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FORJONGIN

ℰmmi (seulpeo) wrote in forjongin,
2014-02-23 17:10:00
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(for teaserrich) high tide [1/2]
For: teaserrich

Title: high tide
Pairing: Jongin/Sehun
Word Count: ~18,500 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Or, alternatively entitled, ‘I Really Hate My Life But Mostly Oh Sehun.’ Jongin is just your average, run-of-the-mill horny college kid who’s in love with his average, run-of-the-mill horny best friend, Sehun. Surely life isn’t supposed to be this hard?
Author’s Note: this is p much 18.5k words of gay bullshit it gets progressively worse the further on you go txt it xoxo gossip girl

That post-sex haze is the best feeling in the world, Jongin decides.

It isn’t the low buzz of pleasure that is still lingering in his body from being so thoroughly fucked just minutes before, or the trickle of endorphins humming in his veins, and it definitely isn’t how Sehun’s come is sliding down his thighs or how his skin feels gross, damp with sweat. He knows what it is, and it’s the way Sehun is lying next to him in the after-sex lethargy, hand carding through his hair and gently combing through the strands matted to his forehead. It’s the way Sehun smiles and lives and breathes, a steady rhythm of an inhale and an exhale which Jongin has become so used to that he finds himself unconsciously counting the seconds and watching Sehun’s ribcage rise and fall along with the thumping of his heart. Jongin has his head pillowed on Sehun’s bare chest and his body half-sprawled over Sehun’s lower torso, and Sehun’s warm fingertips graze over his cheek to remind him that they’ve done this so many times before that it’s become natural. It’s become a routine, and Jongin knows he’s probably setting himself up for some horrible rejection because he wants it to become something real when he knows that to Sehun, he’s just a useful way to get off without overcomplicating things on his part, and that this is another one of those live-while-you’re-young things. But that’s okay, he thinks. It’s okay to have this, even when it’s not real, because at least it’s something, and the best part is that he feels like he’s in the final episode of a teenage romance drama where the girl finally gets together with the boy and they live happily ever after in the land of I Want This to be My Life. The only thing that can make this moment completely perfect would be if he couldn’t hear Baekhyun knocking back another shot outside and Chanyeol’s obnoxious whooping of, “Hell yeah, that’s my boyfriend!”

Jongin’s caught in the timeframe of the moment, the single second where he has finally achieved his lifelong dream of starring in his own shoujo manga, and he doesn’t mind staying like this forever, even though they’re still in Chanyeol’s bed and they stink like hell and he’s got stuff on his face and down his thighs that he’d rather not have anywhere on his body, to be honest. The party is raging strong outside in the joint kitchen-lounge and he can hear Chanyeol yelling something about hell no, that’s my boyfriend! and someone call an ambulance—oh wait, he’s getting up—SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS! which is a lovely musical accompaniment to funky smell of the sheets that’s probably an indication that the last time they’d been washed was about two centuries ago, but none of that matters when Sehun is beside him so they can suffer together. It’s everything he’s ever wanted in life—minus the sports car and bathtub full of money and a sugar daddy boyfriend on the side—and it almost feels like Sehun’s in love with him too, except that Jongin’s pretty much come to terms with the fact that he’s not, and a little bit of sex and barf-inducing cuddling isn’t going to change anything.

The whole thing is very nearly perfect and Jongin just wants Sehun to indulge him, always, so they can be like this together and maybe one day, Sehun can love him back like he loves Sehun. It’s all very nearly perfect, the closing scene to some shitty, softcore gay porn, until he hears the sound of a shutter beside him and turns his head a minute fraction to see Sehun beaming cheekily at him, holding up his Samsung.

“Sorry,” he says. Jongin thinks he’s heard Baekhyun apologising for liking cock up his ass more genuinely than Sehun. But Sehun’s still high on the exhilaration and the excitement and the muted haze of lust that’s heavy in the air, and he’s teetering on the edge of being tipsy after a few glasses of alcohol with the added adrenaline of sex. Jongin is, too; he’s not had that much to drink but instead, it’s from Sehun. He’s glowing, Jongin thinks, and when Sehun’s grin softens into a shy smile, he’s so blinding that Jongin knows he doesn’t need to watch the twinkling stars in the outside sky to see something beautiful. Sehun runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, mussing it up cutely, and shrugs. “You looked so nice,” he continues. “I couldn’t help myself.”

In retrospect, this is been the point that Jongin should’ve realised that something’s wrong because Sehun’s always been indifferent to stuff like this. Stuff like having Actual Feelings and saying something nice to Jongin and the sudden insistence of being a protagonist from a k-drama are the last things Sehun would ever do. And suddenly, he hops onto this eat-pray-love bandwagon and insists that he has to take photographs everywhere to, quote, unquote—and he doesn’t know if this is from Sehun or a thirteen year old girl—‘make memories.’ It’s weird, because Jongin’s always been the hopeless romantic and the idealist (see: falling in love with his best friend), whereas the extent to which Sehun’s romantic is buying cheap, expired ice cream as a peace offering when Jongin is pissed at him for ordering pizza with extra pepperoni instead of chicken, yet again.

Nevertheless, Jongin fakes a deep sigh and rolls his eyes. “That’s gross,” he says, “and cheesy.”

“Your face is gross and cheesy,” Sehun retorts indignantly, holding his phone away from Jongin’s reach when he tries to grab it. “And anyway, I just wanted a picture because…just because.”

“Because what?” pesters Jongin. “Why do you need a photo when you already have me right here with you?” He cups his face in his hands and flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly as he simpers, “I’m yours, Sehunnie.”

A moment passes, and then, the grin falters from Sehun’s face.

Which means nothing good is about to come.

“About that,” Sehun starts, and immediately, Jongin’s heart constricts in his chest. He’s watched enough late night television and shitty dramas to know that nothing ever good comes out of those two words. About thats always lead to it’s not working out and I think we should break up or I’ve been eyeing that hot piece of lanky, bony ass in my economics class for a few weeks now and I’ve decided that I like him better than you and thanks for the sex, talk to you never! He’s heard it all before and he knows that when it’s coming from his best friend, who he’s been in love with ever since he had discovered that having his hand around his cock is a lot more fun than doing homework or chores, this night is not going to end well. He can only hope that it’s going to be another one of Sehun’s dumb mouth-vomit moments where he’ll say something dumb and they’ll laugh and have another round of cock-up-butt fun instead of Jongin being all mopey and sad because Sehun’s going to leave him for someone whose ass is definitely nowhere near as firm and perky as his.

