Chapter Text
Nothing changes. Nothing has to change, actually, because Seungmin and Jeongin are the same as always. They might characterize their relationship a little differently now, but they’re—they’re the same, and that’s okay.
Right?
Jeongin is chewing his thumbnail all the way down as these thoughts revolve around his head, watching Seungmin argue with Changbin whose smoothie is whose, across the room.
It’s fine. It’s cool. Jeongin is a grown up, and maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to this, to being in love with his best friend, but Seungmin will let him figure it out at his own pace.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” comes Minho’s voice, flopping beside Jeongin on the couch. Jeongin stares over at him blankly, not comprehending, and Minho smirks in his face. “Looks like you’re deep in thought,” he explains. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Jeongin irritably shoves at his shoulder, and goes straight back to chewing his thumbnail off. He tastes blood, and gazes down at his thumb in shock, the bead of crimson welling up.
And then Seungmin is sauntering over with a strawberry smoothie he’s successfully pilfered from Changbin. Minho catches a glimpse of Jisung doing push-ups across the dressing room, and abandons Jeongin in an instant.
“Want a sip?” Seungmin offers, extending the straw to him.
Jeongin wrinkles his nose. “Your mouth has been on it,” he protests.
Seungmin’s neutrally pleasant expression falters, and he looks around the dressing room. No one, literally no one, is paying them any mind. No one is listening in to their conversation. “...And?” Seungmin asks, his brows knitting together. “I—?” He lowers his voice, just in case. “Jeongin, it’s fine.”
Had he overreacted? He—he doesn’t know what to do with Seungmin. The proximity has his heart embarrassingly hammering in his chest. His palms are sweaty, he feels just vaguely unwell, nauseous.
“O-oh, okay, I—” Jeongin tries, and takes the smoothie. Takes a polite sip of sweet strawberry and—protein powder. Yes, this was definitely Changbin’s smoothie.
Seungmin softens and reaches to grip gently at Jeongin’s forearm. His thumb strokes over the material of his stage outfit, his eyes dripping with pity. “Just calm down, okay, In?” he says. “You’re overthinking.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Jeongin whines, not for the first time. “I mean—and it’s not because it’s you, or because you’re a guy, it’s—how do you be in a romantic relationship? How am I supposed to just, like—grab your hand, or, or—?”
“Baby,” Seungmin says quietly, gripping his arm tighter. There’s an entire swarm of butterflies that well up in Jeongin’s chest at the pet name, something that sounds uncharacteristic coming from Seungmin. “Just calm down for now, okay?” he says. “Let’s talk tonight.”
Jeongin’s throat is thick, but he manages a nod. It’s worse when he’s alone with Seungmin. There, there’s no excuse. No prying eyes or judgmental stares—just Seungmin, who Jeongin ought to be comfortable around. But he’s—fumbling. He has so many big, fuzzy feelings surrounding Seungmin that he can’t properly act on. It’s embarrassing—what if Seungmin thinks he’s weird, or going too far, or awkward?
The whole romance thing has done nothing for him but fill him with anxiety. He wants Seungmin, he loves Seungmin, but how does he show him without making a fool of himself? How does he reconcile his huge, embarrassing feelings without also wanting to crawl in a hole and die?
For now, he offers Seungmin an uneasy smile, something approaching a grimace. And he nods—tonight. Maybe he’ll have it figured out by tonight.
Seungmin knocks more as a courtesy. He’s showered, his hair still damp. The hoodie he’s wearing is one he’s stolen from Jeongin’s closet, because he’s fearless like that. They’re a couple, so of course they steal each other’s clothes. Jeongin thinks about wearing a hoodie that smells so unabashedly like Seungmin’s stupid, expensive fabric softener, one that’s been pressed close to his skin all day, and feels his face flushing.
“Hey,” Seungmin greets softly. He sits on the edge of Jeongin’s mattress, leans in for a chaste kiss. It’s a peck, one that has Jeongin’s face flushing all over, how casual it is. How nonchalant Seungmin is when he does it. Like kissing is something pedestrian, every day, and not something that Jeongin has no idea how to do, how to initiate.
Seungmin’s shoulders hunch self-consciously. “Why do you look like you want to die?” he asks in a mumble. “It—have you changed your mind and you’re too scared to tell me?”
