(no subject)
title a lot like love
count ~5000
a/n i wrote this because i wasn't around in ficdom before 2011 and i never got to try my hand at the teach me how to kiss, are we friends or are we more, awkward first love trope. continuing from that, this is canon and set pre 2010.
Like he always does, Jonghyun lets himself in.
His bare feet are silent on the hardwood floor and Jinki doesn’t hear him come in until he is standing in front of him, with his wrists in his hands and his teeth on his lips. It’s like he’s holding himself prisoner, Jinki thinks, closing his book. Maybe he should stop reading it before bed.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks.
“Haven’t tried,” Jonghyun says. “Can I sit?”
Jinki wriggles towards one end of the sofa, freeing up the center. Jonghyun curls up in it and for a second they just stare at each other.
“So,” Jinki says. It’s not uncommon for Jonghyun to seek him out at odd hours of the night. The two oldest members would often catch up after the others had gone to bed. As leader Jinki had to be levelheaded and Jonghyun had always been mature for his age. It was good to have someone to talk to - someone who was familiar with the weight of responsibility. Jinki slips his glasses off and lets his head loll back.
“I met some friends from school tonight,” Jonghyun says. Through the corner of his eye Jinki can see him fidgeting with the chunky bracelet on his right arm. “They had some interesting stories.” Jinki’s lips quirk and he rights himself. He knows where this is going.
“Yeah?” he prompts.
“Jun Seo has a girlfriend now. She’s his sister’s best friend. His sister isn’t happy, of course.” He chuckles. “But he is. I remember, he had a crush on her a year ago and he had almost given up. I’m happy for him.”
Jinki nods. He doesn’t need Jonghyun to say it out loud. They’re both thinking it. It would be nice to have someone, the way their friends do, to share things and spend time with. Unlike Jonghyun, Jinki doesn’t aspire to be head over heels in love. He would be content with someone nice who cared for him. It didn’t matter if their story wasn’t the greatest since Romeo and Juliet. He was happy to just let the right person in.
“And Woo Jin,” Jonghyun continues, “he - do you remember him?” Jinki nods. “He and his girlfriend finally, you know.” He makes an incriminating hand gesture or two and Jinki laughs.
“Had sex,” he says and Jonghyun grins.
“Yeah.”
“How was it?”
Jonghyun has always been a bit of a gossip.
“Like fifteen bottles of soju apparently. He couldn’t even string three words together. Then he asked me if I had met Yuri noona recently.” Jonghyun snorts. “He doesn’t get how lucky he is at all.”
“He would same the same about you.”
“Yeah.” Jonghyun plucks at the stitching on the sofa. “Yuri noona is really hot though,” he says idly. There’s something different about tonight. Maybe it’s the way Jonghyun’s shoulder have caved in or the way he won’t quite meet Jinki’s eyes.
“Is something wrong?” Jinki asks after a few minutes of silence.
“I’m sick of being a virgin, hyung.”
“Oh.” Jinki blinks. This was new.
“Jonghyun,” he says slowly, “if you’re asking me if you can have sex, you can. Just don’t get caught.”
The younger boy laughs dryly. “When would I have sex, hyung - on the three-hour drive to Music Core or after I get home at 4AM with every bone in my body broken? And who would I even do it with? It’s just,” he sounds frustrated, “I hear my friends talk and it’s, it’s fucking embarrassing. Do you know I’ve never even made out with a girl properly? I feel like everyone in the world has more experience than I do.”
“Yoogeun doesn’t.”
“Hyung.”
“Look,” Jinki leans forward, “it’ll happen when it has to. Do you really think you, of all people, would be happy with a one-night stand?”
“No,” Jonghyun says. He sounds miserable. “But how long are we supposed to make do with jacking off? It’s impossible to have a relationship like this anyway. I don’t even get the time to call home.”
Maybe it’s the late night speaking, Jinki reasons. Jonghyun always got extra miserable after the sun set.
“It’s hard to do everything at once, Jjong, you should know that by now. There will be time later on too. You’ll find the right girl. Maybe she’ll be even hotter than Yuri noona.”
“Maybe.” Jonghyun runs a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I got over it.” Jinki shrugs.
“I don’t know if I can.” Jonghyun looks up and his eyes are steady. “Hyung.” He licks his lips. “I don’t want to fuck it up when it happens.”
“That’s sweet, Jo-”
“No, hyung, I can’t fuck it up. I’ll be a joke. I don’t even know how to kiss a girl, let alone anything else. What if I’m serious about her and I botch up our first time together, she’ll obviously leave me!”
“Jonghyun, it’s not that complicated. Believe me.”
“So you’ve done it?”
“I guess, yes.”
It’s Jonghyun’s turn to look confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means, yes I have done, um, things with people.” Jinki picks at the fraying material of his sweatpants. Everything about this conversation is making him wish he was asleep right now. Jonghyun often gets ideas that are… less than rational (Jinki recognizes that look in his eyes) but during their nighttime talks they usually discussed music, or porn, or their label mates. Not his feelings. Jonghyun tends to go to Kibum for things like that, even Taemin at times because that boy is as clear-headed as Jonghyun is emotional.
“Made out?” Jonghyun probes.
“Yes.”
“Handjob?”
“Yes, Jonghyun, why are we do-”
“Blowjob?” Jonghyun says, a tad hysterical.
Jinki nods. His face feels like its on fire and the blood is roaring in his veins.
“Fuck, you are so lucky.” Jonghyun shakes his head.
The truth is Jinki was more on the giving than the receiving end of that last one but he doesn’t think Jonghyun wants to know that. The younger boy looks like he doesn’t want to do anything, falling back against the sofa with a soft noise.
“Hyung,” he murmurs, “I know this is going to sound crazy but please kiss me.”
(Or maybe he does.)
Jinki opens his lips but nothing comes out because his brain has decided to roll over and die. And when it does return to life, it decides to hop on a bullet train to the future - it rushes past Jonghyun’s lips, his legs, his moans, their marriage, their children, the songs they would write together to that inevitable day Jonghyun would realize this was all a big mistake and break Jinki’s heart.
