SSS 2014: For justangel
For: justangel
From: Your Secret Santa
Title: Trial and Error.
Pairing: Onew/Key.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: None.
It had always been there, this tension bubbling under the surface like molten lava, but it had never risen. Kibum had waited, calmly and patiently because he knew that Jinki would hate it if he pushed, he would hate it if it came to head in any way other than how he wanted it to. So Kibum let him have control, even though he could see that whatever it was was eating Jinki from the inside out, eating their relationship from the inside out, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it except wait for Jinki to tell him.
To Jinki, the whole thing was simpler, his cautiousness stemmed from righteous root, and he knew that there was something to be wary of, something to be afraid of in their relationship. Because before him (though the thought never occurred to Jinki that it may just be before) Kibum was a serial monogamist. He swore off deep relationships, kept a steady stream of man after man, woman after woman like a chain smoker’s addiction. He just needed this quick fix, then as soon as the cigarette was finished he’d stub it out, the clack of his heels echoing as he walked away from another man’s bed. It had been so easy, like a conveyor belt, because Kibum was so pretty, so ethereal and majestic, all angles and arches, beautiful in ways that Jinki’s befuddled mind couldn’t comprehend. There was always another man queued up to have him, and Kibum would let them, a fresh cigarette hanging from his jaw loosely as he mumbled ‘just keep ‘em coming’ to the man behind the bar, for his fourth of fifth drink, tenth or eleventh, he could never tell.
They were all rocker boys in tight jeans and leather jackets, hair coiffed and shabbily stylish, and Jinki worked in an accountant’s office. He wore whatever he could find that was clean, it rarely matched but he didn’t care, it would end up with ink stains by the end of the year anyway. Kibum would buy him nice shirts and clothes and Jinki loved them, he really did, but he lacked the coordination of Kibum so they just ended up stuffed in the back of his closet, though Kibum didn’t particularly care.
When Jinki first met Kibum he was in a longterm relationship and Kibum was still smoking, the smell clinging to his clothes. Kibum had been working in a book shop down near Jinki’s office, and Jinki had made it a habit of his to buy a book for every paycheque he got. This month it was The Fight Club, and Jinki had taken it to the till, expecting to see Minho or Jonghyun, or maybe even Taemin (though he worked less and less as university ate away at his time) but there was a new guy on the counter, and his badge said ‘Key’. There was a little rainbow sticker tacked onto the end, just under the line ‘happy to help you,’ and Jinki had almost certainly fallen in love at first sight, barely listening as Kibum babbled on about the differences between the book and the film, the strengths and weaknesses of each. All he could see was pretty eyes and pretty lips, a pretty nose and the prettiest teardrop scar he’d ever seen.
That night he’d gone home to a cold bed, his partner still at work or out with friends, he didn’t know and he didn’t really care because all he could think about was the guy in the bookshop, with the candyfloss pink hair and translucent skin. A week later Joon cheated on him. It had been a late night, balancing sheets and styrofoam cups of burnt coffee (Starbucks could never get it right), and he’d walked home, weary and too late to take the last bus. It really couldn’t have happened on a worse day.
They got together totally by chance, none of their friends really believed them when they announced it, and slowly but surely Jinki started to piece himself back together, and so did Kibum. He gave up smoking, and the musk of the smoke gave way to citrusy smells that Jinki would miss at work. He’d miss them so much that he’d end up taking a nap when he got home, on Kibum’s side of their double bed. They thought that just being together had fixed everything, though they knew that it hadn’t, they were both human beings, they were flawed and scarred from past relationships and it was getting to the extent that it was impacting on theirs, though both of them were too scared to confront it head on.
It ate them up, Kibum worrying over Jinki frantically, Jinki withdrawing sometimes for an hour or so, sometimes for weeks. Weeks when he’d avoid the gaze of Kibum, avoid his touch and his lips and he’d just keep himself to himself, and it was those weeks that Kibum struggled with the most, because he didn’t know what to do. There was always that fear that he’d done something to hurt Jinki, but his mind would come up blank, and he didn’t know whether that was because there wasn’t anything, or because he was that shit a boyfriend as to forget.
