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It’s been about 2 minutes since JJ had started staring at Seung-Gil stare at his phone.
He’s got his hands together, like a prayer, and he’s leaned forward with his lips pressed against the tips of his fingers. The Korean is painting the perfect picture meant to represent something between constipation and deep mourning- which, to be fair, is how he usually looks like. Only now, there’s a tinge of redness that glows from his ears.
Hesitant, but definitely with purpose, JJ strides towards the skater in the most non-threatening way he can achieve, less he scare Seung-Gil off.
Sitting himself down soundlessly on the far end of the bench, he begins with a slow,
“Hey… pal… what’s up?”
“JJ.” Seung-Gil notes with a curt nod of his head, eyes never leaving his phone nor blinking. “I need to ask you something.”
JJ resists the urge to lean back and peek over his shoulder, since it’s turning out that he won’t need to pry so hard to get to the bottom of the situation at hand anyway. In the show of most restraint in his life, the Canadian simply gives a mild sound of acknowledgement, fighting back the grin he wants to make.
“Phichit- you know who Phichit is, right?”
“Everyone knows who Phichit is.”
“Right. Phichit sent me this.”
Seung-Gil tips his hand back, allowing the screen to be visible to the two of them. “What does he mean?”
It’s a .gif (and the king used to pronounce it with a soft g because that’s what the creators said it was supposed to be called- but since he found out Plisetsky also uses a soft g, he’s been contradicting him on purpose) of a white hamster.
The furry beady-eyed rodent nurses the ball of his pet bottle for a short moment before shoving the length of it wholly and without a hint of trepidation down its throat.
JJ cannot fucking believe what he’s seeing.
“What… What was the context?”
“We had planned for him to visit me over this long weekend.” Seung-Gil replies calmly, but his expression is still twisted up like he’s been sucking on some lemon halves. “I asked him what he wants to do first when we meet up.”
“Seung-Gil, I-” JJ stamps down the laugh and noise of confusion that’s bubbling at the back of his throat. He wants to see where this goes so bad, it’s beating out his gut-punch reflex to gape awestruck at what sort of troll or major freak Phichit Chulanont must be.
“I think Phichit is… I know you’re close friends, but I think he wants to take on a more… physical relationship with you.”
Truth be told, it felt like JJ was the last person to know about the unlikely friendship that has blossomed forth between the two. He saw Phichit’s message light up Seung-Gil’s screen (and his eyes) from behind the Korean where he passed to refill his water bottle some few months ago.
He had all but sprinted to Isabella, only to have his balloon popped and explained that everyone’s already had their eyebrows raised ever since Seung-Gil retweeted one of Phichit’s Instagram Live shout-outs.
He should have started paying attention to his rinkmate more.
“So he’s prompting oral sex.”
Seung-Gil’s eyes are still glued to his screen, believe it or not. “Yes, Seung-Gil, he wants to slob on your knob.”
Still. No eye contact.
It seems like Seung-Gil hasn’t even completely realized the situation he’s in.
“Bob for your apples. Gum your roots. Milk with his mouth.” No response.
“Make the blind see. Receiving Holy Communion.”
“Sacrilegious.” Seung-Gil berates dryly, distaste clear by the way his eyebrows twitch. His eyes finally leave his phone to stare JJ down,
“Don’t take me out of the mood.”
“Take you-” JJ finds himself making incoherent noises, “What exactly is your relationship with Phichit?”
“If things go well; sexual, by this time tomorrow.”
“Is this your way of getting excited and telling all your friends?” JJ thinks hard on this, and lunges forward, “Does that make me your friend?”
“Not likely if you keep your hand on my leg.” He picks up JJ’s wrist by the sleeve like its toxic, and drops it back on the Canadian’s own lap. “It’s take me out of my focus.”
“This isn’t math, this is sex.” JJ massages his temples, feeling ache gathering there, “You don’t get points for finishing before anyone else.”
“You don’t need to tell me that!” Seung-Gil pouts- pouts- anger and embarrassment making his pale face flush. “I am an excellent lover.”
“Full offense, but I sincerely doubt that.” JJ challenges. “Virgin.”
“I last longer than Phichit on Skype, thank you very much.”
JJ hollers, exasperated, and raises his arms above his head for a resounding clap- practically jumping out of his seat in energized confusion.
On one hand, this is more than he’ll ever need to know- and Seung-Gil doesn’t even seem to be embarrassed enough for the prodding to be funny. Then again, he’s knee-deep in this firsthand exclusive on Seung-Gil’s elusive (and barely-there) private life.
“I’m going crazy. You’re crazy.” JJ makes a sound like gargling, maddened but amused, “What the fuck even are you on?!”
“Were you not paying attention? Phichit.”