's manager, arrives. Jaebum turns to him, expectant, and it's only then that he remembers that he never answered Jaebum earlier. He squares his shoulders and pushes at Jaebum to make a move on, but it's false courage. With the way the photographers snap to attention and immediately aim their cameras at Jaebum, Jinyoung regrets ever wanting to be in the spotlight.
JB is nothing like Jaebum, who'd scrunch up his face at the first sign of attention and shove at his friends for being jerks in public. JB is practiced indifference and patient smiles aimed at hecklers trying to get a rise off him, hard-learned lessons ingrained in a deeply feeling adolescent. The transition from Jaebum to JB makes Jinyoung cringe and feel off in his own skin, like he's wearing ill-fitting clothes in the face of vultures. It's even worse when they turn on him after realizing they'd get nothing from JB.
"One of your uni friends, JB?" One of them goads. "Looks a bit too baby-faced to be partying it up with booze and drugs with you, don't you think?"
"I think I'll take the train instead," Jinyoung says, hurriedly. "I don't wanna inconvenience you guys."
"It's not a problem, Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum sighs. "Besides, you'll freeze to death if you commute at this hour."
"That's okay," says Jinyoung, quelling the anxiety under his skin and failing. "No one's gonna follow me around if I do."
"Don't mind them," Jaebum whispers under his breath, reaching out to touch him. "They're just all talk and no-"
Jinyoung doesn't mean to, but he flinches and takes a step back. Jaebum looks at him in surprise, his hand raised mid-air, grasping at nothing now. Not at the bony ridge of Jinyoung's shoulder, nor the frayed edges of his scarf from when he'd been trying to fix it. A foot of space should be enough, Jinyoung thinks, stonily, barely lifting his eyes at Jaebum's sharp intake of breath, the atmosphere turning colder with each second.
JB says nothing, but from the way he clenches his fingers into a fist, Jinyoung feels more nervous than before. It doesn't seem to deter any of the people around them, because a middle-aged man calls out to Jinyoung with barely-veiled amusement, no doubt already seeing the headlines above Jinyoung's scruffy hair.
"Hey kid, do you know what this guy used to do as an idol? Bet you're not as innocent as you like, if you're hanging out with him."
"Jinyoung-sshi," Jaebum says, finally, face blank and voice cool, "I think you should go home."
He doesn't mean to, but it rankles at Jinyoung enough for him to scrunch up his face to stop it from morphing into something resembling distress. Something more real. He can't give Jaebum that. He can't.
"Fine," Jinyoung spits out, and turns on his heel.
He doesn't look back.
Going home is an exercise in self-loathing.
He's never realized how ingrained the commute home is into his system. Catch the bus to the train station, get off, walk to the turnstiles and slot in the consumable ticket, take the escalator, stay behind the yellow line, board the train, get off at his station, go past the turnstiles, take the long walk home, open the door with his keys, and finally collapse into his bed -- going on autopilot is easy, he thinks, and it's routine, planned, but the wetness of his pillow, the uncomfortable clogging of his nose, the slow, ragged exhalation -- those things are unexpected tonight.
He's not pissed off at Jaebum for not telling anyone about the resumption of his idol activities. He's pissed off that Jaebum never told him, because it only means Jaebum still doesn't trust that Jinyoung's looked past all of the bullshit he's put up as a defense mechanism and considers Jinyoung as unchanging, immovable in his firm dislike for his line of work.
I didn't wanna tell you this my ass, Jinyoung thinks. Would he ever confess, if he'd never gotten caught? Would Jinyoung react more rationally, or would one of them be on the evening news of unresolved issues and false starts?
Jaebum might be right all along, with how Jinyoung had clammed up in the face of cameras. How a small part of himself had felt fear coiling in his stomach. How that fear had frozen into hurt when Jaebum had sent him away.
It's a talent, turning his life into a walking drama. Before this, grappling with confusing feelings about Im Jaebum is nothing - any professions of fondness for him are pale in comparison to the dull throb and tangle at his gut, wisps of immaturity and misunderstanding coming to him with startling clarity. Friends don't feel pangs of irritation at the slightest hint of closeness to other people; there's no possessiveness in the way Jinyoung curls a hand around Jackson's elbow, or Mark's knee, or Youngjae's nape. No ill-feelings when Bambam talks back at him, no maddening disappointment when Yugyeom shoves at his arm. When he pulls away from Jaebum, he shouldn't feel his absence like a lingering touch.
Maybe everyone was right all along. Maybe he's the blindest one of them all.
"Fuck," he says, thinking about Jaebum's soft, hesitant frown, "I can't believe I'm in love with him."
Yugyeom finds him still face-down and wallowing in his misery much later, and Jinyoung doesn't even have to do more than croak out his name before Yugyeom jogs downstairs and comes back with an armful of snacks and a large mug of tea. He doesn't do anything beyond stroking the back of his head and humming a slow, sad tune, hand even and steady amidst the shudder of Jinyoung's spine, the tension across his back. Yugyeom is a patient, thoughtful kid, for all his other flaws. Jinyoung cries harder at the kindness, guilt running deeper at the thought of ruining Yugyeom's initial celebratory mood. He keeps screwing everything up.
No wonder Jaebum doesn't like him anymore. Jinyoung is so hard to love, he can't even stand himself. There's a hundred grains of truth in that saying about reaching too far for things beyond your grasp, and Jinyoung is just. He's just.
He's just tired, that's all. Loving Jaebum is so exhausting, and it's even worse when the feelings are too real he can't even find the courage to do anything about it.
Once he's run out of tears and is left with only an aching feeling in his stomach, coiling, his mind is strangely clear. When he speaks, he still can't raise his head long enough beyond taking large gulps of air.
"Feelings are complicated," says Jinyoung, voice muffled by his pillow. "I hate feelings."
Yugyeom tuts at him, smile sad. "It's okay," says Yugyeom. "You're finally realizing you're human."
"Maybe Jackson is right," Jinyoung muses. "Maybe I don't have feelings. Maybe I should just join a robot colony and hide from people forever."
Yugyeom is quiet, for a moment. He tugs at the back of Jinyoung's shirt and rolls him over on his back, but Jinyoung doesn't let go of the pillow, clutching tightly like he doesn't want to let go. "Do you feel like a sack of shit now?"
"Yes."
"Are those tear tracks on your pillow or drool?"
"Drool," Jinyoung lies, rubbing at his cheek. At Yugyeom's widened eyes, he cracks. "Okay, fine, I cried like a man and it felt good. Shut up."
"Congrats," says Yugyeom, slowly clapping, "we just confirmed that you aren't a sociopath."
"Jeeze," says Jinyoung, sounding wet and clogged up. "Thank god for that."
Yugyeom keeps petting his back for the rest of the afternoon, and when it's time for him to go back home at his mother's behest, he presses a soft kiss to the top of Jinyoung's head, the same kind Jinyoung used to give him and Bambam when they were much smaller and starry-eyed, in awe of their indomitable hyung. It seems like an eternity ago, when they were younger and didn't think much of anything outside their tiny bubble, no interfering foreigner friends or pop stars with too-bright sparks with a fear of fizzling out. Jinyoung wonders when the little kid he'd doted on grew up.
