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It’s raining.
Which is ridiculous, honestly. Jihoon knows clichés are called that for a reason, because they’ve been happening through the years too often to be only a coincidence, but he wishes his life wouldn’t have that trope. He’s freezing, wet from head to toe, they’re under his bright yellow umbrella, Donghan looks at him like he’s a child that fucked up in such a ridiculous way he can’t help but find amusing.
When he takes Jihoon’s hand, it sends shivers down his body. “Is that yours?”
Jihoon nods. He doesn’t wanna think of how dumb he looks until he feels his face heating up against the cold wind and lowers his gaze, focusing on their hands. “I was in a rush, you didn’t have to bring it back.”
“Sure,” Donghan hums. His tone is nearly condescending and Jihoon would’ve been mad if he wasn’t, well, acting like a child “Not running away from me?”
Jihoon scoffs weakly. “I’m late for school. You’re not the center of the world.”
“That’s true.”
That is true. Donghan, objectively, holds no power against the universe, the Milky Way and its’ dynamics. The Earth spins around itself, creating day and night. It spins around the sun, creating the seasons. Each planet has its own rhythm, temperature, appearance and none of those things relate to him in anyway. However, Donghan has a way with people. A very specific way of being charming, caring but not pushy, heartwarming but not overly cheesy. He’s not the sun or the moon or the stars but sometimes it feels like everyone is caught inside his orbit. Jihoon’s never been an exception.
Never.
0.
Now, before proceeding, let’s walk back a few steps. This will make no sense otherwise.
Jihoon is a little younger, around sixteen, watching anime on the living room. His brother is helping his mom on the kitchen — Jihoon wanted to help as well, but she said he’s too clumsy and will end up setting the house on fire, he likes anime better than cooking anyways so he won —, his father is asking him how many Naruto episodes will make him get a better grade on his Japanese classes.
“Only one way to find out,” he winks at his dad and remains sprawled on the couch. He wishes he could wear his pajamas and the mismatched socks he won for his birthday but his mom says it’s not polite to greet guests in sleepwear.
That’s when he first sees Donghan, a pretty boy shaking hands with his brother while Sasuke screams on the background. He's wearing a nice, proper black shirt with jeans that make Jihoon shrink on his Transfomers themed sweater. Turns out Donghan’s parents are associates who started business with Jihoon’s dad a while ago. They became friends and, as soon as they got to know they had children around the same age, they decided to make a dinner so they could chat while the kids play.
Jihoon has a very persistent flaw, though: he's awkward. That's why he barely has friends -Jinyoung talks to him because he's also into acting, Woojin talks to him because he's also into dancing, Daehwi talks to him because he talks to everyone - and that's why the first thing he says to Donghan is “Do you like games?”
“I like sports games,” the boy answers simply. He sounds cool, smooth where Jihoon is stiff, and it's strangely soothing.
“Wanna play?” Jihoon gestures to their parents huddled together cooing over their baby pictures “Better than that .”
Donghan chuckles. He's prettier this way, brighter despite the dark outfit. “Fine. I'm Real Madrid, though.”
“As if I'd ever want them,” Jihoon scrunches his nose in disgust, his hatred for that team overshadowing his self-awareness “I'm Barcelona.”
Donghan rolls his eyes as Jihoon takes him upstairs and it's the beginning of the end, really.
.
Even further background story: Jihoon is known inside his tiny social circle as heartless. He hasn't had crushes or seasonal infatuations and barely feels attracted to people. The lack of those experiences didn't bother him, though he did feel out of the loop most of the time, nor did he actively seek romantic interests.
Donghan keeps visiting him, with or without his parents, sometimes bringing snacks and movies for them to watch together. Jihoon tells himself it's because of his Playstation 3 and the fact Donghan crushes him on FIFA every single time, but he's thrown off by the fact someone wants to see him, spend time with him. It's fun and nice and they have eachother’s phone numbers; friendly, platonic behavior except for the fact Jihoon likes staring at Donghan’s face for long periods of time.
It escalates. Jihoon is not very in touch with it feelings, so it creeps up inside him like a snake lurking, waiting to eat its prey. Donghan is reliable and funny. He laughs at Jihoon’s nerd jokes and says his fashion is unique instead of outright terrible . He's handsome when serious, absolutely adorable when giggling or whining. Jihoon walks downstairs already knowing Donghan is at the doorstep, a bag of chips under his arm. They eat, play, talk about their days and new releases and when he's bored he threads his fingers through Jihoon’s hair while he does homework.
It seems like just another day: Jihoon buys Mario Kart with his pocket money and, feeling giddy, texts Donghan the news.
you: [Image Attached]
you: mario says hola
dumbhan: are u stupid
dumbhan: mario is italian
dumbhan: but hell yes im coming over
you: dont u have ur own house
dumbhan: oh jihoonie
dumbhan: home is where heart is ♡
If his feelings are a metaphorical snake, this is the moment it attacks. His heart flutters, not in the light way it usually happens, but like his chest is tightening the more he looks down at his phone.
He can't do this.
you: hahaha
you: im busy today tho sorry :(
.
He resists two weeks without telling Woojin.
The realization he likes Donghan in a solid, legitimate way sends him through a spiral of constipation and lost sleeping hours and overthinking. He would've kept it up for longer, but midterms were right around the corner and he didn't want to risk failing the year because of badly internalized feelings.
Of course, he later finds out it was a bad idea. Woojin tells Jinyoung who tells Daehwi who organizes an intervention during their break. Jihoon is so embarrassed he could shove his entire face on the trash can. No, scratch that, he feels kinship with the trash can: they're both stuffed with useless shit that takes too long to decompose and wipe itself away from planet Earth.
“For how long has this gone on?” Daehwi asks. He oozes a life coach aura and, for once, Jihoon thinks of hiring him. He needs someone to make decisions on his place and get him to dress better, too, as a bonus.
“I dunno,” Jihoon shrugs, Jinyoung pats his back as if giving his support “I figured it out like last week but we've known each other for almost an year, I think.”
“ Whaf d’you plan on doinf now?” Woojin half makes the question, half munches on his strawberry shortcake.
“I'll just die, I guess,” Jihoon answers simply.
Daehwi’s face falls. Woojin chuckles and Jinyoung stares between then as if saying what did you expect .
Jihoon sighs. “There’s nothing to do, you guys. We’re friends because our parents are friends. We'll keep seeing eachother and it’s going to be awkward. I really like where we are now. Besides, he doesn’t even like me that way.”
“You told me there was flirting,” Woojin points out, as if that isn’t information out of their private conversation he promised not to share with anyone.
Jihoon’s brain shows unhelpful flashes of Donghan ruffling his hair, calling him baby and my shorter half , commenting his selfies with an entire paragraph of heart emojis and that makes him physically recoil. Those aren’t things with an exclusive romantic meaning, but they fill Jihoon with the type of giddy warmth he didn’t want to feel anytime soon. “He flirts with everyone,” he dismisses their borderline skeptical looks with a gesture “I’m not going to do anything and you won’t convince me otherwise, just sit here and eat your food.”
“Whatever you want,” Daehwi grabs his backpack “I’ll go see my friends about a project but honest advice, Jihoon? Feelings don’t go away as fast as you think. They get stronger.”
