Salt and Starfruit Pt 7/8

[iamthegayagenda]

 (A/N: Yes I know, I'm a terrible person. I took waaaay too long to update. BUUUUT I'm almost done!!)

It was a night he remembered clearly. The fair, after all, was one of the few things that broke the monotony of small island life. That year the fair was just like any other, but not for Kyungsoo. That year, he was going to the fair with his boyfriend, with Jongin. They were still wading through the shyness of new couples, full of soft touches and giggles and one too many noses bumped together clumsily. Baekhyun, though with no malice, gagged behind them, giggling when Kyungsoo landed a blind punch on his arm. Junmyeon had driven them over, showing off his new car, and Moonkyu had fumed in the front seat the whole time, his face falling as soon as he spotted Kyungsoo. The dirty looks would follow him the whole night, especially dark and bitter whenever Jongin gave Kyungsoo a soft kiss, or wiped the cotton candy from his lips, or drew him close to rub their noses together. In retrospect, Kyungsoo realized they were probably insufferable with their displays of affection, but they were both young, and too lost in the cloud of intoxicating infatuation to care.

That same dirty look greeted him when he knocked on the door of the apartment. Moonkyu’s eyes narrowed, dragging his eyes from Kyungsoo’s sneakers to his head. With a sniff, he squared his shoulders, looking down his nose at Kyungsoo.

“I didn’t realize you were-“ Moonkyu paused, pursing his lips and sucking his teeth, “- still allowed here.” Kyungsoo swallowed a retort, folding his arms across his chest instead.

“Who is i- Oh, Kyungsoo! Why are you still out here?” Jongin asked, brushing past Moonkyu to pull Kyungsoo into a hug. He felt the poison in Moonkyu’s eyes when Jongin gave him a kiss. Blushing, Kyungsoo toed off his sneakers, ignoring the look of disbelief on Moonkyu’s face.

“Where should I put the- oof“ Baekhyun tackled him, knocking the air out of him. “We live together you fucking moron,” Kyungsoo growled, cradling the bottle of wine. Baekhyun guffawed, slapping Kyungsoo’s ass before he ran off, peeking at Kyungsoo’s red ears from over Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“What did you bring?” Jongin asked, still suppressing a smile. He hooked a finger in the bag, peeking at the bottle.

“The mango thing you liked,” Kyungsoo pulled the bottle out, smiling when Jongin’s face brightened.

“Hyung, look, this is the mango thing- oh fuck,” he hugged the bottle close, eyes wide in terror. It had nearly slipped from his hands.

“Yah, Kim Jongin, hand that alcohol over, yeah? You drink so little the booze affects ya even before you had a sip,” Baekhyun reached out for the bottle, snorting when Jongin swatted his hand away.

“You’re also a real lightweight,” Moonkyu sneered, glass in hand. It was probably whiskey, which Moonkyu had developed a taste for early in high school. Baekhyun curled his lip, shifting the bottle in Jongin’s arms so he could look at the label.

“Oh, I should probably check the food,” Junmyeon chuckled sheepishly, shuffling towards the stove. Kyungsoo joined him, peeking over his shoulder as the steam rose from the soup. “You two seem okay.” Kyungsoo, engrossed in watching the broth bubble, didn’t answer. “Hey.”

“Hm? Oh, that was you saying something?” Kyungsoo’s ears burned, scowling at Junmyeon’s laugh.

“I asked if you two are okay,” he grabbed a spoon, dipping it in the broth and blowing on it. Kyungsoo watched him, eyes darting to find Moonkyu, who watched him, and back to Junmyeon.

“I don’t really know. I mean, we’re okay, but we’re also-“ Kyungsoo sucked in his breath, leaning against the counter, “-we’re also not anything?” Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. “We’re not like-“ he stopped again, realizing Moonkyu had shifted closer to them, and lowered his voice, “we’re not officially in a relationship, I think. We haven’t really talked about it.” Junmyeon pursed his lips.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit down and talk to him?” He asked.

“We did!” Kyungsoo’s voice cracked. Junmyeon hummed his assent. “Okay, we didn’t talk about that but we talked about us. As a couple. Sort of.” Junmyeon shook his head.

“You both need to figure this mess out,” he said, wiping his hands on the towel that hung from the oven door.