Yugyeom tugs a comforter over him and joins him, swallowed by its weight. He reaches out and holds his hand up, not quite touching Jinyoung. Jinyoung brings a shaky hand up and touches their palms together, like they used to when they were kids.
"I'm glad you're not joining a robot colony, hyung," says Yugyeom, honestly. "I think I'd miss you a little if you did."
It's easy to be angry at someone who's avoiding you with equal fervor - far easier than the creeping sadness and antipathy that Jinyoung stamps out with snacks and pastries the entire weekend, to Yugyeom's increasing anxiety. Eating feelings is healthy, says the internet. At least a slice of cake won't betray him.
"Did you gain weight?" Jackson asks, squinting when he plops down on the seat beside Jinyoung. Jinyoung tears at a fresh piece of carp bread and stuffs it into Jackson's lying mouth in response.
A week before winter break, Jaebum finally shows up for class, but Jinyoung is too busy drilling a hole into the whiteboard with the force of his glare. Jackson takes one look at both of them - the only ones studiously ignoring each other in the face of scattering into impromptu group work sessions and scaring their classmates off - and elbows Jinyoung.
"You're the walking definition of a Katy Perry song," Jackson complains. "You know, the one with the trashy wedding and equally trashy stalking?"
"Leave it," Jinyoung warns.
Jackson bites his tongue, but keeps sending him curious looks the entire time. The minute Kwon-seonsaengnim dismisses them, Jinyoung bolts out of the room, as far away from the reminder of his misery and teenage angst all rolled in one. Fuck. He could really use an apple crumble right now.
Jackson drops off homework at lunch, clearly pissed at having to work his ass off without Jinyoung, for once. "You do realize it's called group work for a reason?"
Jinyoung rolls his eyes and glosses over the Word document. "You could have gotten wonder boy to do it," he says, scathingly. "I bet he'd bag us the best grade if he just breathed in the professor's direction."
"Okay, you're back to being a petty douchebag and I don't like it," says Jackson, sounding more upset than he's let on so far. "What did you guys fight about now?"
"It's not important," says Jinyoung, itching for a fight, but the moment his words escape his mouth, he realizes: it's never really important enough for Jaebum, is it?
Just like that, something falls into place. The anger, the confusion, all of it is extinguished until the only thing he can fall back on is the swirl of gloom that's settled around his shoulders since Jaebum had looked at him like he hadn't recognized him at all.
"It's nothing," he repeats, tonelessly. From across him, Jackson is tense, like he's latched on to the shift in Jinyoung's mood and he doesn't know how to react without coming off as callous. "It doesn't matter, Jackson-ah."
Jackson doesn't buy it, but he gets a message shortly after on SNS. From the pinched expression on his face, Jinyoung almost regrets asking. He keeps his mouth shut.
"It's hyung," says Jackson, eyes flicking from his phone to Jinyoung, as if asking permission. "He's asking where we are so we could do the assignment together."
"I hope you remember I know where you sleep at night," says Jinyoung, letting the threat hang in the air.
For the most part, Jackson distracts him with the prospect of work instead, clearly as uncomfortable as Jinyoung feels. On a good day, Jinyoung could use Jackson's enthusiasm, but right now, none of them are up for anything beyond going through the motions.
Jackson is anything but patient, though, and it takes him a record of half an hour before he cracks and sets his energy drink down with more force than he intends to.
"Are we doing that thing where I pretend I don't know where you are all the time and you let me copy your notes?" Jackson asks, pointedly.
"Yes," Jinyoung grunts.
"I thought he was avoiding you," says Jackson, rubbing at his arm. When it doesn't soothe him as much, he moves on to picking at a stray thread on his sleeve.
"He was."
"And now you're avoiding him?"
"I am."
Jackson looks at him, askance, but from the slump in Jinyoung's shoulder, he backs off. "Huh," says Jackson, voice small, "does this mean I have to stop being friends with Jaebum-hyung now?"
"Do whatever you want."
Jackson cracks his knuckles, feigning disinterest even when he really looks like he can't wait to get the hell out of here and hit something. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, and there's a challenge in there, somewhere.
Or maybe it's him asking for permission for all the potentially idiotic and aggravating and irrational but really fucking loyal things he may or may not do. Not for the first time, Jinyoung realizes why Jackson is his friend.
Jinyoung shuts his eyes and lets his head rest on his arms, folded on the table, exhausted. "I want you to stop talking about him."
"Oh," Jackson breathes out, seeming to come to a decision. He leans over to pat Jinyoung's head, and if Jinyoung lets out a small sniffle, he doesn't comment on it. "Okay. I can do that."
While Jackson is content to let sleeping dogs die in a fire for now, others aren't as forgiving. Youngjae is as happy about the arrangement as can be expected, constantly judging and scowling at Jinyoung like a disrespectful twerp, but he covers for Jinyoung when he needs it, skipping his block's Christmas party when Jinyoung sends him a panicked SOS.
"He's gonna notice at some point," says Youngjae, ever the observant one. "I mean you keep ducking behind all the stone pillars in the hallways, and this one is an all-time low, even for you."
"I don't care," Jinyoung grouses, keeping his knees bent and his head hidden under the table. It's amazing how Jaebum is capable of rendering the library as hell, purgatory, and heaven in the space of a few months. "We're not friends anymore."
"Oh, so mature, Jinyoung," Youngjae scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Jinyoung jabs an elbow to his knee, the only part of Youngjae he can reach while attempting to become one with his desk, and Youngjae rubs at it with fleeting irritation.
"Why does no one ever listen to me," Youngjae despairs, and goes back to checking out books for Jinyoung.
Mark doesn't say I told you so, but he turns out to be the most supportive and sadistic one of them all.
"Here," he says, sliding his tablet over to Jinyoung. "Break it and I'll break your face."
"I know you're obsessed, but I don't think Clash of Clans is going to make me feel better, hyung."
"I downloaded all of JB's dramas for you," says Mark, rolling his eyes. Jinyoung drops the tablet onto his lap, as if burned. "You can thank me later."
Jinyoung winds up watching the entirety of Jaebum's acting stints (illegally, of course, like hell he's funding someone he's sworn to forget about, ill-advised infatuation or not) over the weekend, moping and sighing like a spurned school girl at Jaebum's strained acting and his awkward, stilted speech every time his love interest of the day so much as throws him a look. It should be hilarious and therapeutic, but it's with increasing panic that he realizes it's anything but that.
Jackson sits with him to make fun of Jaebum, heads bent together over Mark's iPad and erupting into peals of hysterical laughter at the personality type he's carved himself into at an early age. Unfortunately, his ability to handle Jinyoung's less enthusiastic and infinitely discouraging responses has its limits. His dorm room hasn't reeked of misery and wallowing since consecutive losses in freshman year, and not even the calming yellow paint is doing anything to improve the atmosphere.