“No,” he says firmly. “You are either still drunk or you’re just lonely, I don’t know what it is but get it together. We have practice tomorrow.”
He stands up and walks out of the room. Jonghyun doesn’t try to stop him and if Jinki’s heart aches a teeny, tiny bit at that, he never finds out.
But of course it changes things. It changes like a tiny match thrown on a mountainside. It erases every defense the meek brown mud has till every gust of wind is blowing it off its feet. Jonghyun’s laugh is so loud when it races down the corridor and forces Jinki to press his pillow to his heart so he can muffle the way it now beats in answer.
He can’t imagine a person in the world who is immune to Jonghyun. Surely it’s impossible. If their eyes catch a glint of light, Jonghyun’s will catch three. If Jinki sings like he has lost, Jonghyun will sing like he has waited his entire life. He is, of course, not perfect and maybe more than a little of him exists in Jinki’s imagination but even the nose-digging, sports-hating Jonghyun of his reality has him completely. He just doesn’t know it.
Maybe that’s why even though he’s the one who said it, Jinki is the one who bears it. He tries his best not to be awkward - God knows he tries. He stays in the same room till his heart is in his throat and his arms hurt from being pinned to his sides.
He said I can, is all he can think when he sees Jonghyun. He said you’re allowed to push him down on that sofa and climb between his legs. He must have seen inside you, you should have paid more attention, did he see it in your eyes, on your cheeks, did he read your journal?
He doesn’t know why Jonghyun came to him. It’s preposterous, he reasons, the idea is preposterous, which means Kibum would just laugh at him and Minho would politely excuse himself. Taemin is too young. That leaves just Jinki - the last resort, the reluctant choice. He’s better than nothing. Is that what Jonghyun thinks, or does he think Jinki would be easy to persuade? He is a bit of a pushover but even Jonghyun would not be that cruel. Then maybe, in some way and Jinki isn’t surprised he doesn’t get why, Jonghyun realizes that Jinki is different with him.
On most days Jinki can control it. He can lose his temper on Jonghyun, he can slam the door shut in his face. He can treat him the way he treats anybody else. But that sentence has unlocked the monster in his chest and now it roars long into the night. It flicks its tail impatiently when it sees Minho comforting Jonghyun or Kibum cooking for him. He looks so small and sleepy and grateful.
Mine, Jinki thinks, grabbing Jonghyun by the wrist and dragging him to their room. The others watch them go, curious, but content. He must be apologizing.
Jinki shuts the door behind them, his breaths short and heavy with nerves.
“You didn’t have to yell at me, you know,” Jonghyun says mutinously. “I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
Jinki knows he isn’t talking about the fight. He bites his lip. “Jonghyun, I, you - we can’t.”
“I know, hyung. I don’t know what came over me. Once I thought of it, I…” the younger boy trails off. He shuffles a bit. “I felt like it would make me feel better.”
“Why?” Jinki presses.
“I don’t know.” Jonghyun’s hands curl into fists. “I told you, I don’t want to screw up my first time.”
“So I’m a practice doll?” Jinki raises his eyebrows. Maybe he overestimated Jonghyun after all.
“No,” he almost yells. “God, of course not. I trust you, hyung,” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice. “And I felt comfortable asking you. That’s it. Fuck. I really screwed up.” He laughs, a lost, hollow little thing and Jinki feels horrible for putting him in the spot like that.
“It’s fine,” he says. “We’re fine.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
And just like that the moment passes and Jinki is back to thinking Jonghyun is the most adorable boy in South Korea as he flops onto the bed with a small whistle.
“I was so worried,” he says with a nervous giggle. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You can never sleep, Jjong.”
“I know but, you know,” he peers up at him, “I didn’t want to hurt you or something. I can’t just go around kissing people. I, um, tried. I want to kiss someone I love and I love you, you know, you’re Jinki hyung.”
Jinki’s breath splutters. There’s something dangerous in Jonghyun’s smile - his lower teeth are entirely too sharp. Jinki could cut his heart on them.
“Okay.”
It slips out so easily. He’s been through so much. He’s stronger than a little crush, right?
Jonghyun sits up on his elbows, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?!”
“Yeah.” Jinki shrugs. “It’s just a kiss, right?”
Jinki pulls back with a groan. He should have known Jonghyun - with or without practice - would be a fantastic kisser. That boy has had an oral fixation since the day Jinki met him. He would put his mouth on anything he could find (no, Jinki, don’t go there). He’s sweet but eager. It’s a little too wet but he can’t bring himself to care, not with the way Jonghyun’s tongue is kitten-licking his.
“What do you think the others think we’re doing?” Jonghyun pants against his collarbone.
“Fighting?” Jinki guesses.
He jumps when Jonghyun suddenly yells, “Yeah, well, fuck you too!”
“Fighting,” he confirms with a grin Jinki can’t wait to taste.
“You’re good.” He pecks his lips one last time. “Stop worrying, alright?”
Jonghyun nods. “Hyung, thank you.” He presses their foreheads together. “I owe you.”
“All the chicken wings in the world.”
“All of them,” Jonghyun promises.
Jinki doesn’t know if it’s hormones or habit but he finds himself kissing Jonghyun often after that. It thrills the small monster in his chest. These secret kisses - exchanged in dim corners and lonely corridors - hit him harder than any vitamins their manager presses into his palm. They make his head spin in the best way possible. He doesn’t mind dancing the routine six times. It’s worth it to see the flush on Jonghyun’s face at the end. His lips cling to the water bottle and Jinki’s eyes cling to the sight. If the others notice, they don’t say anything and so it continues like that for a week. Jinki crowds Jonghyun into walls, doors, anywhere he can find and steals the hundredth kiss.
By the time Sunday rolls around and Jonghyun kisses him first - the monster purrs - he does it with confidence. His tongue slips in with familiarity. His fingers don’t fumble around in the air anymore. They settle softly on Jinki’s jaw, teasing his sensitive ears with gentle touches.
