iamthegayagenda: (Default)
 (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.


iamthegayagenda: (Default)
 A/N: HELLO YES I AM BACK AND this part is extra long to make up for being away for so long. fyi the flashback scene has smut (no surprise there, let's be honest) and it's sort of getting better now??? lots of fluff yes??? anyway i'll have part 6 up soon (in a day or two) so you guys don't have to wait so long!! 

“Let’s go,” Baekhyun threw a backpack at Kyungsoo, opening the door. Kyungsoo and the bag tumbled to the floor, cursing at Baekhyun’s back.

“Go where?” he asked, throwing the bag onto the sofa and cursing colorfully when it fell onto him again.

“North Shore surfin’,” said Baekhyun.

“N-north shore? Wait, where the hell are we gonna stay? Whose car are we using? Why didn’t you ask me about this?” Kyungsoo scrambled to his feet, kicking the fallen bag and cursing again when his toe caught the metal water bottle.

“Cause I knew you’d say no,” Baekhyun flashed a grin at the scowl on Kyungsoo’s face, opening the door. “Now let’s go, Junmyeonnie is waiting downstairs.”

“You didn’t answer my other questions!” Kyungsoo yelled after him, picking up the backpack reluctantly when Baekhyun merely skipped down the stairs. It wasn’t odd for them to go on weekend escapades, though they hadn’t had one since Kyungsoo got back, but his gut churned; something wasn’t quite right. But he was left with no choice but to drag his feet down the stairs, his slippers slapping against the soles of his feet.

It was in moments like these he wanted to throttle Baekhyun; he had waved at Junmyeon, who was, for reasons unknown, wearing sunglasses though it was cloudy, and Baekhyun waved back, grinning childishly from the passenger’s seat. Kyungsoo opened the back door and his heart skipped a beat. Jongin was curled up against the other door, sound asleep.

“I’m not going,” said Kyungsoo. He slammed the door, turning to go back upstairs but Junmyeon’s glare made him stop.

“This trip is for both of you,” said Baekhyun, unwrapping a lollipop and giving it a noisy lick. Kyungsoo looked at Junmyeon again, who merely raised an eyebrow.

It felt like hours he stood on the corner, the fat palms shivering behind him, until he opened the car door again and climbed in without a word. Baekhyun gave his lollipop a triumphant slurp, turning in his seat to wink at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo scowled at him, folding his arms across his chest and sinking into the seat.

And yet, forty minutes later, standing in by the front desk of the bungalow, he felt like even more of a fool. The girl at the front desk cheerily told them their two-room bungalow was ready for them to check in, and it wasn’t until they were halfway across the sand that it dawned on Kyungsoo. He poked Baekhyun’s side, poking more roughly when Baekhyun ignored him.

“Eh?”

“Why is it a two room bungalow when there are four of us?” Kyungsoo hissed.

“Why would we rent a four room, brah, we can just buddy up,”

“You expect me to sleep in the same room as-“ Kyungsoo looked back at Jongin, who shuffled behind them, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and nearly stumbling on a palm tree, “Why the hell would you think that’s a good idea?” Baekhyun didn’t answer him, continuing the walk in silence. Growling, Kyungsoo stomped over to Junmyeon.

“Whatever it is you’re gonna ask, I don’t have answers for,” said Junmyeon. Kyungsoo kicked a tuft of grass, cursing and stalking off behind the girl, who’d arrived at the front porch of the bungalow already, her smile as bright as the painted sign that read HIBISCUS BUNGALOW. She gave the keys to Junmyeon, and made her way back across the sand; Kyungsoo glared at her retreating back, plopping onto a chair on the deck.

“You can have the beachfront room, if you want,” said Baekhyun, ruffling Kyungsoo’s hair. His scream was cut short by Junmyeon’s glare, but his leg glowed red with hand print from Kyungsoo’s slap. Jongin, who was still half asleep, with eyes squinted from the sunlight, finally caught up to them, walking right past Junmyeon and the open door to drop onto the sofa.

“The garden room is fine,” Kyungsoo grumbled, making his way to the back room and sitting on the bed, staring at the bamboo shades until he drifted off to sleep.

 

🌴🌴🌴

 

They savored Sunday afternoons, when Kyungsoo’s mother would politely invite them to mass, and they would politely decline, often cuddled on the deep orange sofa with the worn corner under a thin blanket; their curious fingers wandered underneath it, pausing and revisiting the spots that had elicited soft moans and breathy sighs until they drew apart, their cheeks glowing and their eyes averted, stealing glances as they cooled down.