The house was cold when Kibum got in that day two years after their getting together, and he immediately went to put the heating on, standing by the radiator as it slowly vibrated into use. All of the lights were off so he frowned, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he took his coat off, hanging it on the hook in their hallway. He peered into the kitchen, and it was empty, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the monotonous tick-tock of the wallclock.
“Jinki,” he called, popping his head into their bedroom. It was spotless. There was a shuffle from the living room and he headed that way in the darkness of the flat. Pushing the door open he saw Jinki in the corner, still sat in the dark with his laptop on his lap, and a duvet wrapped around him as he stared blankly at the screen.
“Jinki?” he asked, closing the door behind him. It was colder in this room and he felt shivers run down his spine immediately. Jinki looked up, somewhat dazed, as Kibum turned on the light, bending over to flick the radiator on and letting out a little hum of approval when it whirred into action. “What are you doing?” He asked, and Jinki just shook his head a little, closing his laptop as Kibum made his way over.
“Come onnnn,” Kibum almost whined, setting Jinki’s laptop on the coffee table so he could crawl under the duvet with him. Jinki stilled, and sighed. “What’s up?” he asked as he crawled onto Jinki’s lap, suddenly serious, and Jinki just looked away, confrontation being the last thing he wanted, his hands by his side despite Kibum being on his lap. “Hey,” Kibum tapped at his jaw then tugged it to face him. He was frowning and Jinki sighed, “come on, tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if it’s making you this upset.”
“Kibum, just leave it, it’s nothing,” he replied as Kibum drew lazy circles into his pyjama t-shirt.
“You’ve been upset for a while though,” Kibum sighed, shifting on Jinki’s lap as he felt him tense, “did I do something?” Jinki just sighed, averting his eyes again as Kibum visibly deflated. “I did, didn’t I?” He sounded small and Jinki felt guilt swell within him, because he knew this was his issue, that it was his problem that he couldn’t trust Kibum, but there was always that niggling feeling in the back of his head that just wanted to blame everyone but himself.
“You didn’t do anything, you just … just get off of me,” Jinki asserted, pushing Kibum off of his lap. Kibum frowned and glanced down at his sock clad feet, wondering what he’d done wrong as Jinki stood and left the room, and all he could hear was the tick-tock of the kitchen clock.
Jinki sighed on the other side of the wall, hands reaching up to press into his temples, a headache blossoming beneath his touch. He padded towards their bedroom, Kibum still silent in the living room, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The room was cold and the sheets were crisp, and it looked like no one had slept there for weeks. His fingers fiddled with the embroidery of their duvet, Kibum’s choice, duck egg blue and white in colour.
He didn’t change before he slipped under the covers on Kibum’s side, and he was instantly bathed in the scent of oranges and limes. He laid there for a while, he didn’t know how long, counting the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper of their bedroom (Kibum had wanted to change it for months but Jinki couldn’t help but be somewhat fond of it). The door clicked open, but it was clear that Kibum was trying to make as little noise as possible as he padded in, Jinki evening his breath because the last thing he wanted was a confrontation. He didn’t want to talk to Kibum about anything because Kibum didn’t know how to talk about anything. He heard the rustle of clothing and then the bed dipped, and Kibum shuffled in, and a hand tapped Jinki’s shoulder tentatively before he sighed, deciding against it and rolling over to face away and count the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper over the other side of the room. Kibum fell asleep quickly, but his sleep was disturbed, and Jinki (although he’d tried to stop himself) rolled back over to watch as his brows creased into a frown and he stirred fitfully.
He knew he could trust Kibum, that he should trust Kibum, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and the longer they were together the more he felt that tug away. The deeper he fell the more he tried to pull back because he knew in his heart of hearts that if Kibum strayed from him now he’d never be able to get over it. With Joon it had been difficult, they’d been together for a while and it had been what Jinki presumed to be love at the time, but looking back it clearly wasn’t. WIth Kibum it was, he was 100% in love with Kibum, there would be nowhere to run if Kibum were to break his heart and that chilled Jinki to the bone.