Seeing Jongin’s expression drop, Sehun shakes his head and continues quickly. “It’s not that! No, I mean,” he says, biting his lip. “I mean, it’s just that—just that I have to kinda tell you something, okay? Promise you’re not gonna flip, though?”

Jongin swallows past the thick lump in his throat, unable to choke out any words, and simply nods, even though he knows it’s a promise he won’t be able to keep.

“Alright,” says Sehun, taking a deep breath. “Um, okay, so. I’m going to China. To study.” He pauses and his tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. “I got a scholarship somewhere, to study, and I said—I said yes. Because. Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I want to leave because I’m gonna miss you, y’know? I’m gonna miss you, and I’m gonna miss everyone; I’m gonna miss Chanyeol-hyung and Kyungsoo-hyung and Baekhyun-hyung, and I’m gonna miss you. But it’s good! It’s a good thing, isn’t it? Please don’t be mad.”

Jongin fists his hands in the sheets beneath them and exhales slowly.

“Jongin…?” Sehun asks, the worried tone obvious in his voice as he waves a hand in front of Jongin’s face. “Say something? Please? You’re not mad, are you?”

Jongin isn’t mad. ‘Mad’ isn’t the right word to describe the awful feeling bubbling up in his gut, heavy like lead and raw like acid burning him up from inside-out, eating away at his heart. Maybe ‘sad’ is better; maybe ‘sad’ or ‘why’ or ‘please don’t go’ or ‘so goddamn sad’ are the right words because Sehun leaving him is something he’s never thought to imagine. Sure, he knows that one day, Sehun will find someone else seeing as he kind of, sort of, isn’t in love with Jongin, but honestly, he’s managed to ignore it and he’s fooled himself into this false pretence that every time Sehun comes to him and they fuck on the bed or against the couch or when Sehun crawls between the seats at the very back of the cinema and sucks him off, right there, right then, there’s still a tiny glimmer of hope. A tiny maybe, and it’s a futile hope, but it’s a hope nonetheless.

He feels that hope getting crushed into a million pieces. It’s not exactly the best thing in the world, finding out that his best friend is leaving him, not for that tall, twinky kid with the too-long arm and the too-long legs and the too-annoying voice who lives in the dorm one floor above, but for educational purposes in Bumfuck, China, ten million miles across ten million oceans. Which is worse, because Jongin’s just had his best friend stolen from him by something that doesn’t even have a dick, and he doesn’t quite know how he feels about that. Sad. Upset. Just…really, really sad.

Finally, after a few moments when he’s sure his voice isn’t going to crack and he isn’t going to do something embarrassing, like burst into tears or have a mental breakdown, he forces himself to breathe—steady, slow, breathe in—and shuts his eyes for a second. He opens them on the exhale and asks, “When are you leaving?”

Sehun gnaws harder on his bottom lip.

“Tomorrow.”

Oh, Jongin thinks. Oh. Because suddenly, the goodbye Sehuns and the tearful hugs, before Sehun had dragged him off to fuck his brains out, make a lot more sense. And so do the banners that read BYE SEHUN, hanging up in Chanyeol’s lounge, and the going-away presents and the whole fucking leaving party that Chanyeol’s thrown for Sehun. It all makes sense now.

“That’s soon,” Jongin says dumbly. He feels numb.

“Yeah,” says Sehun. “I just… I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell you. It’s not like I was just gonna go without telling you because that would be a dick thing to do, right?” Letting me fall in love with you had been a dick thing to do, Jongin thinks wryly. “I just didn’t know when the right time was. I’ve known for a few months now, and do you know how hard it was not to tell you? I just—I guess I didn’t want you to be upset. Y’know, it’s cheesy but I think I just didn’t want you to be upset and sulky for our last months together, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Jongin manages to grit out. “Yeah, okay.”

“But! I’ll still call you! I’ll call you every day and we’ll Skype and we’ll text and I swear that we’ll still be friends until I come back. Best friends,” Sehun says. ‘Best friends.’ It always seems to hurt more when Jongin hears it from Sehun’s mouth, lips forming the words with such conviction and sincerity. It hurts. “You’re okay about this, right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” says Jongin. He’s not okay; he’s far from it, but what else can he say? Is he supposed to tell Sehun to stay? Is he supposed to tell Sehun that he doesn’t want him to go? He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, so instead, he just says, “I’ll miss you,” because that’s the only truth he can find.

“Good, because I’ll miss you too. Just wait for me. Don’t cheat on me with another best friend,” Sehun says, sounding relieved. He plants a soft kiss on the crown of Jongin’s head and pulls the corners of Jongin’s lips up into a silly grin. “Smile. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget to miss me.”

He has no idea, Jongin thinks.

No idea at all.



Jongin doesn’t let himself cry.

He falls asleep in Chanyeol’s bed, curled around Sehun, and he wakes up in the morning, sweaty and stinky and sticky and gross. He doesn’t let himself cry when he realises that Sehun isn’t here with him—but does it even matter now that he’s going?—and it’s Chanyeol who’s sprawled out over him. Obviously, to Chanyeol, sleep is more important than the fact that he’s half-lying across Jongin’s dick, and obviously, to Sehun, his best friend isn’t important to him at all.

Jongin doesn’t let himself cry when he drags himself out underneath the covers, staggering on wobbly legs with his heart feeling like it’s curled in on itself, hibernating in his ribcage because what’s the point when the person who has his heart doesn’t even want it? He doesn’t let himself cry when he makes his way to the bathroom, stubbing his toe on the small body of a passed-out Kyungsoo lying on the carpet, and he doesn’t cry when he stares at his own reflection in the mirror as he takes a piss. He looks—he looks normal. The bags underneath his eyes are a bit darker than usual, a bit heavier than usual, and his lips are pressed tight in a thin line, but he looks normal, and now he really wants to cry. It’s like there’s nothing different, nothing wrong, even though there’s something really different and really wrong, but he still doesn’t let himself cry, not even when he realises he has no idea what to do with himself anymore. He doesn’t let himself cry when he steps into the shower to wash off last night’s sweat and the reek of alcohol that’s permeated his skin and he doesn’t let himself cry when he breathes out, slowly, onto the glass of the shower door and it forms a cloud of condensation that he wipes away with the side of his clenched fist. He doesn’t know who to blame. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t let himself cry when he changes back into his trousers and grabs one of Chanyeol’s hoodies because his own shirt stinks, and slips on his shoes, walking back to his dorm. He doesn’t let himself cry when he passes by a café a few blocks along and stops by to order a coffee to clear his head, but it doesn’t do anything at all except for make him realise with painfully raw clarity how much he’s going to miss Sehun and how his heart feels like it’s plummeted six feet underground. He doesn’t let himself cry when he reaches his dorm and opens his door to see Sehun’s stuff all gone from the closet and the desk and his bed, the top bunk, and the framed photograph of them together, pulling dumb faces, left on a pile of dirty clothes. He flops down on his own bed and buries his face in his pillow, ready to scream, when Sehun messages him with the name of the airport he’s at and u coming??? don’t want to go w.o saying bye first, and all Jongin can think is, I just don’t want you to go.