But this particular Sunday they returned to Kyungsoo’s bed, no more awake than before their showers. The sun shone through the window, laying itself across Jongin’s face; the light catching on his dark lashes and the soft rise of his nose. Kyungsoo reached out, caressing the bridge of Jongin’s nose, and pressing a kiss to it when Jongin didn’t move.

“M’tired,” Jongin mumbled, rolling over and pinning Kyungsoo beneath him.

“Oh please, you’ve slept like 12 hours,” said Kyungsoo, giggling when Jongin wiggled his way down, laying his head on Kyungsoo’s chest.

“M’tired,” he whined again, looking up at Kyungsoo through his lashes.

“If you’re that tired I guess we can’t try out the lube I bought,” Kyungsoo sighed, smiling when Jongin perked up.

“I’m always ready for hand jobs,” said Jongin, frowning at Kyungsoo’s giggle.

“Well-“ Kyungsoo paused, sitting up. Jongin followed suit, stretching his legs. “I was thinking we could use it for something else.”

“Something else?” Jongin scrunched his nose.

“Yeah, like maybe we could oof?” Kyungsoo said softly. Jongin sucked in his breath, staring at Kyungsoo until Kyungsoo scratched his neck, blushing. “I mean- we don’t have to I was jus’ sayin’-“

“I do! Want to oof. I mean, if you want to. Because I want to. I’d love to. I love you,” Jongin rambled, blushing when Kyungsoo smothered a giggle.

“Why would I suggest it if I don’t wanna, babo,” said Kyungsoo, pressing a soft kiss to Jongin’s cheek. Ears red, Jongin kissed him back, rubbing their noses together.

Kyungsoo fished the lube out of the nightstand, feeling the heat creep up his neck when he turned to find Jongin shirtless, struggling with the buttons on his shorts.

“Need help?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin grunted, falling back onto the bed with splayed arms. “Drama queen.”

“I am not!” Jongin whined, lifting his hips when Kyungsoo tugged on the shorts. “Hyung, you don’t need to fold them.” Heat crept up Kyungsoo’s neck.

“Shut up,” he threw the shorts at Jongin’s face, working on his own pants while Jongin untangled himself, laughing so hard he fell over. The shorts slid off easily, but the shirt got tangled around his neck, and he cursed softly until Jongin’s nimble fingers rescued him. Once free of his shirt, he felt Jongin’s soft lips on his neck, golden fingers rushing to the familiar spots that made Kyungsoo shiver. He felt naked, though he still had on his underwear; it was a different kind of nakedness, one that was vulnerable, as if he’d peeled back all the layers of him. Jongin’s warmth against his back made the rest of him feel cold; he leaned into Jongin, whining when Jongin moved away.

“Hyung,” Jongin said softly, pulling Kyungsoo on top of him, kissing his way up Kyungsoo’s neck until they locked lips, drinking each other in as Kyungsoo set a slow rhythm, grinding down onto Jongin’s lap. Jongin moaned into their kisses, his fingers kneading Kyungsoo’s ass, slipping down Kyungsoo’s underwear to dig into the soft skin.

“We should- underwear. Off,” Kyungsoo muttered between kisses. Jongin nodded, sliding Kyungsoo’s down with far too much enthusiasm. Kyungsoo blushed, his bare ass cheeks bumping against Jongin’s thighs.

“Sorry,” Jongin giggled, his ears red. He shimmied out of his underwear as best he could, nearly kneeing Kyungsoo’s waist, and threw the underwear blindly, his hands settling on Kyungsoo’s waist again. They kissed again, but the fervor was gone, replaced instead by the growing nervousness. The touches were soft again, Kyungsoo’s fingers tangled in Jongin’s jet black hair.

“We don’t- we don’t have to,” Kyungsoo whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

“I still do, if you want to,” he said softly, bumping their noses together.

“Yes, I’m just-“

“Nervous as hell?” Jongin laughed, burying his face in Kyungsoo’s neck and pressing a kiss the hollow. “Me too.” And with that, Kyungsoo relaxed in Jongin’s arms, closing his eyes and letting Jongin’s hands guide him into a steady rhythm, until they were both panting and flushed.

“We should- lube,” Kyungsoo grabbed blindly, cursing when he knocked the bottle over.