“You’re amazing.” Jinki pulls back with stars in his eyes.
“Really?” Jonghyun smiles till Jinki can see all his teeth.
“Yes,” Jinki says fervently. “You’re perfect.”
(They celebrate with a kiss.)
“The city called the Venice of the North.” Jinki chews the end of his pen. “I’m not sure, I’m not sure.”
“Isn’t Venice in the north?” Jonghyun peers into the folded up newspaper with a frown.
“The north of where?”
“Italy?” Jonghyun looks up at him.
“Nice try.” Jinki pokes his cheek.
“Why don’t you just Google it?”
“That’s cheating!”
“This is not the World Cup, hyung.”
“I just want to do it properly.”
“Fine, we’ll come back to this one. How about,” he scans the page, “18 down?”
“Famous Hollywood erotica movie from the early ‘70s.”
“I know this one,” Jonghyun mumbles, his cheeks suspiciously red. He plucks the pen from Jinki’s fingers and scribbles the answer. It’s a perfect fit.
“There.” Jonghyun clears his throat. “I’m hungry,” he says suddenly and untangles himself from Jinki before wandering off to the kitchen. Jinki turns the paper over and traces the bumps from Jonghyun’s words - written hard enough to show up several pages later. There’s a slight tremble in the last letter, clear as day, and it keeps him up the whole night.
It’s an unsaid agreement between the members that Wednesday night, unless they have a schedule, is movie night. Three of them are lined on the sofa, Minho is yet to come home and Jonghyun is in charge of popcorn.
He walks into the living room with a big bowl of it and, Jinki notes with a warm tingling in his stomach, a single bottle of beer tucked under his arm.
“Here.” He smiles, handing it to Jinki, after Taemin has snatched the bowl from him.
“Hey, why don’t I get any?” Taemin asks, shoveling a fistful into his mouth.
“Because,” Kibum smacks his head, “you’re too young. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Taemin sticks his tongue out and Jinki cringes. It’s coated with half-chewed popcorn.
“Don’t do that,” he says. “Where’s Minho?”
Jonghyun looks up from where he’s sprawled on the carpet. “Soccer, I think.”
Kibum huffs. “That means he’s going to come back all gross and sweaty. I vote we bump him off the sofa.”
“I vote him off the rug,” Jonghyun says immediately.
“He can shower first, it’s not like all of us haven’t seen Romeo and Juliet a hundred times.”
That little fact is met with loud groans.
“What the fuck,” Kibum throws the lead singer a dirty look, “I thought it was your turn to pick a movie, hyung.”
“It was,” Jonghyun answers with a shit-eating grin. “He gave it to me.”
Jinki squirms under Kibum’s displeased stare.
“And why would he do that?”
“Because I’m better looking than you, obviously.”
“Jonghyun!”
“You wish!” Kibum pitches a cushion at his best friend but he’s laughing.
In the end they watch the movie without Minho, who never makes it home. Taemin falls asleep halfway through, Kibum wanders off and Jonghyun clambers up into Jinki’s arms and cries until his eyes are swollen.
Like all his other problems, it starts with him kissing Jonghyun. The other members are watching some variety show in the living room. They think the older two are taking a nap but there’s nothing sleepy about the look in Jonghyun’s eyes.
“Hyung,” he whispers, hot and heavy, and Jinki pushes himself up on his elbows.
“What?” he asks, staring down at his band mate. The heavy curtains are drawn and in the faded afternoon sunshine, Jonghyun’s wide eyes are two pinpricks of light.
“I need to pee.”
“What?”
“Get off, come on,” Jonghyun says with a strained smile.
Jinki rolls to one side, fighting the disappointment rising in his throat. Of course Jonghyun wouldn’t think twice before asking him to stop. It’s not like he owes Jinki anything.
“Thanks.” Jonghyun gives him a playful salute on his way out.
“No problem,” Jinki says dully to an empty room.
He lies there, flopped on his stomach and feeling bad, for a few minutes. It’s not like Jonghyun doesn’t like their make out sessions - he’s sure of that. But if he wants them to stop, he should say it more clearly because at this stage Jinki isn’t sure if he can just stop. If he had to - if he absolutely had to - would he prefer to slide the needle out inch by inch, or rip it out all at once? He’s not sure.
Either way, it would hurt.
He clambers off the bed, fixes his t-shirt, and decides to find Jonghyun. He just wants to talk to him, reassure himself that everything is fine and he hasn’t, for whatever blurred boundaries now exist between them, crossed a line.
“Where’s Jjong?” he asks Kibum, who has tears of mirth running down his face.
“Somewhere,” he says with another shriek of laughter. “Manager’s room I think. Hyung, you have to see thi-”
Jinki doesn’t wait for him to finish. He makes his way to the empty room on the other end of the dorm. Their manager had moved out a few months when his wife gave birth to their first child. Since then his room had become a bit of a safe place for all of them. And if the door was locked it meant you waited your turn. Jinki tries it.
It opens.
Jonghyun is lying on the sofa but he jumps to attention as the door creaks.
“Hyung!” He clears his throat. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, you,” Jinki feels around for the right words, “you didn’t come back.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jonghyun rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I’m not really in the mood.”
Jinki turns around and locks the door. He can practically hear the gears in Jonghyun’s head go into overdrive.
“Hyung?”
Jinki walks over to the sofa. “Scoot, come on,” he tuts and settles down next to him. “I just,” he starts unsurely, “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay?”
“Hyung,” Jonghyun repeats more gently, pulling him closer. “Of course. I’m sorry, I think I freaked out a little.”
“Kiss me.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as demanding as it does. He doesn’t close his eyes in expectation. He doesn’t give up everything for this one feeling. He’s just scared. He just wants a little comfort.
