If My Yesterday is a Disgrace (1/4)

[kaisooficrec]

Title: If My Yesterday is a Disgrace
Author: TBA
Genre: Drama, Slight!Angst
Length: 27.8k
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing, super tiny bit of surrealism (or sci-fi, depending on how you look at it), brief descriptions of a car crash, non-exo off-screen character death, vague allusions to homophobia
Summary: He tries to find a future in the past, and learns the hard way that all roads only go forward. This isn’t time travel. Or maybe it is. In any case, here is a year and back with Do Kyungsoo.
A/N: First and foremost, congratulations KFR! You deserve all the support and love for your hard work and dedication!! Being asked to participate in this project meant a lot to me. This fic was written from the bottom of my heart, and is my humble present to the Kaisoo fic community. Thank you to my beta for her endless insight. This story wouldn’t be nearly as strong without her. Additional thanks to admin j for being amazing & lovely to me and to ALL the admins for consistently blessing the Kaisoo fandom. I’m excited, nervous and beyond happy to finally (finally!!) share this story with everyone. I hope you all enjoy this labour of love, and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it <3 Title is taken from the song ‘Cactus in the Valley’ by LIGHTS.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Jongin, Kyungsoo or EXO, and the following is a work of fiction.



So wipe the mark of sadness from my face

Tell me that your love will never change

If my yesterday is a disgrace,

Tell me that you still recall my name

November 2016.

Kyungsoo dips his chin into the fabric of his circle scarf as he ducks through the flimsy entrance of the pojangmacha, his teeth chattering a bit with the wind.

“It’s November,” he states, when he spots Baekhyun and Sehun. “Why are we eating outside?”

Baekhyun looks unimpressed, kicking back the stool in front of him, and gestures with his foot for Kyungsoo to sit. “You do realize it’s a solid ten degrees outside, right?” Baekhyun is dressed in a t-shirt, and even though it’s warmer inside the tent, Kyungsoo still thinks a t-shirt is ridiculous for late autumn. Next to Baekhyun, Sehun is pouring about an inch of soju into a glass. “Not even sitting yet and you’re already mumbling complaints to yourself.”

Kyungsoo shuffles into his seat, shoulders hunched, reaching a hand across the table to pull Baekhyun’s ugly snapback down his forehead.

“I already ate dinner,” Kyungsoo says, scrunching his nose at the plate of tteokkbokki between them. He’s bad with spicy food and Sehun always loves it spicy.

“So did we,” replies Baekhyun, fixing his hat. His t-shirt has a red gochujang stain on it already. “Would it kill you to just take a shot or two with your favourite hyung and hoobae?”

Sehun slides Kyungsoo some soju, and Kyungsoo sighs, face curling up in a grimace as he downs the glass. “We’re the same age, Baek,” he mutters. “No hyung status for you.”

“You guys are the same age?” Sehun fake-gasps. His cheeks are already glowing pink and Kyungsoo doubts he’ll be coherent for much longer. Sehun was the biggest lightweight of them all. “With all that time Kyungsoo spends in an office with stacks of essays, I never would have guessed.”

Kyungsoo unwraps his scarf. The steam from the food makes the air inside the tent thick and warm, but he still keeps his jacket on, rolling up the sleeves a bit, just enough that they don’t droop down past his wrists and into the tteokkbokki. He pinches a fish ball from the plate, scraping off some gochujang before chewing on it tentatively. Just as he’d predicted-way too spicy.

“You make me sound like an old man,” Kyungsoo chastises.

“You are,” Sehun says, smearing a rice cake with more sauce. “Your soul was thirty by the time you graduated high school.”

Baekhyun laughs loudly, and the couple beside them look over, startled. Kyungsoo, who’s the only one of them fully sober, bows his head before the couple looks away. “Kyungsoo in high school,” Baekhyun grins, grabbing the half-empty soju bottle and pouring himself another glass. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.” He chugs his drink and makes a satisfied noise as he slams the glass down onto the table, like he’s in a CF. He’s not anywhere near as pink as Sehun is, although with Baekhyun, it’s always hard to tell if he’s half-drunk or totally wasted.

“Kyungsoo-hyung wasn’t any more interesting in high school,” Sehun comments, picking up another piece of rice cake and lifting it in front of Kyungsoo’s lips. Kyungsoo opens his mouth, indulging him, because he has a feeling Sehun will try to force it through his lips either way. Sehun smiles, satisfied, as Kyungsoo chews. “Just shorter, with a bowl cut. And exponentially more awkward.” He takes the soju bottle. The brand is Chamiseul and has a popular actress on it beside the name.

“Respect your elders, Sehun-ah,” Kyungsoo says, rubbing his cold nose.

“One year is nothing, hyung,” Sehun says.

Baekhyun hiccups. “You’ve only taken one shot, Kyungsoo.” He thrusts the bottle into Kyungsoo’s hand.

“It’s a Monday, guys,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Baekhyun just gives him one of those dismissive looks he always used to give Kyungsoo back when they first met, as college freshmen, sharing a room, and Kyungsoo would tell him not to go clubbing because they both had 8AM lectures the next morning. Baekhyun would smile at him, sweet and dangerous. “What’s the occasion, even?”