“I’ll get it,” Jongin rolled over, stretching to grab the bottle, the square of sunlight lighting up the expanse of his bronzed back. Kyungsoo pressed his hand on the center of the square, spreading his fingers to take in the warmth. Jongin looked at him, brow furrowed.

“You’re always so warm, my little sun boy,” Kyungsoo caressed the expanse of Jongin’s wide shoulders, admiring how the muscles rippled when Jongin sat up.

“I’m always warm to make sure you don’t ever feel cold,” said Jongin, kissing Kyungsoo’s pink cheeks. Kyungsoo shifted on the bed, his too-warm skin pressed against the too-cold wall, hooking his hands under his thighs to hold them apart. He blushed, looking away when Jongin settled between his legs, running a hand over the inside of Kyungsoo’s thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongin whispered, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s knee. He uncapped the lube, squeezing some onto his fingers, then paused, looking at Kyungsoo. “I don’t want to hurt you.” There was a softness in Jongin’s eyes that made Kyungsoo melt.

“I’ve fingered myself before. It’s okay,” he said, blushing when Jongin’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” Jongin pressed a finger to Kyungsoo’s hole, jerking it back when Kyungsoo hissed.

“It’s just cold, I’m fine,” Jongin’s brow was still furrowed, worry shining in his eyes. Kyungsoo cupped Jongin’s cheek, kissing him softly. “I promise. I’ll let you know if it hurts.” Jongin nodded, kissing him again before Kyungsoo leaned back. Jongin took a shaky breath, teasing Kyungsoo’s hole before pressing a finger in, pumping it twice hesitantly before Kyungsoo gave him a reassuring nod. Both of them were flushed, and beads of sweat were already pooling on Jongin’s forehead. Kyungsoo hissed when Jongin pushed in another finger.

“It just feels different. I’m fine,” Jongin swallowed hard, his forehead creased with worry. Kyungsoo gave Jongin a deep kiss, guiding Jongin’s fingers until his breath hitched.

“Oh,” said Jongin breathily, curling his fingers again and grinning when Kyungsoo whimpered. He kissed Kyungsoo, drinking in every moan; Kyungsoo had become soft, pliant under his fingers, cheeks aglow and eyes closed. It wasn’t until Jongin pulled out his fingers that Kyungsoo’s eyes fluttered open again, panting slightly. “I- uh- no condom?” Jongin could barely get the word out, giggling.

“Oh fuck, I forgot. I mean-“ Kyungsoo looked down at Jongin’s dick, his cheeks pinking even more, then looked back up at Jongin, who held his lube-covered fingers awkwardly above his thigh. “We’re both clean, right?”

“And virgins,” Jongin mumbled, blushing again. “I don’t mind.”

“Me neither,” said Kyungsoo, kissing him and leaning back again. The sun had shifted now, lighting up Jongin’s thighs and dick as he squirted more lube on his hand. Kyungsoo watched the pumping of Jongin’s hand, the rise and fall of Jongin’s chest as his breath stuttered, and the strands of hair that stuck to Jongin’s sweaty forehead. Jongin shifted closer, looking up at Kyungsoo with wide eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly, and the tension that had been building in Kyungsoo’s chest ebbed.

“I love you too,” said Kyungsoo, reaching out to hold Jongin’s waist as Jongin leaned over him, both of them giggling when Jongin’s dick bumped into Kyungsoo’s thigh. Once settled, Jongin pressed the head of his dick against Kyungsoo’s hole, rubbing circles on Kyungsoo’s hip as he pressed in. Kyungsoo sucked in his breath, fingers digging into Jongin’s sweaty skin. Jongin paused, leaning over Kyungsoo to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Is it okay? Should I stop?” he asked, nuzzling Kyungsoo’s cheek.

“I’m fine, just take it slow,” said Kyungsoo. Jongin pressed in until he was fully buried in Kyungsoo, pressing open mouthed kisses along Kyungsoo’s neck.

“Oh,” Jongin tumbled onto Kyungsoo, both of them giggling. “Sorry, my arms gave out.”

“You need push ups, noodle arms,” said Kyungsoo.

“Eh? We’re both really skinny!” Jongin whined, propping himself on his forearms and blowing a raspberry on Kyungsoo’s neck. Yelling in protest, Kyungsoo squirmed under him, both of them dissolved in laughter.

“Yah! Move already,” Kyungsoo whined, laughing again when Jongin buried him under kisses.