"If you play that video one more time, I swear to god, Jinyoung-"
Jinyoung pokes the screen on autopilot, biting his lip at Jaebum's scrunched up expression at fifteen. He's really ugly when he cries, Jinyoung thinks. It's a wonder people even fall for it. Kang Sora would never.
Jackson lets out a frustrated yell that comes out more like a quailing shriek. He's more fed up with Jaebum's face than Jinyoung is, which… doesn't really mean a lot. Sure, Im Jaebum broke his heart without using actual words, but Jinyoung has previously untapped masochistic tendencies, apparently; the veil of a media player isn't enough to soothe it, but it's a work in progress.
"Oh god," says Jackson, at a loss and panicking when tears begin to well up in Jinyoung's eyes, incriminating and unstoppable. "Where the hell is a roll of Kleenex when you need it, fuck."
"I'm okay," Jinyoung warbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Never has he hated his tear ducts until now. "I think."
"You don't think, that's the problem," Jackson sighs, picking up a wayward quilt and pinching Jinyoung's nose with it before instructing him to blow. It should be disgusting, but Jinyoung is strangely touched. "We really have to work on your self-destructive habits."
"I'm fine staying here," Jinyoung mutters, crawling under Jackson's covers and tugging the tablet closer, HD quality showing him the map of beauty marks across Jaebum's skin. Jaebum-as-JB is saying something cheesy about regrets, lost dreams and missed chances, the perennial soundtrack of Jinyoung's life. It's exactly the kind of shit Jinyoung eats up.
"You know you can always talk to him," Jackson says, hand hovering somewhere above Jinyoung's head.
"Talking is the worst," Jinyoung says. "Talking should be banned forever. Then no one would fight and we would all be perfectly fine. Alone."
"Okay, we should seriously send you to the guidance counselor soon," Jackson concludes. "You're even more depressing than you usually are. You're, like, the antithesis of a normal jealous person. I'm really, really creeped out now."
"I'll never be happy," Jinyoung intones.
Jackson sighs, and wrestles the tablet away from Jinyoung's hands. Jinyoung makes a dejected noise like he's been punched, and glowers at then-jailbait Jaebum sucking face with an equally young actress, using too little tongue and not enough teeth. The battery fizzles out, finally, leaving the screen blank.
"Fix yourself before I make someone fix you," Jackson demands.
"Can I do it after New Year's?" Jackson doesn't have to know if he means lunar new year or otherwise. Jinyoung can hold a petty grudge for a pretty long time.
"Fine," Jackson says, eyeing him dubiously. "I'm still hooking you up for therapy, just so you know."
Jinyoung groans and buries himself further under Jackson's sheets, whimpering.
Jinyoung should have known better than to trust Jackson, because an infuriated Jaebum drags him away from the a lecture on inflationary pressure and monetary stocks two days before winter break, sporting a bruise to his jaw and a seemingly permanent frown. This is more familiar, seeing Jaebum lose his cool, as hot-headed and irrational as his last web series before he went on hiatus. Trust him, he's replayed it five times.
"I'm only doing this to get Jackson off my back," Jaebum mutters, looking at a spot somewhere behind Jinyoung's shoulder as he drags him off to an empty classroom. Great, Jinyoung thinks. They're doing the whole 'avoid eye contact with the gorgon' thing again, except Jinyoung hates being treated like a rampaging Medusa. Jinyoung almost forgets that he's in a slump and feels a familiar itch that rankles at his skin.
"What the hell does Jackson have to do with this?"
"I'm not the one whose friends keep jumping at me in the hallway and threatening to punch me for making their best friends cry," Jaebum retorts, annoyed. "Which, by the way, is just rich, considering that you can't stand being in the same room as me."
Jinyoung makes a face, trying to go for intimidating but only successfully veering into wounded animal territory. Jaebum rubs a frustrated hand over his forehead, ruefully. "Jeeze, Jinyoung, stop looking at me like that," he says.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jinyoung says.
"You know, you have this really nervous tic on the corner of your mouth when you lie," Jaebum points out. "I used to think you were pretty easy to read, but I can't be sure half the time."
Jinyoung tamps down the urge to tell him that his dimple shows every time he opens his mouth wide enough, because a) he's not that desperate, and b) Jaebum should never know. Sullenly, he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'll ask Jackson to stay away from you if that's what you want."
"You don't have to," Jaebum sighs. "Just. Tell him to put some ice on his cheek, okay?"
"Is that it?" Jinyoung bites out. He steals a glance at the clock on the wall, perched above the white board. Every second of talking about Jackson with Jaebum is excruciating as hell.
Jaebum seems to take his anxiety for impatience, if the way his frown deepens is any indication of it. "You're kind of a dick sometimes," Jaebum tells him, not at all apologetic.
"What?" Jinyoung croaks out. "I'm the dick?"
"Yeah, you are," Jaebum asserts, seeming to find renewed confidence in Jinyoung's bemusement. "I thought we were over this, Jinyoung-ah. I didn’t - I thought it was okay, to be your friend if not anything else, and you were so confusing half the time that I didn't know what to think, but you were just so persistent and stubborn to realize exactly what you were doing to me.
"And when you looked like you were having a panic attack in the middle of all those photographers, I didn't realize how much you resented me for it. Because the truth is, you've never really changed how you looked at me, haven't you?"
"That's not true," Jinyoung mumbles. Jaebum doesn't seem to hear him, too wrapped up in his frustrated, one-sided conversation, a really shitty monologue that makes Jinyoung's insides clench from the honesty of it. They're just two trains on a collision course without direction. Boats capsizing, drowning, gone. Metaphors unresolved just like that.
"Every time I even breathe a word about work, you tense up and get this really upset look on your face, like you have to remind yourself that I'm the enemy and not your friend. I'm not some aloof jerk in a drama, so stop turning yourself into a tragically misunderstood rival, Jinyoung," Jaebum forges on, increasingly upset. "If you can't accept that part of me - if you can't accept anything outside of what you expect from me…" Jaebum falters, but something in his eyes flash when he sees the way Jinyoung's cheeks seem to drain of color. "I'm not ashamed of who I am, and I don't want to start now."
"That's not true," Jinyoung repeats, louder this time. He tries to meet Jaebum's eyes, but can't hold it long enough, suddenly ashamed at the intensity of Jaebum's accusation. His candor. Nails to the coffin, his words.
He looks at Jaebum, really looks at him, this time. He looks exhausted, worn out, the fatigue bone-deep and not just from work. It's like Jinyoung is the only reason he's wrung out left to dry, and he wonders exactly how much of Jaebum's tirade is planned. If it's a speech he's flipped over and over in his head over time, like: when Jinyoung had said he'd wanted to be friends. Like: when Jaebum had accused him of making fun of him. Like: when it was Jinyoung who'd left Jaebum to watch his back disappear into the distance, even with all those strangers around them.
It's a pretty shitty speech, even if it does make Jinyoung want to cry.
"Look, Jinyoung," Jaebum says, softly now. As if he's afraid Jinyoung will run. "You really tire me out when you send me all these mixed signals, like you can't make up your mind." Jaebum looks up at him, eyes dark from behind his lashes, almost imploring despite the steel in his voice. Jinyoung holds his breath. One. Two. Three.