Sehun juts out his lower lip contemplatively, making his whole face look pinched. “Do you need an occasion to drink? We’re with Baekhyun-hyung. That’s the occasion.”

“Speaking of occasion,” Baekhyun perks up, “Isn’t your roommate getting married?”

Kyungsoo nods, using Sehun’s chopsticks to stab a fish ball. “Yeah, he is.” He pops the fish ball into his mouth. “I think I’m going to move out too. I mean, I can’t afford that rent by myself.” The apartment is nice, with a full kitchen and two bedrooms, in a really convenient location, right by the university. The only reason Kyungsoo managed to keep the place the past six months was because of Minseok, a grad student who answered Kyungsoo’s roommate ad within an hour of Kyungsoo putting it up.

“You know, Jongin’s apartment has a spare room that he’s complaining is just sitting there, empty,” Baekhyun says. He props his chin up on his folded hands. “Knowing him, he’d give you the room for free.”

“Of course he would. Moving in with his favourite hyung is every fantasy he’s ever had,” Sehun says flatly, and Baekhyun snorts into a laugh.

Kyungsoo tries to look thoroughly unamused, shifting on his stool as he contemplates kicking both their shins under the table. “It isn’t like that,” he mutters, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, and pointedly avoiding both their gazes. He looks down at the almost-empty plate of food. He wonders if they’ll order more. He hopes they won’t. There are so many papers sitting on his desk, waiting to be graded when he gets home. “Stop making it weird. He’s my best friend.” He watches Sehun pour himself another full glass, and the last of the soju trickles out.

Baekhyun chuckles, then shrugs. “Right, right. Best friend. We’re just saying,” he says. “You two living together would be a horrible exercise in torture for him. I dunno what he sees in you. Maybe it’s your horrible fashion sense. Or that mixture of adorable and angry you got going on.” He tries to pinch Kyungsoo’s cheek but Kyungsoo throws Baekhyun a glare, and Baekhyun’s hand drops in an instant.

“Shut up, Baek.” Kyungsoo runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, throat burning from the gochujang. “I wouldn’t ask him, anyways. He’s busy enough as it is, he doesn’t need me to mooch off him.”

Baekhyun makes a pensive noise. “He won’t see it as ‘mooching.’ Trust.”

Kyungsoo huffs. “It’s not-“ he sighs and just lets it go. His stomach is churning like a vortex.

Thankfully, Sehun chooses then to ask the ahjumma for another Chamiseul. When they open up a new bottle, Kyungsoo fills a shot glass of his own and swallows about half of it.

“Come on, Kyungsoo, you can take more than that,” Baekhyun says. He readjusts his snapback and Kyungsoo catches sight of where his brown hair is being overgrown by his black roots.

“Didn’t you tell me this morning that you have a 9AM meeting tomorrow?” Kyungsoo mutters incredulously, but he drinks the rest of his shot anyways. It burns all the way down. “A really important one?”

“Ugh,” Baekhyun shrugs. When he blinks, it takes a long time for his eyes to open again. “All meetings are ‘important’ because they’re all the same. Accounting isn’t exactly scintillating.”

Sehun’s tteokbokki piece falls out of his chopsticks half way to his mouth, but he just frowns slightly before brushing it off the table and grabbing the last piece off the plate. “What about that one editor in the publishing house you said was hot?” he asks Baekhyun.

Baekhyun smiles, pursing his lips. “I’m getting there. One more ‘accidental’ run-in in the break room and I might have Joohyun-noona’s number.”

“Boring,” Kyungsoo says blandly, ignoring Baekhyun’s exaggerated eye roll. “Sehun, how was your day?”

“Nothing interesting happens at the orphanage that can compete with Baekhyun-hyung’s office drama,” Sehun answers. He’s holding his chopsticks like drumsticks now.

“Baekhyun’s office drama is about the least interesting thing ever,” Kyungsoo interjects.

“Says the history major,” Baekhyun bites back.

Kyungsoo shoots him one of his dead looks that’s supposed to get him to shut up, but Baekhyun’s known Kyungsoo too long to really be intimidated by it.

“By the way, Joohyun-noona remembers you,” Baekhyun says.

“Remembers me?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun licks sauce off the corner of his lips. “Remember when you stopped by two weeks ago to grab lunch? You met her. And an intern named Seungwan.”

Kyungsoo recalls both the names and faces with vague detail. “And?”

“And,” Baekhyun presses on, filling up all three of their shot glasses, “Apparently Seungwan’s been asking if you’re ever going to come by again. She thinks you’re quiet and mysterious and cute.”

Sehun laughs, and then sips his soju slowly, like it’s a soda. “Does she like the ‘dangerous teddy bear’ concept?”

Kyungsoo ignores him, scratching at his nose again. It’s the only part of his body that’s really cold. Maybe he should put his scarf back on. “Baekhyun, you didn’t-“

“Jeez, no, of course I did not give her your number,” Baekhyun’s drumming his fingers against the table in surprisingly even intervals, and Kyungsoo is reminded that Baekhyun always had a habit of acting more drunk than he really is. “In fact, my exact words were ‘you really, really don’t want his number because he is moodier than a raincloud, even on his best days’-“

Sehun breaks out into a laugh, almost spitting out a mouthful of soju. This time, Kyungsoo does kick Baekhyun’s shin beneath the table, without any real force, and Baekhyun grins and lets him.

