Salt and Starfruit Pt 8/8

[iamthegayagenda]

 (A/N: This is it. This is the final part. Thank yall for stickin around.)

Jongin was, for lack of a better word (and because Kyungsoo’s vocabulary was in need of expansion), breathtaking. He was wearing a floral shirt, one of Kyungsoo’s favorite, and had a flower tucked behind his right ear. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was a complete wreck. He’d slept horribly, the anxiety bugging him until he woke up, unrested, the next day. He’d had plenty of time to prepare before dinner, but it wasn’t enough, not when nothing looked right and Kyungsoo looked no better than he had three months into his stay in New York. And yet to dinner he went, feeling shabby in his plain white t-shirt.

“Hey,” Jongin stood up to hug him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Kyungsoo stuttered through his hello, almost missing his chair.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” Jongin started, his voice soft. Kyungsoo swallowed hard. “I needed to think- to really think. To figure things out, to get myself where I needed to be.” Kyungsoo merely nodded. “And I have figured it out.” He waited for Kyungsoo to look at him, but Kyungsoo wouldn’t, afraid of what he’d see, so he played with the condensation on his glass of water instead.

“Figured out what?” Kyungsoo asked at last.

“Us,” Kyungsoo kept his eyes on the glass. His heart fluttered, but he told himself he shouldn’t get his hopes up, not after three weeks. Jongin’s lips parted, ready to speak, but Kyungsoo looked up at him then.

“Can we- we should wait,” said Kyungsoo, eyeing the waiter that passed them. “Until after we eat?” Jongin looked uncertain, but he nodded, licking his lips and sitting back.

They ordered, then sat in silence, fiddling with the napkins, the cutlery. Jongin sighed, resting his elbows on the table.

“How’s your mother been?” Jongin asked. Kyungsoo stared at him, blinking stupidly.

“She’s-“ he paused, flattening the corner of a napkin, “She’s been good.” Jongin gnawed on his bottom lip, nodding. “How- how often did you visit her? When I was gone?”

“Oh,” Jongin chuckled, rubbing his ear, “Uh, well, usually once a week?”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo couldn’t mask the surprise.

“She was- well, we both needed the company,” said Jongin, fiddling with his fork, “But we- uh, we also talked about you a lot.” Kyungsoo sniffed, his stomach churning. He’d forgotten, foolishly, that his mother and Jongin had been that close. That his mother had taken Jongin in so earnestly when Jongin’s own mother kicked him out. That she’d tended to Jongin’s wounds, berated him over missed assignments, took him to his surfing lessons. Jongin had only lived with them for a year, but his mother had opened her heart to him in that time. Home, as Kyungsoo thought of it, was a space he couldn’t selfishly hoard, no matter what happened between them; it was Jongin’s home, too.

“Thank you,” he said. Jongin raised an eyebrow, confused. “For looking out for her.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jongin replied. The obvious was not stated, that she was as much Jongin’s mother as she was Kyungsoo’s; he would’ve gone whether or not Kyungsoo had stayed. Kyungsoo licked his lips nervously, folding and refolding his napkin, lapsing into an achingly awkward silence, which sat there, almost like a third guest, at their table for dinner.

🌴🌴🌴

“Hyung, what would you-” Jongin stopped, pursed his lips, then shook his head. Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. Jongin just sipped the juice box, leaning on the fridge.

“What would I what?” Kyungsoo asked, shooing Jongin away from the fridge. The cool air washed over them, a momentary relief from the humid afternoon heat. The sky had been a threatening deep gray the whole day, the humidity so thick they could hardly breathe, but it hadn’t rained, not yet. Kyungsoo pulled out a bottle of lemonade, closing the fridge door with his hip. “What would I what, Jongin!” Jongin merely shook his head, making his way out to the balcony. Kyungsoo followed him, gently smacking the back of Jongin’s head, who only giggled.

“It was a stupid question,” he said around the straw, gnawing on the thin plastic. He sat on the floor of the balcony, legs outstretched. Kyungsoo, left with no choice, sat between them, sipping his drink.