He sighs against Jonghyun’s lips, grabs his shoulders. They’re strong like an anchor but they’re warm. He pushes at them, till Jonghyun is on his back and he is on him, dotting him with kisses. One on his forehead - the mark of the taken - and one on his throat. He seems to like that. He gasps and winds his arms around Jinki’s waist. So he does it again and again till Jonghyun is writhing under him.
“Hyung, hyung, fuck.” He sounds so pleasantly surprised, like he didn’t know his skin could feel like this. But it can and Jinki - selfish, selfish Jinki - is determined to show him. He tugs Jonghyun’s sweatpants out of the way and runs a hand down his thigh like a question.
“Can I?” he whispers.
Jonghyun blinks up at him in the full light.
“You said you wanted to know,” he mumbles, tracing Jonghyun’s collarbone with his thumb. A hand settles in his hair and pulls him down and suddenly he is drowning.
“Shit,” Jonghyun groans, his face pressed deep into a cushion. His voice is hoarse and his body is painted with sweat.
Jinki rests his head on Jonghyun’s chest and listens to his heart. It’s booming. Fingers begin to card through his hair, calming him down while he waits for things to get awkward. He knows they will. It’s practically a rule.
“I never realized,” Jonghyun says weakly, “I thought my hand, another hand, what’s the big difference? Fuck, I was an idiot.” He laughs.
Jinki laughs too. “It was good?”
“It was fucking brilliant, I can’t feel my legs.”
“I can feel them.” Jinki rubs their ankles together. “They feel great.”
It’s a lie. Jonghyun’s hipbones are digging into his stomach. His right hand is striped with cum and their t-shirts are soaked with sweat. The scent in the room is unmistakable and Jonghyun keeps shifting around, trying to bear his weight. But even if everything looks filthy, it feels fucking perfect. It feels like a dream.
He curls his fingers around Jonghyun’s as if to ask, darling, are you going to leave me? Do something stupid. Trap my hand in your waistband.
He’s seen the birthmark on Jonghyun’s thigh. He can’t go back now. Maybe if he doesn’t move, Jonghyun won’t be able to either. He would have to spend the rest of his life under Jinki. They could eat like this, sleep like this, sing only for each other.
“Hyung, you’re heavy,” Jonghyun mumbles.
He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry.
“Sorry,” he says and picks himself up.
Jonghyun waves it off. He slides off the sofa with his characteristic lack of grace and pulls his sweats back on.
“Thanks, hyung,” he says, kissing him on the forehead, and pulling back with a small smile on his face. He walks out of the room.
(It really hurts when someone breaks your heart. It hurts even more when they don’t even know it.)
A forehead kiss, Jinki thinks and snorts.
He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands of Jonghyun.
In the end it’s not Jonghyun who makes things awkward. It’s him.
He tries not to be petty. He tries not to wake up every morning and choose an outfit that would make Jonghyun want him. He’s fighting a losing battle. Jonghyun doesn’t kiss him again. He got what he wanted and now Jinki is sitting in a bar on the other side of down, in a loud red shirt, flirting with a girl he doesn’t really care about. Her lips are too small and her eyes are too dark. He excuses himself.
If this were a movie, he would be sloshed right now. He would call Jonghyun, who would rush to pick him up, and he would confess his love to him and puke right afterwards. Jonghyun would take him home, clean him up and put him to bed. He would stay awake all night thinking - giving Jinki a night off - and in the morning they would be boyfriends. The end.
He shakes his head as the light turns green. The car thrums into life beneath him, moving easily over the wide, empty street. He’s no Hyun Bin. He’s predictable, responsible, use and throwable Lee Jinki.
He slams the gas pedal and tries to live a little.
It’s 2:47AM when he walks into the dorm and, of course, Jonghyun is awake. He is half hanging off the sofa and watching TV with a listless look in his eyes. They flicker to Jinki, who ignores them and the accompanying greeting, and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. He isn’t surprised to hear Jonghyun follow him.
“Hyung, are you drunk?” He laughs.
Jinki takes a long sip of water. “Just tired. Do you mind?”
Jonghyun looks confused. “Do I mind what?”
“Leaving me alone.”
“I do actually.” Jonghyun comes closer and till Jinki is forced to stare down at him. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
Do you tell the problem it’s the problem, Jinki wonders. If he screamed at Jonghyun in their kitchen at 3AM in the morning, would he feel better? He doesn’t think he does. He doesn’t want his problem to go away. He just wants it to stop being a problem.
“Hyung,” Jonghyun says softly and Jinki falls into him with a small hiccup. Jonghyun is his bandmate, his best friend and his Juliet all at once and it’s the best hug of Jinki’s life.
“I like you,” he says to the hair on the nape of Jonghyun’s neck, to the string of skin leading up to his ear, to the very air around them, hoping it knows how to keep a secret. He waits for the arms around him to go slack. “I’ve always liked you. That’s why I didn’t want to kiss you. Not because I think it’s gross or you’re gross but because I think you’re beautiful.”
“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun whispers and holds him tighter, breaks him into a million pieces.
“You don’t have to be.” Take it back, please.
“I shouldn’t have been so selfi-”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not, hyung,” Jonghyun says, stupidly sincerely as always. He peels Jinki off and meets his eyes. “I thought you might… I should have asked.”
Jinki blinks. “What?”
There’s a smile tucked into the corners of Jonghyun’s lips. “Hyung, you let me come in your hand. Unless I’m wrong, I don’t think you do that for a lot of people.”
“You don’t know that.”
Jonghyun laughs and presses their foreheads together. “I think I do.” His fingers curl around Jinki’s. “And I think I know what a good kiss feels like. And you know what else?”
Jinki fights down a blush. “What?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m still a virgin.”
He can’t help the small groan that escapes him. “Jonghyun.”
“Jinki,” the other boy says roughly. “I’m not that clueless, you know. I admit I didn’t know why I came to you but I figured it out along the way. I’m not like you, hyung, I’m not mature,” - Jinki snorts at that - “and brave and I kind of build too many fairytales in my head, or so Kibum says, but I’m here now, okay?” Jonghyun squeezes his hand.