He knew pulling away wasn’t going to help but it seemed like the only plausible thing to do. Kibum only knew how to worship in the bedroom, he couldn’t map his words into sentences and verses that made Jinki’s blood race - he only knew command of the touch of his lips and his tongue, of the scrape of his nails and the strokes of his fingers. Jinki presumed that was one of their issues, that they wouldn’t communicate, couldn’t communicate, because Kibum only knew of relationships based on the physical and Jinki was too scared to shatter whatever that they had. Whenever they had issues Jinki would avoid them, and Kibum would try to fix them with kisses and sex, like he didn’t know how to actually discuss a problem, because he didn’t, all of his past relationships hadn’t been like this one, and that scared Jinki. It scared him because he was new to Kibum, like a test run or a bit of a gamble, and he hated to think that it might all come crashing down around him at any moment.
Everyday when they woke up Kibum would try his hardest to get Jinki to talk, in the only way he really knew possible, the only way he thought worked. Little kisses to Jinki’s neck, arms around his waist, touching and caressing like they told Jinki what he really wanted to hear. They didn’t, and he’d pull away, reaching into the cupboard to grab cereal, ignoring Kibum’s offers to make breakfast because he just couldn’t handle how to deal with the situation.
He didn’t realise it, it seemed to move so quickly, but soon he started to smell the heavy musk of cigarette smoke on Kibum’s clothes. It crept back slowly until the whole house seemed to have a smoky tinge, and it was only then that Jinki realised.
“Are you cheating on me?” he asked, very suddenly over a previously silent plate of pasta. His had gone cold already and Kibum was preoccupied with pushing the little bow shapes around his plate, making patterns in the sauce. Kibum seeme to choke, before going silent.
“Is this why you’ve …”
“Why I’ve what?” Jinki stayed stern, or else he’d just cry.
“No! Of course I’m not!” He slammed his fork down and it clattered on the plate, rocking it so a little of the sauce puddled out onto the table. Jinki stared at it for a moment. “Why … why do you think that?”
“You’re smoking again.”
“I -” Kibum choked, “so what if I am, how does that say anything about how faithful I am?!”
“You always used to smoke,” Jinki shrugged and something clicked in Kibum’s head. He calmed, shifting to take one of Jinki’s hands into his own. Jinki stiffened but let him.
“Jinki that was before.” Jinki stiffened further and pulled his hand away from Kibum’s grasp. “It’s different now,” Kibum continued, “you’re different, you know that. I-”
“How am I meant to know that, Kibum?” Jinki’s voice was small and he had stood up, taking his plate to the sink to wash it, the only sound the running water of the tap, so cold that it was numbing Jinki’s fingers.
“You know I love you, right?” Kibum’s voice was equally as small, and Jinki heard it quiver. A wave of guilt crashed over him and he frowned, putting the plate down and turning the tap off, then finally glancing up to Kibum. He was stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, his hands braced on the marbled surface, and he was shaking, or trying his hardest to stop himself from doing so. His eyes were watery and Jinki watched silently as a single tear spilled over, and he gulped as Kibum quickly brushed it away, averting his gaze out of embarrassment. It was silent for a while until Kibum spoke again. “What’s happened to us, Jinki? Do you ...” he took a shuddering breath before continuing, “do you want to break up with me?”
There was a clang as Jinki dropped his knife.
“Of course I don’t! Why do you - baby, why do you think that?” Jinki was over the other side of the counter in no time, his arms wrapped around Kibum’s waist as he sobbed into Jinki’s shoulder. Kibum smelt of oranges and limes (and albeit smoke too) and Jinki realised how much he’d missed the scent, how much he’d missed holding Kibum in his arms. They stood like that until Kibum’s sobs subsided, his face still buried in Jinki’s shoulder, Jinki’s arms wrapped around him tightly. Kibum shifted to brush the tears away and Jinki loosened his grip.