“Well I wanna hear the stupid question,” said Kyungsoo, brushing Jongin’s hair back. A soft breeze blew it right back. Jongin leaned against the balcony railing, the chipped white paint stark against the deep gold of Jongin’s skin. He threw his head back, looking up at the heavy gray clouds.

“What would you do if I broke up with you?” he asked, bringing the mutilated straw to his lips. Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shot up, and he coughed, choking on the lemonade.

“Are you going to break up with me?” Jongin looked at him with wide eyes.

“What- No! Never!” he sputtered. Kyungsoo pursed his lips, but said nothing. “I just wanted to know, that’s all.” They were quiet now, watching the clouds continue their slow march.

“It is a stupid question,” Kyungsoo decided, laughing at Jongin’s dramatic pout, “Stop chewing the straws, this is why I never share a drink with you.” He reached out to grab the straw, but Jongin pulled him close. Kyungsoo tumbled into Jongin’s chest; it was too hot and too humid to be so close, but he didn’t protest, instead resting his cheek on Jongin’s warm chest.

“You haven’t answered the question,” said Jongin, his slim fingers slipping under Kyungsoo’s shirt. Kyungsoo hummed.

“Well, it wouldn’t happen,” said Kyungsoo. Jongin pinched him, laughing when Kyungsoo squirmed. “Okay, if it did, you’d have a hard time getting rid of me.” Jongin hummed.

“Is that so?” Jongin asked, kissing Kyungsoo’s forehead.

“Oh yes. I’d live on your doorstep, I’d wait for you to get home from work with your favorite food, and I’d give you blowjobs every morning to wake you up,” said Kyungsoo. Jongin scrunched his nose.

“Well when you put it that way,” he said, his hand sliding to Kyungsoo’s ass, “I don’t see how I could say no.” They dissolved into giggles, Jongin burying Kyungsoo in kisses until Kyungsoo pushed him away, complaining about Jongin’s sweatiness.

“Ah, hyung,” Jongin pulled him close again, “You don’t complain about my sweat when we’re having sex.” Kyungsoo tried to shimmy out of Jongin’s grip.

“Eh- ah, let go you idio- Jongin! I’m gonna spill the lemonade!” Kyungsoo finally wiggled out, a dramatic pout on display while Jongin laughed. A deep rumble interrupted them, the first heavy drop splattering on Jongin’s shoulder.

“Oh-” Jongin cursed. Without further warning, the sky unleashed its torrent, the frigid rain washing the afternoon of its heat, chasing them both into the apartment.

-

After they’d eaten, and Jongin had graciously paid for dinner, despite Kyungsoo’s protests, they made their way to the boardwalk. A cool sea breeze ruffled Jongin’s hair, and the sky was lit up a warm yellow, the waves cresting gold against the silvery blue of the water. Kyungsoo was still a wreck, but the sangria had somewhat soothed his nerves; he felt, at least, confident enough to reach out and fix the collar of Jongin’s shirt, letting his fingers brush against Jongin’s neck. They paused near an icee stand, leaning on the warm, sea-worn wood railing. Jongin looked at him, but said nothing.

“So,” said Kyungsoo, biting his lip. He couldn’t think of much else to say, but he was afraid to ask Jongin what he’d decided. Their small talk during the dinner was almost painful, and now the heavy awkwardness had settled again, wedged in the space between them.

“So,” Jongin repeated. Kyungsoo looked over, and scoffed at the playful smile on Jongin’s face. Jongin scrunched his nose, meeting Kyungsoo’s eyes. “You don’t have to stand so far away, you know.” Kyungsoo swallowed hard, but stepped closer.

“And you don’t have to keep teasing me,” he muttered. Jongin reached out for one of Kyungsoo’s hands, interlacing their fingers.

“Hey,” Jongin turned to face him, but Kyungsoo wouldn’t budge, looking out over the water, at the sand that had been painted orange by the dying sun. “Kyungsoo.” But he couldn’t look at him, not when his heart was so heavy. “Please look at me.”

“I-” Kyungsoo felt his throat close up, the tears threatening to spill, “Jongin-”

“Hey,” Jongin said again, pulling Kyungsoo to face him, “Can I speak first?” Kyungsoo sniffled, but nodded.