“Okay.” Jinki squeezes back.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me?”
count ~5000
a/n i wrote this because i wasn't around in ficdom before 2011 and i never got to try my hand at the teach me how to kiss, are we friends or are we more, awkward first love trope. continuing from that, this is canon and set pre 2010.
Like he always does, Jonghyun lets himself in.
His bare feet are silent on the hardwood floor and Jinki doesn’t hear him come in until he is standing in front of him, with his wrists in his hands and his teeth on his lips. It’s like he’s holding himself prisoner, Jinki thinks, closing his book. Maybe he should stop reading it before bed.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks.
“Haven’t tried,” Jonghyun says. “Can I sit?”
Jinki wriggles towards one end of the sofa, freeing up the center. Jonghyun curls up in it and for a second they just stare at each other.
“So,” Jinki says. It’s not uncommon for Jonghyun to seek him out at odd hours of the night. The two oldest members would often catch up after the others had gone to bed. As leader Jinki had to be levelheaded and Jonghyun had always been mature for his age. It was good to have someone to talk to - someone who was familiar with the weight of responsibility. Jinki slips his glasses off and lets his head loll back.
“I met some friends from school tonight,” Jonghyun says. Through the corner of his eye Jinki can see him fidgeting with the chunky bracelet on his right arm. “They had some interesting stories.” Jinki’s lips quirk and he rights himself. He knows where this is going.
“Yeah?” he prompts.
“Jun Seo has a girlfriend now. She’s his sister’s best friend. His sister isn’t happy, of course.” He chuckles. “But he is. I remember, he had a crush on her a year ago and he had almost given up. I’m happy for him.”
Jinki nods. He doesn’t need Jonghyun to say it out loud. They’re both thinking it. It would be nice to have someone, the way their friends do, to share things and spend time with. Unlike Jonghyun, Jinki doesn’t aspire to be head over heels in love. He would be content with someone nice who cared for him. It didn’t matter if their story wasn’t the greatest since Romeo and Juliet. He was happy to just let the right person in.
“And Woo Jin,” Jonghyun continues, “he - do you remember him?” Jinki nods. “He and his girlfriend finally, you know.” He makes an incriminating hand gesture or two and Jinki laughs.
“Had sex,” he says and Jonghyun grins.
“Yeah.”
“How was it?”
Jonghyun has always been a bit of a gossip.
“Like fifteen bottles of soju apparently. He couldn’t even string three words together. Then he asked me if I had met Yuri noona recently.” Jonghyun snorts. “He doesn’t get how lucky he is at all.”
“He would same the same about you.”
“Yeah.” Jonghyun plucks at the stitching on the sofa. “Yuri noona is really hot though,” he says idly. There’s something different about tonight. Maybe it’s the way Jonghyun’s shoulder have caved in or the way he won’t quite meet Jinki’s eyes.
“Is something wrong?” Jinki asks after a few minutes of silence.
“I’m sick of being a virgin, hyung.”
“Oh.” Jinki blinks. This was new.
“Jonghyun,” he says slowly, “if you’re asking me if you can have sex, you can. Just don’t get caught.”
The younger boy laughs dryly. “When would I have sex, hyung - on the three-hour drive to Music Core or after I get home at 4AM with every bone in my body broken? And who would I even do it with? It’s just,” he sounds frustrated, “I hear my friends talk and it’s, it’s fucking embarrassing. Do you know I’ve never even made out with a girl properly? I feel like everyone in the world has more experience than I do.”
“Yoogeun doesn’t.”
“Hyung.”
“Look,” Jinki leans forward, “it’ll happen when it has to. Do you really think you, of all people, would be happy with a one-night stand?”
“No,” Jonghyun says. He sounds miserable. “But how long are we supposed to make do with jacking off? It’s impossible to have a relationship like this anyway. I don’t even get the time to call home.”
Maybe it’s the late night speaking, Jinki reasons. Jonghyun always got extra miserable after the sun set.
“It’s hard to do everything at once, Jjong, you should know that by now. There will be time later on too. You’ll find the right girl. Maybe she’ll be even hotter than Yuri noona.”
“Maybe.” Jonghyun runs a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I got over it.” Jinki shrugs.
“I don’t know if I can.” Jonghyun looks up and his eyes are steady. “Hyung.” He licks his lips. “I don’t want to fuck it up when it happens.”
“That’s sweet, Jo-”
“No, hyung, I can’t fuck it up. I’ll be a joke. I don’t even know how to kiss a girl, let alone anything else. What if I’m serious about her and I botch up our first time together, she’ll obviously leave me!”
“Jonghyun, it’s not that complicated. Believe me.”
“So you’ve done it?”
“I guess, yes.”
It’s Jonghyun’s turn to look confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means, yes I have done, um, things with people.” Jinki picks at the fraying material of his sweatpants. Everything about this conversation is making him wish he was asleep right now. Jonghyun often gets ideas that are… less than rational (Jinki recognizes that look in his eyes) but during their nighttime talks they usually discussed music, or porn, or their label mates. Not his feelings. Jonghyun tends to go to Kibum for things like that, even Taemin at times because that boy is as clear-headed as Jonghyun is emotional.
“Made out?” Jonghyun probes.
“Yes.”
“Handjob?”
“Yes, Jonghyun, why are we do-”
“Blowjob?” Jonghyun says, a tad hysterical.
Jinki nods. His face feels like its on fire and the blood is roaring in his veins.
“Fuck, you are so lucky.” Jonghyun shakes his head.
The truth is Jinki was more on the giving than the receiving end of that last one but he doesn’t think Jonghyun wants to know that. The younger boy looks like he doesn’t want to do anything, falling back against the sofa with a soft noise.
“Hyung,” he murmurs, “I know this is going to sound crazy but please kiss me.”
(Or maybe he does.)
Jinki opens his lips but nothing comes out because his brain has decided to roll over and die. And when it does return to life, it decides to hop on a bullet train to the future - it rushes past Jonghyun’s lips, his legs, his moans, their marriage, their children, the songs they would write together to that inevitable day Jonghyun would realize this was all a big mistake and break Jinki’s heart.