“Ominous,” Jinyoung comments, hiding his smile behind his ham sandwich “I’ll get going too, see you losers after class.”
And they walk away, linking arms and chatting about something Jihoon couldn’t hear among the cafeteria noise. He wonders how people have so much to say all the time and why is Hyungseob reciting Hamlet to an apple while sitting on the table next to them and what is Haknyeon dolphin screaming about this time and why are normal high schoolers so damn loud. However, he has no time to understand extrovert culture, he has bigger fish to catch.
He slaps the back of Woojin’s head, just hard enough for him to feel the pain and not develop head trauma. “What’s wrong with you?” he sputters, lunch long forgotten as he rubs the spot he was hit on.
“Why would you tell them, you big-mouthed asshole?” Jihoon hisses. He’s not angry for real — those are his only friends who want the best for him and would never set him up for trouble willingly —, but he is very flustered and needs to lash on someone. Getting love advice from your juniors is not a self-esteem booster, you know.
Woojin scoffs, though a bit nervously. “Well, I wanted to help you? I didn’t know what to tell you! I’m bad at those things! Remember when that girl wrote me a love poem and I thanked her for the song recommendations?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon laughs because, really, what was he thinking. The school bell rings and he gets up right away since the upcoming class is Chemistry and he’s dangerously close to failing the subject. He won’t take any chances, regardless of how it bores him to death “Sorry I made it sound like I was asking for actual advice. I just wanted to overshare my mental breakdown with my best friend. You’re skipping?”
Woojin shakes his head. “I won’t skip any classes this month. I made a bet.”
Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “Does this have something to do with the I’m not dumber than Haknyeon madness?”
“Yes!” Woojin affirms, determination burning on his eyes. Their class’ ranking was released a couple days ago and, surprisingly, Jihoon no longer had the worst grades. Instead, Haknyeon and Woojin were tied with the lowest score from both senior classes, which warranted a heated debate on who has less braincells. (“I’m not smart but I’m not on his level,” both said, pointing to eachother.)
Hyunmin was considering making #TeamHak and #TeamWoojin T-shirts but they found a less expensive alternative: an online poll that Woojin lost for having less friends. “I demanded a rematch, because polls are a matter of popularity and not actual intellect,” Woojin rambles on, very inspired “So, whoever scores higher this semester wins the bet and when I win, he’ll have to use his rich boy money to buy me comic books.”
“I think you might be underestimating the dude, but good luck,” Jihoon flashes him a thumbs up “What happens if he wins?”
Woojin blushes. That’s a weird, unusual look on him, even though it is kind of cute how competitive he is. “He won’t win,” he sneers, then starts mumbling to himself “Weirdo. As if I’d ever…”
Jihoon doesn’t think those words are aimed at him or meant for him to hear, so he keeps quiet but reminds himself to ask later. Maybe getting invested on shallow bickering is just what he needs to keep his mind off you-know-what.
.
Fast forward.
Not too much, just to when things get a little more jumbled.
Because as painful unrequited feelings are, they’re easy. You don’t have a chance, you suck it up, swallow your smitten ambitions in whichever way you deem right and you get over it. Depending on what kind of person you are, it might take years, might take months, might take weeks, might take days. However, it will eventually disappear, you’ll find someone else, you’ll not; it doesn’t matter because life moves on regardless of your heartache. During the last month, Jihoon has been fine, meeting new people, practicing his dancing and acting, studying so he could finally get rid of high school as smoothly as possible. Donghan is his close friend who makes him happy and things will not be different, ever, despite Jihoon’s fantasies. So it’s not painless, it’s not smooth but it’s simple. Black on white. A big fat no, but an answer nonetheless.
When the one-sided factor threatens to change, though, it turns into something hard to deal with.
Where Jihoon had theater, Donghan had sports. He plays for their neighborhood’s soccer team which is becoming bigger by the day. He’s the captain, too, very much expected considering his proud, confident personality. He says he’s the kindest leader they’ve ever had, but Jihoon can’t bring himself to believe him. Donghan wouldn’t be himself without his streak of pettiness: that’s one of his best charms.
Anyhow, they’re having their first game in another city and, because it’s a big deal for him, the Park family is stuck together on their second hand car listening to a road trip tunes playlist Jihoon’s older brother made. Donghan’s been pestering them to watch one of his games for ages, yet no one ever has the time to do so and Jihoon avoids it like the plague. He can only guess how comfortable the older boy would look being on his element, taking the lead, in an adrenaline rush, glowing with sweat. He can only imagine what the sight would do to his heart.
Now, when the game gets scheduled right on the day his parents’ breaks overlap, he’s being dragged to Busan to watch his crush play. He texts Woojin his mental breakdown in high detail, sends Daehwi a selfie so he wouldn’t be mad about their snap streak being broken, answer Jinyoung’s self-deprecating meme with another self-deprecating meme. Because time is a tricky little thing, they get there right on time for the game to start despite having left the house thirty minutes later than their prediction.
Jihoon turns off his phone, focuses on what’s happening in the field. If he has to go through this, then he’ll have the full experience.
His knowledge of soccer is based on the World Cups he’s seen with his father and uncle plus the little details he Google searched the day before. He cheers as loudly as he can, though he doesn’t think his voice can be heard among the messy chanting of Donghan’s friends and the incoherent screaming of Jihoon’s parents. The game doesn’t look like one played between amateurs at all, intense with skillful players, no shoving around or fighting except for the classic swearing after fouls, and it’s a little before the first half ends that Donghan scores a goal.
Even though Jihoon doesn’t know much technicalities and has bad eyesight, he cheers when his father does and screams like a banshee when he notices what just happened. Even his older brother, who started the game nearly falling asleep, looks excited. Donghan is glowing under the sunlight, with pride and giddiness, and sends a flying kiss to the crowd before cheering with his teammates.
Specifically, right at their direction. Jihoon’s mom makes a catching gesture but Donghan’s eyes are on Jihoon until he goes back to the game, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The younger doesn’t want to imagine how smitten he must look, cheeks pink and a shit-eating grin on his face, so he pays attention to his phone instead and texts Woojin with keysmashes and crying emojis. Instead of self-deprecating memes, he replies Jinyoung with wholesome I love my boyfriend memes that leave the poor junior extremely confused. He feels on edge.
It’s the adrenaline, maybe. Jihoon will regret this as soon as it washes out as he realizes how much of a fool he is but right now, he’ll just let himself be. Despite the sensation that his sanity is slowly slipping through his fingers, ball sports are fun. He should come to more games.
Donghan’s team wins for one point of advantage. Jihoon is completely lightheaded, almost like when him and Woojin skipped class to drink a bottle of strawberry vodka, so he tugs at his brother’s sleeve as they walk out of the bleachers. He greets the Kims with a dazed smile, and his heart grows ten times smaller on his chest when he spots Donghan walking to them.
“Oh, look at my superstar, you did so well, you’re so good,” his mother coos, tackling him in a bear hug and ruffling his hair. He chuckles and it’s pretty, so damn pretty, it sounds like a dream. Literally: if a good, lazy summer dream could be hearable, it’d be the sound of his laugh.