"So I'll ask you again, Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum continues, fearlessly. "Do you hate me?"
Ah, Jinyoung thinks. There it is.
He can't speak. His words keep dying in his throat, and he can't get anything out. On one hand, he's already in Jaebum's hit list, so what harm would saying, I'm so obsessed with you, you have no idea do to his presumably very low ranking in Jaebum's ranking of people? On the other hand, he's really not in the right mental and emotional capacity to deal with this, too ill-prepared for dramatic confrontations in real life and outside the comfort of a TV screen, alienated and detached from him. Im Jaebum concludes his lines and waits for Park Jinyoung to speak, but there's no prompter, no cue cards, no director to yell at them for a second take. A tenth one. A hundred retakes for every god damn mistake.
Most of all, he's afraid the corner of his mouth will spasm in an inopportune moment, and that's it, good fucking bye, Im Jaebum. So he keeps quiet.
"I thought as much," Jaebum says, the smile on his face not quite matching his eyes.
Jinyoung's never been a brave man.
one | two | three | four | part five | six
November comes and goes in a haze of false alarms of snow and biting cold. The end of the fall semester is fast approaching, but none of them have yet to discover exactly what Jaebum's being secretive about. Jinyoung has also not seen Jaebum outside of the few classes he shows up for, but that's neither here nor there.
He gets it. He's moping as badly as a puppy being crate trained, except this time Jinyoung's even more antsy without the release.
"Did he get someone pregnant?" Yugyeom muses aloud, interrupting him from his floundering. "Is he even straight?"
Yugyeom has plenty of time in his hands now, more than he knows what to do with after the weight of Sooneung passing in November. I'm giving up and not thinking about it until the results come in, he'd grumbled to Jinyoung when he'd picked him up afterwards, and promptly crashed in Jinyoung's room for the rest of his waking moment. Now he's developed a strange obsession with trawling weibo, ostensibly to practice his Chinese but really just hungry for mindless gossip; at least he's more focused than he's ever been outside of cramming for exams. Jinyoung regrets ever letting him near his laptop.
"No," Jinyoung growls out, rougher than he intends to. He quickly loosens his hold on the juice box he's holding onto, banana milk seeping out of the straw and ruining his shirt. "Shit!"
"Oh!" Yugyeom looks up, realization dawning on his face as quickly as the dread seeping into Jinyoung's stomach and the milk staining his clothes. "Maybe his agency is running a secret escort service and is selling him off to the highest bidder, hyung, what if."
"Where do you even get these ideas?" Jinyoung asks, genuinely baffled. He wrinkles his nose at the wasted milk and laps at a trail down his arm. "You're worse than a teenage girl that's just discovered the internet."
Yugyeom doesn't even bother to conceal his disgust, preferring to turn back to the more appealing tabloids than watching Jinyoung rummage through his closet for a fresh and equally ratty t-shirt. "Yeah, yeah, we know he only has eyes for yo -- ow!"
"Don't be an idiot," Jinyoung scolds. For all his lack of athleticism in general, Jinyoung has pretty good aim. The belt he's thrown at Yugyeom's direction weighs nothing, but Yugyeom's always been more keen on appealing to pity than shrugging things off.
"I'm just telling it like it is," Yugyeom says, pouting as he loops the belt around his wrist to keep it away from Jinyoung's hands. "You should listen to me more."
Jinyoung finishes tugging on a new shirt and leaves the stained one on the ground, along with the rest of his clothes. He'll pick it up later. Much later. "If I listened to you, I would have been in jail a long time ago, so no thanks."
He climbs back onto his bed and sidles up beside Yugyeom; Yugyeom makes a token effort to push him off, but Jinyoung is a stubborn person determined to get his daily dose of affection, with or without Im Jaebum. He makes a happy sound at the back of his throat when Yugyeom gives in and lets him tuck his head into the crook between Yugyeom's neck and shoulder.
"You're, like, the most boring person on earth, and yet you have so many interesting things happening because you keep screwing up," Yugyeom complains, opening an article with a new tab and scrolling past the blind items too quickly for Jinyoung to follow. "Where's the justice in that?"
"Who's the hyung again?" Jinyoung growls out, batting at him in irritation. "And go back up, what was that about Kang Sora?"
"If I were, there would be so many things I could teach you," Yugyeom says, shaking his head. "Also, I refuse to indulge in your petty quest to stalk JB through his colleagues and celebrity friends, so nope. I'm drawing the line at acting as your enabler, hyung."
"I hope you fail your exams," says Jinyoung, sincerely and with all the sweetness he could muster.
"Not until you fix your life," says Yugyeom, unfazed.
Contrary to Jinyoung's initial desire, Yugyeom doesn't fail Sooneung when the results are released in December.
Jinyoung pretends to groan at the screenshot of his scores, but arguably he's prouder than Yugyeom's own mother. Even the neighborhood ahjummas and ahjusshis know about it before Yugyeom's parents do. Jinyoung likes to talk, alright?
It's enough to get him through an entire day of fiscal policy and stamping books for checkout, and he's glad Yugyeom isn't around to make fun of him in his rare moments of positivity. He wonders what that says about him in general. Whatever. He's too insanely stoked to care about appearances.
"You're like a really embarrassing mother hen," Jimin teases when she catches him beaming at his phone for the nth time at work. "If this is how you are with childhood friends, I feel sorry for your future kids."
"I'm a miracle worker," Jinyoung brags. "A few months ago he wouldn't even pick up his homework. I should be a teacher."
"So you can teach Jaebum-oppa how to make miracles with you?" Jimin suggests, leering from the other end of the counter.
"Please stop making me reevaluate my stance on hitting girls," Jinyoung says, smiling with teeth.
"Sheesh," says Jimin, holding her hands up. "Sorry I even said anything."
On the other end of the weighing scale called his life, fate seems to shove precarious incidents to balance out his happiness. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it's filling him up too fast that he can't quite stop the instinctive fluttering in his throat when he meets Jaebum in the lobby that afternoon, about to punch out of his shift. He almost yells in surprise.
Jaebum is dressed in an overly formal-looking trench coat, a far cry from the letterman jackets or bubble coats Jinyoung's pictured him in over the past few weeks, when winter had crept in as silently as the way Jaebum had seemed to slip out, elusive and inscrutable in the way friends regressing to acquaintances do. Jinyoung doesn't mean to gape, but he does, biting his lip and trying not to scuff his shoe against the tiled floor, feeling too casual and ungainly in Jaebum's presence. The coiffed and freshly-dyed hairstyle - didn't he just change it weeks ago? -- isn't doing anything to Jinyoung's articulation at all.
"Hey stranger," he says, finally, with a wave.
Jaebum huffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't move away. "Are you on your way home?" Jaebum politely asks.
"Uh, yeah," says Jinyoung, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. Then, because he is an expert at putting himself in awkward situations, he offers, "Do you wanna go part of the way together?"