“No,” he says firmly. “You are either still drunk or you’re just lonely, I don’t know what it is but get it together. We have practice tomorrow.”
He stands up and walks out of the room. Jonghyun doesn’t try to stop him and if Jinki’s heart aches a teeny, tiny bit at that, he never finds out.
But of course it changes things. It changes like a tiny match thrown on a mountainside. It erases every defense the meek brown mud has till every gust of wind is blowing it off its feet. Jonghyun’s laugh is so loud when it races down the corridor and forces Jinki to press his pillow to his heart so he can muffle the way it now beats in answer.
He can’t imagine a person in the world who is immune to Jonghyun. Surely it’s impossible. If their eyes catch a glint of light, Jonghyun’s will catch three. If Jinki sings like he has lost, Jonghyun will sing like he has waited his entire life. He is, of course, not perfect and maybe more than a little of him exists in Jinki’s imagination but even the nose-digging, sports-hating Jonghyun of his reality has him completely. He just doesn’t know it.
Maybe that’s why even though he’s the one who said it, Jinki is the one who bears it. He tries his best not to be awkward - God knows he tries. He stays in the same room till his heart is in his throat and his arms hurt from being pinned to his sides.
He said I can, is all he can think when he sees Jonghyun. He said you’re allowed to push him down on that sofa and climb between his legs. He must have seen inside you, you should have paid more attention, did he see it in your eyes, on your cheeks, did he read your journal?
He doesn’t know why Jonghyun came to him. It’s preposterous, he reasons, the idea is preposterous, which means Kibum would just laugh at him and Minho would politely excuse himself. Taemin is too young. That leaves just Jinki - the last resort, the reluctant choice. He’s better than nothing. Is that what Jonghyun thinks, or does he think Jinki would be easy to persuade? He is a bit of a pushover but even Jonghyun would not be that cruel. Then maybe, in some way and Jinki isn’t surprised he doesn’t get why, Jonghyun realizes that Jinki is different with him.
On most days Jinki can control it. He can lose his temper on Jonghyun, he can slam the door shut in his face. He can treat him the way he treats anybody else. But that sentence has unlocked the monster in his chest and now it roars long into the night. It flicks its tail impatiently when it sees Minho comforting Jonghyun or Kibum cooking for him. He looks so small and sleepy and grateful.
Mine, Jinki thinks, grabbing Jonghyun by the wrist and dragging him to their room. The others watch them go, curious, but content. He must be apologizing.
Jinki shuts the door behind them, his breaths short and heavy with nerves.
“You didn’t have to yell at me, you know,” Jonghyun says mutinously. “I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
Jinki knows he isn’t talking about the fight. He bites his lip. “Jonghyun, I, you - we can’t.”
“I know, hyung. I don’t know what came over me. Once I thought of it, I…” the younger boy trails off. He shuffles a bit. “I felt like it would make me feel better.”
“Why?” Jinki presses.
“I don’t know.” Jonghyun’s hands curl into fists. “I told you, I don’t want to screw up my first time.”
“So I’m a practice doll?” Jinki raises his eyebrows. Maybe he overestimated Jonghyun after all.
“No,” he almost yells. “God, of course not. I trust you, hyung,” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice. “And I felt comfortable asking you. That’s it. Fuck. I really screwed up.” He laughs, a lost, hollow little thing and Jinki feels horrible for putting him in the spot like that.
“It’s fine,” he says. “We’re fine.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
And just like that the moment passes and Jinki is back to thinking Jonghyun is the most adorable boy in South Korea as he flops onto the bed with a small whistle.
“I was so worried,” he says with a nervous giggle. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You can never sleep, Jjong.”
“I know but, you know,” he peers up at him, “I didn’t want to hurt you or something. I can’t just go around kissing people. I, um, tried. I want to kiss someone I love and I love you, you know, you’re Jinki hyung.”
Jinki’s breath splutters. There’s something dangerous in Jonghyun’s smile - his lower teeth are entirely too sharp. Jinki could cut his heart on them.
“Okay.”
It slips out so easily. He’s been through so much. He’s stronger than a little crush, right?
Jonghyun sits up on his elbows, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?!”
“Yeah.” Jinki shrugs. “It’s just a kiss, right?”
Jinki pulls back with a groan. He should have known Jonghyun - with or without practice - would be a fantastic kisser. That boy has had an oral fixation since the day Jinki met him. He would put his mouth on anything he could find (no, Jinki, don’t go there). He’s sweet but eager. It’s a little too wet but he can’t bring himself to care, not with the way Jonghyun’s tongue is kitten-licking his.
“What do you think the others think we’re doing?” Jonghyun pants against his collarbone.
“Fighting?” Jinki guesses.
He jumps when Jonghyun suddenly yells, “Yeah, well, fuck you too!”
“Fighting,” he confirms with a grin Jinki can’t wait to taste.
“You’re good.” He pecks his lips one last time. “Stop worrying, alright?”
Jonghyun nods. “Hyung, thank you.” He presses their foreheads together. “I owe you.”
“All the chicken wings in the world.”
“All of them,” Jonghyun promises.
Jinki doesn’t know if it’s hormones or habit but he finds himself kissing Jonghyun often after that. It thrills the small monster in his chest. These secret kisses - exchanged in dim corners and lonely corridors - hit him harder than any vitamins their manager presses into his palm. They make his head spin in the best way possible. He doesn’t mind dancing the routine six times. It’s worth it to see the flush on Jonghyun’s face at the end. His lips cling to the water bottle and Jinki’s eyes cling to the sight. If the others notice, they don’t say anything and so it continues like that for a week. Jinki crowds Jonghyun into walls, doors, anywhere he can find and steals the hundredth kiss.
By the time Sunday rolls around and Jonghyun kisses him first - the monster purrs - he does it with confidence. His tongue slips in with familiarity. His fingers don’t fumble around in the air anymore. They settle softly on Jinki’s jaw, teasing his sensitive ears with gentle touches.