The sun fell across Jongin’s back, illuminating the steady rhythm of Jongin’s hips. The vulnerability Kyungsoo had felt earlier was back. He felt raw under Jongin, the intensity of Jongin’s dark eyes boring holes so deep Kyungsoo felt stripped apart; but the softness of Jongin’s kisses and the solidity of his arms, the constant presence of his warmth held Kyungsoo together, even as Kyungsoo’s whines grew higher pitched, the pleasure of Jongin’s thrusts a fire that spread across his body. Jongin’s thrusts were erratic, his kisses sloppy; Kyungsoo tangled his fingers in Jongin’s hair, moaning into Jongin’s mouth as he came, back arched. Jongin’s hips stuttered, trembling with his orgasm while Kyungsoo played with his hair, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Jongin’s shoulder. He felt, for lack of better words, dissolved, melted by the heat of Jongin’s body and the force of his own orgasm, torn apart entirely. But Jongin, with glossed over eyes and dripping in sweat, gave him a small, soft kiss, stitching him back together with more kisses, across the bridge of Kyungsoo’s nose, along his cheekbones, peppered across his chest, pulling him back together under the glow of the afternoon sun.

Jongin eventually crumpled in a sweaty heap half on top of Kyungsoo, rubbing his nose against Kyungsoo’s.

“That was- I don’t think I can even describe it,” Jongin said breathily.

“I dunno how you’re forming sentences,” said Kyungsoo, smiling at Jongin’s laugh. Sweat shone on both of them, and the sunlight was on Jongin’s face again, the warm glow of it reflected in Jongin’s dark eyes, though he squinted against the light. He wiggled closer, giving Kyungsoo soft kisses until Kyungsoo rolled onto his side, pressing them closer. Jongin draped an arm around Kyungsoo, playing with Kyungsoo’s hair. They cuddled for a while, drifting in and out of a light sleep until Kyungsoo pulled a grumbling Jongin out of bed, leading him to the bathroom before Kyungsoo’s mother returned from mass.

 

After lunch, which was awkwardly silent, both Kyungsoo and Jongin too groggy to process the meal, they made their way to the beach. Junmyeon dragged his board across the sand, but Jongin didn’t have one; when asked, he shrugged it off. It took them the better part of half an hour, trudging under the afternoon sun, to find a decent spot. Baekhyun stopped abruptly, Junmyeon and Kyungsoo colliding with him spectacularly, and he plopped onto the sand, spreading out the towel.

“You couldn’t have warned us?” Kyungsoo growled, helping him fix the towel. Baekhyun gave him a sunny smile, no less dimmed when Junmyeon gave him a swift smack on the head. Once the towel was in place, Baekhyun crawled to the center and splayed his arms and legs, screaming when Junmyeon and Jongin sat on his back.

“Okay! Okay- agh! Getoffme-“ he rolled out from underneath them, rubbing his back with a scowl. Kyungsoo busied himself with his bag, stuffing the sunscreen lotion to the bottom when a glimmer on Jongin’s neck caught his eye. His heart dropped; surely it was just a trick of the sun, but he hadn’t seen Jongin wearing it before. Despite the rushed sex, he would’ve noticed it; but his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, and he stared as Jongin took off his shirt, ogling the small starfruit pendant at the end of it.

“Eh? Wazzat?” Baekhyun shoved Jongin back, none too gently, pointing at Jongin’s middle. Jongin looked down, shrugged, and balled up his shirt. The others looked too; from the belly button hung a miniature pendant with a topaz at its center, glinting in the sunlight.

“When’d you get that?” Junmyeon asked, reaching out to touch it. Jongin slapped his hand away.

“Two weeks ago,” Baekhyun hummed.

“So ‘at’s why you don’t wanna surf, eh,” he winked. Jongin rolled his eyes, stretching out on the towel. A rolled up towel slumped out of Kyungsoo’s bag, startling him out of his reverie. Baekhyun caught his eye, grinning, and heat crawled up Kyungsoo’s neck, stuffing the towel and ripping his shirt off, savagely pummeling it into the bag. When he looked up, Baekhyun was a mere inch away, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Somebody’s a lil’ thirsty, I’d say,” he snickered, hot sand spraying onto the towel when he fell.