This is the part when Jinyoung braces himself for rejection; in the course of a few weeks, he's understood how much it must have sucked for Jaebum to catch his attention the first few times, and it's not like Jaebum owes him anything when they're barely passing off as friends. It's why it's such a surprise when Jaebum fixes him with a long, considering look, and seems to falter at Jinyoung's uncertainty.
"Sure," says Jaebum, a small smile on his face, "I think I'd like that."
He waits for Jinyoung to gather the rest of his things from the staff room (read: erupt in a panic attack while hovering over the coffee machine), Jimin making a face at him and cooing about how cute you're being, oppa, you're never this adorable around anyone else! Jinyoung bats her away with a library fine and a hidden stash of caramel candies and prays that Jaebum doesn't have excessively good hearing.
From the strange look Jaebum is giving him, he's sure the acoustics are doing nothing to save face for Jinyoung. Jaebum doesn't bring it up, but he does look more at ease than Jinyoung's seen him since that failure of a football game.
They're arguing over the merits of taking the train versus a cab ("Not all of us have bank accounts that aren't dying, hyung.") as they cross the hall and come closer to the main entrance. Jinyoung is about to take a step out of the door and down the stairs when Jaebum suddenly grabs at his arm, keeping him in place. Ajdhafkh, Jinyoung's brain fizzles at the touch; it takes all of his effort to focus on the apprehension at war with confusion on Jaebum's face.
"Fuck," Jaebum curses, loud enough for Jinyoung to hear as he narrows his eyes outside. "What are the paparazzi doing here?"
"Why would reporters be here?" Jinyoung asks, craning his head forward absently. "Is there another idol here or something?"
Jaebum reaches out to yank him back, trapping him behind the pillar. Jinyoung can smell his cologne from this close. He can't breathe. "Not that I know of," Jaebum mutters, conflicted and completely oblivious to Jinyoung's internal struggle.
"Relax," says Jinyoung, choked. "They probably won't crowd around you too much. What are they gonna do with a former teen star turned student, right?"
Jaebum flinches, and it's this that makes Jinyoung stand up a bit straighter, alert now. He forgets about Jaebum's scent, the way it traps him still. Forgets about the slack grip on his arm, the warmth of his touch. How close he is now, and still far off.
Because Jinyoung may be a bit slow on the uptake for some things, and he might pay attention selectively, but it's fragments like this that make him stutter and stop, the sinking feeling as familiar as a shaky anchor dropped into sea, breaking the stillness and disturbing everything beneath the surface, as quick as a ripple slicing through water. But that's not right, he thinks. It can't be.
It can't.
"Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum. He doesn't look particularly happy. Just resigned. "I think they're here for me."
"Why? Are you gonna release a new music video or something?" Jinyoung scoffs to hide his hysteria, then backtracks. "Wait, are you gonna come out with an album in the middle of finals week?"
"I didn't wanna tell you this," says Jaebum - and here is the part that Jinyoung really should just shut his eyes and mute out his words because nothing good ever comes out of those words, but -- "I'm gonna quit school for a while."
"What?" Jinyoung asks, weakly.
Jaebum swallows, and his smile is grim. "I'm thinking of going back to show business."
It's nothing big, Jaebum assures him, just a supporting role where he breaks up with the female lead and continues to ruin the blossoming relationship of the main couple, yadda yadda yadda. Jinyoung tunes him out, the minute he's mentioned his not-girlfriend for the film, because as far as he knows, there are few girls consistently linked to Im Jaebum's list of maybe-possibly-could-be behind the scenes girlfriends, and one of them is Kang Sora, who is going to be his on and off girlfriend in a movie. This is exactly the kind of shit scandals are made of, easy prey for tabloids to scoop up.
And Jinyoung realizes, with sinking dread - the styled hair, the increasing frequency of his absences, the new contact details he's never given anyone, not even Jackson - it's then that he remembers exactly what Jaebum is, and what Jinyoung isn't, and who Jaebum is supposed to end up on the cover of a magazine with, good publicity or not.
It's not Jinyoung.
"Jinyoung," Jaebum says, hesitantly touching his shoulder. "We should go."
"They're still there," Jinyoung points out, dumbly.
"Do you want a ride?" Jaebum asks, fiddling with his phone. "I texted my manager to pick us up."
Jinyoung doesn't say anything. There's about a foot of space between the two of them, but the SLRs and the photographers make him feel antsy and nauseous. Is the distance safe enough for them not to end up on the front page of a nationwide scandal about JB's non-existent relationship with a male student? Jinyoung doesn't know the proper protocol for this, and it's now that he remembers all the initial fears and reservations that may have plagued his mind the first few times Jaebum had pressed a can of coffee into his hands with an unsure smile, the beginning of a tentative friendship.
Jinyoung - he's not prepared at all.
Jaebum seems to be itching to say something, but he keeps his words to himself. Is he ashamed to be seen with Jinyoung? Of all the people he had to get stuck with in the face of professional cameras, it had to be a rejected hopeful without the social skills of his other, cooler friends. The thought of it makes Jinyoung's frown deepen, because fuck that. Maybe Jaebum should just go back to his celebrity peers that throw cool parties and not keel over from an hour of physical exercise, people that can actually hold their drinks and manage to look perfectly calm and collected in the middle of winter. The only thing Jinyoung manages to do is shiver and sneeze.
"Here," is all Jaebum says before holding out his scarf. Jinyoung looks at him with wide eyes, shaking his head, but Jaebum groans and pulls him away from the doorway, keeping them hidden behind a column inside as he loops the blue and black fabric around Jinyoung's bare neck.
"I'm fine," Jinyoung insists, flushing. "You're the one who's gonna freeze to death!"
"I'll live," Jaebum snorts, waving off his protests.
"They could have seen you wearing it earlier," Jinyoung retorts. "Do you wanna give them more fodder when they see me walking out with it?"
"Keep it," Jaebum insists, tersely.
Ten minutes later, Seunghoon, Jaebum's manager, arrives. Jaebum turns to him, expectant, and it's only then that he remembers that he never answered Jaebum earlier. He squares his shoulders and pushes at Jaebum to make a move on, but it's false courage. With the way the photographers snap to attention and immediately aim their cameras at Jaebum, Jinyoung regrets ever wanting to be in the spotlight.
JB is nothing like Jaebum, who'd scrunch up his face at the first sign of attention and shove at his friends for being jerks in public. JB is practiced indifference and patient smiles aimed at hecklers trying to get a rise off him, hard-learned lessons ingrained in a deeply feeling adolescent. The transition from Jaebum to JB makes Jinyoung cringe and feel off in his own skin, like he's wearing ill-fitting clothes in the face of vultures. It's even worse when they turn on him after realizing they'd get nothing from JB.
"One of your uni friends, JB?" One of them goads. "Looks a bit too baby-faced to be partying it up with booze and drugs with you, don't you think?"
"I think I'll take the train instead," Jinyoung says, hurriedly. "I don't wanna inconvenience you guys."
"It's not a problem, Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum sighs. "Besides, you'll freeze to death if you commute at this hour."