“I fully support your abstinence, Kyungsoo,” says Baekhyun, patting Kyungsoo’s hair in retaliation. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to, you know, start dating again.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t, but he’s not about to start an argument. He just shrugs and lets the topic melt away into the thick, night air.

They finish their second bottle. Kyungsoo decides that’s a good time to call it a night. He winds his scarf up to his nose again and stands up. “Really, I got to go,” he sighs, as Sehun whines and tries to tempt him with his horrible aegyo. It used to work in high school, when Sehun was shorter than Kyungsoo and had the most baby-ish baby face ever. Now that Sehun’s all broad-shouldered with legs longer than a bar stool, his pouty face had close to no effect on Kyungsoo anymore. “I have to retreat to my stack of papers.”

“This is why I didn’t want to TA,” Sehun says sagely. “More school and more essays than ever.”

“History papers are more interesting than psych papers,” Kyungsoo replies, laughing at the way Sehun’s face curls up in protest.

“Absolutely not, ” Sehun says. “And you study Western history, of all things. When will knowledge about the English monarchy ever come in handy?”

Kyungsoo smiles at him wryly. “When I’m TA-ing a history of England class,” he answers, ruffling Sehun’s hair the way he knows Sehun hates.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Baekhyun cuts in. “Chanyeol’s birthday is next week. He’s having a small thing at his apartment.”

“Small? Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow, dubiously. “Really?” He’s been to a Chanyeol party before, so he knows that Chanyeol’s definition of ‘small’ is very different than his own.

Baekhyun shrugs. “Yes, really. You better be there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyungsoo sighs. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He ducks out of the tent. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk if he doesn’t take the subway, and he decides that if he walks briskly enough, he’ll survive. So he huddles deeper into his jacket, tightens his scarf, and hopes he makes it home before the cold can seep through.

Kyungsoo sees an extra pair of shoes on the shoe mat when he walks in, a pair of heeled black boots beside Minseok’s loafers. He hears their laughter from the kitchen, just as he’s setting aside his own shoes beside theirs. He puts on a pair of slippers and heads inside.

“Oh hey,” Minseok’s putting away side dishes into containers when he sees Kyungsoo. “Back so soon?”

Kyungsoo nods. “I’m behind on grading.” Heeyeon, who’s standing at the sink running water over dirty plates, turns around and smiles at him. Kyungsoo bows at her. “Evening, noona.”

“Hi Kyungsoo,” she says warmly. Her long hair is tied into a loose ponytail. It drapes down one shoulder, with a few front pieces falling out. “You’ve eaten, right?”

“I have,” he replies.

Minseok passes Heeyeon the last few dishes and she stacks them atop the rest in the sink. She’s just about to pull off her ring to start washing when Kyungsoo steps forward beside her. “Don’t worry about this. I’ll clean up.”

Heeyeon opens her mouth, surprised. “Oh that’s not-“

“I know it’s not necessary,” Kyungsoo chuckles. “You and hyung go watch your drama or whatever. Doing house chores helps me relax, anyways.” His hands and nose and cheeks are still cold from the outside. Kyungsoo is terrible with the cold. Winter, in general… not his favourite season. Winter made him tense and uptight, and he needed chores and other mundane things to distract him.

“Give up, Heeyeon,” Minseok grabs her wrist and she steps away from the sink hesitantly. “Kyungsoo is a tough cookie to dissuade. Especially when his mind is already made up.”

Heeyeon lets Minseok pull her towards the television. She fiddles with her ring as she sits down, and for a brief moment, Kyungsoo sees it gleam when it catches the light. It’s a very simple ring, thin with a small diamond that you might miss if you weren’t looking closely enough.

He looks back down at the sink, turning on the faucet, water set to warm as he watches it stream out against the dishes, circling down the drain.

The next morning, Kyungsoo is woken up by a phone call. He comes to his senses just a second too late. A missed call notification pops up just as he grabs his phone from the bedside table. It says Jinri, although that isn’t much of a surprise. It’s almost December, after all.

A text comes a second later: I went to Jeomchon to clear out the last of Sunyoung’s things. Call me soon. See if you want anything.

Kyungsoo blinks through the sleepy haze that’s still clinging to his eyelids. Another text slides down over the last one.

Or you can take a look yourself when we go visit her. Please call. x

He stares at the ‘x’ for a second. Jinri always ended her annual text messages like that, a single letter after the period. Detached, careful affection. He and Jinri were never friends, but Kyungsoo had always appreciated her ability to be sincere, without any pity.

He locks the phone screen and tosses the device back onto his table, pulling his blanket up over his head as he closes his eyes.

Kyungsoo has always liked history. It was his Thing. The way some people had a sport, or a hobby, or a talent, Kyungsoo had history. He’s good at it; with memorizing, remembering dumb details like how many wives a king had or how long a monarch’s reign lasted. Most of all though, history was easy-a fact that leads to another fact that leads to another. Some things got complicated, like having to analyze the exact causes and effects of a war, but Kyungsoo sort of liked the feeling of falling deep into his notes, swimming through the depths of his material, and getting lost in it.