“Thanks, mom,” Donghan says, not looking even the tiniest bit embarrassed as he turns to greet Jihoon’s parents “I hope the game wasn't too boring.”
“Are you kidding?” Jihoon’s dad scoffs “This was amazing. I don't even like soccer!”
Donghan smiles. “I'm glad you enjoyed it, then. Can I borrow Jihoon for a second? I wanna introduce him to my teammates.”
Jihoon’s eyes widen and he's pretty sure he let out a small gasp. His mom, though, misses the signal and nods frantically. “Yes, sure! Jihoonie needs new friends.”
“ Mom ,” he whines, much like a child, hiding further behind his brother’s figure (who snorts and calls him a dumbass) “Why me ?”
“Who else? You’re my soulmate,” Donghan answers, brazen, serious for a few seconds before Jihoon lets out another distressed dying whale noise, then he snickers “Relax, they won’t bite, they’re just curious about you.”
“Ugh, fine,” Jihoon sighs “But not for long. Dad doesn’t like driving at night.”
“Aw, you’re not coming for the celebration dinner, then?” Donghan pouts, he literally fucking pouts, and pulls Jihoon closer by the waist. He sees more than feels the way his entire body stiffens and feels more than sees the way air seems to leave his lungs in one go.
“Fuck off, no,” Jihoon snaps. He thinks he’d do something dumb and clumsy if he tried to move, so he doesn’t, instead he stays there as his brain melts from their proximity. Donghan smells like fruity shampoo (he knows the younger wouldn’t let him close before taking a shower, all sweaty and disgusting) and looks down at him with unsettling fond eyes “Can we go already?”
.
Jihoon is on a three-way Skype call with Woojin, Jinyoung and Daehwi because he couldn’t focus on his Algebra homework.
The ride home went smooth, his encounter with Donghan’s friend ending fast because, even though they sounded like very good people and were fun, his mind was miles away, analyzing the reason he was there in the first place. Why would anyone introduce anyone to their closest acquaintances? Sure, Donghan might’ve wanted to set him up with some of the guys — who definitely were good-looking —, but he stayed close all the time, a hand on his shoulders, using possessive pronouns to refer to Jihoon as if he’s a special friend. A special something .
He keeps that hidden from his friends, though. He already knows what they’re going to say and, their good intentions aside, they would only make him feed into his delusions. Instead, they talk about their lives and how did their day go.
“Then he sat on my library chair with his cooler older friends,” Woojin complains “And even had the audacity to wave at me! Like we’re friends! We’re not!”
“You were friends before this whole thing started, Woojin,” Daehwi reasons.
“We were acquaintances and now he’s trying to sabotage my studies,” he huffs indignantly “Like, the dude thinks everything is going to come easy because he’s cute? And rich? He’s the embodiment of everything I hate about capitalism and humanity and I’m gonna crush him.”
“With your lips?” Jinyoung teases, grinning.
“With my brain , you heathen! I’ll—”
Woojin’s rant is interrupted by the sound of Jihoon’s phone ringing. His heart nearly drops to his feet when he sees the caller’s ID. “You guys, be right back. Don’t bully Woojin much.”
He closes his notebook, takes a deep breath and picks up. “Donghan?”
“Jihoonie!”
He sighs, leans further into his pillow. He’d recognize that slurred, mumbled speech anywhere and he’d be amused if he wasn’t so tired. He had no idea crushes can wear you out so much. “Hey, you’re drunk.”
“Only a liiittle bit,” Donghan doesn’t seem to be inside the restaurant anymore, there’s barely any background noise.
Jihoon, rationally, knows the older is an adult who can fully take care of himself. He still worries, though. “Where are you?”
“Hotel room,” Donghan hiccups and oh, that’s a bit cute “I’m okay, don’t worry! I won, did you see me win?”
“Yeah, I was there the whole time,” Unfortunately , Jihoon’s mind supplies.
“Nice. It’s a good thing you were there. I always like having you around, you know, I think that’s why I won,” Donghan comments, casually, and it’s a lot to handle.
“Donghan,” Jihoon keeps his voice even “Why did you call me?”
“I miss you. Now that I’m working and the team is having more games we aren’t meeting and I wanted to talk to you,” he's drunk out of his ass, but the way he says it seems painfully genuine “Can you come to my games more often? Alone?”
Jihoon gulps down. He feels his insides twisting and doesn't know what to think, what to say, what to do, he's just tired and a little bit in love. “Yes. Yes, sure. I miss you too.”
“Nice,” Donghan giggles then hiccups again “You're so nice, Jihoonie. I wish you were here.”
Jihoon lays down. It's 10pm but he suddenly gets very sleepy, his eyelids heavier as he speaks. “What difference would it make?”
“You'll never know,” Donghan yawns, which makes Jihoon yawn right after. His eyes are already closed, ear pressed against the phone “You wanna sleep?”
“Sorry, ‘m tired,” he mumbles against the speakers “I'm still listening.”
Donghan laughs. “It's okay, I'll let you sleep. You have school tomorrow, right?”
“Mhm,” Jihoon’s barely hearing himself at this point “But don't go yet. Tell me what difference would it make.”
“Hm? If you were here?” Donghan asks, mostly to himself “I’d cuddle you until you sleep because you say you never sleep well. Then I'd wake you up and we'd take you to school on the team’s bus. And then...”
Jihoon thinks he's dreaming. Every inch of his skin feels hot, his chest feels tighter by the second yet he can't open his eyes. “Please stop talking or I'll break your teeth.”
“Sure,” Donghan’s laugh is airy and feels a bit odd, but Jihoon is way too exhausted to notice “Bye, Jihoonie. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Jihoon sleeps a dreamless night. He doesn't remember turning off his phone.
1.
By the moment they reach the bleachers, Jihoon is almost burning a hole on the ground with his stare. He lets out a sigh of relief and it feels like ages since the last time air hit his lungs. He drifts his eyes away from his bitten nails to his friends.
Haknyeon approaches first with a giant popcorn bag, wearing the team’s jersey and a headband. Woojin hides his face with his hoodie, begrudingly holding the shorter boy’s hand. Jihoon smiles.
.
Seeing these two together might be confusing, but here's how their feud ended: Haknyeon, with the sheer force of his determination and hidden grammatical skills, ended up scoring higher than Woojin - 5.2 against 5.5. Turns out the dare Haknyeon suggested was none other than a date and Woojin couldn’t refuse, pride wounded and (though he would never admit) heart slightly fluttering. They were having a picnic in front of the Han River, betting how many grapes Haknyeon could fit inside his mouth without choking or drooling, when Woojin gets a panicked call from Jihoon.
Haknyeon knows it’s Jihoon because he can recognize his classmate’s shrill voice, a common occurrence during exam weeks at their school. He waits patiently for them to finish talking, munching on grapes and relaxing with the sound of flowing water. Woojin turns the phone off with a sigh. “Question: Do you like soccer?”
“Yeah. Don’t know anything about it, though, except the uniforms are cute,” Haknyeon answers.
“Jihoon’s crush is a soccer player, or something,” Woojin explains. He acts dismissive about it but he worries about his friends a lot and it’s very cute “He’s freaking out because he’s all alone there and he hates crowded places.”