"That's okay," says Jinyoung, quelling the anxiety under his skin and failing. "No one's gonna follow me around if I do."
"Don't mind them," Jaebum whispers under his breath, reaching out to touch him. "They're just all talk and no-"
Jinyoung doesn't mean to, but he flinches and takes a step back. Jaebum looks at him in surprise, his hand raised mid-air, grasping at nothing now. Not at the bony ridge of Jinyoung's shoulder, nor the frayed edges of his scarf from when he'd been trying to fix it. A foot of space should be enough, Jinyoung thinks, stonily, barely lifting his eyes at Jaebum's sharp intake of breath, the atmosphere turning colder with each second.
JB says nothing, but from the way he clenches his fingers into a fist, Jinyoung feels more nervous than before. It doesn't seem to deter any of the people around them, because a middle-aged man calls out to Jinyoung with barely-veiled amusement, no doubt already seeing the headlines above Jinyoung's scruffy hair.
"Hey kid, do you know what this guy used to do as an idol? Bet you're not as innocent as you like, if you're hanging out with him."
"Jinyoung-sshi," Jaebum says, finally, face blank and voice cool, "I think you should go home."
He doesn't mean to, but it rankles at Jinyoung enough for him to scrunch up his face to stop it from morphing into something resembling distress. Something more real. He can't give Jaebum that. He can't.
"Fine," Jinyoung spits out, and turns on his heel.
He doesn't look back.
Going home is an exercise in self-loathing.
He's never realized how ingrained the commute home is into his system. Catch the bus to the train station, get off, walk to the turnstiles and slot in the consumable ticket, take the escalator, stay behind the yellow line, board the train, get off at his station, go past the turnstiles, take the long walk home, open the door with his keys, and finally collapse into his bed -- going on autopilot is easy, he thinks, and it's routine, planned, but the wetness of his pillow, the uncomfortable clogging of his nose, the slow, ragged exhalation -- those things are unexpected tonight.
He's not pissed off at Jaebum for not telling anyone about the resumption of his idol activities. He's pissed off that Jaebum never told him, because it only means Jaebum still doesn't trust that Jinyoung's looked past all of the bullshit he's put up as a defense mechanism and considers Jinyoung as unchanging, immovable in his firm dislike for his line of work.
I didn't wanna tell you this my ass, Jinyoung thinks. Would he ever confess, if he'd never gotten caught? Would Jinyoung react more rationally, or would one of them be on the evening news of unresolved issues and false starts?
Jaebum might be right all along, with how Jinyoung had clammed up in the face of cameras. How a small part of himself had felt fear coiling in his stomach. How that fear had frozen into hurt when Jaebum had sent him away.
It's a talent, turning his life into a walking drama. Before this, grappling with confusing feelings about Im Jaebum is nothing - any professions of fondness for him are pale in comparison to the dull throb and tangle at his gut, wisps of immaturity and misunderstanding coming to him with startling clarity. Friends don't feel pangs of irritation at the slightest hint of closeness to other people; there's no possessiveness in the way Jinyoung curls a hand around Jackson's elbow, or Mark's knee, or Youngjae's nape. No ill-feelings when Bambam talks back at him, no maddening disappointment when Yugyeom shoves at his arm. When he pulls away from Jaebum, he shouldn't feel his absence like a lingering touch.
Maybe everyone was right all along. Maybe he's the blindest one of them all.
"Fuck," he says, thinking about Jaebum's soft, hesitant frown, "I can't believe I'm in love with him."
Yugyeom finds him still face-down and wallowing in his misery much later, and Jinyoung doesn't even have to do more than croak out his name before Yugyeom jogs downstairs and comes back with an armful of snacks and a large mug of tea. He doesn't do anything beyond stroking the back of his head and humming a slow, sad tune, hand even and steady amidst the shudder of Jinyoung's spine, the tension across his back. Yugyeom is a patient, thoughtful kid, for all his other flaws. Jinyoung cries harder at the kindness, guilt running deeper at the thought of ruining Yugyeom's initial celebratory mood. He keeps screwing everything up.
No wonder Jaebum doesn't like him anymore. Jinyoung is so hard to love, he can't even stand himself. There's a hundred grains of truth in that saying about reaching too far for things beyond your grasp, and Jinyoung is just. He's just.
He's just tired, that's all. Loving Jaebum is so exhausting, and it's even worse when the feelings are too real he can't even find the courage to do anything about it.
Once he's run out of tears and is left with only an aching feeling in his stomach, coiling, his mind is strangely clear. When he speaks, he still can't raise his head long enough beyond taking large gulps of air.
"Feelings are complicated," says Jinyoung, voice muffled by his pillow. "I hate feelings."
Yugyeom tuts at him, smile sad. "It's okay," says Yugyeom. "You're finally realizing you're human."
"Maybe Jackson is right," Jinyoung muses. "Maybe I don't have feelings. Maybe I should just join a robot colony and hide from people forever."
Yugyeom is quiet, for a moment. He tugs at the back of Jinyoung's shirt and rolls him over on his back, but Jinyoung doesn't let go of the pillow, clutching tightly like he doesn't want to let go. "Do you feel like a sack of shit now?"
"Yes."
"Are those tear tracks on your pillow or drool?"
"Drool," Jinyoung lies, rubbing at his cheek. At Yugyeom's widened eyes, he cracks. "Okay, fine, I cried like a man and it felt good. Shut up."
"Congrats," says Yugyeom, slowly clapping, "we just confirmed that you aren't a sociopath."
"Jeeze," says Jinyoung, sounding wet and clogged up. "Thank god for that."
Yugyeom keeps petting his back for the rest of the afternoon, and when it's time for him to go back home at his mother's behest, he presses a soft kiss to the top of Jinyoung's head, the same kind Jinyoung used to give him and Bambam when they were much smaller and starry-eyed, in awe of their indomitable hyung. It seems like an eternity ago, when they were younger and didn't think much of anything outside their tiny bubble, no interfering foreigner friends or pop stars with too-bright sparks with a fear of fizzling out. Jinyoung wonders when the little kid he'd doted on grew up.
Yugyeom tugs a comforter over him and joins him, swallowed by its weight. He reaches out and holds his hand up, not quite touching Jinyoung. Jinyoung brings a shaky hand up and touches their palms together, like they used to when they were kids.
"I'm glad you're not joining a robot colony, hyung," says Yugyeom, honestly. "I think I'd miss you a little if you did."
It's easy to be angry at someone who's avoiding you with equal fervor - far easier than the creeping sadness and antipathy that Jinyoung stamps out with snacks and pastries the entire weekend, to Yugyeom's increasing anxiety. Eating feelings is healthy, says the internet. At least a slice of cake won't betray him.
"Did you gain weight?" Jackson asks, squinting when he plops down on the seat beside Jinyoung. Jinyoung tears at a fresh piece of carp bread and stuffs it into Jackson's lying mouth in response.
A week before winter break, Jaebum finally shows up for class, but Jinyoung is too busy drilling a hole into the whiteboard with the force of his glare. Jackson takes one look at both of them - the only ones studiously ignoring each other in the face of scattering into impromptu group work sessions and scaring their classmates off - and elbows Jinyoung.