He’s turned it over in his mind, honestly. He likes Seungmin, but the stress of everything is a bit much. It shouldn’t be so stressful, loving someone, right? It ought to be easy. And loving Seungmin—isn’t. He can’t kiss him. Can’t hold his hand. The thought sends his blood pressure skyrocketing.
“Hyung, I’m sorry, I just—” Jeongin tries, his face burning. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“And we’re figuring it out together,” Seungmin insists, bundling both of Jeongin’s hands in both of his. Casual. Like it’s nothing. Jeongin feels like he might burst into flames. “Oh, Jeongin,” he says, and his fingers reach out to skim Jeongin’s flaming skin. “You—you’re embarrassed even by this? Jeongin, we’re alone, what is there to be embarrassed—”
“I don’t know,” he says immediately, jerking away from Seungmin’s fingers. It’s too intense, too much; his face has reddened more, up to his ears now. “I don’t know why I react like this, or why I’m afraid to—to kiss you or to touch you. I just am. I feel for you, Seungmin,” he admits, his voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “So much.”
Seungmin blinks. “Feel how?”
Jeongin doesn’t know. There’s an awful lot swirling inside of him when he looks at Seungmin, when he thinks about Seungmin, and he isn’t sure that he’s eloquent enough to condense it down neatly into words. He just—he feels.
“I don’t know,” he whines, which is so fucking lame. So embarrassing. Seungmin has to think he’s stupid, or pathetic, or—
“Well,” Seungmin says, cocking his head. “Do you want to kiss me, or touch me, or…?”
He blinks, trying to remember how to breathe. Does he…? He thinks about his fingers skimming across Seungmin’s bare skin, about nuzzling his face into his soft hair, freshly washed. Slinging a leg around him in bed, clutching him so tight that he’ll stay forever, that he won’t go, won’t want to go—
He’s probably vibrating, trying to contain all of his big, unnamable feelings inside. Trying to refrain from tackling Seungmin to the bed and—and what? He doesn’t know. He has lots of feelings that are trying to manifest into concrete actions, but Jeongin can’t get there. What does he want to do to Seungmin, with Seungmin? He hasn’t worked it out yet.
It’s almost violent inside him, which is scary, because Jeongin does not consider himself a violent person. He’s holding back, and feels he doesn’t have a choice to hold back, but what if these huge, scary feelings burst out of his chest one day, and Seungmin is frightened by them? Jeongin can’t even understand them, how could Seungmin…?
“Jeonginnie,” Seungmin says gently, skimming his knuckles against Jeongin’s flushed cheek. Every muscle in his body is tense, rigid. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed when it’s just us. Maybe you don’t know right now, but… whatever you want to do, you can. Right now. Just try it, I’d rather you try to express yourself.”
Jeongin feels quietly hazy, looking at Seungmin. What does he want to do? He doesn’t know. Something violent, powerful, which is fucked up, because Seungmin’s love is so soft, so quiet. He is gentle, and Jeongin is some ugly, brutish monster who can’t even figure his own basic emotions out.
His hand is trembling as he stretches towards Seungmin. He doesn’t know what he want to do, but if he’s going to scare Seungmin away by attempting to express the big feelings pushing against his insides in every place, he might as well do it now, before he gets in deeper than he already is.
Seungmin lets him, smiles at him gently and encouragingly—he wants to possess him, and he doesn’t even know what he means. Wants to wrap around him and—and—he doesn’t know. Want to just… shake him violently. For what end? He can’t understand. Is it cute aggression? Gross—does he think Seungmin is cute?
His hand clutches around the soft fabric of Seungmin’s gray hoodie, the area around his waist, though Jeongin is not touching his skin through it. He leans forward, and—
He bites. Chomps straight down on Seungmin’s clothed shoulder, clamping his delicate skin between his teeth through layers of thick fabric.
“Ouch!” Seungmin protests, jerking away.
Something about it was strangely satisfying, Jeongin thinks, but the need for it drips away as he registers that he just fucking bit Seungmin, his boyfriend (he cringes to even think the word), and that that’s actually fucking deranged behavior.