“If you keep cradlin’ that bottle it’s gonna be mango moscato soup, an’ I don’t want that,” Kyungsoo heard Baekhyun yip, followed by Jongin’s whines. Junmyeon made his way over, finally extricating the bottle from Jongin’s grip and putting it in the fridge. A knock on the door startled him, rolling his eyes when Baekhyun yelled at the uncooperative lock. Eventually, with Jongin’s help, Baekhyun got the door open, Chanyeol and Sehun filling the whole frame of the door and then some. Chanyeol engulfed Jongin in a hug, ruffling Baekhyun’s hair none too gently before making his way to Kyungsoo. Moonkyu sidled over to Kyungsoo’s side, taking another sip from his glass.

“So,” Moonkyu coughed out, “when did you get back to Oahu?” Kyungsoo pressed his lips together. Sehun and Chanyeol, ever polite, waited for Kyungsoo to answer, but the look Sehun gave Moonkyu was none too nice.

“It’s been a few months,” he said tersely, smiling when Jongin slid wildly across the floor, smiling goofily before he slipped into the bathroom.

“Jongin’s too good of a person,” Moonkyu hissed, “I tried warning him that you were no good, but he didn’t listen to me, and look at what you did.” Heat crept up Kyungsoo’s neck, his fingers curling into fists. “But he’s learning. He finally knows you’re a rotten slut-“ Kyungsoo turned to glare at him, fire in his eyes. The other was trying to keep his calm, but his jaw had tensed, and fear had flickered in his eyes for a moment.

“And yet, here you are, having spent nine years trying to poison Jongin against me just so you could get a taste of his dick, but he just won’t give it to you. It’s a shame, really, cause it’s real fucking good,” Kyungsoo growled through gritted teeth. Moonkyu’s left eye twitched, his knuckles growing white. Chanyeol cleared his throat, eyes darting almost comically between the two of them.

“Hyung, you haven’t said hi,” Sehun said with a small voice, ignoring the wild look Moonkyu gave him. Kyungsoo took a deep breath, turning away from Moonkyu and giving Sehun a warm smile. The door to Jongin’s room opened then, and Jongin walked out, blinking at all of them when they looked at him.

“Did I…miss something?” he asked.

“No! Nothing,” Chanyeol yelled, shaking his head far too vigorously. Sehun smacked him, raising an eyebrow when Chanyeol gave him a sheepish grin. Jongin frowned slightly, looking over at Kyungsoo, his expression unreadable, before he made his way over to Junmyeon.

Once they’d settled, Jongin sidled close to Kyungsoo. Chanyeol had deftly deflected the tension from before, diving into a melodramatic retelling of his failed attempt to impress Sehun during bowling night, Sehun’s sharp commentary keeping him in line.

“What was that all about?” Jongin asked.

“Hmm?”

“When I got out the bathroom?” Moonkyu looked over at them, his lip curling for a moment, but he turned back to Chanyeol. Kyungsoo pretended not to notice, but he shifted his weight away from Jongin.

“Oh, nothing. Just Chanyeol being Chanyeol, you know how he gets,” Kyungsoo chuckled. Jongin didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push it, pulling Kyungsoo close. Kyungsoo resisted the tug, giving way when Jongin gave him a puzzled look.

The night was tense, at least for Kyungsoo, and the alcohol was no help. Jongin touched him freely, kissing him and hugging him with the generosity Kyungsoo had been craving, but now was dreading. With each touch, Moonkyu’s expression soured, and soon he found ways of inserting himself between Jongin and Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo avoided them both, sticking instead to Baekhyun’s side, even if it meant enduring Baekhyun’s antics.

“Shouldn’ you be on Jongin’s dick right now? Give him that good suck for his big job, yeah?” Baekhyun had asked, none too quietly, after his second glass of “the mango thing,” giggling into Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Heat prickled his ears, but Kyungsoo just took the glass from Baekhyun’s hand and downed it, ignoring Baekhyun’s half hearted protest. Each time Jongin came close, Moonkyu followed; each time Jongin reached for him, he’d pull away, if only to avoid the dirty looks Moonkyu sent his way. Sehun, who’d noticed the glares, returned them, frowning at Moonkyu for the rest of the night, only softening his gaze when Baekhyun graced them with a joke.

Kyungsoo walked to the kitchen, refilling Baekhyun’s glass (against his better judgement, but he knew Junmyeon was driving, so he was only endangering Junmyeon’s peace of mind and eardrums) and his own, when Sehun and Chanyeol walked over.

“You know I hate it when you two stand next to me,” he grumbled, glaring up at them when they laughed.

“Alright but this is important, and we’ve been kept out of the loop,” said Chanyeol, folding his arms. He frowned too, but it was almost comical.