It takes Kyungsoo a lot more effort to focus now than it did before, though. Silence makes his skin crawl. He needs music, or television on low volume. He needs the sounds of Minseok making a meal in the kitchen, or Heeyeon’s laughter through the walls as Minseok tells her a joke. He needs something else in his mind, besides himself. Otherwise, he’ll look up from his books and see Sunyoung smiling at him over her own notes across the table. Her smile used to keep him on track. She’d wag her pen and tell him to keep studying. Then they’d test each other. Kyungsoo would take her notes and ask her about King Sejong’s development of the Korean military and Sunyoung would ask him to recount the rise and fall of Napoleon Bonaparte.

“Kyungsoo,” she’d say, pen resting on her ear, baggy pyjama shirt falling off one shoulder. “Stop getting distracted.”

“Kyungsoo.”

He looks up from the kitchen table. Minseok is on the other side, standing by the fridge, three eggs balanced in one hand. He’s in a white muscle shirt and sweatpants, which Kyungsoo does not understand because he thinks an outfit like that is a total contradiction.

“Sorry, I’m-“ Kyungsoo sets down his red marker. “In the middle of grading. I was distracted.”

“Right,” Minseok says, placing the eggs on the counter to get a frying pan. “I asked if you wanted an omelette.”

On the table, Kyungsoo’s phone vibrates softly. Text from Jongin. coffee bean at 6?? :D

Kyungsoo chuckles at Minseok and shakes his head, reaching for his green tea. It’s gone cold now, and he realizes he’s already been working for two hours. “It’s past 5PM,” he says. “That’s not exactly breakfast time.” He slides his phone screen open with his index finger, texting back a reply: I thought you wanted to go to that bunsik restaurant near your place? Jongin didn’t even like coffee, and he spent so much time working in a café already that Kyungsoo knew he didn’t like spending his down time at one too.

Minseok just shrugs and cracks all three eggs with one hand before plopping them into a bowl to whisk. Kyungsoo starts gathering his papers, putting them back into his folder. “Is my cooking too loud for you?” Minseok frowns as he watches Kyungsoo tidy up the table. “Can’t concentrate with me right here?” He smiles at Kyungsoo over his shoulder crookedly.

it’s ok!!! , comes Jongin’s reply. coffee bean is closer to u. also wont you be wanting some caffeine to help you grade those papers tonight?? ~

“It’s not that,” Kyungsoo says to Minseok. “I’m meeting Jongin soon. It’s a Wednesday.”

“Ah, right. Wednesday,” Minseok opens a drawer to find chopsticks and a spatula. “Jongin-day. Your favourite person.”

Wednesdays were the only days that Jongin didn’t have a dance class to teach or a shift at his sister’s coffee shop. Kyungsoo nods. “Yeah. Jongin-day.” And maybe he is Kyungsoo’s favourite person. Jongin was probably anyone’s favourite person.

He types back, You know me the best, Jonginnie. See you soon, and then pockets his phone.

“You know, I like him. Your Jongin friend.” The egg mix sizzles as Minseok pours it into the frying pan. “You should have him over more often. While I’m still around.”

Kyungsoo’s and Jongin’s schedules interfere most of the time, but Kyungsoo had been able to bring Jongin around once or twice in the last month or so. Minseok, who is friendly and charming, had really taken a liking to Jongin, who is also friendly and charming, times a hundred.

“Of course you like Jongin. Everyone likes him,” replies Kyungsoo, chuckling again, even though Minseok saying ‘while I’m still around’ is yet another reminder that Kyungsoo really needs to stop procrastinating on finding a new roommate or someplace much more affordable.

“Hey let’s do Christmas shopping together,” Minseok says excitedly, as he flips over his omelette carefully with the spatula. “I saw early holiday sales in some stores already. I think it’ll be fun. Like last minute roommate-bonding.”

Kyungsoo smiles at him, feeling a warm little tingle in his chest because even though the holidays are his least favourite time of the year, Minseok was always endlessly kind. He doesn’t know Kyungsoo the way Baekhyun or Sehun does, so mostly, he just finds Kyungsoo quiet and adorable. Or at least, that’s what Kyungsoo suspects.

“Isn’t it way too early to even be thinking about Christmas?” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, setting aside his folders so they won’t get in the way when Minseok sits down to eat his omelette.

Minseok looks affronted. “It is never too early for Christmas.”

“Well, it sounds like more of a couple thing,” Kyungsoo says. “You should take Heeyeon-noona.”

Minseok switches the stove off, sliding his egg onto a plate. He tilts his head and gives Kyungsoo a withering smile. “Gosh, Kyungsoo. How are you going to get out of the house without me around anymore?” he wonders, one hand on his hip.

“I’ll manage fine, thanks,” replies Kyungsoo.

Minseok tsks. “Not with your nose always stuck in history essays.” He looks up from his plate and gives Kyungsoo a look that’s both teasing, and something else that Kyungsoo can’t place.

“You are one of many who worry about that,” Kyungsoo just laughs lightly, then drops off his papers in his room before heading to the foyer to slip into his shoes and coat. He makes sure to wrap his neck up tight with his scarf again before he steps outside. Into the wind, into the cold.

The thing is, Kyungsoo likes history. It was fact, already written, nothing to solve and nothing to anticipate. Because the past, he found, was much easier than the future.