“I—are you okay?” Jeongin asks, his stomach in knots again. Why can’t he have normal urges, want to kiss or snuggle or—
Seungmin is laughing, grinning maniacally in Jeongin’s face. “You—” he manages between laughter. “You fucking bit me! What the fuck?”
Jeongin finds himself nervously smiling along. “I—yeah, sorry…”
“You’re so—come here,” Seungmin says, and grips Jeongin’s face in his hands, tugging him for his lips.
Strangely, it feels more manageable now, kissing Seungmin. Had biting him actually helped? There must be something deeply wrong with Jeongin.
And now Seungmin is laying on his side facing Jeongin, cradling his face gently, like it’s Jeongin who’s the treasure. There are still teeth marks on his hoodie. “You’re so cute,” he says, and rubs their noses together fondly. “You dug down deep, and all you could do was bite me.”
“I can’t explain it,” Jeongin mumbles. His fingers twist in Seungmin’s hoodie, the extra fabric around his waist. “I just want you, I think. A lot. It’s embarrassing.” I want you forever. Only you. It’s too embarrassing to say out loud, even though Jeongin feels it deep in his chest.
“Jeongin,” Seungmin says as he twines his arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together. Seungmin’s bare legs come to tangle together with Jeongin’s—he likes being this close. There’s something innately satisfying about it, being so close to Seungmin. He wants to be closer, to burrow inside and consume his every waking thought. “I’ve wanted you forever. I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s embarrassing in front of hyungs, and I know we don’t want them to know yet. But—kiss me when you want, hold my hand—hell, you can even bite me.”
Jeongin bites his own lip, nodding. Their noses are still pressed together, and he’s gentle when he presses his lips to Seungmin’s. He’s restraining himself, because Seungmin is delicate, deserves someone gentle and restrained and soft, when Jeongin feels like he’s on the verge of a breakdown, when Jeongin has a million incomprehensible feelings revolving around Seungmin that seems to manifest in needing to wrap around him fully, to squeeze him, to bite him.
“Soft,” Seungmin praises gently, nuzzling their foreheads together. “Wanna watch a movie or something, then, In?”
It’s an overnight change, keeping Seungmin at an arm’s distance, treating him like a bro, to… this. To feeling that every second not spent tackling Seungmin to his bed is a waste, to needing his fingertips dug into his waist at every second, to nibbling at his lips with every kiss for some indiscernible reason.
“What if they make fun of me?” Jeongin asks. He’s sitting across the kitchen table from Seungmin, eating bowls of noodles. Under the table, he’s hooked his ankles around Seungmin’s, wishing they could be even closer.
“They will,” Seungmin says dismissively. “But you care about me too much to let it get to you, right?”
Jeongin would probably drag his prone body across hot coals for Seungmin if he asked. It’s almost frightening how quickly this has all come out, his utter devotion to Seungmin. Seungmin has been pining for ages, miring in quicksand, but Jeongin stumbled all at once into a deep pit he has no hope of clawing his way out of.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Just—” His fists clench around the chopsticks in his hands. It’s deeply embarrassing, how much he wants Seungmin. It’s—unhealthy? Is it unhealthy? “Do you think it’s bad?” he asks Seungmin. “How much I like you?”
He’d tried to explain it to Seungmin, as best he could when he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. How he wants to be around Seungmin, in Seungmin, how he’d be perfectly content if they were the only two left in the world. Seungmin had listened carefully, trying to absorb all of the information Jeongin was incoherently spitting at him.
Now, he doesn’t even hesitate. “No,” he says, scooping some noodles up. “Stupid question.”
“But—”
“The person I’ve pined over for years has ended up being obsessed with me and only me?” Seungmin quips, quirking an eyebrow. “Don’t be stupid, this is, like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Slurp.
The edges of Jeongin’s mouth quiver, tremble upwards. “Okay,” he agrees, knocking his foot against Seungmin’s, piling noodles into his own mouth. “Yeah, makes sense.”
The thought of calling a group meeting to explain that they’re dating proves so humiliating that they refuse to entertain it as an idea. Jeongin’s had a hard time keeping his hands to himself lately, so—why not just let them find out on their own? They don’t have to announce themselves.
And they don’t—in true form, the members find them, intrude in on their perfect little bubble.