Haknyeon grimaces. “The poor thing. Should we go there and keep him company?”
“Wouldn't that ruin your plan?”
“Aw,” Haknyeon reaches to pinch Woojin’s cheeks but gets his hand slapped away “You worry about my feelings.”
“I worry about food waste, fuck your feelings,” Woojin mumbles weakly “Besides, I told him we're coming already.”
“‘S okay,” Haknyeon smiles because really, he doesn't mind as long as they're together, he can make it work “I like Jihoon, it'd be cruel to leave him there. We're going on your motorcycle?”
“Yes, you thot,” Woojin scrunches his nose in fake disgust “That's why you said you like me? To look cool on free rides?”
Haknyeon grins. He'll let that question hanging, for now. The answer is pretty obvious.
.
It was a dumb move.
Donghan told him it'd be full, that Jihoon could sit near his friends if he wanted to, but he'd only bother them and make things awkward or be interrogated and make things even more awkward. Daehwi has his midterms, Jinyoung has an audition, his parents are working and Woojin was on a date: objectively, Jihoon wouldn't have came but then Donghan looked at him with huge, hopeful eyes; the same dreamy hopefulness his voice was holding on that drunken phone call, and all negative words disappeared from the younger’s vocabulary.
Yeah, he's whipped and stupid. He might not be bottom of the class anymore, but he keeps on making bad decisions and he wants to evaporate.
He also wants Haknyeon and Woojin to stop holding hands. Though they're barely touching, they only let go when Haknyeon stands up to cheer (turns out he's very passionate when it comes to sports, who'd know) and it's so natural Jihoon is getting lonely.
Well, he concludes, at least Donghan looks hot.
He also looks very distressed. The game takes place on a court his team has played before, the crowd filled with their friends and family, but their opponent is strong and known. The pressure made by the media, their supporters and coach is visibly killing them. He told Jihoon about that once, eager to bring their spirits up in some way. He must be under a lot of burden himself, being responsible for their results as the captain.
The match ends as a tie, which puts the team at disadvantage in the championship even though then don’t actually get eliminated.
Jihoon and Donghan meet gazes for a few seconds. Jihoon mouths good job with a tentative smile and Donghan shakes his head before his coach goes up to him and starts an unfriendly looking lecture. He sounds frustrated and, while he’s entitled to frustration, he should’ve figured putting so much weight on one player would backfire, regardless of how good he is.
“Hoonie,” Woojin calls out, clueless “We're going now, is it okay?”
“Stellar,” he says, because there's barely anyone in the bleachers and he feels like he still has to talk to the older boy. Offer some consolation, maybe in the form of spicy noodles, and assure him he has done his absolute best.
Of course, it's harder to turn that to reality when Donghan sits by his side, fresh out of shower and smelling like heaven, but sulky without a doubt.
Jihoon scoots closer. “Hey, you. Good game today.”
“As if,” Donghan chuckles sourly “Thank you for coming. Means a lot.”
“Sorry I was a wack lucky charm today, it’s all on Woojin and his new boyfriend,” Jihoon jokes, his cheeks smashed against the older’s arm. His hands aren’t calloused per se, but they’re rough and there’s reddish bruises on their back and Jihoon runs his fingers through them as delicately as he can “Wow, those are battle scars. Bet there’s a dumb story behind them.”
“I was angry and punched the walls,” Donghan says, staring down at his lap “Manly, right?”
“Why were you angry?” Jihoon sighs “It’s not your fault.”
Donghan tsks. “Number one rule of being a leader, Jihoon: everything is your fault. There’s always something you’ve done wrong… Even everyone relying on me is sort of my fault, because I let that happen. Having people depend on me makes me feel better about myself so I didn’t stop them and here we are.”
“The point of making mistakes is to learn with them. Don’t let pride get the best of you next time, also don’t talk like those aren’t grown ass adults and for God’s sake, you aren’t out of the competition. Stop beating yourself up for being human, you dramatic idiot,” Jihoon pokes Donghan in the ribs, makes him squirm and giggle “Oh, someone’s ticklish?”
Donghan’s eyes grow wide as saucers. “No. Fuck you.”
“Yes,” there’s a borderline evil glint on Jihoon’s stare and he doesn’t hesitate before attacking Donghan with tickles, behind his waist, sneaky hands going from the nape of his nack to under his shirt, down his spine. Jihoon feels warm and smooth and the sound of Donghan's hysterical wheezing is wedding bells. Like a light-hearted, cheerful warning that something very good is about to happen.
Jihoon stops, then, and allows himself to be just a little dazed. Donghan’s still catching his breath, panting and swearing under his breath. However, his tone has an adoring edge to it and he looks at Jihoon, down at his soul, and he’s not lying when he says his body stops functioning. His grin disappears from his face and he’s sure he might seem completely terrified.
Not a stretch, really. Donghan’s too close too fast — he’s always too close, metaphorically speaking, floating around as a constant, never letting himself be forgotten, but then he’s too close in the physical aspect and his breath is brushing on Jihoon’s face and his lips are tasting like toothpaste right on Jihoon’s.
It doesn’t last for a second. It’s, in fact, quick as lightning and Jihoon feels pathetic for being as worked up as he is with a barely existent kiss like that. “W-What the fuck, Donghan.”
“Revenge,” the little shit beams at him, smug as all hell, glowing with pride.
“I’ll kick your ass,” Jihoon hisses. He’s not pulling off the angry look too well, though; ears burning and face red as a splashed, dead tomato. He kinda feels like a splashed, dead tomato, except the death is symbolic because his heart is hammering against his ribcage and his insides might break at any given moment.
“Sure you will,” Donghan grins, more contained but still heart fluttering. Asshole. “Jihoon,” he calls again, softly.
“I’m not talking to you.”
“Thank you.” Donghan looks almost shy, glaring at his own hands.
“For not talking to you?”
Donghan chuckles, with none of the bitterness he had moments ago. “For making me happy, smartass.”
That’s it, Jihoon thinks, as his organs shrink inside themselves further and his bones threaten to explode, I’m gonna die.
2.
Thankfully, for the sake of the storyline, our main character doesn’t die.
What happens, though, is that he grows obsessed with the idea of kissing Donghan for real and it’s sucking his life energy so his every interaction with the older boy feels like an out-of-body experience.
Jihoon has thought about the possibility before, sure, in the fantasy, sparkly way you’d daydream scenarios with your crushes but it’s nothing concrete, nothing real, just a figment of your imagination. However, it’s now an idea at his grasp. Jihoon has felt Donghan’s lips — for half a second — yet he wouldn’t be able to describe how it feels and he’s longing, craving it. He wants to write poems on it, to talk about textures and tastes and touches in full detail, to shortcircuit under the older boy, to have his five senses blown up.
Jihoon’s never realized the true extent of the attraction he feels for Donghan: he wanted to date him and cuddle and walk with linked arms and smooch because he was kind and funny and they clicked well and found eachother special. Currently, his thoughts and wants are a cluttered mess and he has no idea of what to do, so he opts for safety and does nothing.