“You know I’m so-”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin squeezed Kyungsoo’s hands. Kyungsoo bowed his head. “When I first kissed you, I thought to myself that I’d never want to kiss anyone else, that I’d never want to feel any other lips against mine but yours. And now, to this day, after all these years, I still think that. I know that we were so young, so stupid, but I felt couldn’t not pour myself into you. I couldn’t not give myself up completely to you. And knowing that you were doing the same with me, that you let me explore all the parts of you, that you let me hold you and put you back together when you would fall apart. That you let me be the one to take you apart, to hold you, to make love to you until you were raw underneath me, so vulnerable, so-” Jongin paused then, licking his lips, “-so you. I didn’t want to, still don’t want to, know what that’s like with anyone else. That vulnerability, the intimacy. Those mornings when we’d just sit on the balcony, so absorbed in each other, in the softness of just being together.” Jongin laughed softly then, taking a deep breath. “Remember how Baekhyun used to joke that we were born for each other. That we were the definition of soulmates, carved out to perfectly fit with each other?” Kyungsoo nodded. “That’s how I felt. The day I met you-”

“Well maybe not that day,” Kyungsoo interrupted. Jongin bit his lip, bowing his head.

“Alright, we’re not talking about how you scared me that day,” they laughed, “And in my defense, which I’ve only said about a million times, you have a really dangerous looking glare when you’re not wearing glasses.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Continue,” Kyungsoo said with a smile. Jongin looked satisfied, taking a step closer, their chests nearly touching.

“Well, when my foolish young self realized you weren’t scary, and I got to know you, I knew that you were- you were perfect. You understood me, knew me. I could trust you,” Jongin said softly. Kyungsoo’s heart fell, and he looked away. Jongin’s eyes were too soft, too vulnerable, and the guilt wormed its way into the pit of Kyungsoo’s stomach. “When you left, all of that changed. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d given far too much of me to you.” Kyungsoo winced, though Jongin’s voice was no different than before. “It’s true, Kyungsoo. I didn’t like to think of it that way but it’s true. I’d forgotten what it was like to be my own person.” The flutters in Kyungsoo’s stomach grew, and he tried to swallow the nausea, but he felt no better. “But I didn’t- don’t- regret us. I never have, and I never will.” Kyungsoo took a deep breath, looking out over the beach. The sunset had grown more intense, a red so deep it was almost violent, the gashes painted across the sky against a backdrop of pale peach. The sea breeze was constant, shifting the sand into a wild dance that was matched by the growing waves, which inched each time closer. Kyungsoo pulled away from Jongin.

“I need to sit,” he mumbled, not bothering to check if Jongin had heard him. He settled at the edge of a nearby bench, hunching over. He sniffled, willing the tears to go away. Jongin sat next to him, stretching his legs out. Without a word, Jongin shifted closer, running his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of Jongin’s soft caress.

🌴🌴🌴

Jongin had always had a thing for Kyungsoo’s hair, stroking it, playing with it, burying his nose in it until Kyungsoo would playfully push him away, a flush in his cheeks.

His fingers were tangled in Kyungsoo’s hair now, a completeness of their embrace. Kyungsoo was flush against Jongin’s body, both of them only in their underwear, and Kyungsoo’s face was tucked in Jongin’s neck, the steady beat of Jongin’s heart lulling him into a warm sleepiness. Jongin’s arm was wrapped around Kyungsoo’s waist, his other hand playing with Kyungsoo’s hair. They’d spent the day in a playful haze of lovemaking, stopping only to indulge for dinner at one of the fanciest restaurants in town. After another luxurious fuck in the hallway, Kyungsoo pressed against the wall as Jongin fucked him from behind, they’d ended up in the kitchen, drinking in the sex-sated suppleness of their bodies.

“I think,” said Jongin, but he paused, his fingers resting on Kyungsoo’s neck.

“You can think right now?” Kyungsoo asked, giggling when Jongin smacked his ass.

“I think we should have a toast,” Jongin finished, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s cheek.

“But-” Kyungsoo mumbled the rest into Jongin’s chest.

“Didn’t catch that,”

“But you already made one at the restaurant,” Kyungsoo whined, looking up at Jongin.