Jongin is sitting at a table by the window when Kyungsoo walks into the café. His back is facing the entrance, so Kyungsoo sees him first. Jongin is holding his phone horizontally, watching a dance video on the screen as Kyungsoo bends down so that his mouth is right by Jongin’s ear. “Looks fancy,” says Kyungsoo. “New choreo?”

Startled, Jongin jumps in his chair a bit. Kyungsoo laughs, taking the seat in front of him. Jongin’s face melts into a warm smile as Kyungsoo sheds his scarf and coat. Today, Jongin’s wearing a salt-and-pepper beanie that Kyungsoo had bought him for his birthday three years ago.

“New boy group,” Jongin clarifies. “Record label is debuting them in two or three months.”

“Oooh, and you’re in charge?”

“Sure am,” Jongin says, grinning widely. He pushes his beanie up with his wrist, since the hat had slipped down his forehead when he’d been staring at his phone. “Want to see what I’ve got so far?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, pressing his palms against cold cheeks. “I like to be surprised by your choreography.”

Jongin pushes forward his lower lip, pouting. “Hyung, you don’t even keep up with idol groups.”

“Not true,” Kyungsoo rubs his hands together, warming them up. “I always watch the ones you choreograph for.” Jongin has already ordered for them both-a hot chocolate with whipped cream for himself, and a dark roast with milk for Kyungsoo.

“That’s not the same,” Jongin says, but he looks pleased anyways.

“Well, the ones you choreograph are the only ones that matter to me,” Kyungsoo replies. “The rest of them, their music kind of just blurs into one.” He drags his coffee cup and saucer closer to him so he can blow on the steam. Kyungsoo used to keep up with idol groups in high school because Jongin and Sehun had liked them so much, it was sort of unavoidable. I want to make those dances one day, Jongin would say. And Sehun would laugh at him, but Kyungsoo would pat Jongin’s cheek and reply, Then I’m sure you’ll do it.

Jongin lifts his hot chocolate to his mouth and laughs. He has a smooth laugh. It makes the girl at the adjoining table look over, and then flush when her eyes lock briefly with Kyungsoo’s. “Chanyeol-hyung would kill you, if he heard you say that,” Jongin says.

Kyungsoo lets his hands suck up the warmth of the coffee cup, thawing his fingers. “That’s cute, you think Chanyeol could actually kill me,” he says dryly.

Jongin’s wide, wide grin pushes up his cheeks, his brown eyes the brightest thing in the room. There’s whip cream on the bow of his lips he doesn’t seem to know is there. “Of course not,” replies Jongin. “I said he would, not could.” He beams at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo gives him a little half-smile in return.

“Hyung, you’re so pink again,” Jongin says, tilting his head in concern. “You’re like allergic to the cold.” Kyungsoo is holding his hands out over his coffee cup like it’s a fire place. Jongin thinks it’s amusing. Kyungsoo can tell because the edges of Jongin’s mouth look like they’re fighting a grin. “Is that my sweater, by the way?”

Kyungsoo frowns and looks down. He’s actually wearing two sweaters, a long sleeve underneath a black cable-knit. It’s a bit long on the arms now that he thinks about it. “Probably,” says Kyungsoo.

Jongin takes another sip of his drink and this time, there’s whip cream under his nose too. “I thought I lost that sweater at the end of my third-year,” he laughs, eyes crinkling. “Should’ve known you had it all this time.”

“Gonna charge me interest?” Kyungsoo teases, rolling up the sleeves a bit. He really likes this sweater. It’s soft and good for layering and covers his hands. “How can you not notice a missing sweater for five years?”

Jongin just lifts a shoulder lazily. “Dunno,” he mutters. “Looks better on you, anyways. Keep it.” His eyes are still crinkled up, all sweet and gentle and warm. Always warm. Jongin is a person painted in warm tones; tan skin like caramel, eyes the colour of coffee-a dark brown, like how it looks when it drips mid-brew. He really is Kyungsoo’s favourite person. Jongin stares with an earnest kindness and a puppy-face that made you want to fold him up carefully and put in your pocket for safekeeping.

“So I guess choreographing’s got you super busy these days,” Kyungsoo says, reaching over the table to wipe the whip cream off Jongin’s mouth with a quick swipe. “I mean, doesn’t it take ages to debut a group?” He licks the cream off his thumb and raises an eyebrow at Jongin, who looks rigid for about half a second, before he’s nodding.

“Yeah,” Jongin clears his throat. “Yeah. Ages. But it’s not too bad. It’s not until later in the process when things get real stressful.” Kyungsoo knows, at least a bit, the work that went into choreographing for pop acts. It isn't the first time Jongin’s been tasked with a debut stage. Towards deadline days, Kyungsoo’s seen Jongin lose a lot of sleep, sending texts at 3AM that are half-delirious and powered entirely on adrenaline.

“Well, you’re a growing boy, Jongin,” Kyungsoo folds his hands on the table. “Twenty-five is too young to overwork yourself.”

Jongin coughs on his hot chocolate as he swallows. “Growing boy?” he says, lips curling. “As if you aren’t pocket-sized, hyung.”

“Pocket-sized? ” Kyungsoo echoes. The thing is, Kyungsoo used to be taller than both Jongin and Sehun. But when puberty had hit them, it had been truly terrible for Kyungsoo-his two best friends, both younger than him, both as tall as Namsan Tower. “I’m perfectly capable.”