“Don’t,” Kibum asked, his hands playing with the fabric of Jinki’s shirt (one that Kibum had bought him - Jinki had found himself wearing clothes Kibum had bought him more and more, the further they went into their mutual silence). “I just … I need you to hold me … just a little longer, I just-”
“Okay,” Jinki smiled and pulled Kibum closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
“You haven’t hugged me in months,” Kibum whispered, “this feels like a dream, I -” he choked up and Jinki stiffened.
“I haven’t?” Kibum just nodded in response and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed again.
“You keep pulling away from me, it’s like … it’s like you don’t want to be with me anymore, you won’t trust me and I don’t know how to fix it …” He pulled out of Jinki’s grip and suddenly Jinki felt a lot colder as Kibum went to find a tissue to clear the tears from his face.
“I do trust you,” Jinki whispered as he came back, and Kibum stilled, “I trust you but it’s hard because I don’t want to.”
“What?” Kibum’s voice was distant and sad.
“I just … you saw what Joon did to me, I can’t …”
“I’m not Joon, Jinki,” Kibum asserted, walking back over. He threaded his fingers into Jinki’s hands and hand them tightly, “I’m Kibum.”
“I know you are, I just-”
“You need to let it go,” Kibum whispered, pulling one of Jinki’s hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles. Jinki smiled. “Tell me what I can do to help, I’ll do anything.”
Jinki sighed, stilling again because even though half of the issues were out in the open there were still more festering, and even though he knew it was best in the long run to bring them up now, he didn’t want to hurt Kibum.
“I just …”
“Tell me, Jinki…” Kibum sighed, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, “we both need to work at this, you need to tell me what I’m doing wrong, I- … I promise I won’t get mad, I just want to know how I upset you…”
“You didn’t upset me,” Jinki sighed, “it’s just how you are.”
“What?” Kibum had stilled again and Jinki realised that how he’d worded it probably hadn’t been the best way of doing so.
“Not like that, it’s just … you’re very touchy feely and I get that that’s how you show affection, but …”
“You need me to say it,” Kibum finished, and Jinki nodded minutely. “Okay. I can do that.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Jinki scoffed, throwing a light punch at Kibum’s shoulder.
“Well it is,” Kibum shrugged, “anything’s easy if I get to keep you.” There was adoration in his eyes and Jinki briefly wondered how he’d doubted him.
“You fucking sap,” Jinki scoffed, totally ruining the moment, and Kibum’s mouth fell open in shock.
“I hate you,” he pouted, and Jinki just laughed, “I was trying to be romantic and you fucking ruined it, you jerkwad,” he threw his arms up and tried to walk off, but Jinki tugged him back by the belt loops of his jeans, and he grunted annoyedly as he was tugged back into Jinki’s arms, the older pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back to pepper smaller kisses down his jaw, Kibum squirming, still under the pretense of trying to look angry (it wasn’t working).
“You don’t hate me though, do you?” Jinki asked.
“Why are you so suddenly cocky?” Kibum scoffed, “you were bawling your eyes out a minute ago.”
“No, that was you.”
“Asshole.”
“Admit it, you don’t hate me.” At first he said it jokingly but when they caught eyes they both stilled.
“Nah, I don’t think I do,” Kibum smiled slowly as Jinki leant forward, their noses bumping together gently.
“Yeah?” Jinki breathed out, and his breath washed warm air over Kibum’s lips. Kibum just hummed in response, a tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as Jinki’s eyes followed it unabashedly.
“I love you,” Kibum murmured, “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.” Jinki just pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know it’ll be difficult but I’m willing to work on this.”
“Me too,” Jinki squeezed Kibum a little tighter and Kibum let out a quiet grunt of disapproval, “to both … so long as you quit smoking.”
Kibum rolled his eyes.
“I was just stressed, I only had a couple of-”
“No.” Jinki looked stern, like a schoolteacher, and Kibum almost scoffed, but he nodded because he knew that Jinki was right.
They both knew it would take time, and patience, but they were willing to work on it, because they meant the world to each other despite their differences. Jinki grinned, tugging Kibum with him to their bedroom, which in all honesty had been fairly neglected in the past couple of months, and Kibum followed, chuckling, their fingers entwined together like they were meant to be.