“You’re amazing.” Jinki pulls back with stars in his eyes.
“Really?” Jonghyun smiles till Jinki can see all his teeth.
“Yes,” Jinki says fervently. “You’re perfect.”
(They celebrate with a kiss.)
“The city called the Venice of the North.” Jinki chews the end of his pen. “I’m not sure, I’m not sure.”
“Isn’t Venice in the north?” Jonghyun peers into the folded up newspaper with a frown.
“The north of where?”
“Italy?” Jonghyun looks up at him.
“Nice try.” Jinki pokes his cheek.
“Why don’t you just Google it?”
“That’s cheating!”
“This is not the World Cup, hyung.”
“I just want to do it properly.”
“Fine, we’ll come back to this one. How about,” he scans the page, “18 down?”
“Famous Hollywood erotica movie from the early ‘70s.”
“I know this one,” Jonghyun mumbles, his cheeks suspiciously red. He plucks the pen from Jinki’s fingers and scribbles the answer. It’s a perfect fit.
“There.” Jonghyun clears his throat. “I’m hungry,” he says suddenly and untangles himself from Jinki before wandering off to the kitchen. Jinki turns the paper over and traces the bumps from Jonghyun’s words - written hard enough to show up several pages later. There’s a slight tremble in the last letter, clear as day, and it keeps him up the whole night.
It’s an unsaid agreement between the members that Wednesday night, unless they have a schedule, is movie night. Three of them are lined on the sofa, Minho is yet to come home and Jonghyun is in charge of popcorn.
He walks into the living room with a big bowl of it and, Jinki notes with a warm tingling in his stomach, a single bottle of beer tucked under his arm.
“Here.” He smiles, handing it to Jinki, after Taemin has snatched the bowl from him.
“Hey, why don’t I get any?” Taemin asks, shoveling a fistful into his mouth.
“Because,” Kibum smacks his head, “you’re too young. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Taemin sticks his tongue out and Jinki cringes. It’s coated with half-chewed popcorn.
“Don’t do that,” he says. “Where’s Minho?”
Jonghyun looks up from where he’s sprawled on the carpet. “Soccer, I think.”
Kibum huffs. “That means he’s going to come back all gross and sweaty. I vote we bump him off the sofa.”
“I vote him off the rug,” Jonghyun says immediately.
“He can shower first, it’s not like all of us haven’t seen Romeo and Juliet a hundred times.”
That little fact is met with loud groans.
“What the fuck,” Kibum throws the lead singer a dirty look, “I thought it was your turn to pick a movie, hyung.”
“It was,” Jonghyun answers with a shit-eating grin. “He gave it to me.”
Jinki squirms under Kibum’s displeased stare.
“And why would he do that?”
“Because I’m better looking than you, obviously.”
“Jonghyun!”
“You wish!” Kibum pitches a cushion at his best friend but he’s laughing.
In the end they watch the movie without Minho, who never makes it home. Taemin falls asleep halfway through, Kibum wanders off and Jonghyun clambers up into Jinki’s arms and cries until his eyes are swollen.
Like all his other problems, it starts with him kissing Jonghyun. The other members are watching some variety show in the living room. They think the older two are taking a nap but there’s nothing sleepy about the look in Jonghyun’s eyes.
“Hyung,” he whispers, hot and heavy, and Jinki pushes himself up on his elbows.
“What?” he asks, staring down at his band mate. The heavy curtains are drawn and in the faded afternoon sunshine, Jonghyun’s wide eyes are two pinpricks of light.
“I need to pee.”
“What?”
“Get off, come on,” Jonghyun says with a strained smile.
Jinki rolls to one side, fighting the disappointment rising in his throat. Of course Jonghyun wouldn’t think twice before asking him to stop. It’s not like he owes Jinki anything.
“Thanks.” Jonghyun gives him a playful salute on his way out.
“No problem,” Jinki says dully to an empty room.
He lies there, flopped on his stomach and feeling bad, for a few minutes. It’s not like Jonghyun doesn’t like their make out sessions - he’s sure of that. But if he wants them to stop, he should say it more clearly because at this stage Jinki isn’t sure if he can just stop. If he had to - if he absolutely had to - would he prefer to slide the needle out inch by inch, or rip it out all at once? He’s not sure.
Either way, it would hurt.
He clambers off the bed, fixes his t-shirt, and decides to find Jonghyun. He just wants to talk to him, reassure himself that everything is fine and he hasn’t, for whatever blurred boundaries now exist between them, crossed a line.
“Where’s Jjong?” he asks Kibum, who has tears of mirth running down his face.
“Somewhere,” he says with another shriek of laughter. “Manager’s room I think. Hyung, you have to see thi-”
Jinki doesn’t wait for him to finish. He makes his way to the empty room on the other end of the dorm. Their manager had moved out a few months when his wife gave birth to their first child. Since then his room had become a bit of a safe place for all of them. And if the door was locked it meant you waited your turn. Jinki tries it.
It opens.
Jonghyun is lying on the sofa but he jumps to attention as the door creaks.
“Hyung!” He clears his throat. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, you,” Jinki feels around for the right words, “you didn’t come back.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jonghyun rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I’m not really in the mood.”
Jinki turns around and locks the door. He can practically hear the gears in Jonghyun’s head go into overdrive.
“Hyung?”
Jinki walks over to the sofa. “Scoot, come on,” he tuts and settles down next to him. “I just,” he starts unsurely, “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay?”
“Hyung,” Jonghyun repeats more gently, pulling him closer. “Of course. I’m sorry, I think I freaked out a little.”
“Kiss me.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as demanding as it does. He doesn’t close his eyes in expectation. He doesn’t give up everything for this one feeling. He’s just scared. He just wants a little comfort.
He sighs against Jonghyun’s lips, grabs his shoulders. They’re strong like an anchor but they’re warm. He pushes at them, till Jonghyun is on his back and he is on him, dotting him with kisses. One on his forehead - the mark of the taken - and one on his throat. He seems to like that. He gasps and winds his arms around Jinki’s waist. So he does it again and again till Jonghyun is writhing under him.