He calls a taxi to take him there and the ride seems to last forever until he finally arrives and he sees Sehun standing there looking very much like a lost puppy as he waits. He doesn’t let himself cry when Sehun runs up to him and hugs him and his eyes are all shiny with unshed tears and his lips are trembling with the effort of trying not to bawl his eyes out. He doesn’t let himself cry at the way Sehun buries his face in the crook of his neck and the way he can smell the scent of Sehun’s hair, freshly washed, and the way he realises that he’s not going to be able to smell it again for a long time. He doesn’t let himself cry when Sehun mumbles, “I’m going to miss you so much, you know that, right?” into his scarf, and he doesn’t let himself cry when he wraps his arms around Sehun’s torso tightly, replying, “And I’m going to miss you too. Don’t grow any taller or I’ll be mad.” Kissing seems like a much too intimate thing to do here, but still, Sehun tips his head up and kisses Jongin on the mouth softly as he lets out a shaky laugh and hits Jongin on the arm.

Jongin doesn’t let himself cry when Baekhyun, the only other person in their group of friends who’s bothered to wake up and come even though he looks like he’s been run over by a car, wolf-whistles and yells out, “Get a room!” Jongin flips him off as he kisses Sehun back and bumps their noses together affectionately when Sehun pulls away. He can’t stop running his thumb over Sehun’s lower lip, now red and slick, as one last touch to etch into his memory before Sehun leaves, and he wants to tell Sehun, no and please stay, but his words lose themselves in his throat and he only manages to choke out an, “I,” love you, “will miss you so much.”

Sehun sniffs and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and reluctantly wriggles out of Jongin’s grasp, standing up straighter. Jongin doesn’t let himself cry when Sehun gives him one last wave, fingers trembling, and rubs at his eyes and turns around to walk towards his flight where the plane is waiting to whisk him away. He stops for a moment, but he doesn’t look back, and then he’s walking again and Jongin feels a buzz in his pocket from his phone.

bye, the message says.

Jongin doesn’t let himself cry.

Baekhyun offers to give him a lift home since they live in the same dorm building, and they sit in the car in a heavy silence as Baekhyun drives through the traffic with a huge hangover and a pounding headache and Jongin plays with the hem of his shirt with a huge emptiness and a pounding heartache. Baekhyun parks his car and they walk in together, Jongin trailing behind as they go up the stairs. Baekhyun drops him off to his room and gives him a pitying look as Jongin unlocks the door and immediately collapses onto his bed, curling in on himself. He doesn’t let himself cry as Baekhyun pats him on the shoulder and says, “If you need anything, just call me, yeah?” and it’s worse, somehow. The words of comfort are worse because Baekhyun hasn’t said anything snarky. He hasn’t said anything snarky or rude or inappropriate and he hasn’t made fun of Jongin for acting like his mom has just deleted his World of Warcraft account, and it means that something is really wrong—and that something wrong is Sehun leaving.

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know why he feels as sad as he does because he isn’t supposed to feel this sad. He isn’t supposed to feel like a wreck when Sehun’s only been gone for an hour, and an hour passes slowly when he’s left counting every tick and every tock of the clock, alone. It’s his own fault, he supposes, for breaking the two golden rules of dating in the first place and that’s how he’s ended up this entire mess.

See, the first rule of dating is to never fall in love with your friend, which would’ve been easy if Sehun weren’t his friend, but just to make Jongin’s life difficult, he is and has been since they had been babies. Their parents used to be best friends and that had meant by default, Jongin and Sehun had to be friends too. They would play amiably together, simply because their parents had forced them too, and by ‘amiably,’ he means throwing their diapers at each other and refusing to share their toys in fear of getting cooties. It hadn’t really mattered much when they were kids, but then again, Jongin hadn’t really had a say in the whole thing because his parents didn’t quite understand that disgruntled gurgle ft. poop roughly translated to get me the fuck out of here in baby-talk.

The first time Jongin had realised that he had fallen in love with his friend, he had thought that it’d be fine. It’d be one of those things, like an awkward friend-crush because he hadn’t really had that many friends to crush on in the first place, and they’d probably laugh about it a few years later during a drunken session of truth-or-dare, and Jongin would be like, haha, remember that time when I liked you, and Sehun would laugh and say, haha, uh, no, but I feel so honoured to know that there was once a time when you wanted to touch my dick. Which would’ve been totally great and all, but soon, Jongin had realised that breaking the first golden rule and being in love with Sehun meant three things: a) about four years of unresolved sexual tension, b) a fuckload of stupid, unrequited feelings, and c) this overwhelming want to kiss Sehun every time he saw Sehun talk or move or breathe.

And then, there’s the second rule. The second rule of dating is to never fall in love with your best friend, which would’ve been easy if Sehun weren’t his best friend, but just to make Jongin’s life extra difficult, he is and has been since kindergarten when Taemin had pooped in the sandpit and blamed it on Jongin. Sehun had oh-so-heroically pointed a chubby finger at Taemin and grassed him up, and Jongin had swooned at the sight of his own Prince Charming saving him from sitting in the naughty step and having his cookies and milk taken away from him at naptime. From then on, he had claimed Sehun as his very bestest better-than-your-best-friend best friend, and for the most part, it had been all fine and dandy for the next ten years or so, until he had hit puberty and discovered the wild, wonderful world of wet dreams and hormones.