Jongin’s smile is soft. “I know,” he says, swooping his index finger into his whip cream. “But you’re still tiny. Tiny and capable.”

His hand falls on top of Kyungsoo’s absently, and Kyungsoo, on instinct, turns his hand over, seeking the heat. Jongin squeezes, smiling up at Kyungsoo through his eyelashes. “Enough about me. How’s your work?” he says, as he draws little circles into Kyungsoo’s hand with his fingers.

“It’s all right,” Kyungsoo answers, sipping his coffee slowly. He likes the way coffee clings to his throat as he swallows. “I mean, it’s been two years and I’m not bored of it yet, so that’s a good sign.” His hand looks so small compared to Jongin’s. “There’s this one girl in the French Revolution lecture that comes by almost all the time after class. She’s got an endless stream of questions, but it’s good I guess. At least I feel like I’m actually doing something with my office hours.”

Jongin hums, nodding his head. There’s a glint in his eye when Kyungsoo meets his gaze. “Are you sure that’s the only reason she stops by?”

Kyungsoo flushes and then flicks Jongin’s forehead, but he does it through the beanie so it doesn’t actually hurt. Baekhyun’s always said that Kyungsoo is too soft on Jongin. “Not funny, Kim Jongin,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin pinches Kyungsoo’s thumb. “I’m only kidding.” His eyes are fixed on their locked hands again, the press of his fingers against Kyungsoo’s cold skin. Kyungsoo squeezes once, and then pulls his hand away, skin tingling with lost heat.

“Let’s head out,” he says. “There’s a hat shop around here and I want to get Chanyeol’s birthday present.”

Jongin chuckles. “Good idea.”

Kyungsoo takes out his wallet as they stand up. “Let me pay you for my drink.” He knows Jongin is going to push away his money, so he doesn’t even try to pass it to him. He just shoves a crisp 5000 won bill into the back pocket of Jongin’s denim.

“Hyung,” Jongin whines. “It was my treat, though. I came early just to make sure I paid.”

“You always come early, Jonginnie,” Kyungsoo pats Jongin’s butt, where he’d slipped the bill in. “I always keep you waiting.”

Kyungsoo can see Jongin’s shoulders tighten, and then he notices that he’s hooked his fingers into Jongin’s belt loops. Kyungsoo steps back, pulling his hands away and smiling a little. Jongin’s coffee-black eyes are clouded. “It’s okay, hyung,” Jongin says, murmuring tentatively, like he’s trying to grasp for the words. “Waiting is worth it.”

When Kyungsoo blinks, the line of Jongin’s shoulders have loosened up and his smile is bright and happy again. And Kyungsoo can almost pretend that everything feels right and normal, except the corners of Jongin’s lips aren’t quite the same… tense maybe. Or wistful… although Kyungsoo is staring at him in profile now, so it could just be a trick of the light.

The sun is a bit lower in the sky. Jongin shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do about the heavy feeling in his stomach when Jongin turns to look at him. His gaze is restrained, but comforting. Distant, but sincere. They’re out on the street now. The hat shop is only a couple blocks away.

“I can’t believe you still use that wallet, hyung,” Jongin says, as Kyungsoo puts it back into his pocket.

“It’s my favourite wallet,” replies Kyungsoo, defensively.

Jongin adjusts his beanie so that it’s covering his ears. “It’s your only wallet,” he says. “And it’s falling apart.”

“It is not ‘falling apart.’” The wallet is a bit (a lot) frayed in the corners and the seam at the bottom is just a tad loose. “You gave it to me as a grad present. It’s special.” It was also two of Jongin’s pay checks. Even though Jongin had denied that it was expensive, Kyungsoo had seen the price in the department store the following week.

“Yeah,” Jongin chuckles. “For your high school grad, hyung. It’s ancient now.”

“Whatever,” says Kyungsoo. “Let’s just go get Chanyeol’s gift.”

Chanyeol is an easy person to shop for. He’s a music producer at the same entertainment company that Jongin works at. It had taken a while for Kyungsoo to adjust to him and his… volume. He was like Baekhyun except taller and louder, and less crude. But because he had so many friends that were rich pop singers, Kyungsoo could always get away with buying him dumb inexpensive gifts like stuffed animals and travel mugs that say weird things in English that Kyungsoo knows Chanyeol won’t look up in the dictionary.

“Do you know what you want to get him already?” Jongin holds open the door to the hat store and Kyungsoo steps inside.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says. There are snapbacks and fitted caps along one side of the shop. Chanyeol already has a shelf full of those, but Kyungsoo thinks Chanyeol just likes putting them on display anyways so he plucks one off the shelf, tossing it to Jongin. “Would he like this?”

“It’s Chanyeol,” replies Jongin. “He likes everything.”

Kyungsoo chooses another hat to go along with the snapback, but this one is a winter bonnet with pom poms and it’s shaped like a panda, with ears and everything. Jongin laughs as Kyungsoo tries it on in front of the mirror. It immediately turns Kyungsoo into a schoolgirl, but the funny thing is, Chanyeol would definitely be the type to wear it to work or something, and that’s enough to convince Kyungsoo to buy it. Jongin buys something similar, except instead of a panda, it’s a dog.