“Hyung, hyung, fuck.” He sounds so pleasantly surprised, like he didn’t know his skin could feel like this. But it can and Jinki - selfish, selfish Jinki - is determined to show him. He tugs Jonghyun’s sweatpants out of the way and runs a hand down his thigh like a question.
“Can I?” he whispers.
Jonghyun blinks up at him in the full light.
“You said you wanted to know,” he mumbles, tracing Jonghyun’s collarbone with his thumb. A hand settles in his hair and pulls him down and suddenly he is drowning.
“Shit,” Jonghyun groans, his face pressed deep into a cushion. His voice is hoarse and his body is painted with sweat.
Jinki rests his head on Jonghyun’s chest and listens to his heart. It’s booming. Fingers begin to card through his hair, calming him down while he waits for things to get awkward. He knows they will. It’s practically a rule.
“I never realized,” Jonghyun says weakly, “I thought my hand, another hand, what’s the big difference? Fuck, I was an idiot.” He laughs.
Jinki laughs too. “It was good?”
“It was fucking brilliant, I can’t feel my legs.”
“I can feel them.” Jinki rubs their ankles together. “They feel great.”
It’s a lie. Jonghyun’s hipbones are digging into his stomach. His right hand is striped with cum and their t-shirts are soaked with sweat. The scent in the room is unmistakable and Jonghyun keeps shifting around, trying to bear his weight. But even if everything looks filthy, it feels fucking perfect. It feels like a dream.
He curls his fingers around Jonghyun’s as if to ask, darling, are you going to leave me? Do something stupid. Trap my hand in your waistband.
He’s seen the birthmark on Jonghyun’s thigh. He can’t go back now. Maybe if he doesn’t move, Jonghyun won’t be able to either. He would have to spend the rest of his life under Jinki. They could eat like this, sleep like this, sing only for each other.
“Hyung, you’re heavy,” Jonghyun mumbles.
He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry.
“Sorry,” he says and picks himself up.
Jonghyun waves it off. He slides off the sofa with his characteristic lack of grace and pulls his sweats back on.
“Thanks, hyung,” he says, kissing him on the forehead, and pulling back with a small smile on his face. He walks out of the room.
(It really hurts when someone breaks your heart. It hurts even more when they don’t even know it.)
A forehead kiss, Jinki thinks and snorts.
He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands of Jonghyun.
In the end it’s not Jonghyun who makes things awkward. It’s him.
He tries not to be petty. He tries not to wake up every morning and choose an outfit that would make Jonghyun want him. He’s fighting a losing battle. Jonghyun doesn’t kiss him again. He got what he wanted and now Jinki is sitting in a bar on the other side of down, in a loud red shirt, flirting with a girl he doesn’t really care about. Her lips are too small and her eyes are too dark. He excuses himself.
If this were a movie, he would be sloshed right now. He would call Jonghyun, who would rush to pick him up, and he would confess his love to him and puke right afterwards. Jonghyun would take him home, clean him up and put him to bed. He would stay awake all night thinking - giving Jinki a night off - and in the morning they would be boyfriends. The end.
He shakes his head as the light turns green. The car thrums into life beneath him, moving easily over the wide, empty street. He’s no Hyun Bin. He’s predictable, responsible, use and throwable Lee Jinki.
He slams the gas pedal and tries to live a little.
It’s 2:47AM when he walks into the dorm and, of course, Jonghyun is awake. He is half hanging off the sofa and watching TV with a listless look in his eyes. They flicker to Jinki, who ignores them and the accompanying greeting, and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. He isn’t surprised to hear Jonghyun follow him.
“Hyung, are you drunk?” He laughs.
Jinki takes a long sip of water. “Just tired. Do you mind?”
Jonghyun looks confused. “Do I mind what?”
“Leaving me alone.”
“I do actually.” Jonghyun comes closer and till Jinki is forced to stare down at him. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
Do you tell the problem it’s the problem, Jinki wonders. If he screamed at Jonghyun in their kitchen at 3AM in the morning, would he feel better? He doesn’t think he does. He doesn’t want his problem to go away. He just wants it to stop being a problem.
“Hyung,” Jonghyun says softly and Jinki falls into him with a small hiccup. Jonghyun is his bandmate, his best friend and his Juliet all at once and it’s the best hug of Jinki’s life.
“I like you,” he says to the hair on the nape of Jonghyun’s neck, to the string of skin leading up to his ear, to the very air around them, hoping it knows how to keep a secret. He waits for the arms around him to go slack. “I’ve always liked you. That’s why I didn’t want to kiss you. Not because I think it’s gross or you’re gross but because I think you’re beautiful.”
“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun whispers and holds him tighter, breaks him into a million pieces.
“You don’t have to be.” Take it back, please.
“I shouldn’t have been so selfi-”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not, hyung,” Jonghyun says, stupidly sincerely as always. He peels Jinki off and meets his eyes. “I thought you might… I should have asked.”
Jinki blinks. “What?”
There’s a smile tucked into the corners of Jonghyun’s lips. “Hyung, you let me come in your hand. Unless I’m wrong, I don’t think you do that for a lot of people.”
“You don’t know that.”
Jonghyun laughs and presses their foreheads together. “I think I do.” His fingers curl around Jinki’s. “And I think I know what a good kiss feels like. And you know what else?”
Jinki fights down a blush. “What?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m still a virgin.”
He can’t help the small groan that escapes him. “Jonghyun.”
“Jinki,” the other boy says roughly. “I’m not that clueless, you know. I admit I didn’t know why I came to you but I figured it out along the way. I’m not like you, hyung, I’m not mature,” - Jinki snorts at that - “and brave and I kind of build too many fairytales in my head, or so Kibum says, but I’m here now, okay?” Jonghyun squeezes his hand.
“Okay.” Jinki squeezes back.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me?”