From: Your Secret Santa
Title: Trial and Error.
Pairing: Onew/Key.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: None.
It had always been there, this tension bubbling under the surface like molten lava, but it had never risen. Kibum had waited, calmly and patiently because he knew that Jinki would hate it if he pushed, he would hate it if it came to head in any way other than how he wanted it to. So Kibum let him have control, even though he could see that whatever it was was eating Jinki from the inside out, eating their relationship from the inside out, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it except wait for Jinki to tell him.
To Jinki, the whole thing was simpler, his cautiousness stemmed from righteous root, and he knew that there was something to be wary of, something to be afraid of in their relationship. Because before him (though the thought never occurred to Jinki that it may just be before) Kibum was a serial monogamist. He swore off deep relationships, kept a steady stream of man after man, woman after woman like a chain smoker’s addiction. He just needed this quick fix, then as soon as the cigarette was finished he’d stub it out, the clack of his heels echoing as he walked away from another man’s bed. It had been so easy, like a conveyor belt, because Kibum was so pretty, so ethereal and majestic, all angles and arches, beautiful in ways that Jinki’s befuddled mind couldn’t comprehend. There was always another man queued up to have him, and Kibum would let them, a fresh cigarette hanging from his jaw loosely as he mumbled ‘just keep ‘em coming’ to the man behind the bar, for his fourth of fifth drink, tenth or eleventh, he could never tell.
They were all rocker boys in tight jeans and leather jackets, hair coiffed and shabbily stylish, and Jinki worked in an accountant’s office. He wore whatever he could find that was clean, it rarely matched but he didn’t care, it would end up with ink stains by the end of the year anyway. Kibum would buy him nice shirts and clothes and Jinki loved them, he really did, but he lacked the coordination of Kibum so they just ended up stuffed in the back of his closet, though Kibum didn’t particularly care.
When Jinki first met Kibum he was in a longterm relationship and Kibum was still smoking, the smell clinging to his clothes. Kibum had been working in a book shop down near Jinki’s office, and Jinki had made it a habit of his to buy a book for every paycheque he got. This month it was The Fight Club, and Jinki had taken it to the till, expecting to see Minho or Jonghyun, or maybe even Taemin (though he worked less and less as university ate away at his time) but there was a new guy on the counter, and his badge said ‘Key’. There was a little rainbow sticker tacked onto the end, just under the line ‘happy to help you,’ and Jinki had almost certainly fallen in love at first sight, barely listening as Kibum babbled on about the differences between the book and the film, the strengths and weaknesses of each. All he could see was pretty eyes and pretty lips, a pretty nose and the prettiest teardrop scar he’d ever seen.
That night he’d gone home to a cold bed, his partner still at work or out with friends, he didn’t know and he didn’t really care because all he could think about was the guy in the bookshop, with the candyfloss pink hair and translucent skin. A week later Joon cheated on him. It had been a late night, balancing sheets and styrofoam cups of burnt coffee (Starbucks could never get it right), and he’d walked home, weary and too late to take the last bus. It really couldn’t have happened on a worse day.
They got together totally by chance, none of their friends really believed them when they announced it, and slowly but surely Jinki started to piece himself back together, and so did Kibum. He gave up smoking, and the musk of the smoke gave way to citrusy smells that Jinki would miss at work. He’d miss them so much that he’d end up taking a nap when he got home, on Kibum’s side of their double bed. They thought that just being together had fixed everything, though they knew that it hadn’t, they were both human beings, they were flawed and scarred from past relationships and it was getting to the extent that it was impacting on theirs, though both of them were too scared to confront it head on.
It ate them up, Kibum worrying over Jinki frantically, Jinki withdrawing sometimes for an hour or so, sometimes for weeks. Weeks when he’d avoid the gaze of Kibum, avoid his touch and his lips and he’d just keep himself to himself, and it was those weeks that Kibum struggled with the most, because he didn’t know what to do. There was always that fear that he’d done something to hurt Jinki, but his mind would come up blank, and he didn’t know whether that was because there wasn’t anything, or because he was that shit a boyfriend as to forget.