Somewhere between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, when he had discovered that jerking off to mental images of his best friend fingering himself was a whole lot better than crappy, 240p softcore porn, he’d had a sudden epiphany. As he came over his fist and soiled yet another pair of pyjama bottoms, he had realised that oh, maybe thinking about your best friend like that wasn’t quite normal. Wasn’t quite straight. Wasn’t quite how a guy was supposed to think about his best friend. He had realised that maybe he was kind of, sort of in love with Sehun because best friends did not think about their best friend’s butt in that way, that finger-fucking twinky type of way. He had realised that maybe he wanted to hold Sehun’s hand and kiss Sehun and make him smile and make him happy because that was what being in love was like. And then, he had decided that he really did not like that feeling at all.

Falling in love with his best friend is a lot like falling in love with his friend. It just so happens that that friend is also his best friend, and with that comes the whole package of unresolved sexual tension, a fuckload of rollercoaster emotions, and the added bonus of really fucking great (best) friends-with-benefits sex.

Like all horrible, shitty decisions in life, the whole sex with no strings attached thing had started when they were drunk at a party. Looking back, it had probably been a bad idea for both of them to get piss drunk during Taemin’s twelfth grade Exams are Over, Mom Give Me My X-Box Back celebration, the one that had happened right after exams and just before graduation. It had been a very bad decision that had been very badly decided after a few bottles of cheapass beer shared between them. It had been Sehun who had initiated it, who had pulled their sweaty bodies together, reeking of alcohol and lust, and the only comprehensible thought Jongin had managed to muster up was Hy/?lips???Kissing22/?’’:’-))’4’3#? as he had let Sehun mesh their lips together in a messy kiss. They’d made out on Taemin’s ugly faux-leather Ikea couch with the sound of someone throwing up (class president Soojung), someone singing along drunkenly to a godawful generic pop song (vice president Jonghyun), and Taemin yelling at them to get the fuck off his couch as a lovely, romantic background soundtrack to their first kiss. Granted, it might’ve been more like Jongin slobbering over Sehun’s face and Sehun trying to kiss back with his mouth open too wide and too much teeth and tongue and definitely too much saliva, but it had also been the catalyst of sorts for Jongin’s infatuation with his best friend, or as he likes to call it, I Hate My Life But Mostly Oh Sehun.

A few months after that—although, to this day, they’ve never really talked about it again, mostly because Jongin doubts that Sehun even remembers, seeing as it had been awkward and gross and really awkward and gross and oh, did he mention it had been awkward and really fucking gross?—Sehun had been the one who had approached him first with the preposition of sex. The big S-E-X. Butt stuff. If Jongin remembers correctly, it had gone something like this:


INT. KIM JONGIN’S LIVING ROOM – JUST AFTER BREAKFAST (15:48PM)

The protagonist’s sexy LOVE-INTEREST, OH SEHUN, enters the scene. Picks up Wii controller; sits down on the couch. KIM JONGIN, the even sexier PROTAGONIST, looks up.

Cue three-second pause with ORCHESTRAL SOUNDTRACK ft. violins and harps—Chanyeol, stop messing around with the sound system, I swear to god—as they stare into each other’s eyes.


OH SEHUN
(sexy eye smoulder; seductive wink; lip bite)
What’s up.

KIM JONGIN:
(nervous sweating)
Nothing much. What’s up with you.

OH SEHUN:
My dick. Want to sit on it.

KIM JONGIN:
(profuse sweating; makes a mental note to sacrifice PS3 to Jesus later)
Okay.

(END SCENE.)


See, when someone like Sehun asks Jongin for sex, he can’t say no. It had been physically impossible to say no to Oh Sehun when he had literally been asking Jongin if he could stuff his cock up Jongin’s ass because saying no to Oh Sehun is like—it’s like saying no to Oh Sehun because nothing else in the world can even begin to compare to him. Sure, it’s cheesy and it’s fucking gross and probably a plagiarised line from, like, Sakura Love Kiss Blossom Season Four or something, but it’s true and it’s the thing that makes him hate every single second of his life. That, and the fact that he’s very much in love with a stupid, asshole, brat of a kid who doesn’t even have the courtesy to love him back.

So he had agreed. He’d agreed because Sehun + sex = thank you for listening to my prayers, Jesus, but also because it had been one of those things that had sounded like a Really Good Idea at the time. And about fifteen minutes later, when he had a deep self-reflective moment with Sehun’s cock slipping between his thighs, the only thought in his mind went something along the lines of, oh fuckity fucking fuck. And a few years after that, the only thought he has now is: goddamn.

There’s the saying that every cloud has its silver lining and sometimes, Jongin supposes that being in love with Sehun isn’t all that bad because great sex!!!, except that now, Sehun isn’t even here so the closest thing he has to fucking Sehun is jerking off to mental images of Sehun with three fingers stuffed up his ass, which is all nice and fun and dandy, but it’s nowhere near as good as the real thing. Being in love with Sehun is possibly the worst decision he’s ever made in his entire life. He remembers the first time Chanyeol and Baekhyun had found out and they’d taken it upon themselves to make Jongin’s life a misery by teasing him about Sehun and asking for all the sordid details of their allegedly kinky sex life—look, there’s nothing wrong with a little spanking now and again—and it doesn’t help that he’s been asked on multiple occasions if Sehun is his boyfriend. It’s a question that only makes him pine harder because he really does want to say yes to that, if only once, and instead, he has to frown and pretend to be pissed and sass out the other person with a well-placed, “He’s not my boyfriend because I actually have standards, haha, oh snap, kill me now,” when he actually means, “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend that I happen to be in love with and also I really hate my life because why is he not in love with me? Also, he’s not my boyfriend. Haha. Ha.”

He knows that practically the whole population of the general surrounding area—his dorm building, his classmates and the jackass librarian who keeps catching him when he’s trying to make out with Sehun in the library to live out his fanfiction life—knows that he’s in love with Sehun because it’s pretty obvious with the way he looks at Sehun with tiny hearts in his eyes and how he’s ridiculously whipped, like when he had agreed to let Sehun fuck him. Sometimes, he wonders if Sehun knows and just pretends not to because he’s a Big Poopy Butthead like that, and it’s probably dumb that they haven’t really talked about their feelings together before because feelings? Feelings??? FEELINGS????? and he doesn’t really know how to put his emotions into words. And even if he can, there’s always the whole Sehun-isn’t-in-love-with-me thing and so, it’s probably really glaringly obvious that being in love with him is a horrible idea, but he can’t help it. The heart wants what the heart wants and apparently, his heart has a particular liking for a stupidly cute boy who happens to be Jongin’s best friend.