“Because he’s a puppy. An overgrown, music-producing puppy,” Jongin beams at Kyungsoo as he hands his credit card to the cashier. “It’ll suit him.”

“If anyone is a puppy in our friends group, it’s you, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, clutching onto the plastic bag with his two purchases. He waits until Jongin has bowed at the cashier before they step back out into the night. With the sun gone, the temperature has dipped considerably, and Kyungsoo shivers even with his scarf wound up right to his nose. Jongin takes his beanie off and plops it onto Kyungsoo’s head wordlessly, pushing it down so that it covers the tips of Kyungsoo’s reddening ears.

Jongin steps back once he’s done, but Kyungsoo moves forward because the heat from Jongin’s body feels nice at his side-like a personal, portable furnace. Kyungsoo chases the warmth.

Then they head back in the direction of Coffee Bean, where Jongin had parked his car.

“You drove?” Kyungsoo says, pulling his scarf down to his chin so that Jongin can hear him. His teeth chatter almost immediately.

Jongin hums. “I didn’t want to be late.”

“Maybe you should come late, at least once,” Kyungsoo manages a light laugh, and he sees his breath come out faintly in a white puff. “You’re always so punctual, it’s very weird.”

Jongin shakes his head. His teeth gleam white in the streetlights. “I’m only really punctual on Wednesdays,” he answers. “You should feel special.” He kicks a pebble in his path with the tip of his sneakers. It skids off the sidewalk. They’re near Coffee Bean now. Kyungsoo can see it coming into view. The crosslight in front of them goes red, and Jongin’s hand finds the small of Kyungsoo’s back to stop him from walking forward into the traffic. They wait for the light to turn green. Beside them, Kyungsoo sees a group of girls in high school uniforms, sharing frantic whispers and bashful smiles. He knows they’re looking at Jongin, who miraculously has no idea he’s being stared at. He never does.

“Are you okay getting home?” Jongin asks, once they’re paused in front of the coffee shop. He shifts his weight, foot to foot. “I could… give you a ride. You’re really nearby, right?”

Kyungsoo presses his lips together. “Thanks, Jonginnie. But I’m just a bus ride away.” He licks his lips. They’re going chapped in the cold weather.

“It’s getting a little late-“

“The sun has barely set,” Kyungsoo pushes out a chuckle, and if it sounds forced, it’s okay because he knows, and so does Jongin, that the question is just a formality. “I really do appreciate it.”

And if it were anyone else, they might stare at Kyungsoo dubiously and push one more time. But it’s Jongin. And Jongin would never force Kyungsoo into a car. Jongin wouldn’t force him into anything.

“Sure, hyung,” Jongin replies. He rubs the back of his neck, where the collar of his jacket doesn’t reach. Kyungsoo’s always wondered how Jongin isn’t freezing. “You know me-worrying out loud is a bad habit.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “I know. You take care of everyone like they’re your dogs.”

Jongin sputters, laughing. “You did not just compare yourself to Jjanggu, Jjangah and Monggu. Come on, hyung. Give yourself some credit.” He pats Kyungsoo’s head, eyes going soft like melting chocolate. “Although maybe you are a bit like a poodle. An angry poodle that bites when you get too close but secretly loves a belly rub.”

“Excuse me? I’d cut your hand off if you gave me a belly rub.” Kyungsoo makes a face, swatting away Jongin’s hand.

Jongin just rolls his eyes, grinning radiantly. “See? You’re doing it again. Angry poodle.”

Kyungsoo glares and Jongin mutters ‘poodle’ under his breath again and Kyungsoo wants to combust. “Anyways,” Kyungsoo says, switching gears before he does some horrible thing like blush. Jongin seemed to always get a kick out of making Kyungsoo blush. “I really should take the long way back. Minseok-hyung has his fiancée over again. They deserve some alone time. I don’t want to walk in on anything.”

“Oh right. Minseok-ssi is getting married,” Jongin’s eyebrows furrow. “Does that mean he’s moving out?”

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and his lungs fill up with cold November air. “Yeah, that’s the other issue,” he murmurs. “I can’t afford that rent once he’s gone.”

Jongin perks up before the sentence is even fully out of Kyungsoo’s mouth. “I’ve got a spare room in my apartment, you know,” he says. “A really nice one that my sister is supposed to be using, but she’s moved in with her boyfriend so the room is just sitting there, collecting cute little dust bunnies.”

Kyungsoo can’t help but smile, even as his chest constricts. “Only you would call dust ‘cute.’”

“Dust bunnies. Bunnies of any form are adorable.”

When Jongin grins like that, it makes everything that Kyungsoo wants to ignore, much harder to ignore. There are so many things flashing through Jongin’s eyes and Kyungsoo can’t quite pin them all down-melancholy, apprehension… hope. Fragile, glass hope. Kyungsoo feels a million tiny needles poking his skin when he lets out an exhale. He really does hate winter.

“Maybe-maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says hesitantly. His voice is higher up in his throat, trying to sound casual. It just sounds weird. “Me moving in… for free.” With you. “I wouldn’t want you to think… I mean, I-I just don’t want to-“ Kyungsoo should have mapped this out better in his head, before speaking. The more he tries to say, the worse it sounds. “I don’t want to… raise your expectations, Jonginnie.”