The house was cold when Kibum got in that day two years after their getting together, and he immediately went to put the heating on, standing by the radiator as it slowly vibrated into use. All of the lights were off so he frowned, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he took his coat off, hanging it on the hook in their hallway. He peered into the kitchen, and it was empty, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the monotonous tick-tock of the wallclock.
“Jinki,” he called, popping his head into their bedroom. It was spotless. There was a shuffle from the living room and he headed that way in the darkness of the flat. Pushing the door open he saw Jinki in the corner, still sat in the dark with his laptop on his lap, and a duvet wrapped around him as he stared blankly at the screen.
“Jinki?” he asked, closing the door behind him. It was colder in this room and he felt shivers run down his spine immediately. Jinki looked up, somewhat dazed, as Kibum turned on the light, bending over to flick the radiator on and letting out a little hum of approval when it whirred into action. “What are you doing?” He asked, and Jinki just shook his head a little, closing his laptop as Kibum made his way over.
“Come onnnn,” Kibum almost whined, setting Jinki’s laptop on the coffee table so he could crawl under the duvet with him. Jinki stilled, and sighed. “What’s up?” he asked as he crawled onto Jinki’s lap, suddenly serious, and Jinki just looked away, confrontation being the last thing he wanted, his hands by his side despite Kibum being on his lap. “Hey,” Kibum tapped at his jaw then tugged it to face him. He was frowning and Jinki sighed, “come on, tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if it’s making you this upset.”
“Kibum, just leave it, it’s nothing,” he replied as Kibum drew lazy circles into his pyjama t-shirt.
“You’ve been upset for a while though,” Kibum sighed, shifting on Jinki’s lap as he felt him tense, “did I do something?” Jinki just sighed, averting his eyes again as Kibum visibly deflated. “I did, didn’t I?” He sounded small and Jinki felt guilt swell within him, because he knew this was his issue, that it was his problem that he couldn’t trust Kibum, but there was always that niggling feeling in the back of his head that just wanted to blame everyone but himself.
“You didn’t do anything, you just … just get off of me,” Jinki asserted, pushing Kibum off of his lap. Kibum frowned and glanced down at his sock clad feet, wondering what he’d done wrong as Jinki stood and left the room, and all he could hear was the tick-tock of the kitchen clock.
Jinki sighed on the other side of the wall, hands reaching up to press into his temples, a headache blossoming beneath his touch. He padded towards their bedroom, Kibum still silent in the living room, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The room was cold and the sheets were crisp, and it looked like no one had slept there for weeks. His fingers fiddled with the embroidery of their duvet, Kibum’s choice, duck egg blue and white in colour.
He didn’t change before he slipped under the covers on Kibum’s side, and he was instantly bathed in the scent of oranges and limes. He laid there for a while, he didn’t know how long, counting the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper of their bedroom (Kibum had wanted to change it for months but Jinki couldn’t help but be somewhat fond of it). The door clicked open, but it was clear that Kibum was trying to make as little noise as possible as he padded in, Jinki evening his breath because the last thing he wanted was a confrontation. He didn’t want to talk to Kibum about anything because Kibum didn’t know how to talk about anything. He heard the rustle of clothing and then the bed dipped, and Kibum shuffled in, and a hand tapped Jinki’s shoulder tentatively before he sighed, deciding against it and rolling over to face away and count the stripes on the yellowing wallpaper over the other side of the room. Kibum fell asleep quickly, but his sleep was disturbed, and Jinki (although he’d tried to stop himself) rolled back over to watch as his brows creased into a frown and he stirred fitfully.
He knew he could trust Kibum, that he should trust Kibum, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and the longer they were together the more he felt that tug away. The deeper he fell the more he tried to pull back because he knew in his heart of hearts that if Kibum strayed from him now he’d never be able to get over it. With Joon it had been difficult, they’d been together for a while and it had been what Jinki presumed to be love at the time, but looking back it clearly wasn’t. WIth Kibum it was, he was 100% in love with Kibum, there would be nowhere to run if Kibum were to break his heart and that chilled Jinki to the bone.