And everything, Jongin decides as he rolls over on his bed and wraps himself up in a cocoon of blankets like one day he’ll burst out as a beautiful, heterosexual butterfly who won’t have to cry about how long it’s going to be until Sehun will come back and fuck him in the ass again, everything would just be so much easier if Sehun were in love with him too.



Sehun has been gone for a few months now, and Jongin is still stupidly in love with him.

Being away from Sehun hasn’t changed anything. It hasn’t changed the fact that Jongin still wants to kiss him; that the phantom feelings of Sehun’s lips on his, Sehun’s lips on his back, Sehun’s cock sliding in and out between his thighs, aren’t enough. It hasn’t changed the fact that they’re still best friends and that they still talk to each other every day—although, it’s turning from every evening to every other evening and then, sorry, Jongin, I’m busy. Maybe tomorrow? and tomorrow, he’s sorry again and maybe tomorrow?— and they video-chat when Sehun isn’t busy, and it definitely hasn’t changed the fact that Jongin still loves him.

It’s hard to get over Sehun when he can’t even fall out of love with him in the first place. It’s not like he hasn’t tried because he has. He’s tried to date some people, which, admittedly, is just a more sophisticated and classier way of putting Jongin is my name, cock is my game, courtesy of Baekhyun, but it’s pretty much a waste of money and time that could be spent moping over Sehun and moping over Sehun and moping over Sehun because that’s all he seems to be doing nowadays. What’s the point? None of his relationships ever work out anyway because he can’t stop thinking about Sehun, can’t stop feeling Sehun’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck when he’s getting fucked on all-fours, can’t stop thinking about how nice it would be if Guy I Met in the Club Who Hopefully Isn’t a Sex Pervert sitting next to him were Sehun instead. Can’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to curl up beneath a blanket with Sehun instead of Cute Library Boy, can’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to scroll through Chanyeol’s Facebook pictures and laugh at them together with Sehun instead of Graveyard Shift McDonald’s Cashier.

None of his relationships ever work out because they’re not Sehun and the only person he wants to be in love with is Sehun. He’s tried everything. He’s moved out of their old dorm, the one where they’d fucked countless times against the walls when the bed seemed to be too far away, and into Baekhyun’s, whose roommate had also moved out. Probably not to go to a whole other country and leave his best friend, though, because y’know, he’s probably not a dick. Jongin’s gone to all of Chanyeol’s stupid parties in hopes of finding someone to trick himself into thinking he loves as if it’s easier when he’s drunk, but that hasn’t worked because when he’s drunk, everyone looks like Sehun, which is fun for the first two seconds as he rejoices that Sehun’s back, before he breaks down and bawls into his shot glass because Sehun isn’t here, not really, not at all. Baekhyun’s tried to make him an online dating profile with this goddamn ugly picture of him as his icon and surprisingly, he’s gotten a few requests, all of which he has promptly ignored because they’re all probably from old, senile men wanting to shove their old, senile dicks into something that isn’t old and senile. He’s stopped trying now, has stopped trying since the second month, and he wishes that he’d had the courage to tell Sehun how he felt, wishes that he has the courage to stop loving Sehun because now, he’s just lonely and horny and sad and he just wants Sehun to come back.

“Come on,” Baekhyun coos, trying to coax him out of his makeshift fort of pillows and blankets on the floor by his bed. “Come out for a while, Jongin. Chanyeol and I are getting food. Now, doesn’t that sound fun?”

Jongin peeks his head out from one of the pillows and scowls. He’s been there for the past few days, only scampering out for toilet/food/Call of Duty breaks, which are the only real necessities in his miserable life. Those, and Sehun. He still goes into college when he has his classes, but it’s just the heaviest feeling of why that weighs him down because he’s just so lonely all the time, even though he has Baekhyun and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but it’s not the same. He feels like he’s sinking, sinking into an endless sea of misery and loneliness, like he can’t really breathe or think or do anything anymore, and now, he’s past the point of feeling sad. He is just sad, he thinks. He isn’t depressed; he’s simply sad, and his sadness doesn’t go away because it isn’t an emotion anymore. It isn’t a lack of chemicals in his body and there isn’t anything wrong with his brain. He isn’t ‘sad (adj.)’ anymore. He is ‘sad (n.)’ because it’s a fixed state of being and he’s sick of being sad. He’s sick of it all and it’s eating away at him; he feels the bones in his ribcage crumbling away and disappearing into nothing and his heart is open and raw with nothing to protect it. The only way he knows how to make it go away is to be with Sehun. And even if he does that, would it make a difference? Would it even change anything?

He thinks that Sehun has forgotten him. Sehun hasn’t messaged him for a week now, and Jongin is scared that Sehun’s forgotten him. He’s so scared that Sehun doesn’t want him anymore, not even as his best friend, and he wants to hide away from everything. He wants to hide away from his fear and his sadness and his stupid, stupid, stupid love for Sehun because everything’s ruined now and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Jongin-ah,” Baekhyun calls again. He hesitates and knocks twice on a pillow, making a soft thumping noise as his hand hits the feathered insides. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Jongin snaps. “No, go away. I want to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Baekhyun says, and Jongin thinks, fuck, because he’s right. “Can I come in?” repeats Baekhyun.

“Don’t fart in here,” Jongin says, sighing in defeat and pushing aside one of the pillows so Baekhyun can crawl in. It’s a tight fit for two grown boys to be hunched under but Baekhyun’s hand is warm and familiar on his arm and his smile is…it’s kind. It’s kind for someone who Jongin’s been kind of an asshole to for the past few months, and it’s definitely kind for Baekhyun, who is the reincarnation of the Antichrist.

“Jongin,” says Baekhyun in his concerned mom voice, “you should come out for a while. It’s not good to be cooped up in here all the time.”

“Fuck you, I do what I want. Fucking swagass punk. Fuck the police. Fuck the law. I’m staying here,” says Jongin defiantly, crossing his arms.

Baekhyun releases a breath and massages his temples, muttering something about, this is not what I signed up for when I became your friend, and turns to smile brightly at Jongin. “Okay! How about this, then? I’ll take you to that comic book store you like so much and then we’ll go out to eat and you can even get your favourite: fried chicken! How does that sound?”

“I am not a child,” says Jongin, pouting.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“…Yeah,” says Jongin.