Doing nothing becomes increasingly harder as he watches Donghan practice, though.
beyonce gave me my rights (4)
you: guys hes so hot
hwihwi: worm but
hwihwi: you’re torturing yourself
you: i dont care
you: hes so hot
you: wheres wooj
you: wheres baejin
whoopjin: hello who is hot woojin is showering - hak
hwihwi: figured
hwihwi: anyways its donghan
whoopjin: jihoonies crush? :o
you: yea
you: what are u doing on woojs house omg
whoopjin: WE’RE GOING TO THE ZOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
baejinnie: i heard this message and its so annoying
Jihoon is halfway through answering Jinyoung’s text with a ‘LITERALLY ME’ when he feels hands on his shoulders and he promptly screams and his phone flies off his hand, landing in the grass with a solid crack he couldn’t have just imagined.
Donghan, of course it'd be fucking Donghan , is cackling hysterically from behind Jihoon. “I'm gonna rip your fucking throat off,” he says, hollowly, as he reaches for his phone. The laughing doesn't stop and, instead of annoyance, it dawns on Jihoon the content of the conversation he was having with his dearest friends. He gulps down. It is not the time to panic.
So what, Donghan might've peeked into a conversation he was called hot, repeatedly, then Jihoonie’s crush. No big deal. Jihoon should stay calm. He will live through humiliation or rejection, he's young and pretty and kinda talented and cute and he will find someone to answer to his affections. He might just not survive the heart attack building inside him, though. So deep breaths. He unlocks his phone and finds solace on the fact it's still working. His background, a picture of his favorite idol, stares back at him coolly.
(Jihoon asks himself, not for the first time, what would Kim Taehyung do, but the answer never comes.)
If this was about any other person, he wouldn’t hesitate so much on confessing after the kiss. For him, kisses hold a deeper meaning. He wouldn’t kiss Jinyoung or Woojin or Haknyeon B.W (Before Woojin), regardless of how cute they’d look in the moment. He wouldn’t kiss anyone without having feelings for them, be it limited to attraction or not. It’s just not on his system, not who he’s used to be, specially as the socially anxious skinship anti he is, and Donghan is pretty much the opposite. He’s assertive and clingy and ridiculous and kisses are his second version of hello so it’s very possible they don’t mean anything. After it happened, he’s been treating Jihoon no differently, inviting him for games (he sometimes goes), dates with his friends (he rarely goes but he’s pretty positive the older boy has a crush on the grumpy-looking cat owner) and dropping by his house.
Nothing changed, therefore, nothing should change. If Donghan read the messages, if he knows, then he’ll either ask eventually or pretend it never happened. If he does ask, Jihoon’s gonna beg for him to pretend it never happened. If Donghan didn’t read the messages—
“Jihoonie?” he lifts his chin gently. He looks entertained with Jihoon’s despair, happy even, and kisses him on the mouth before he can think of swearing or blushing or reacting in any rational way. This one lasts a little more, though it still is no more than a press of lips, it’s soft and tastes like chocolate.
Jihoon’s heart is beating so fast he wouldn't doubt if everyone in the building could hear. “Why did you, again,” he splutters, pathetically taken aback.
“That's my apology,” Donghan bats his lashes in fake innocence “For scaring you and breaking your phone screen. Were you reading BTS porn imagines again?”
So. He didn’t see the messages, but that’s now the last of Jihoon’s concerns.
“That was research, asshole,” he feels his ears heat up from the amount of heated paragraphs he's read under the You/V tag that flash on his brain “Next time you want to apologize, use your words. The last thing I want is to be infected by your germs.”
“For your concern, I’m known for my flawless oral hygiene,” Donghan smirks like he’s on a dental floss commercial. It’s not even a far away scenario, considering how many people stopped him after games to ask why didn’t he pursuit the model field instead “That’s why so many people want to kiss me.”
“That’s arrogant and not attractive in the slightest,” Jihoon says on a matter-of-fact tone, even though his opinion differs drastically from that “Don’t you have soccer to play?”
“We’re wrapping up early,” Donghan beams at him, delighted. He does seem tired “That’s why I came here, we’re going to get chicken on a place nearby but I said I’d drop you home so I can do that or we can eat some chicken and play a little.”
Jihoon scrunches his nose. His stomach swirls a little with the mention of social interactions, but he’s also hungry and chicken is his favorite thing in the world. “Who’s going?”
“Some kids from the team,” Donghan replies “Like, five people, tops, and no one’s gonna bother you.”
Jihoon scoffs. “How are you so sure?”
“I,” Donghan points at his own chest “am going to protect you.”
“Wow,” Jihoon rolls his eyes “I’m not going then.”
(Of course, he goes.)
3.
Jihoon didn’t think that was possible, but Donghan’s confidence grows even more with his new car. He’s parked in front of the Park residence, wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket when the weather asks for shorts and tank tops, and it’s the most cringe inducing he’s ever been. Once again, capitalism wins over the pride of men.
“Do you have a ride, babe?”
Jihoon gags. “Really? Of all pet names?”
“Would you rather have sweet cheeks? Cotton candy sunshine prince?”
“I’d rather not be seen with you in public.”
Donghan laughs, loud and boisterous, not bothering to lower his voice even after an old lady gives him the glare of death. “Seriously, though, I can take you to school if you want.”
“Well, duh,” Jihoon says, already making his way inside the car. It smells sweet, but not on the flowery artificial type of way, but slightly sugary. In fact, after stretching a bit, he thinks he stepped on a lemon pie but it’s still better than the bus so he keeps quiet and saves the diss for another occasion.
He’s in an awfully good mood today. He managed to bounce back on his grades and, at this rate, he has an actual possibility of passing. Besides, they’re working on a really interesting year-end play which means a lot since it's going to be his last one before graduating. Finding Donghan was the cherry on top, really: regardless of how overpowering and tiring those crush feelings were, seeing him is always nice. He makes Jihoon very happy, even though he’s playing the noisiest genre of boy group music on the radio right now. “You don't know how to live your life,” he chants, so excited he almost drives past SOPA. They get out of the car and it's hilarious how his monochromatic look stands out among the sea of yellow uniforms “We're here.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes, but it's no short of fondness. “Thank you. I'll get going, wish me luck.”
Donghan pulls Jihoon by the wrist and kisses him on the top of his head, which is already enough for his brain to go haywire, but the older boy is not done. “Good luck,” he kisses Jihoon on the lips, quick and sweet, nearly candy-flavored.
His five remaining brain cells are malfunctioning, there are entire groups of students staring at him with equally curious and envious eyes and his face must be looking bright red. He gasps indignantly. “You little piece of shit-"
“Bye, Jihoonie! Love you!” Donghan yells from a secure distance before getting inside the car.
Jihoon smiles to himself. He spends the entirety of Physics class craving pastries, but doesn't really mind.
4.
dumbhan: pls b my fake bf
Jihoon chokes on his apple juice, warranting worry from Daehwi and laughter from Woojin and Jinyoung. He doesn’t tell them: too much explaining would be necessary to justify his state of mental chaos, instead he shows them a very absurd meme and they change to another conversation subject. He’ll let them know his situation eventually, when he has things more sorted out, both his own feelings and the scenario in front of him, the sudden kisses and affections and what makes them different from the stuff Donghan does with other people. At the moment, Jihoon’s stuck in a cryptical, he-likes-me-likes-me-not limbo, plus everyone already has their problems so he keeps to himself.