“Come on, Baek, leave him alone,” Junmyeon stood over Baekhyun, waiting for him to scramble to his feet and pull off his shirt before they marched off to the water. Kyungsoo cursed softly. It was mostly quiet; the music was far off, the blare of it dulled by distance and heat, and the people were crowded farther down the shore. The crash of the waves was the only distinct sound, sometimes accompanied by a cool sea breeze, but it brought with it the deep desire to sleep. Kyungsoo shook it off, glancing over at Jongin, but it seemed he’d drifted off to sleep again, spread eagled across the towel, fine grains of white sand sticking to his tanned feet.

It was worse, he thought, to see Jongin sleep so peacefully, to see the changes he’d gone through. He still had a bit of boyish charm, but it was far less than what Kyungsoo had remembered, and his body had finally filled in, no longer the lanky, skinny boy Kyungsoo had left behind.

He stood up, hissing at the hot sand under his feet, half hopping towards the water; it was the least he could do to stay awake. The water was cool, a welcome relief from the heat of the sun on his back. Foam and spray slapped his calves, the current dragging at his feet. Junmyeon and Baekhyun were far off, specks on a board that cut its way across a funneled wave. He’d been good at surfing, before he’d left, but he didn’t trust himself now, instead wading in the the waist deep water.

“Ah, it’s colder than I thought it would be,” Kyungsoo jumped, whirling around. Jongin was behind him, his face twisted in a grimace. Kyungsoo chuckled nervously.

“Ah, yeah. But it’s nice. Today’s hot,” said Kyungsoo, scratching his neck. He wished now that he’d stayed on the towel; Jongin was close, too close, his body slick with water and the chain and piercing glinting in a most distracting manner. Kyungsoo had an identical pendant, but he’d left it in his mother’s house when he moved; it had been a gift from Jongin on their fourth anniversary, a promise to fulfill their dream. The guilt of leaving Jongin had been far too great for Kyungsoo to take it to New York, and upon his return he knew it would be wrong; to wear something that had meant so much to them, but he had so rashly destroyed. He hadn’t thought twice about the absence of Jongin’s own pendant until now, and it pained him, but hope, which he had ceased to feel, began stirring again.

To Kyungsoo’s dismay, Jongin stayed close by, an awkward silence settling heavily between them. It was made worse with the crash of each wave, echoing in the two feet of water that separated them. The sun beat down heavily, but the clouds were more frequent, and bigger, bringing some relief. Kyungsoo dipped below the water, bobbing up for air. Jongin looked elsewhere, though his eyes were obscured by a pair of sunglasses. It unnerved Kyungsoo, not knowing where Jongin was looking. He floated farther from Jongin, closer to the shore, and knelt on the sand, the water lapping at his shoulders. Gulls squawked above, wheeling across the sharp blue of the sky. Kyungsoo craned his neck to look at them; and he heard, rather belatedly, Jongin’s concerned cry when a crashing wave dragged him down. He was thrown against the sand, the grains burning his back. The breaking waves made it impossible for him to escape, pinned to the shore with each crash. With a final heave, Kyungsoo pushed himself onto the shore, crawling towards the drier sand. A pair of legs appeared in front of him, and the glitter of the a topaz flashed above them. Jongin knelt in front of him, eyes wide with worry.

“I thought I’d lost you there for a second,” Jongin said softly, rubbing Kyungsoo’s back. Kyungsoo coughed, spitting out salt water.

“I just got pinned by the waves. I’m fine,” he said, resting his forehead on his knee.

“Maybe we should stick to the towel for today,” Jongin chuckled, helping Kyungsoo stand. It was odd, the gingerness Jongin was treating him with, but Kyungsoo had never seen Jongin with panic in his eyes the way he had when he was pulled under. He preferred it to being ignored, but it still wasn’t quite right.

They lay on the towel side by side, Jongin’s forearm snug against Kyungsoo’s, though the sun was almost unbearable. Jongin had thrown his shirt over the piercing, the sunglasses haphazardly placed on the edge of Kyungsoo’s bag. Kyungsoo felt, again, the pull to sleep, warmed by the sun and by Jongin’s arm. He closed his eyes, opening them again when he felt Jongin’s soft lips on his own.

Jongin pulled away, flushed, and spread out on the towel again, staring at the palm trees as if nothing had happened. Kyungsoo stared stupidly at him, letting his head fall back on the towel with parted lips.