So maybe he has a weak resolve when it comes to chicken, but he still puts up somewhat of a fight when Baekhyun drags him out of his fort to make himself feel better. Baekhyun tells him that he looks disgusting and there’s a new species of scrawny rat-gerbil hybrid living on his chin so he takes his time to drag the razor painstakingly slowly over his face and takes at least half an hour for his ‘quick shower’ to contemplate Deep and Philosophical things that need to be contemplated in the shower, like maybe if he should expand the exclusive membership of his fort to Jongin, Jongin and Jongin, or if self-deprecation and sexual frustration go well together for the Haute Couture collection of Vogue, Spring 2014. Baekhyun gets impatient and angry when he takes five minutes to shimmy into his jeans and another ten to pick a T-shirt out from the closet/Super Top Secret Beer Stash Hiding Place, and in a huff of rage, he shoves a baby blue sweater into Jongin’s arms and turns around for Jongin to change.

“That had been Sehun’s,” Jongin says forlornly, pulling it over his head. It messes up his hair a little bit and he smoothes down the tufts sticking up in random places. He’s been brunette for a while now and it’s grown a little bit too long. It’s time for a change, he thinks.

“That’s Chanyeol’s,” Baekhyun says.

“Don’t crush my dreams, hyung,” replies Jongin, slipping on his sneakers. “I am but a delicate bud, ready to bloom into a beautiful flower and realise my full potential.”

“That’s nice,” says Baekhyun. “Funny how you can use big words but I’m still beating you at Words With Friends.”

“Shut up, hyung,” says Jongin, giving Baekhyun a dirty look as he follows Baekhyun to his car, parked a street away. “You’re so mean to me. Sehun was never mean to me.”

Baekhyun bites his lip. It’s obvious that he’s trying to refrain from saying something like, if he’s not mean, then why did he leave? because that’s exactly what Jongin’s thinking right after he’s said it, but Baekhyun holds back and starts the car, the engine purring softly.

“…Sorry,” Baekhyun finally says.

Jongin doesn’t know how he’s managed to fuck things up already.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s just—it’s just, god, I don’t even know. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I just don’t know.”

Baekhyun squeezes his hand. “I think you just have to remember that your world doesn’t revolve around him. It’s been hard for you but remember that you have other people as well. Other people who worry about you.”

“I can’t do that,” says Jongin. “I can’t forget about him. I can’t not think about him every single second of every single day because it’s like he’s taken a piece of my heart and I’m just waiting for him to bring it back.”

“So poetic,” Baekhyun says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Look, just try. It’s better for everyone, and it’ll be better for you. And anyway, if you’re not here, who am I supposed to bully?”

“Kyungsoo-hyung?” Jongin offers. He knows that Baekhyun trying to coax him out of the sanctuary of his fort is for his own good, but he can’t. He’s not ready to face a reality without Sehun.

“Kyungsoo hits me. You don’t hit me,” Baekhyun replies. He pulls up at the café where Jongin can see Chanyeol inside, tapping at his phone screen, thumbs moving in a blur, and he only looks up when the bell tinkles as Jongin and Baekhyun push the door open and walk in.

They take a seat at the table and Chanyeol doesn’t say anything and simply stares at Jongin with this guarded sort of look in his eyes until Jongin orders a glass of water, the cheapest thing on the menu. Then, he raises an eyebrow and says, “Just water?”

“Not hungry,” Jongin mumbles. There’s something about Chanyeol’s gaze that makes him uncomfortable.

“Alright then,” says Chanyeol, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, and then to Baekhyun: “At least you managed to get him out.”

“I’m so proud of myself,” Baekhyun says, reaching behind to pat himself on the back. “Well done, Baekhyunnie. Thank you, Baekhyunnie. I’m going to reward myself with a nice, big pizza tonight.”

“I feel like I’m being conned here,” Jongin says. “I feel like there’s something that I’m missing. Is there something that I’m missing?”

“This is,” Chanyeol announces, “an intervention.”

Intervention. The word sounds foreboding and scary, especially when it’s coming from Chanyeol and he’s using his disappointed dad voice. It’s going to end up with them talking about Sehun again and Jongin doesn’t want to talk about Sehun, not like that. He wants to talk to Sehun, wants to hear Sehun’s voice again, unmarred by the fuzzy sound of static and the slow connection of shitty Wi-Fi. He doesn’t need an intervention. Interventions are for people who do dumb things and they need someone to tell them to stop doing that dumb thing because it’s dumb. Dumb things, like pining over your best friend for months on end and being antisocial so you have time to pine over your best friend.

Okay, there’s a chance that he probably needs an intervention.

“Just leave me alone,” says Jongin. “I don’t need your help.”

“That’s what they all say,” Baekhyun says, picking at the salad he’s ordered. “That’s what they all say, but you need stop doing this, Jongin. It’s weird and it’s unhealthy and it’s bad for all of us.” He stabs at a tomato with his fork and points it at Chanyeol. “Open wide.”

Chanyeol obediently opens his mouth and bites down on the tomato, chewing thoughtfully. Jongin feels like a tomato sometimes. Most people think he’s a vegetable, but really, he’s a fruit. Everyone thinks that they know him, thinks that he’s just a stupid boy with a stupid, futile infatuation with Sehun, but he isn’t. He’s not stupid. He’s just…he’s just a guy who’s in love with his best friend and that’s all there is to it. And he feels so jealous of Chanyeol and Baekhyun. He gets a swooping feeling in his gut when he sees Baekhyun feeding Chanyeol all the tomatoes from his salad because he hates tomatoes—Jongin knows how they feel—and when he sees Baekhyun’s hand resting so casually on Chanyeol’s thigh like it’s a second nature to them. It’s what he wants with Sehun and it’s infuriating to know that he’s never going to have that.

“Remember when,” Chanyeol says through a mouthful of chewed-up tomato, “you went through that phase of being, like, not mopey and gross over You-know-who? I want that Jongin back.”

Rolling his eyes, Jongin lashes out his foot and kicks Chanyeol’s shin under the table. “You can say his name, y’know. It’s not like I’m going to have a mental breakdown if you say Sehun’s name,” he says balefully as Chanyeol yelps and Baekhyun whispers something about making his boo-boos feel better later. “And anyway, remember when you went through that phase of being a gross, twinky Korean boy? Oh wait, that’s your whole life/.”