They’re not doing anything untoward. Jeongin is wrapped around Seungmin while a movie plays in the background, unwatched. He’s burrowed against him, surfacing only to grab the popcorn Seungmin had made—a piece for him, a piece for Seungmin. Seungmin is mindlessly playing a game on his phone.
And someone knocks on their door—Seungmin’s, technically, since this is his room. “Don’t,” Seungmin mumbles, even though Jeongin makes no move to get up. “Comfy.”
But the knocks keep coming, relentless. Then: “Kim Seungmin!”
Hyunjin. It’s Hyunjin disturbing their peace, their idyllic little evening, and Jeongin swears he never liked the guy.
He presses a gentle kiss to Seungmin’s throat, squeezes his waist, and then marches for the door. He flings it open to a stunned Hyunjin, his fist still poised to knock in midair.
“Go away,” he says, and Hyunjin peers nosily around him.
“This is Seungmin’s room,” he points out.
“Like you don’t spend half of your time in Felix’s room,” Jeongin says. “We’re busy.” He turns back to Seungmin. “Right, hyung?”
“Yeah,” Seungmin says, putting his phone down. He’s curled in his hoodie—in Jeongin’s hoodie—looking insufferably cute. Jeongin wants to bite him again—and he might, if Hyunjin would just fucking go.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “What are you two doing in here?”
Jeongin huffs, rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to spend time with my boyfriend and show him affection, which you’re interrupting. Hater.”
Hyunjin sputters, pink creeping up his neck. “B-boy—?!”
Jeongin takes great satisfaction in shutting the door in his face. He shuffles back to bed and clings around Seungmin again, who pats his head. “I bet we have Channie blowing our phones up in less than ten minutes.”
“Don’t care,” Jeongin mumbles, tipping his head back to bring his and Seungmin’s lips together. As ever, it makes his toes curl, his belly swoop. “They had to figure out eventually.”
Surprisingly, Chan takes the high road, and doesn’t force them to out themselves or define themselves in front of the group at large.
He does take them both aside after dance rehearsal, dragging them both into a spare studio.
“So,” he says, crossing his arms as he looks at both of them, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them.
Seungmin blinks. “What, are we in trouble?”
Chan sighs. “No,” he admits. “Just—really?”
“Really what?” Jeongin asks, defensive. His fingers itch towards Seungmin, and Seungmin takes it upon himself to lock their pinkies together.
Chan’s eyes fall to it, their interlocked pinkies. “Oh,” he says. “So, like—you’re serious?”
Does he thinks that Jeongin is capable of just fucking around with Seungmin, when he threatens to drown in his big feelings, when his heart beats out of his chest every time he sees Seungmin in one of his hoodies, every time he smiles his way? Does he think that Seungmin is capable of anything casual with Jeongin, like he hasn’t been pining after him for years? Has he not noticed the secret glances and the lingering touches and the increased closeness?
In short, is he stupid?
“Yes,” Jeongin huffs, exasperated.
“As a heart attack,” Seungmin confirms with a nod.
“Okay,” Chan says, and gives an awkward little nod. “Then—yeah, congratulations. I, um—yeah.”
He definitely wants to say something about the good of the group. How a breakup will be inevitably messy and bad for them, but Chan’s smart enough to recognize that shoving them apart now would be just as bad.
And anyway, they’ve worked through a lot. Jeongin’s a little defensive, maybe a little possessive, but Seungmin has never given any indication that he minds. Seungmin has always preferred spending time with Jeongin above anyone else, but he’s brought up to Jeongin recently that maybe locking themselves away isn’t great. So Seungmin goes shopping with Felix, Jeongin plays games with Jisung.
They’re not friends anymore, some mysterious border crossed, and then erased. They’re more than that, and they’ve grown. Jeongin more readily gives love, and Seungmin doesn’t hold back—even if it’s to annoy Jeongin.
But really, they just meld together well, as they always have. Looking back now, Seungmin thinks it was a little inevitable. Jeongin’s feelings would have welled over at some point, and his own pining would have become obvious—even if not to Jeongin, to the others.
Seungmin laces their fingers together, looking over at Jeongin. He doesn’t know if he believes in soulmates or fate, but maybe that’s close enough, knowing that they would have come together eventually—somehow, someway.