It’s hard, on times like these.
dumbhan: its for a party like coachs trying to set me up w this girl
dumbhan: shes rly influential shes onto advertising and marketing and all that stuff
dumbhan: so dating her wld b rly good 2 promote the tesm
dumbhan: but thats not how i wanna do things and shes boring and i dont even like girls that much
you: so u want me to be ur date?
dumbhan: ye!!!! please!!!! im desperate
you: when
dumbhan: i have feelings for you
you: when.
Jihoon stares at his reflection on the rearview mirror of Donghan’s car. He’s prepared diligently for this, watched makeup tutorials to make his face look as fatal as possible without being too much: thick, dark eyeliner, lips a sober shade of pink, contouring sharp and dark. He even gave up his constantly colorful look for something more sober, a white button down with black jeans, and his mess of a black hair is styled up, showing his forehead.
Jihoon may confess he left the house feeling ridiculous, but Donghan was looking at him and gaping like a fish for an entire minute, so his confidence’s pretty decent right now. Not awfully high, just enough to leave the house and not be as stiff as canned tuna. They walk inside the place with linked arms, not even five minutes pass before they’re surrounded by people, asking questions about Jihoon’s upbringing and career goals and very invasive questions about Donghan he’d be very offended with if they were dating for real. They’re not, though, and when they’re alone Jihoon makes sure to pinpoint he’s hating everything about the fake boyfriend experience. “How do you put up with those people,” he huffs, resting his back against the wall. They’re near the drinks table, Donghan holding a can of beer, Jihoon having energy drinks instead.
“The things we do for money, Park, go beyond your comprehension,” Donghan tsks “When you’re an adult, you’ll understand.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re one year older than me, you troll. And I’m just saying fake dating sounded way more fun on movies. Fanfiction really does fool us, huh…”
“Hoonie,” they’re already close, screaming on eachother’s ears due to the loud music blasting from the speakers, but Donghan puts one hand on the wall Jihoon’s leaning on and another on his waist, trapping him in place, and kisses him.
Not a light peck like the previous ones, but full on kissing with tongue, hungry and slow and certain, as if they’ve done that many times before. Jihoon would protest but they’re at this party full of people scrutinizing his every move and if they’re pretending they’re dating this is supposed to be normal so he complies, wraps his arms around Donghan’s waist and pretends he’s not feeling like all the air has been stolen away from his lungs and replaced by wildfire, spreading through his veins, setting each curve of his body in flames.
They part: Donghan parts, actually, breathless, gaze unfocused. “Sorry about that, she was getting close and I didn’t feel like talking,” he shakes his head “Nevermind that, what the hell, Jihoon, you’re such a good actor.”
Jihoon smirks. He loves fake dating. “Yeah,” he pulls Donghan closer by the neck, glues their foreheads together as if to prove a point. Needless to say, there’s no point to prove, he’s just taking advantage of the situation to turn his scenarios into reality “I’m passionate about my field. Is she gone yet? No, don’t look. What is she like?”
“Very short pink hair,” Donghan recites, staring down at Jihoon’s lips, probably because they’re too close and there’s nowhere else to look, but it’s still unsettling. He scans around the room and finds the girl standing nearby, facing them with crossed arms
Jihoon winks at her, she frowns very visibly and he bites back a giggle, she really is brave. Donghan tries to turn his head and look, but Jihoon stands on his toes and kisses him, for the very first time, because he’s an actor and his reputation is at stake. Jihoon lingers, feeling the savory taste of beer on his tongue, the silky of the older’s hair under his fingertips, and pulls away with a grin tugging at his lips. From his peripheral vision, he sees marketing girl walking away to the bathroom. “Good,” he sneers “She’s gone now. Are we making people uncomfortable?”
“Yes, that was the whole point, sorry,” Donghan says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. Making inconvenient people uncomfortable is his second nature “We’ll have to keep it up now, or else it’ll be suspicious.”
“Fine with me,” Jihoon pulls the older into a hug, again to prove a point, and focuses on the people moving on the dance floor. There’s a particularly enthusiastic old lady wiggling her arms to her heart’s content and Donghan smells expensive, professional soccer player wearing rich people cologne expensive, so maybe Jihoon can give capitalism some points because this is pretty comfortable.
Donghan chuckles. “You should win a Grammy.”
“Grammy’s for singers, stupid,” Jihoon smiles before kissing the spot under Donghan’s ear “I should win a fucking Oscar.”
.
Conclusions made that night: Fanfictions were right. Fake dating is awesome. When the clock hits 3 in the morning and he realizes it was all play pretend and he’ll never have that again, though, he finds a way to be sad.
5.
The end of the year approaches and, future looming over his head like a blood-sucking demon, Jihoon keeps all Donghan-related matters in a secluded part of his brain, only revisiting it on dark, sleepless nights. He’s applying to colleges and studying his acting methods and rehearsing with Jinyoung for his auditions and he’s scared, terrified he might not make it. His parents are reluctant to let him pursue the performing arts field as it is, if he shows he’s not competent enough, he might end up as an accountant.
His body shivers at the thought. He’d rather die.
That’s why he’s spending his friday night reading the script for Oedipus Rex, scribbling notes and highlighting impactful parts he should work on instead of going out when his phone rings. He doesn’t take pride on the way his heart skips a beat when he sees Donghan is calling because, truth being told, he misses being around the older boy a lot. “Hey?”
“Hello,” Donghan almost sings the greeting “Are you alone?”
“Yup, I told you, mom and dad are on a business trip,” Jihoon answers. He doesn’t mention his brother left to hook up with a girl he found on Tinder, it’s too much of an embarrassing behavior to associate with.
Donghan giggles. Uh-oh. “Great. I’m coming, I got wine.”
“I’m a minor, I don’t drink,” Jihoon lies through his teeth, since he had lots of stolen soju bottles episodes with Woojin. It’s way easier on the phone.
“I’ll drink it all myself, then,” Donghan says “I’m stressed, Jihoon, and my grandparents are visiting so I can’t get drunk inside my room. Please.”
“You can deal with your problems like a grown adult, maybe?”
“As if.”
So here they are, Jihoon trying to study his lines, Donghan downing his pink wine bottle and complaining about being bored, both sitting on the bed. His hands are circling Jihoon’s waist in a clumsy backhug, playing with the hem of his shirt. He feels dizzy, breathless, and can’t tune out Donghan whining and poking his tummy. His existence is too distracting and the younger concludes, not for the first time, ever since this crush gate started his bad decision potential has been up to the max.
“Give me some of that,” Jihoon sighs, he’s not being productive anyways.
Donghan grins and passes him the wine. “Here you go~”
Jihoon uncaps the half-empty bottle, putting his very organized script aside, and drinks it right away. A part of his brain squeals about indirect lip touching and whatnot, but he shoves that away quickly. It’s not like they haven’t kissed directly before. Although here, inside his bedroom, behind closed doors, the possibilities aren’t any bigger than outside; he can’t control his imagination. The wine’s sweet, a tad sour, and burns down his throat.