"You're the walking definition of a Katy Perry song," Jackson complains. "You know, the one with the trashy wedding and equally trashy stalking?"
"Leave it," Jinyoung warns.
Jackson bites his tongue, but keeps sending him curious looks the entire time. The minute Kwon-seonsaengnim dismisses them, Jinyoung bolts out of the room, as far away from the reminder of his misery and teenage angst all rolled in one. Fuck. He could really use an apple crumble right now.
Jackson drops off homework at lunch, clearly pissed at having to work his ass off without Jinyoung, for once. "You do realize it's called group work for a reason?"
Jinyoung rolls his eyes and glosses over the Word document. "You could have gotten wonder boy to do it," he says, scathingly. "I bet he'd bag us the best grade if he just breathed in the professor's direction."
"Okay, you're back to being a petty douchebag and I don't like it," says Jackson, sounding more upset than he's let on so far. "What did you guys fight about now?"
"It's not important," says Jinyoung, itching for a fight, but the moment his words escape his mouth, he realizes: it's never really important enough for Jaebum, is it?
Just like that, something falls into place. The anger, the confusion, all of it is extinguished until the only thing he can fall back on is the swirl of gloom that's settled around his shoulders since Jaebum had looked at him like he hadn't recognized him at all.
"It's nothing," he repeats, tonelessly. From across him, Jackson is tense, like he's latched on to the shift in Jinyoung's mood and he doesn't know how to react without coming off as callous. "It doesn't matter, Jackson-ah."
Jackson doesn't buy it, but he gets a message shortly after on SNS. From the pinched expression on his face, Jinyoung almost regrets asking. He keeps his mouth shut.
"It's hyung," says Jackson, eyes flicking from his phone to Jinyoung, as if asking permission. "He's asking where we are so we could do the assignment together."
"I hope you remember I know where you sleep at night," says Jinyoung, letting the threat hang in the air.
For the most part, Jackson distracts him with the prospect of work instead, clearly as uncomfortable as Jinyoung feels. On a good day, Jinyoung could use Jackson's enthusiasm, but right now, none of them are up for anything beyond going through the motions.
Jackson is anything but patient, though, and it takes him a record of half an hour before he cracks and sets his energy drink down with more force than he intends to.
"Are we doing that thing where I pretend I don't know where you are all the time and you let me copy your notes?" Jackson asks, pointedly.
"Yes," Jinyoung grunts.
"I thought he was avoiding you," says Jackson, rubbing at his arm. When it doesn't soothe him as much, he moves on to picking at a stray thread on his sleeve.
"He was."
"And now you're avoiding him?"
"I am."
Jackson looks at him, askance, but from the slump in Jinyoung's shoulder, he backs off. "Huh," says Jackson, voice small, "does this mean I have to stop being friends with Jaebum-hyung now?"
"Do whatever you want."
Jackson cracks his knuckles, feigning disinterest even when he really looks like he can't wait to get the hell out of here and hit something. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, and there's a challenge in there, somewhere.
Or maybe it's him asking for permission for all the potentially idiotic and aggravating and irrational but really fucking loyal things he may or may not do. Not for the first time, Jinyoung realizes why Jackson is his friend.
Jinyoung shuts his eyes and lets his head rest on his arms, folded on the table, exhausted. "I want you to stop talking about him."
"Oh," Jackson breathes out, seeming to come to a decision. He leans over to pat Jinyoung's head, and if Jinyoung lets out a small sniffle, he doesn't comment on it. "Okay. I can do that."
While Jackson is content to let sleeping dogs die in a fire for now, others aren't as forgiving. Youngjae is as happy about the arrangement as can be expected, constantly judging and scowling at Jinyoung like a disrespectful twerp, but he covers for Jinyoung when he needs it, skipping his block's Christmas party when Jinyoung sends him a panicked SOS.
"He's gonna notice at some point," says Youngjae, ever the observant one. "I mean you keep ducking behind all the stone pillars in the hallways, and this one is an all-time low, even for you."
"I don't care," Jinyoung grouses, keeping his knees bent and his head hidden under the table. It's amazing how Jaebum is capable of rendering the library as hell, purgatory, and heaven in the space of a few months. "We're not friends anymore."
"Oh, so mature, Jinyoung," Youngjae scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Jinyoung jabs an elbow to his knee, the only part of Youngjae he can reach while attempting to become one with his desk, and Youngjae rubs at it with fleeting irritation.
"Why does no one ever listen to me," Youngjae despairs, and goes back to checking out books for Jinyoung.
Mark doesn't say I told you so, but he turns out to be the most supportive and sadistic one of them all.
"Here," he says, sliding his tablet over to Jinyoung. "Break it and I'll break your face."
"I know you're obsessed, but I don't think Clash of Clans is going to make me feel better, hyung."
"I downloaded all of JB's dramas for you," says Mark, rolling his eyes. Jinyoung drops the tablet onto his lap, as if burned. "You can thank me later."
Jinyoung winds up watching the entirety of Jaebum's acting stints (illegally, of course, like hell he's funding someone he's sworn to forget about, ill-advised infatuation or not) over the weekend, moping and sighing like a spurned school girl at Jaebum's strained acting and his awkward, stilted speech every time his love interest of the day so much as throws him a look. It should be hilarious and therapeutic, but it's with increasing panic that he realizes it's anything but that.
Jackson sits with him to make fun of Jaebum, heads bent together over Mark's iPad and erupting into peals of hysterical laughter at the personality type he's carved himself into at an early age. Unfortunately, his ability to handle Jinyoung's less enthusiastic and infinitely discouraging responses has its limits. His dorm room hasn't reeked of misery and wallowing since consecutive losses in freshman year, and not even the calming yellow paint is doing anything to improve the atmosphere.
"If you play that video one more time, I swear to god, Jinyoung-"
Jinyoung pokes the screen on autopilot, biting his lip at Jaebum's scrunched up expression at fifteen. He's really ugly when he cries, Jinyoung thinks. It's a wonder people even fall for it. Kang Sora would never.
Jackson lets out a frustrated yell that comes out more like a quailing shriek. He's more fed up with Jaebum's face than Jinyoung is, which… doesn't really mean a lot. Sure, Im Jaebum broke his heart without using actual words, but Jinyoung has previously untapped masochistic tendencies, apparently; the veil of a media player isn't enough to soothe it, but it's a work in progress.
"Oh god," says Jackson, at a loss and panicking when tears begin to well up in Jinyoung's eyes, incriminating and unstoppable. "Where the hell is a roll of Kleenex when you need it, fuck."
"I'm okay," Jinyoung warbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Never has he hated his tear ducts until now. "I think."
"You don't think, that's the problem," Jackson sighs, picking up a wayward quilt and pinching Jinyoung's nose with it before instructing him to blow. It should be disgusting, but Jinyoung is strangely touched. "We really have to work on your self-destructive habits."