He knew pulling away wasn’t going to help but it seemed like the only plausible thing to do. Kibum only knew how to worship in the bedroom, he couldn’t map his words into sentences and verses that made Jinki’s blood race - he only knew command of the touch of his lips and his tongue, of the scrape of his nails and the strokes of his fingers. Jinki presumed that was one of their issues, that they wouldn’t communicate, couldn’t communicate, because Kibum only knew of relationships based on the physical and Jinki was too scared to shatter whatever that they had. Whenever they had issues Jinki would avoid them, and Kibum would try to fix them with kisses and sex, like he didn’t know how to actually discuss a problem, because he didn’t, all of his past relationships hadn’t been like this one, and that scared Jinki. It scared him because he was new to Kibum, like a test run or a bit of a gamble, and he hated to think that it might all come crashing down around him at any moment.
Everyday when they woke up Kibum would try his hardest to get Jinki to talk, in the only way he really knew possible, the only way he thought worked. Little kisses to Jinki’s neck, arms around his waist, touching and caressing like they told Jinki what he really wanted to hear. They didn’t, and he’d pull away, reaching into the cupboard to grab cereal, ignoring Kibum’s offers to make breakfast because he just couldn’t handle how to deal with the situation.
He didn’t realise it, it seemed to move so quickly, but soon he started to smell the heavy musk of cigarette smoke on Kibum’s clothes. It crept back slowly until the whole house seemed to have a smoky tinge, and it was only then that Jinki realised.
“Are you cheating on me?” he asked, very suddenly over a previously silent plate of pasta. His had gone cold already and Kibum was preoccupied with pushing the little bow shapes around his plate, making patterns in the sauce. Kibum seeme to choke, before going silent.
“Is this why you’ve …”
“Why I’ve what?” Jinki stayed stern, or else he’d just cry.
“No! Of course I’m not!” He slammed his fork down and it clattered on the plate, rocking it so a little of the sauce puddled out onto the table. Jinki stared at it for a moment. “Why … why do you think that?”
“You’re smoking again.”
“I -” Kibum choked, “so what if I am, how does that say anything about how faithful I am?!”
“You always used to smoke,” Jinki shrugged and something clicked in Kibum’s head. He calmed, shifting to take one of Jinki’s hands into his own. Jinki stiffened but let him.
“Jinki that was before.” Jinki stiffened further and pulled his hand away from Kibum’s grasp. “It’s different now,” Kibum continued, “you’re different, you know that. I-”
“How am I meant to know that, Kibum?” Jinki’s voice was small and he had stood up, taking his plate to the sink to wash it, the only sound the running water of the tap, so cold that it was numbing Jinki’s fingers.
“You know I love you, right?” Kibum’s voice was equally as small, and Jinki heard it quiver. A wave of guilt crashed over him and he frowned, putting the plate down and turning the tap off, then finally glancing up to Kibum. He was stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, his hands braced on the marbled surface, and he was shaking, or trying his hardest to stop himself from doing so. His eyes were watery and Jinki watched silently as a single tear spilled over, and he gulped as Kibum quickly brushed it away, averting his gaze out of embarrassment. It was silent for a while until Kibum spoke again. “What’s happened to us, Jinki? Do you ...” he took a shuddering breath before continuing, “do you want to break up with me?”
There was a clang as Jinki dropped his knife.
“Of course I don’t! Why do you - baby, why do you think that?” Jinki was over the other side of the counter in no time, his arms wrapped around Kibum’s waist as he sobbed into Jinki’s shoulder. Kibum smelt of oranges and limes (and albeit smoke too) and Jinki realised how much he’d missed the scent, how much he’d missed holding Kibum in his arms. They stood like that until Kibum’s sobs subsided, his face still buried in Jinki’s shoulder, Jinki’s arms wrapped around him tightly. Kibum shifted to brush the tears away and Jinki loosened his grip.