“What loop?”

“Hyung, come on,” said Sehun, gently pushing Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“I thought you and Jongin were good now, why’re you avoiding him?” Chanyeol asked. Kyungsoo glanced at Jongin, who was looking at him, brows furrowed, and turned around, fiddling with his glass. Baekhyun, who was currently straddling Junmyeon’s lap, held out his hand for his drink, yelling in protest when Junmyeon swatted it away.

“It’s not because of him,” Kyungsoo said softly.

“Oh, that bitch? Hyung, don’t pay any attention to him,” said Sehun. Kyungsoo half smiled, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s fine, guys. It’ll be fine,” he sniffed, wishing he’d believe himself. Chanyeol opened his mouth to speak, but Sehun stopped him, pulling him away instead.

Baekhyun got his glass of moscato at last, yelling triumphantly when Kyungsoo handed it to him. Kyungsoo shook his head at him, walking back to the kitchen for his own glass, only to find Jongin there, pouring himself out some water.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said, stupidly. Jongin gave him a small smile, pulling him close.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, giving him a kiss. Kyungsoo leaned into Jongin’s chest, closing his eyes when Jongin pressed his lips to Kyungsoo’s forehead.

“Nothing,”

“Jongin, where the- oh,” Moonkyu stood at the entrance, nose scrunched in disgust. Kyungsoo pushed Jongin away, grabbing his glass of moscato. “Here you were.” With a sickly sweet smile, Moonkyu pushed past Kyungsoo, resting his hand on Jongin’s shoulder.

“You should’ve learned to go fuck yourself years ago,” Kyungsoo said, turning swiftly on the ball of his foot to leave the kitchen. He heard Jongin’s soft “fuck,” but he didn’t stop, didn’t look back until he was wedged between Sehun and Chanyeol on the sofa.

They lingered in Jongin’s apartment until about two in the morning. It was only Moonkyu left, with Jongin and Kyungsoo sitting awkwardly on the sofa under his watchful eye, swirling the dredges of whiskey in his glass with too much vigor.

“It’s a bit late,” Moonkyu slurred, downing the last of his drink. “We should go.” He stood up, giving Kyungsoo a hard look.

“Good night,” Kyungsoo said curtly, cleaning the lenses of his glasses. Jongin gave Moonkyu a pat on the back, leading him to the door.

“He needs to sleep before the trip, you know,” Moonkyu snarled.

“I’ll be alright, hyung,” Jongin chuckled, patting Moonkyu’s shoulder. Moonkyu gave Kyungsoo one last glare, sniffing before he walked out. Once the door closed, Jongin turned to face him, arms crossed.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to him,” he said. Kyungsoo stiffened.

“He’s never been nice to me,” said Kyungsoo, “Why should I go out of my way to be nice to him?” He heard Jongin scoff.

“Because it’s the mature thing to do-“ Kyungsoo whirled around, glaring at him.

“So what am I supposed to do when he calls me a rotten slut? Ask him if he’s had a great day? Pour him another drink?” Jongin avoided Kyungsoo’s eyes, “I owe him nothing. I gave him the benefit of the doubt for years, but he never did anything to mend this relationship.”

“He’s still my friend,” Jongin said softly. Kyungsoo closed his eyes, frowning when tears pricked them. No, he’d cried too much over this. He wouldn’t again. But his eyes were still glossy.

“Good night, Jongin,” he put on his glasses, staring hard at the floor to keep the tears at bay. He slipped on his sneakers, hand on the door handle, but Jongin was still in front of the door.

“Don’t-“ Jongin paused, swallowing hard. Kyungsoo waited, but Jongin made no move to finish.

“I think you need to think about things,” said Kyungsoo, turning the door handle. Jongin sniffed, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes, but stepped aside.

He’d returned to his mother’s house for the weekend, fleeing the reach of Baekhyun’s concerns and the inevitable gloom of his room. The first drops began to fall, fat and cold, as pulled into the driveway; they splattered across the bridge of his nose and made their way down his back. In the few minutes it took to grab his bag from the back seat and walk to the front door he was drenched, sucking in his breath when the cool ac washed over his wet skin.

His mother called out his name, and her shuffling footsteps made their way to the foyer, clucking at the sight of Kyungsoo, shivering and toeing off the soaked sneakers. Before he made it to his room she’d chucked a towel at him, taking his bag and fussing over him. By the time he’d changed she was waiting in the kitchen with tea, a stern look on her face.