 

After they ate, Kyungsoo decided the best feeling in the world was a cool shower after a day at the beach. But now, with Jongin curled up at his side, cheek on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, he decided it was the clean scent of shampoo and soap emanating from Jongin’s warm skin. Baekhyun passed him a slice of aloe vera, hissing when he applied it to his burned shoulders, sitting on Junmyeon’s legs before pressing play. Kyungsoo had stopped watching the movie a while ago; the romcom Baekhyun had picked bored him, but he didn’t want to object. He busied himself with the aloe, grimacing at the cold of it on his overheated skin. Taking some of it on his finger, he spread it on Jongin’s sunburned nose, smiling when Jongin scrunched his nose, stirring sleepily.

Baekhyun squealed, arm outstretched to take a picture of them, but Junmyeon pulled him back.

“You’re gonna wake him,” Kyungsoo hissed.

“Oh, please. It’s Jongin. The world could end and he’d sleep through it,” Baekhyun scoffed, reaching out again, phone in hand. “Ow! Stop it, I need proof of this for later.” Junmyeon glared at him. “Aw c’mon, Soo. Don’t be givin’ me stink eye, it’s supposed to be a cute picture.” Kyungsoo’s scowled remained unchanged, though he didn’t mean it. No, in fact he wanted to smile, to cry with joy at the feeling of Jongin’s heat by his side. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

 

 

 
iamthegayagenda: (Default)
 A/N: i apologize in advance for all this suffering but I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER AFTER THIS PART!!! i'll be making a pidgin/korean glossary soon just in case you guys need it so be on the look out.


“I feel disgusting,” Kyungsoo sobbed, his face buried in Baekhyun’s shirt. Baekhyun rubbed circles on Kyungsoo’s back, resting his cheek on Kyungsoo’s head. They’d spent the better part of the morning like this, Kyungsoo calling out sick and curling up on the sofa where Baekhyun found him an hour later, sniffling into the cushions. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You know I love you brah, but sometimes you so lolo you amaze me,” Baekhyun said softly, smiling at the hiccuped laugh that rattled Kyungsoo’s ribs.

“You don’t even know what I did,” Kyungsoo mumbled miserably, sitting up and wiping the tears with his shirt.

“I don’t needa know what you did. No, no- don’t give me no stink eye, you know it’s true,” Baekhyun gave Kyungsoo a knowing look, raising an eyebrow when Kyungsoo melted into the corner of the couch.

“I met up with Hyunsik for some drinks and then we went over to his place,” said Kyungsoo, avoiding Baekhyun’s eyes.

“And?” Kyungsoo glared at him.

“What you mean and?”

“Stop givin’ me dat stink eye. You ain’t miserable over no drinks,” Baekhyun set his jaw, staring down Kyungsoo until he looked down at his hands.

“We almost had sex,”

“How you ‘almost’ oof?” Baekhyun asked. Kyungsoo gave him a dirty look.

“We were making out, we did some touching and he got almost naked,”

“But not you?” Kyungsoo shook his head. “Boy, you really did him dirty- okay, okay- ow! I’ll stop!” Kyungsoo smacked Baekhyun with the cushion one last time, for good measure, before burrowing into the corner of the couch again.

“I couldn’t do it. I was- I wanted to forget Jongin just for one night. To move on, but I just felt-“ Kyungsoo took a shaky breath, “disgusted. I thought I could just fuck and forget but I couldn’t.” He hid behind the cushion, muffling his hiccuped sobs.

“You real lolo, you know,” Kyungsoo’s teary eyes glared at him from above the cushion. “You can’t jus’ forget someone who was part of your life fo’ so many years, brah.”

“But I want to,” Kyungsoo whispered.

“No, you don’t,” Kyungsoo whimpered, curling up around the cushion. “I know you still love Jongin. And he still loves you.”

Baekhyun hopped around the sofa, grabbing the mugs of tea that had been left on the counter to cool. They were lukewarm now, but Baekhyun brought them over anyway, shoving a mug into Kyungsoo’s hands.

“I’ma go see Jongin later, kay? See how he’s feelin’, cause you two need to work this out,” Kyungsoo choked on his tea.

“No! No, don’t. He doesn’t want to see me or be with me and I understand, because I fucked up. It’s just better if we-“ Baekhyun waited, sipping his tea, “if we move on.”

“Mm, okay,” Baekhyun propped his feet on Kyungsoo’s lap. Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at Baekhyun.

“What do you mean ‘mm, okay’?” Kyungsoo asked. Baekhyun peeped at Kyungsoo over the rim of his mug.