“Um, excuse me, Jongin. Please leave the sassy comebacks to the professionals. That was embarrassing,” Baekhyun says. “Kkaepsong, and all that. Now, back to our problem.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s just a thing that I’m going through right now,” Jongin says.

“A problem-thing that you’re going through right now,” Chanyeol says.

“No, a thing. It’s just a thing,” protests Jongin indignantly.

“You know,” Chanyeol continues, ignoring him, “there’s a cute boy in my economics class. He’s short, the cuddly sort of short. Like Baek.” He boops Baekhyun on the nose and Baekhyun scrunches it up and hits Chanyeol on the arm in retaliation. “You’d get along well. He seems like the kind of guy who’d put up with your bullshit and your stupid Gundam models and your kink for black censor bars over dicks in your weird collection of 2D animated gay porn.”

“Does he look like Sehun? Does he sound like Sehun? Does he breathe like Sehun? Is he Sehun?” Jongin says. “Unless he’s Sehun, I don’t want him.”

“You’re making this really hard for us, Jongin,” says Baekhyun, letting out an exasperated sigh. He stabs another tomato with more force this time and Jongin recoils a little bit.

“Then stop trying,” Jongin says.

It’s those three words that hold a sense of finality, and Baekhyun sort of blinks and frowns and turns to Chanyeol, who has his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Stop trying,” Jongin says again. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I don’t want you to. Thanks for trying to help, but just. Don’t. I’m going to go now, and you’re not going to follow me. You’re not going to tell me to ‘get over Sehun.’ You’re not going to do anything.”

“Jongin—“ Baekhyun starts to say, but there’s the scrape of the chair as Jongin shuffles out of his seat and walks towards the door, the bell tinkling sadly as he turns and starts to make his way back to the dorm.

They always manage to guilt trip him. They always do that oh, but we’re just trying to help thing when really, they’re meddling in his life and he doesn’t want that. It’s hard because he’s torn between this helpless feeling of not wanting to be alone and not wanting to be sad all the time—but he doesn’t want them; he just wants Sehun. It’s the only thing he wants and it’s the only thing he can’t have.

When he gets back to his dorm, he returns to his fort and sleeps the frustration off for a few hours until he wakes up and it’s dark outside. He checks the time on his phone and it’s night now and he can hear Baekhyun making those annoying yipping sounds as he sleeps in the top bunk. He’s crashed for an early night but Jongin feels wide awake from sleeping all afternoon and chews on his lower lip in thought, contemplating whether to message Sehun. Although it’s an hour later in China, Sehun has always been the type to sleep later, whether it’s playing games or powering through an essay last minute, so he makes up his mind and quickly texts Sehun, are you still awake or

The reply is immediate. Jongin is glad. He’s tired of waiting.

yeah, it says. do u wanna skype or somethin?? im not busy rn :)

ok give me a sec, Jongin types back and opens his laptop to log onto his account. Sehun is already online and he double-clicks on Sehun’s name, the chatbox popping up. He squints at his screen. Something seems weird; something seems off.

did u change ur pic?? Jongin asks. It’s a new picture, no longer the one of him and Sehun together. Now, it’s a photo of Sehun posing together with another boy, blonde hair, cute face. Jongin has a bad feeling about this, and that bad feeling starts with a ‘boy’ and ends with ‘friend.’

yeah, Sehun replies simply.

looks twinky

ur face is twinky, Sehun says, and then, he adds, need to talk to u wait a sec gna call

ok.

There’s a moment, and then Sehun is calling him, the familiar ringing tone sounding through his earphones. He quickly accepts and waits for the little white circle to stop spinning, and suddenly, Sehun’s face is on his screen, looking half-happy and half-something else, something bad. The lighting is dim in his room; Jongin can still see his face, though, albeit blurry from the webcam, and it’s all he needs. At least Sehun’s here, somewhat, and Jongin can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Sehun says. His voice comes through, fuzzy from the static, but Jongin can hear his voice, he can hear Sehun talking to him, and a rush of warm affection blooms in his chest. He’s smiling so hard right now and this is the happiest he’s felt in ages.

“Hi,” he says. “It’s been…too long.”

He sees Sehun nodding, the image slowed by a fraction from the awful internet connection. “I can’t see you,” Sehun says, and Jongin remembers that the room is dark because Baekhyun’s still sleeping. His image is just a black square on the screen. “Where are you now?”

“In my room,” he answers in a hushed voice. “Would turn the light on but Baekhyun-hyung’s sleeping and he’ll hit me if I wake him up.”

“Oh,” says Sehun. “Okay.”

There’s a silence after that, and it feels a little bit awkward. And if it’s getting awkward, Jongin knows that’s a bad sign. It means that they’re drifting apart and that’s the last thing Jongin wants happening when Sehun has already drifted away from him, literally.

“Wasn’t there something you needed to tell me?” Jongin tries, breaking the quiet.

“Oh!” Sehun says, looking up. “Yeah, I—uh. I, um, got a boyfriend.” He smiles a bit sheepishly and licks at his lips, one of his nervous habits that Jongin has learnt to recognise over the years. “He’s the guy in my icon. His name’s Luhan.”

“He’s Chinese?” Jongin asks dumbly. Doesn’t really know what to say to that, he supposes, except for what makes him so much better than me and why won’t you have me why aren’t I good enough for you why why why. He feels a little bit betrayed, actually.

“Well, yeah, duh. I’m living in China,” Sehun says. He frowns for a second before his lips quirk up a tiny inch again. It’s the smile he does when he’s thinking of something he likes, like koalas or ice cream or Girls’ Generation. Jongin’s gut sinks. “Luhan-ge is really nice. He’s really cute and he’s really kind. He sings, you know. He’s a good singer. He has that kind of sweet, soft voice that’s really soothing and I think that I really like him. I mean, we haven’t been dating for that long, but yeah, I think I really like him.”

“Oh,” says Jongin. “Well, I’m happy for you.”

Sehun beams at him. “Right? It’s good, right?” he says. “So, what about you? What hot piece of ass have you been fucking whilst I’ve been here, slaving mine off?”

Jongin doesn’t know if this is the right time to say the only hot piece of ass I want to fuck is yours. It’s probably a given that their friends-with-benefits arrangement is over now, since Sehun’s dating someone, so he smiles weakly and shrugs. “Um, you know. Just”—he gestures vaguely—“yeah.”