“I only have one of this,” Donghan whines, pushing Jihoon’s arms down so he wouldn’t drink everything.
“There’s more downstairs,” Jihoon says and it takes seconds for him to take in how his speech gets jumbled, tongue heavier than the usual. That’s always the first effect of alcohol he feels, the way it seems like there’s a stone blocking the connection between his thoughts and actions “My brother bought me red wine so we could drink it together but we never did.”
Donghan raises his eyebrows. “He wouldn’t mind?” He sounds pretty sober.
“He’s left me alone because of a girl,” Jihoon spits, squinting at the memory of his brother giddily walking out of the house. Everyone has significant others or flirtationships on this bitch of a world and he’s the only one lonely and bitter and pining after someone who’d never reciprocate his feelings “Fuck him. I’ll go get it.”
Turns out red wine tastes less syrupy, more acid and dry. Jihoon frowns at the taste and sips it slowly while Donghan downs his cups on one go. “Texted mom saying I’ll sleep here,” he mutters against Jihoon’s exposed shoulders. They’re without their shirts now, the scorching heat plus alcohol making them feel like they’d burn from inside out, and he’s surprisingly okay with that. His heart is still fluttering but it’s not the usual crushing, smashing thing he’s used to — it’s light, his mind clouded, and he indulges into the small touches and the terrifying intimacy.
“Okay,” he awkwardly pats the older’s back, more used to receiving then to giving “There’s a mattress on the closet.”
“You’ll make me sleep on the mattress,” Donghan echoes, soulless.
“Yes,” Jihoon nods to himself. He stares at Oedipus Rex standing between his legs, crumpled “And since you’re here, help me figure out what scene should I do for my audition. It’s next week and I really want to ace it.”
Donghan smiles despite himself. “Sure.”
Jihoon acts out his options. Oedipus Rex is, basically, based on his own greek myth; a plague has overcome his land and he, as the king, searches for answers to stop it from destroying the city, so he gets in touch with an oracle who tells him he must found the murderer of Laius to protect his subjects. Problem being said murderer is none other than Oedipus himself, fated to marry his mother and kill his father. Although it is pretty hard to perform, it's for a very renowned arts school and he needs to put himself out there if he wants to get in.
He doesn't see it coming. He never does, really, but he's drunk and very focused on his text so he doesn't notice his surroundings. He’s reciting his second scene option, Oedipus angrily swearing out at the blind prophet who told him he was his father’s killer, and suddenly he’s reading nothing. Suddenly, he’s being pulled closer by the waist and the script is slipping out of his grasp and Donghan is there, very close, reeking of sweat and grapes, kissing Jihoon fully.
His reaction is as strong as it’d be if he was sober, too — he whimpers and gasps and Donghan laughs on Jihoon’s mouth and he’s on a black hole, being sucked deeper into unknown territory with zero chances of survival but he can’t resist, can’t fight against it. Can’t fight against the magnetic force that is Donghan on top of him, biting his lower lip, cheeks red and skin glowing. Jihoon leans back, breathless, as Donghan kisses his neck. Jihoon runs his fingers through the older’s hair, black and thick and smooth and he thinks, feverish, those are the sensations he was craving for.
And they’re coming from a drunk impulse. It feels wrong, somehow. Pleasure twists on his gut with heartache, guilt, while he pulls away. Their foreheads are still glued together, Donghan’s wine breath a painful reminder of why he’s doing this.
“That’s,” Jihoon’s words are heavy on his mouth, but they come out flimsy, a barely existing whisper “n-not right.”
Donghan tilts his head. “Why?” he brings a hand to Jihoon’s face, draws circles with his thumb on his rosy cheeks “You’re so pretty.”
“You are, too,” Jihoon slips it out, softly, eyes closed “It’s still not right. You can’t only see me when you’re drunk.”
Donghan laughs, breathy and frustrated. “You’re kidding? I always see you,” Jihoon feels lips on the corner of his mouth, on his cheek, the tip of his nose “ Always . You can’t be unseen, Jihoon. No one ever takes their eyes off you.”
A part of Jihoon wants to scream: what are they doing, what do those words mean, what are they, what changes from now on. But he’s stunned, his head weighs a hundred pounds and his heart is so, so full, he opens his eyes. He kisses Donghan back, believes him when he says he’s the prettiest in the world and everything about him is perfect, laughs when he does until they’re a snickering mess of sweaty limbs.
“Go away, ‘m sleepy,” Jihoon complains. He untangles from their clumsy embrace, turns on the ventilator, smiles as Donghan cheers.
“You’re not getting the mattress?” the happiness on his voice is almost funny.
For inebriated, disoriented Jihoon, almost funny is funny enough. He chuckles. “Too tired. Don’t even try to cuddle me, though. It’s fucking hot in here.”
“Got it,” Donghan stands up, grabs the empty bottles on the floor “I’ll throw these away. ‘Night, Jihoonie.”
“‘Night, asshole,” Jihoon buries his face on his pillow, relishes on the familiar scent, on the wind hitting his back. You can’t be unseen .
He doesn’t remember seeing Donghan again before falling asleep.
6.
“Charlie, Charlie,” Haknyeon chants stupidly “Should Jihoon confront his crush about their relationship or not?”
They’re on class, waiting for the Biology teacher to arrive, the morning after the drunk making out episode. He leaves Donghan a note saying he doesn’t have to wait for Jihoon to leave school because he’ll work in an assignment on the library and, since he’s not an animal, makes an extra amount of scrambled eggs and bacon for the older boy to eat when he wakes up. Jihoon can only hope Donghan gets the message and keeps his distance, at least for today.
At least for six weeks, minimum.
Then Woojin greets him with a loud “What’s up?”, Haknyeon and his bouncy smile by his side, and Jihoon spills everything he’s been keeping a secret. The kisses, the sweet gestures, the animosity on the air whenever they talk, Donghan’s words from yesterday, he just doesn’t think he can’t deal with decoding this on his own anymore.
If his friends keep on being useless, he may spend his tuition money on hiring a life coach.
“I just don’t know why this is an issue,” Woojin says “He very obviously likes you.”
“I wouldn’t say obviously, Woojinnie,” Haknyeon furrows his eyebrows “They never confessed. None of them. It’s vague and there was alcohol involved.”
Woojin shakes his head. “Jihoon is never confessing, Hak. He’ll die first.”
“Exactly,” Jihoon says in confirmation. He’s not only terrified of rejection, of confirming it was all a too affectionate Donghan and a particular drunk mistake, he’s also terrified of their future interactions, looking at the Kims and pretending they’re still as close as ever. Hell, he hasn’t even came out to his own parents yet. He can’t do this right now.
“Don’t subestimate him!” Haknyeon exclaims “Jihoon. Listen to me. I seriously, genuinely think he likes you back but if he doesn’t, it’s not going to be the end of the world. Like, worst case scenario, he rejects you and you’re no longer friends and it’s awkward: you’re an actor. Are you not?”
Jihoon gulps down and nods. “Yes, I am.”
“You fake cry in a second! You made Jinyoung bawl with your depressed Peter Pan on seventh grade,” Haknyeon giggles at the memory then goes back to scolding mode in a second “You can’t tell me smiling and making up a excuse to a bunch of old people is far from your reach, because it isn’t.”