The seconds that pass between the falter in Jongin’s smile, and the arduous effort it takes for him to hold his smile in place, seems like an eternity. His Adam’s apple bobs visibly, like a lone buoy in the middle of an ocean. Melancholy, apprehension… Kyungsoo doesn’t see that anymore. What he sees, he can’t even place. Glass hope shattered. Now Jongin isn’t looking him in the eye, and it stings Kyungsoo with a searing heat.

“Oh I’m, um, well-“ The words come out thin, but Jongin’s voice is thick, as if he’s trying to force them out from the depths of his stomach. Kyungsoo feels like someone’s just stabbed a knife into his gut. Jongin stuttering… Jongin never stutters. Jongin is warmth. All warmth. Cable-knit sweaters. Dorky charm. Brightest thing in the room. But that’s all dissolved before Kyungsoo’s eyes in a moment. This is not the way Wednesday night was supposed to go.

“I didn’t mean-“ Jongin coughs. He looks so helpless. Kyungsoo suddenly wants the November wind to just eat him up and swallow him whole. “Hyung, I… I was just offering. I’m your friend, aren’t I?” He chuckles. It sounds like sandpaper. All wrong. “Friends help friends.”

“Jonginnie,” Kyungsoo says, biting his lip. He thinks he tastes blood. Jongin flinches when Kyungsoo reaches for his arm. “You are my friend. My best friend, Jongin. You don’t need to… to do more.” He takes a breath, as if it’ll steady him. It doesn’t, really. “You don’t need to do more than be my best friend. You’re already an amazing one.”

This is the right thing to do, Kyungsoo tells himself. Jongin deserved… he deserved to stop waiting.

“Of course,” says Jongin, shakily. It’s suddenly high school all over again-four in the morning, Jongin speaking low and frantic through the telephone as Kyungsoo tried to blink away sleep. He’d woken up instantly when he noticed Jongin was on the verge of crying. “Hyung, you’d never, ever judge me if I told you something, would you?”

Jongin is not crying right now, but his voice sounds the exact same as it did back then. Except clearer this time, because they’re not on the phone. Jongin is standing right in front of him now. Breaking. “I’m sorry,” Jongin says. The apology makes Kyungsoo’s stomach flip upside down. He shouldn't be apologizing.

Kyungsoo is about to tell him this, it’s at the tip of his tongue, but then Jongin summons a smile that looks detached from the rest of his face. “Gosh, some things don’t… they don’t go away with time, huh hyung? No matter how much time may pass.” He’s rubbing at his neck again. Kyungsoo wishes he’d wear a scarf. Jongin is prone to colds, even though cold weather never seems to bother him. “Love is a strange thing. I guess… not everything becomes history.” He stares pointedly at his shoes. Everything about his voice is wobbly and pained, like the beat of Kyungsoo’s heart.

“Jonginnie,” Kyungsoo feels ill. Suddenly, he remembers Baekhyun’s words the other night. I dunno what he sees in you, Baekhyun had said. And Kyungsoo, really, doesn’t understand either. Kyungsoo’s never tried to think about it much. He’s never wanted to. Because this-the look on Jongin’s face… this is what Kyungsoo has dreaded. “I care about you a lot. But I’m-“

“I know, hyung,” Jongin interjects. “I know. And I never expected you to… to ever…” His voice gets thinner and thinner, and his hands find their way into the huge pockets of his autumn coat. The top button isn’t even done up, and on a normal occasion, Kyungsoo would have stepped forward, done it up for him, and then scolded him for not taking care of himself. You always put others first Jonginnie, Kyungsoo would say, Don’t forget about yourself. Jongin deserved so much more.

“Anyways,” he swallows. “Today was fun. I’ll see you at Chanyeol-hyung’s okay?”

Kyungsoo blinks. “What about next Wednesday?”

“Ah, right,” Jongin’s already taking a step back, ready to head home. “Noona’s going on vacation so I, um, I might be scheduled for more shifts at her shop.” This can’t be true, Kyungsoo knows, because if Jongin’s sister was planning a vacation, Jongin would have been dishing the details weeks ago.

But there’s only so much of Jongin’s crumbling smile that Kyungsoo can take in one day. The ends of his mouth… frayed and coming apart, just like the seams on Kyungsoo’s wallet.

“Of course,” Kyungsoo says. “See you around, then.” He remembers the beanie sitting comfortably on his head, and starts to pull it off. “Oh, don’t forget-“

“Keep it,” Jongin says. “Looks better on you.” Then he’s turned around, walking through the Wednesday night crowd without another glance back, leaving Kyungsoo with heavy stones deep, deep in his gut.

Kyungsoo’s phone stays quiet all week. He spends next Wednesday in his room, reading through the latest French Revolution assignments. Around 6PM, he glances at his phone.

Sorry, hyung. Busy today.

Two… three hours go by? Kyungsoo doesn’t know. He brews coffee and tries to wash away the image of Jongin hunched over in his coat, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes as he’d walked away.

The apartment is too silent with Minseok out, and the longer Kyungsoo stares at the neat, printed hangeul letters on the pages in front of him, the more he starts to hear each sentence in Sunyoung’s voice-his own history, seeping through the empty cracks of his mind.

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