“It means okay. You don’t want me to talk to Jongin? Shoots, I won’t talk to Jongin,” Kyungsoo sniffed, still giving Baekhyun a wary look. “Yah, stop bein’ all mopey, brah, let’s watch some movies or somethin’,” Baekhyun grabbed the remote, throwing himself on top of Kyungsoo as he searched for options; halfway through the movie, Kyungsoo’s head lolled, finally resting on Baekhyun’s head.

 

He was trapped again, just as he feared, in the cycle of sleepless nights. New York had been three sleep-deprived years, a nightmare of tossing and turning and kicking off sheets at three in the morning, staring at the the darkest corner of the rooms. He’d thought, foolishly, when he and Jongin had moved into their first apartment near Manoa, that he’d never sleep well again; the hot, humid nights without an ac in the cramped bed, Jongin’s arm thrown around his sweaty back, the beads of sweat on Jongin’s forehead and the small of his back glimmering in the morning was what defined their first home. But in time, they grew used to it, though once Kyungsoo nearly shoved Jongin off the bed when Jongin tried to cuddle.

The apartment had been tiny, a one bedroom with a minuscule bathroom with shoddy tile work on the floor and walls, a leak under the kitchen sink, and a fridge that shuddered loudly at the quietest hours, but it was theirs, a space they could be in without the ever-present anxiety of Kyungsoo’s mother walking in on them, or without neighboring aunties spying on them when they sat on the balcony, reporting every movement to Kyungsoo’s mother in hushed whispers. The balcony, which only fit one chair, was the only reprieve of fresh air, where they often spent their afternoons, sometimes with Jongin insisting he fit on Kyungsoo’s lap, sometimes forgoing chairs altogether and sitting on the floor, their legs entwined.

But those nights, even at their worst (usually in august, and usually after sex, sleeping fitfully, sticky with sweat even after cold showers), were not as bad as the nights in New York; the twin bed was uncomfortable, but he refused to get a bigger bed, not when it would make the absence of Jongin’s warmth more noticeable. He has resigned himself to permanent sleep deprivation, surviving on all the naps he could fit into his day.

The first night Kyungsoo had slept over at Jongin’s place, sex sated and pressed against Jongin’s warm back, he slept well, so well, in fact, he woke up late, something unusual for him, feeling well rested, his body pliant.

Sleeping in Jongin’s bed had become an addiction, the scent of Jongin enveloping him, the glow of Jongin’s skin peeking through the mint green the first thing he saw each morning. He looked forward to these mornings, watching the sunlight kiss Jongin’s skin, drinking in the almost feverish warmth of the square of sunlight on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin’s face was peaceful, half buried in the pillow, unbothered by Kyungsoo’s soft touches. Kyungsoo would indulge in caresses, resting his cheek on the square of sunlight on Jongin’s shoulder, pressing his lips to the small of Jongin’s back, lost in the golden glow of the expanse of Jongin’s back.

But now, forced to sleep in his own bed, the haunting loneliness of the sleepless nights of New York sat on his chest, smothering him so that all he could do was lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, hot tears burning tracks until the pale gray of morning filtered into the room. Class forced him out of bed, and it took the last of his energy to stand in front of the room and listen to the students butcher Korean. He would collapse on the sofa when he got home, often falling asleep until Baekhyun’s arrival jolted him out of the nap, shifting to make room for Baekhyun’s vibrancy.

Baekhyun’s cheer had been nauseating, the usual chirpiness in Baekhyun’s voice grating on Kyungsoo’s nerves, but he welcomed it, knowing that Baekhyun would hold him as he hiccuped through heart-wrenching dramas; he had even, at Kyungsoo’s timid request, started sleeping in Kyungsoo’s bed, burrowed in Kyungsoo’s side.

“I talked to Jongin,” said Baekhyun one afternoon, his feet buried under Kyungsoo’s thighs. Kyungsoo’s pencil point snapped but he didn’t notice, staring at Baekhyun in horror. “He’s miserable.”

“I know that, you didn’t need to tell me,”

“He’s miserable because he wants ta be with ya but you two have stuff to work through,” Baekhyun wiggled his toes, laughing when Kyungsoo smacked his feet away.

“He’s miserable because I hurt him and I want something I have no right to ask for,” Kyungsoo said through gritted teeth, clicking the eraser until the new point peeked through.

“He’s miserable because he cares about you, brah. It’s gonna hurt but you gotta talk to him, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows when Kyungsoo huffed.