“It’s our fifth anniversary, it deserves more than one toast,” said Jongin, reaching out to open the fridge. Kyungsoo tightened his arms around Jongin, giggling when Jongin couldn’t reach.

“I was comfortable,” Kyungsoo pouted, placing his head on Jongin’s chest again. Jongin squirmed, huffing when Kyungsoo wouldn’t budge.

“At least move with me, yah?” Jongin wrapped his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist again, picking him up. Kyungsoo squealed, clinging to Jongin’s back. The cold fridge air made Kyungsoo shiver, but he didn’t let go, even when Jongin grumbled about having to juggle a wine bottle and Kyungsoo’s fat ass. It was only when Jongin closed the fridge door that Kyungsoo placed his feet on the floor, giving Jongin enough space to pop the cork and pour out two glasses. The golden wine sloshed in the cup when Jongin clumsily handed it over, holding his own up.

“To us,” he announced, his deep voice booming dramatically. Kyungsoo snorted.

“To us, again,” he said, flashing a smile at the frown Jongin gave him.

“To our love. To our growth. To our health,” Jongin continued, “To the ten babies and fifteen dogs-”

“Eh?!” Kyungsoo’s eyes widened, smacking Jongin’s chest when the other laughed.

“To the love of my life. To the boy who pulls me back together when I’m falling apart, the boy I’m proud to call my lover,” Kyungsoo blushed at this, “To the boy I’m proud of, who rubs my tummy when I’ve eaten too much and knows exactly how to give divine blowjobs-”

“Jongin!” Kyungsoo squealed. Jongin threw his head back, squaring his shoulders.

“And to the boy I’m proud to love. The best moment of my life was the moment I met you, because it’s the day my life changed for the better,” Jongin finished, clinking their glasses together. They interlinked arms, taking sips of wine before placing the glasses on the counter. Kyungsoo pulled Jongin close, rubbing their noses together.

“I’m proud of you, and I’m proud to love you, too,” Kyungsoo whispered, kissing Jongin. Jongin deepened the kiss, reaching out to steady himself on the counter, but ripped away from the kiss when he nearly knocked a glass over.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, belatedly, steadying the glass.

“We should probably take this to the bedroom,” said Kyungsoo, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Jongin’s boxers.

“Actually, I was thinking we could try out the sofa,” said Jongin.

“What is it with you and fucking on the sofa,” Kyungsoo asked, squealing when Jongin picked him up and carried him to the living room, exposing Kyungsoo’s ass to the chilly air.

-

“For three years I thought I could be myself, start a life in which I had nothing to do with you,” Jongin continued. Kyungsoo kept his eyes closed. “But I don’t want that.” The boardwalk creaked behind them, the far off sound of cars and buses on the highway, and the momentary tinkle of a bicycle bell filled the air, though the sea breeze tried to carry it off. Time seemed to stop, at that moment, even the beating of his heart. Kyungsoo chanced a look at Jongin, who was entranced by the heaving of the waves.

“Then what do you want?” Kyungsoo asked, his voice trembling. Another pause, another terrifying moment of silence in which Kyungsoo could hardly breathe, Jongin’s dark eyes boring so deeply into him.

“I want you,” he said, “I want for us to be together, to grow, to learn, to love. I want for us to plant our starfruit.” Kyungsoo let out his breath in a rush, the tears spilling before he had a chance to stop himself.

“I want that too,” he hiccuped, furiously wiping away tears. Jongin was far more delicate, drying Kyungsoo’s cheeks and placing a soft kiss on Kyungsoo’s lips, waiting for Kyungsoo to deepen it. Kyungsoo tangled his fingers in Jongin’s hair, knocking the flower off, but he was too hungry to care, too busy drinking in the taste of Jongin to notice, until Jongin pulled away, looking sheepish.

“I- uh- we’re in public,” he said, covering his face. Kyungsoo felt the heat rush to his ears.

“Oh, right. Oh, God,” Kyungsoo giggled.

“But we could continue this at my place?” Jongin stood up, holding out his hand. Kyungsoo took it, standing up to meet Jongin in an embrace.

“To planting our starfruit,” he said softly, giving Jongin one last kiss, just as the sun dipped behind the horizon.