“I won’t be offended if he’s hotter than me,” Sehun teases, and Jongin forces out a listless chuckle. There’s that silence again, when neither of them know what to say—or, they both know what they want to say but they can’t; they don’t know what they can say, they don’t know what they’re allowed to say, they don’t know what they’re supposed to say—and Sehun breathes out slowly. “I miss you,” he says. “I miss talking to you. I miss being with you. I miss you so much.”

Jongin’s not sure how he’s supposed to reply, so he settles for a simple, “I miss you too.” Out of habit, he twists the bracelet on his left wrist, heavy on his arm. It’s a simple pattern of beads and shells threaded together with brown, braided string, given to him by Sehun during that time when they had gone to the beach and had gotten piss drunk and made out on the sand, hidden somewhere behind some huge rocks. And then, Sehun had gone and bought this crappy, awful bracelet from a sketchy guy selling sketchy stuff on the seafront and he’d given it to Jongin so he’d never forget that day. Like he would ever forget, Jongin thinks wryly. The bracelet is a constant reminder of Sehun. Even if he tries, he can’t.

The blurry image of Sehun on his screen freezes for a few seconds after the sound filters through. Jongin can’t tell if Sehun is saying anything; there’s only static, and he scowls at Sehun’s horrible internet connection.

ur internet is so shit, he types as Sehun sends him, sry shitty internet, at the same time. There’s a short buzz before Sehun’s cheap webcam decides to work and his picture unfreezes, showing Sehun shuffling on his bed and pulling the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows.

“Miss you too,” Sehun says, holding his hand up in front of the camera.

This is a thing that they do. Jongin’s fingertips touch the cold screen as he presses his own hand against the laptop, like they’re touching hands, and it’s almost like Sehun’s right here with him, it’s almost like Sehun’s here, except that he knows it’s really not—

—and then, he collapses, sort of falls through something with a whoosh and the strangest feeling of air rushing through his ribcage, and he looks up and finds himself sprawled across Sehun’s lap. Not Skype Sehun, not blurry, pixelated Sehun, but real Sehun with his mouth open and bewildered and his real, warm thighs that Jongin’s lying across, and well, Jongin thinks, with his face buried in Sehun’s crotch, this is new.

“Well,” Sehun says after an eternity. Jongin hasn’t moved an inch. Sehun’s crotch is a nice place to be, he decides. He quite likes it here. But mostly because he can’t move his muscles because he doesn’t really know what just happened and all of a sudden, he feels really tired and drained. “Okay. Okay. Okay. What. Okay.”

“Um,” says Jongin. “I.”

“You.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“Being romantic and spontaneous. I think. Or something. I don’t really…know.”

Sehun closes his mouth, closes his eyes, breathes in and breathes out. Jongin breathes against Sehun’s crotch, the zipper dangerously close to his lips. Sehun opens his eyes, breathes in and breathes out. Jongin stops breathing.

“Am I dreaming, Jongin? Please tell me I’m dreaming,” Sehun says. To his credit, he doesn’t sound too freaked out, considering that Jongin has just done some freaky Matrix-teleportation shit and now has his nose pressed against Sehun’s cock.

“I don’t even know,” Jongin says. “Um, sorry?”

“Oh god,” Sehun says. “I can’t deal with this. It’s too late for this.”

Jongin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to deal with being a protagonist of a really badly written fanfiction/badly written shoujo anime/badly written superhero comic, so he just nods and watches Sehun close his laptop and push it off the bed. It falls with a soft thump. Jongin would never treat his precious baby that way, but Sehun is cruel like that.

“Okay,” Sehun says. “Uh, you might wanna get up from my, y’know, dick.”

Jongin scrambles up and sits back on his haunches so he’s facing Sehun. Sehun still looks confused as hell, as confused as Jongin feels.

“Okay,” Sehun says again. “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with this tomorrow and find out what the fuck kind of Spiderman-radiation shit happened to you. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Jongin echoes.

“Yeah,” Sehun says. He stares at Jongin for a moment longer and then surges forward. They both topple backwards from the momentum, landing flat on the bed, and Sehun has his arms around Jongin’s waist, their legs tangled together and Sehun’s cheek pressing against his. His body is warm and it’s real, it’s so real, and he smells just like Jongin remembers. He feels just like Jongin remembers, remembers the way that their bodies fit together so perfectly like they’re two halves of one whole, like they’re supposed to be this way, together, and he doesn’t kiss Jongin. He doesn’t kiss Jongin and they haven’t had sex moments before, so it feels a little bit weird, but it feels right and Jongin snakes his arms around Sehun’s torso, pulling him impossibly closer. It feels so good to have Sehun here with him, to be with Sehun again.

“God, I missed you so much. Even though this is weird as fuck and I’m still so confused, I’m so glad you’re here,” Sehun says, sniffing. His voice is wobbly and Jongin’s cheek feels damp. “Can we just stay like this…? Fall asleep, like this? Please?”

Jongin wants to kiss him, kiss him until he drifts off into dreamland where he chooses to stay, where he chooses Jongin over Luhan, where he chooses to love Jongin. Jongin wants to kiss him, kiss his lips and his eyelids and his nose and his cheeks and his forehead and that sensitive spot on his neck, right by his jugular and he just wants Sehun.

“We can stay like this,” he says instead. He leaves out the ‘forever’ and hugs Sehun tighter. “But won’t your boyfriend”—the word tastes sour in his mouth; is bitter when it rolls off his tongue—“mind?”

Sehun rolls off him and buries his face in the crook of Jongin’s neck. He can hear, can feel, Sehun inhaling deeply and snuggling closer. He’s so warm. “He won’t if he doesn’t find out,” he mumbles. “And if he does, he might mind, but I don’t mind. Isn’t that good enough? It’s been so long, Jongin. Just let me…”

He trails off at the end. Jongin doesn’t know if it’s because he’s sleepy or if it’s because he doesn’t know what he wants to say, doesn’t know what he wants Jongin to let him do. He runs his hands through Sehun’s hair, fingers ghosting over Sehun’s scalp as the soft, blonde locks brush over his skin, and this is nice. This is what he’s missed, and it’s really nice. This is who he’s missed, and it’s really to be with him again.

He falls asleep to the sound of Sehun’s steady breathing and the warm puff of air against his neck and the crown of Sehun’s hair tickling his chin. This is the happiest he’s felt in a long time.

He feels happy.


part two
TAGS: # 2013-14, pairing: jongin/sehun, rating: nc-17
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