Junmyeon, who was in the kitchen peeling a mango, put down the knife.

“Listen, he’s been pining over you since you left,” he waited for Kyungsoo to turn around, but Kyungsoo stared at the tv instead. “The day he saw you he spoke to me for like four hours and it was all about you. Do you know how many times I had to hear him sob about not planting the starfruit or whatever-“

“Wait what?” Kyungsoo whipped around to face him. Junmyeon and Baekhyun looked at each other, then back at Kyungsoo.

“Where did I lose you?” Junmyeon asked, leaning on the counter.

“He- he said something about planting starfruit?” Kyungsoo’s voice trembled, a glint of hope in his wide eyes.

“Yeah only about a million times,” Junmyeon chuckled, offering the mango pit to Baekhyun, who squealed in horror when it nearly slipped through his fingers. Kyungsoo looked back at the tv, blinking stupidly. “Did I miss something?” Junmyeon whispered. Baekhyun shrugged, picking at a strand of mango that had lodged itself between his teeth.

“I can’t just go and talk to him though,” said Kyungsoo, walking towards the island and staring at the mango juice that was running down Baekhyun’s hands. He leaned against the cool marble, resting his chin on his hand.

“Why not?” Baekhyun asked, making a face when Junmyeon tried to clean his chin.

“Stay still, babo,” Junmyeon hissed, scowling when Baekhyun pulled away.

“Because it’s not right. I’m the one who messed up, I can’t be the one demanding things from him,” Kyungsoo trailed off, sighing.

“I could tell him to talk to you-“

“No!”

“Oh..kay,” Junmyeon and Baekhyun looked at each other and Baekhyun tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow. Junmyeon raised his eyebrows too, humming in agreement when Baekhyun nodded; Kyungsoo, too busy still staring at the mango juice on Baekhyun’s hands, didn’t notice. Baekhyun winked, whining when Junmyeon rejected his mango-covered kiss.

 

🌴🌴🌴

They’d gotten rid of the worst of the boxes that crowded what little space there was in the living room, their clothes neatly put away, Jongin’s books organized meticulously (by Jongin, who had shooed Kyungsoo away when Kyungsoo offered to help); the pots and pans were in the kitchen, what little furniture they could fit had been set up, sheets and towels in the closet, and the small touches (paintings, candles, the wind chime on the balcony, all courtesy of Kyungsoo’s mother) had found their place.

The heat had kicked in, the open windows offering no relief from the muggy afternoon air. The sofa proved too suffocating, especially after their messy first attempt at couch sex (Jongin’s idea, who wanted the thrill of fucking in every room of the apartment, beginning with the living room).

They had moved to the balcony, sprawled on the floor under the soothing tinkle of the wind chime, the occasional hot breeze ruffling their hair. The sweat pooled above Jongin’s lip, running down his back and forehead; he scrunched his nose, leaning against the wall.

“I really miss the AC in Eomma’s place,” he groaned, nudging Kyungsoo’s leg with his foot.

“Me too,” said Kyungsoo, peeling his shirt off. It was after he’d finished balling up the shirt and throwing it inside that he noticed Jongin’s stare. “What?”

“I love you,” he said softly, smiling at the blush on Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“I love you, too,” said Kyungsoo, brushing sweaty strands away from Jongin’s eyes.

“This is the first step, ya know,” said Jongin, ducking his head bashfully when Kyungsoo  gave him a puzzled look. “To planting our starfruit.”

“Planting our starfruit?”

“I mean, first apartment, right? Then good jobs, a nicer apartment, then better jobs, a house with a big ole yard so we can plant starfruit trees, an’ who knows, maybe even a keiki or two runnin’ around,” Kyungsoo was quiet, which made Jongin blush furiously. “I just meant- I’m just daydreaming, ya know, nothin’ serious.”

“Oh, Jongin,” Kyungsoo chuckled, twining his fingers with Jongin’s. “It sounds beautiful, kangaji.” Jongin looked up at him, still flushed. “Hang on,” Kyungsoo stood up, giving Jongin a teasing grin when Jongin looked at his ass, pouring them glasses of water and washing a starfruit, slicing it thinly. Each glass had three stars poised on the rim, pale yellow with a slight tinge of green. He settled on the floor of the balcony again, handing Jongin a glass. “To planting our starfruit,” said Kyungsoo, holding up the glass. Jongin gently clinked their glasses, his smile to brilliant it was nearly blinding.

“To planting our starfruit.”

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