“Hak…” Woojin wipes a fake tear “You sounded so fucking smart right now.”
“I know,” Haknyeon sneers and, as endearing those two are, Jihoon tunes out. He doesn’t feel ready to confess, to exchange the little he has with nothing. With awkwardness, distance, guilt, coldness. Sure he’s ambitious, but this is too much.
So he ignores the surprisingly helpful advice from his friends and gives himself time to calm down until he knows how to act normal around Donghan again. Jihoon is a senior, as much as his fooling around makes it seem like the opposite, and he acts like such for the first time in ten months. He stays in school until late, he helps Daehwi and Seonho with paperwork, he spends more time with Jinyoung and the theater club, he studies well, he does his homework. Whenever Donghan calls out his committed behavior, Jihoon sends him a shrug emoji and a can’t fail the year.
Deep inside, he knows he could find time within his schedule for them to meet up. He just doesn’t want to. Fast forward to November, a chilly winter aura approaching — that’s where we stopped. Jihoon has afternoon classes, but he decides to go back home instead since Woojin and Haknyeon don’t share the same classes and Daehwi has a student council meeting and Jinyoung is sick. Jihoon’s nerd act only goes so far, really, and he steps inside his house ready to drop on the couch and die when he spots a tall, clad in black figure that’s not his brother watching TV.
Fuck.
“Donghan?” Jihoon internalizes Haknyeon’s you’re an actor discourse to keep his voice from trembling “Who let you in?”
“God,” the older boy made a dramatic gesture pointing to the sky “Your brother, actually. You know, I wasn’t thinking much of it, but now it’s been a month and I think you might be avoiding me.”
Jihoon lets out a nervous chuckle. “I wish. I have afternoon classes now by the way, if you wanna give me a ride,” he’s technically not lying, so it flows easily despite the very familiar weight of anxiety settling on his chest.
“Jihoon.”
Oh, that was hot. Also frightening. Jihoon’s smile falters. “What do you want from me?”
“You know we’ll have to talk eventually, right?” Donghan asks, a tired, almost angry edge to his voice. Jihoon would’ve claimed the bitterness — he’s the one with the one year long crush, he’s the one supposed to be mad — but he’s too busy thinking of ways to escape. He can’t have this conversation, he didn’t prepare for this conversation, he’s scared to death of this conversation.
He buries his hands on his jeans’ pockets. “There’s nothing worth talking about. I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been lying ,” if anything, Donghan’s livid calm, his cold animosity, only makes it worse “I might not be your childhood friend like Woojin, but I’m not a stranger. I know when you’re not being honest and I let it slip because the only way to keep you close is not pushing you out of your comfort zone but this is enough. You’re going to college soon and we’ll genuinely not have time for eachother and that’s not how I want you out of my life —”
“Donghan,” Jihoon sighs. Having so many truths thrown on his face so bluntly is overwhelming and making him dissociate “It’s okay, I got it, we’ll talk. Let me change from my uniform.”
.
Needless to say. he doesn’t change. He runs through the back door with only his backpack hanging by one shoulder and bus money, it starts pouring like crazy and the rest is history. Donghan’s hands feel warm against Jihoon’s soaked, cold ones. “I’m sorry,” he raises his gaze, taking in all the older’s hopelessness, knowing he’s at fault “I’m ruining things for both of us and that’s the least thing I could do and I’m sorry.”
Donghan smiles. It blooms on his face, like he’s been refraining from doing so and now he couldn’t hold back. He runs his fingers through Jihoon’s palms, interwines their fingers. “You’re still so pretty I can’t be mad at you,” he chuckles to himself “It’s okay. I can deal with people not liking me, as hard it is to believe, and I’d like it a lot if we could still be friends. There’s no one else I can be weird with and comment on anime boobs.”
Jihoon freezes. He literally feels as if someone dropped an ice bucket over his head, stopping his bodily functions altogether. “What the fuck are you saying to me right now,” he manages to breath out after a few uncomfortable seconds. The air around him is thick as fog and the weather isn’t even moist enough for that, so he’s sure it’s his anxiety manifesting again.
What the fuck.
“I’m just saying me liking you doesn’t have to get in the way! I get over people quickly, Hyunbin says it’s because I’m a bitch and he’s been making fun of me for falling for a high schooler and it’s not going to be a problem for long, I sw—”
Jihoon is ambitious. Love matters scare him to death and when it comes to confrontations, he’d rather avoid the eye of the tiger and bingewatch a tacky anime on Netflix instead. However, he still thrives for the best he could have, relationships not excluded, so he has his moments of bravery: when he called out a couple of kids for bullying Jinyoung, when he asked his mom to go to therapy knowing her dismissal of neuroatypical people, when he stood up to everyone and chose to be an actor instead of a businessman.
Kissing Donghan under his lame umbrella is one of his landmarks, an act for the Park Jihoon history books. He rejoices on the little noise coming out of Donghan’s throat, grins while tiptoeing, arms around the older’s neck for support.
“So,” Donghan breathes out when they part, barely holding onto his umbrella and letting raindrops fall onto them.
The bad weather becomes background noise, though, because he’s looking so amazed and his face is completely flushed and it’s such a precious, rare image of him Jihoon wants to kiss him again, so he does, there’s nothing stopping him, he wants to make up for the time he’s lost hesitating. He wants to try, even if it might hurt. Even if he’s putting yourself out there too much. “This is real,” he whispers, mostly for himself. He has to convince himself of this before he starts thinking bigger entities decided to play a prank on him. This is real, this is happening.
“I really hope it is,” Donghan laughs, features softening “I like you so much, Jihoon.”
“I like you a lot more than you can imagine,” he confesses, no longer afraid, the words naturally flowing out of his mouth, a spell to get rid of the ridiculous burden he’s been carrying for no reason “I’ve been liking you for ages and everyone is in love with you and even Woojin got a boyfriend first and I was fucking miserable and I thought you’d never look my way.”
“Dense dumbass,” Donghan says, leaning in to kiss the younger’s forehead, probably tasting rain and sweat and it’s supposed to feel disgusting, but it’s a fairytale materializing itself. It’s everything he’s dreamed of, reality within the cheesy scenarios he's spent countless nights thinking about “I was never not looking your way.”
Except this is real. Finally, it's real.
?
Jihoon’s nerves will be the death of him.
He stares at his reflection, the intense Black Swan makeup highlighting his sharp angles and huge eyes, and braces for what’s about to come. No matter how long he practices, rehearses his lines and gets good feedback, an evil voice in the back of his head always tells him he’ll fuck it up when it comes to the real thing. He peeks at the audience through the curtains and holds back a gasp. They have a full house today, he can even spot a couple of critics and lookers and he feels his lunch swirling on his stomach.
Before going back backstage, though, he finds Donghan. Or rather Donghan finds him, still on his uniform, giving him a cheerful thumbs up. His effect on Jihoon is such as sunlight casted over dark places: although nothing really moves or changes, it becomes way brighter. I was never not looking your way . It took a while, but Jihoon thinks he’s finally understood what it meant then and what it means now.
He grins and waves. He feels the same, too.