"I'm fine staying here," Jinyoung mutters, crawling under Jackson's covers and tugging the tablet closer, HD quality showing him the map of beauty marks across Jaebum's skin. Jaebum-as-JB is saying something cheesy about regrets, lost dreams and missed chances, the perennial soundtrack of Jinyoung's life. It's exactly the kind of shit Jinyoung eats up.
"You know you can always talk to him," Jackson says, hand hovering somewhere above Jinyoung's head.
"Talking is the worst," Jinyoung says. "Talking should be banned forever. Then no one would fight and we would all be perfectly fine. Alone."
"Okay, we should seriously send you to the guidance counselor soon," Jackson concludes. "You're even more depressing than you usually are. You're, like, the antithesis of a normal jealous person. I'm really, really creeped out now."
"I'll never be happy," Jinyoung intones.
Jackson sighs, and wrestles the tablet away from Jinyoung's hands. Jinyoung makes a dejected noise like he's been punched, and glowers at then-jailbait Jaebum sucking face with an equally young actress, using too little tongue and not enough teeth. The battery fizzles out, finally, leaving the screen blank.
"Fix yourself before I make someone fix you," Jackson demands.
"Can I do it after New Year's?" Jackson doesn't have to know if he means lunar new year or otherwise. Jinyoung can hold a petty grudge for a pretty long time.
"Fine," Jackson says, eyeing him dubiously. "I'm still hooking you up for therapy, just so you know."
Jinyoung groans and buries himself further under Jackson's sheets, whimpering.
Jinyoung should have known better than to trust Jackson, because an infuriated Jaebum drags him away from the a lecture on inflationary pressure and monetary stocks two days before winter break, sporting a bruise to his jaw and a seemingly permanent frown. This is more familiar, seeing Jaebum lose his cool, as hot-headed and irrational as his last web series before he went on hiatus. Trust him, he's replayed it five times.
"I'm only doing this to get Jackson off my back," Jaebum mutters, looking at a spot somewhere behind Jinyoung's shoulder as he drags him off to an empty classroom. Great, Jinyoung thinks. They're doing the whole 'avoid eye contact with the gorgon' thing again, except Jinyoung hates being treated like a rampaging Medusa. Jinyoung almost forgets that he's in a slump and feels a familiar itch that rankles at his skin.
"What the hell does Jackson have to do with this?"
"I'm not the one whose friends keep jumping at me in the hallway and threatening to punch me for making their best friends cry," Jaebum retorts, annoyed. "Which, by the way, is just rich, considering that you can't stand being in the same room as me."
Jinyoung makes a face, trying to go for intimidating but only successfully veering into wounded animal territory. Jaebum rubs a frustrated hand over his forehead, ruefully. "Jeeze, Jinyoung, stop looking at me like that," he says.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jinyoung says.
"You know, you have this really nervous tic on the corner of your mouth when you lie," Jaebum points out. "I used to think you were pretty easy to read, but I can't be sure half the time."
Jinyoung tamps down the urge to tell him that his dimple shows every time he opens his mouth wide enough, because a) he's not that desperate, and b) Jaebum should never know. Sullenly, he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'll ask Jackson to stay away from you if that's what you want."
"You don't have to," Jaebum sighs. "Just. Tell him to put some ice on his cheek, okay?"
"Is that it?" Jinyoung bites out. He steals a glance at the clock on the wall, perched above the white board. Every second of talking about Jackson with Jaebum is excruciating as hell.
Jaebum seems to take his anxiety for impatience, if the way his frown deepens is any indication of it. "You're kind of a dick sometimes," Jaebum tells him, not at all apologetic.
"What?" Jinyoung croaks out. "I'm the dick?"
"Yeah, you are," Jaebum asserts, seeming to find renewed confidence in Jinyoung's bemusement. "I thought we were over this, Jinyoung-ah. I didn’t - I thought it was okay, to be your friend if not anything else, and you were so confusing half the time that I didn't know what to think, but you were just so persistent and stubborn to realize exactly what you were doing to me.
"And when you looked like you were having a panic attack in the middle of all those photographers, I didn't realize how much you resented me for it. Because the truth is, you've never really changed how you looked at me, haven't you?"
"That's not true," Jinyoung mumbles. Jaebum doesn't seem to hear him, too wrapped up in his frustrated, one-sided conversation, a really shitty monologue that makes Jinyoung's insides clench from the honesty of it. They're just two trains on a collision course without direction. Boats capsizing, drowning, gone. Metaphors unresolved just like that.
"Every time I even breathe a word about work, you tense up and get this really upset look on your face, like you have to remind yourself that I'm the enemy and not your friend. I'm not some aloof jerk in a drama, so stop turning yourself into a tragically misunderstood rival, Jinyoung," Jaebum forges on, increasingly upset. "If you can't accept that part of me - if you can't accept anything outside of what you expect from me…" Jaebum falters, but something in his eyes flash when he sees the way Jinyoung's cheeks seem to drain of color. "I'm not ashamed of who I am, and I don't want to start now."
"That's not true," Jinyoung repeats, louder this time. He tries to meet Jaebum's eyes, but can't hold it long enough, suddenly ashamed at the intensity of Jaebum's accusation. His candor. Nails to the coffin, his words.
He looks at Jaebum, really looks at him, this time. He looks exhausted, worn out, the fatigue bone-deep and not just from work. It's like Jinyoung is the only reason he's wrung out left to dry, and he wonders exactly how much of Jaebum's tirade is planned. If it's a speech he's flipped over and over in his head over time, like: when Jinyoung had said he'd wanted to be friends. Like: when Jaebum had accused him of making fun of him. Like: when it was Jinyoung who'd left Jaebum to watch his back disappear into the distance, even with all those strangers around them.
It's a pretty shitty speech, even if it does make Jinyoung want to cry.
"Look, Jinyoung," Jaebum says, softly now. As if he's afraid Jinyoung will run. "You really tire me out when you send me all these mixed signals, like you can't make up your mind." Jaebum looks up at him, eyes dark from behind his lashes, almost imploring despite the steel in his voice. Jinyoung holds his breath. One. Two. Three.
"So I'll ask you again, Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum continues, fearlessly. "Do you hate me?"
Ah, Jinyoung thinks. There it is.
He can't speak. His words keep dying in his throat, and he can't get anything out. On one hand, he's already in Jaebum's hit list, so what harm would saying, I'm so obsessed with you, you have no idea do to his presumably very low ranking in Jaebum's ranking of people? On the other hand, he's really not in the right mental and emotional capacity to deal with this, too ill-prepared for dramatic confrontations in real life and outside the comfort of a TV screen, alienated and detached from him. Im Jaebum concludes his lines and waits for Park Jinyoung to speak, but there's no prompter, no cue cards, no director to yell at them for a second take. A tenth one. A hundred retakes for every god damn mistake.
Most of all, he's afraid the corner of his mouth will spasm in an inopportune moment, and that's it, good fucking bye, Im Jaebum. So he keeps quiet.
"I thought as much," Jaebum says, the smile on his face not quite matching his eyes.
Jinyoung's never been a brave man.
one | two | three | four | part five | six