“Isn’t Jonginnie going to North Sho’ this weekend?” His mother asked. Kyungsoo sighed, sipping on the tea.

“Hi to you too, mom,” he said into the mug, ignoring the hard look she gave him. “He’s going with his friends.”

“You not his friend?” She asked, sucking her teeth. Kyungsoo looked out the window, lips pursed.

“I don’t know what we are, ma,” he said softly. Rain pelted the windows, the thunder and wind enveloping their silence. She gave him a stony look, clucking in disapproval.

“Didn’ I tell you to work this out?” She asked. Kyungsoo

“You seem more worried about him than me,” he sulked. Her face soured.

“He as much my son as you are, Kyungsoo,” she snapped, “An’ you working this out with him- it’s for both of you. You messed up big time, yes, but you hurt yourself, too.” Kyungsoo stared at the steam that curled above his tea, feeling the burn of the tears building in his eyes. His mother sighed, taking one of his hands in her own, squeezing it gently when Kyungsoo broke down, the sobs racking his chest violently. It wasn’t until the sobs had calmed to sniffles that she let go, waiting for him to look at her. “Kyungsoo.” He kept his head bowed.

“It’s too much, eomma,” he said softly. “I don’t think I can lose him again.” She patted his arm, wiping his tears with her hand when he peeked at her.

“Make a choice, Kyungsoo,” she said. He looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Either you with him, or no. But you got to choose. For you. For him. That how you can heal.” Kyungsoo bowed his head again.

“I don’t know, eomma,” he sniffed.

“Take your time. Think. But you got to choose,” she wiped more tears from his face. “Now eat. You getting too skinny.” With that, she shuffled around the island, heaping the japchae and purple rice onto his plate.

Two weeks had passed since Kyungsoo had walked out of Jongin’s apartment. Two weeks since they’d spoken. Two weeks since they’d seen each other. Kyungsoo’s heart ached terribly, and he’d resigned himself to the miserable insomnia of a Jongin-less bed, but he wouldn’t cave. He promised himself he wouldn’t, even as he relived the pain of loss each night, his face buried in one of Jongin’s shirts; even as he lost sleep, ate less, drank more; even as he struggled to keep himself together, pulling the threadbare pieces of himself together with coffee and a dash of whatever alcohol was close at hand; even as he stood under the hot spray of the shower, feeling the (loss) of Jongin worse than he had three years ago. Proximity, it seemed, made the heartbreak worse. The echos of Jongin were everywhere, teasing Kyungsoo mercilessly. He’d been tempted to throw out all their photos, the frames piled up on his bed, a plastic bag beside them, but in the end decided to keep them, hiding them in the top drawer, face down should he need to look for something else. The pictures on his phone were another matter, and each night his thumb hovered over the trash can icon, and each night he stopped himself, stuffing the phone under his pillow.

Perhaps the most miraculous thing about the past two weeks was how Kyungsoo avoided Baekhyun. Baekhyun’s greetings and questions would go unanswered, the knocks on his door ignored, the notes on the fridge discarded before they were read. On weekends he visited his mother, often staying for a night, if only to avoid any potential visits from friends. Only once did Baekhyun trap him in the kitchen, at first joking with Kyungsoo, but when Kyungsoo answered with silence, hurt crept into his voice, and he snapped, leaving Kyungsoo to heat up his food alone.

With each day, Kyungsoo crumbled, but his resolve didn’t. He wouldn’t reach out to Jongin. He wouldn’t cave, no matter how much he needed Jongin. He’d quit Jongin, replacing the addiction with alcohol, with greasy food (when he could stomach it), with piles of work to grade. No, if Jongin didn’t seek him out, then he wouldn’t throw himself at Jongin. He was tired of the back and forth, of the uncertainty of their relationship, of clinging to Jongin because he didn’t know when he’d lose him. It hurt him, each day that passed, but it was what he needed, what he really needed to get over Jongin.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Kyungsoo threw himself on the worn chair of his office, sighing in relief when it didn’t give out. He pulled out the latest pile of homework, placing it haphazardly on the edge of his desk, and pulled his phone charger out too, tugging impatiently when it snagged on a folder. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the soreness of his neck, before pulling out his phone. He dropped it then, cursing, then scrambled for it, looking at the screen in disbelief. There was a text from Jongin, the first he’d heard from him in three weeks. A simple text, not very long: Dinner tomorrow? It’s on me.

Kyungsoo unlocked his phone with trembling fingers, and typed out his reply.

Comments

[floralnori]

Thanks for updating! I'm enjoying the story! :)