“Don’t,” Kibum asked, his hands playing with the fabric of Jinki’s shirt (one that Kibum had bought him - Jinki had found himself wearing clothes Kibum had bought him more and more, the further they went into their mutual silence). “I just … I need you to hold me … just a little longer, I just-”
“Okay,” Jinki smiled and pulled Kibum closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
“You haven’t hugged me in months,” Kibum whispered, “this feels like a dream, I -” he choked up and Jinki stiffened.
“I haven’t?” Kibum just nodded in response and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed again.
“You keep pulling away from me, it’s like … it’s like you don’t want to be with me anymore, you won’t trust me and I don’t know how to fix it …” He pulled out of Jinki’s grip and suddenly Jinki felt a lot colder as Kibum went to find a tissue to clear the tears from his face.
“I do trust you,” Jinki whispered as he came back, and Kibum stilled, “I trust you but it’s hard because I don’t want to.”
“What?” Kibum’s voice was distant and sad.
“I just … you saw what Joon did to me, I can’t …”
“I’m not Joon, Jinki,” Kibum asserted, walking back over. He threaded his fingers into Jinki’s hands and hand them tightly, “I’m Kibum.”
“I know you are, I just-”
“You need to let it go,” Kibum whispered, pulling one of Jinki’s hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles. Jinki smiled. “Tell me what I can do to help, I’ll do anything.”
Jinki sighed, stilling again because even though half of the issues were out in the open there were still more festering, and even though he knew it was best in the long run to bring them up now, he didn’t want to hurt Kibum.
“I just …”
“Tell me, Jinki…” Kibum sighed, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, “we both need to work at this, you need to tell me what I’m doing wrong, I- … I promise I won’t get mad, I just want to know how I upset you…”
“You didn’t upset me,” Jinki sighed, “it’s just how you are.”
“What?” Kibum had stilled again and Jinki realised that how he’d worded it probably hadn’t been the best way of doing so.
“Not like that, it’s just … you’re very touchy feely and I get that that’s how you show affection, but …”
“You need me to say it,” Kibum finished, and Jinki nodded minutely. “Okay. I can do that.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Jinki scoffed, throwing a light punch at Kibum’s shoulder.
“Well it is,” Kibum shrugged, “anything’s easy if I get to keep you.” There was adoration in his eyes and Jinki briefly wondered how he’d doubted him.
“You fucking sap,” Jinki scoffed, totally ruining the moment, and Kibum’s mouth fell open in shock.
“I hate you,” he pouted, and Jinki just laughed, “I was trying to be romantic and you fucking ruined it, you jerkwad,” he threw his arms up and tried to walk off, but Jinki tugged him back by the belt loops of his jeans, and he grunted annoyedly as he was tugged back into Jinki’s arms, the older pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back to pepper smaller kisses down his jaw, Kibum squirming, still under the pretense of trying to look angry (it wasn’t working).
“You don’t hate me though, do you?” Jinki asked.
“Why are you so suddenly cocky?” Kibum scoffed, “you were bawling your eyes out a minute ago.”
“No, that was you.”
“Asshole.”
“Admit it, you don’t hate me.” At first he said it jokingly but when they caught eyes they both stilled.
“Nah, I don’t think I do,” Kibum smiled slowly as Jinki leant forward, their noses bumping together gently.
“Yeah?” Jinki breathed out, and his breath washed warm air over Kibum’s lips. Kibum just hummed in response, a tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as Jinki’s eyes followed it unabashedly.
“I love you,” Kibum murmured, “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.” Jinki just pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know it’ll be difficult but I’m willing to work on this.”
“Me too,” Jinki squeezed Kibum a little tighter and Kibum let out a quiet grunt of disapproval, “to both … so long as you quit smoking.”
Kibum rolled his eyes.
“I was just stressed, I only had a couple of-”
“No.” Jinki looked stern, like a schoolteacher, and Kibum almost scoffed, but he nodded because he knew that Jinki was right.
They both knew it would take time, and patience, but they were willing to work on it, because they meant the world to each other despite their differences. Jinki grinned, tugging Kibum with him to their bedroom, which in all honesty had been fairly neglected in the past couple of months, and Kibum followed, chuckling, their fingers entwined together like they were meant to be.