Work Text:
1. (to himself)
He thinks he’s about six, when his subconscious first realizes.
Looking back, it should’ve been obvious, what with his obsession with Tuxedo Mask whenever his sister would force him to watch Sailor Moon, or his brief middle school fixation with 2PM, but it never really registers.
Heteronormativity is a scary, scary thing.
Which is why, he — Lee Jaehyun, age twenty — is having his first sexuality crisis well past most.
Well, less crisis and more full-out breakdown.
Picture this:
He goes through the entirety of high school, all three years, the pinnacle of a Bro’s Bro — all the guys want to befriend him, to be him, confessions are thrown his way left and right.
It’s heaven.
Or, he thought it to be at the time.
He’s popular, yes, but his popularity is overblown by him seemingly being a Conventionally Attractive Straight Dude.
Lee Jaehyun knows who he’s expected to be in high school, knows what he ought to do to keep his place among the school’s elite — once he’s on top, he knows how to keep it that way.
That particular skill does not convey the same importance afterwards. It’s pretty useless, really.
University is a whole new world.
(Both figuratively and literally. Incheon is no Seoul.)
Thus, him freaking out over the Maybe Not Being Straight thing.
It never really occurs to him, until now, which is a pretty ignorant assumption to make about yourself.
Sure, there have been times — both during high school and since then — he might’ve stared at an ass, regardless of gender, suspiciously too long. An ass was an ass, though, right? Right? Equal opportunity and all that.
But here he is — questioning his entire existence — because he was kissed by a guy.
His first reaction, post-enjoying-the-kiss (and maybe kissing back, just a little), had been to repress it all, deny it, to fake it till he makes it. Evidently, that doesn’t work too well. His brain has a mind of its own, apparently, choosing to analyze his interactions with literally everyone — am I attracted to this guy? He’d muse, how about her? Is both even possible?
(Kim Younghoon, a friend and the catalyst of aforementioned breakdown, sends him a few links about deconstructing heteronormativity. They don’t speak of Jaehyun avoiding him for two entire weeks mid-crisis. Jaehyun is mostly surprised his friend’s brain is capable of processing anything besides illustration-filled manga.)
The websites are helpful, make him feel less like a trainwreck and more normal, accepted.
After more reading than he’s done for any of his classes that semester, Jaehyun finds himself thinking huh. He isn’t particularly attracted to Younghoon — the kiss was more pleasant than heart-thumping, butterfly-inducing — but the idea of kissing him again isn’t exactly terrible. He’d do it again, out of sheer boredom, the same way he’d never reject the prospect of making out with a cute girl.
Huh.
The last thought he has, before succumbing to a dreamless sleep, merely involves the repetition of the word bisexual, over and over, like a mantra.
2. (to his friends)
In retrospect, Jaehyun never expects his first time coming out to his friends to be an event, but it shouldn’t have been underwhelming.
A good medium would have sufficed.
He’s sharing a new-found part of his identity, he deserves more than three non-reactions.
Sure, he suspects Younghoon already knew, even with the continued radio-silence from Jaehyun’s end, but still.
They’re at Sangyeon’s apartment — he’s the eldest, the only one living outside the dorms, and has begrudgingly accepted his hosting obligations — right after seeing the latest Avengers film. There’s obnoxious chatter all around, four boys speaking on top of each other with no regards to volume or neighbours.
Jaehyun decides to blurt out his — not admiration, not respect, but understanding of Thanos’ character arc.
He gets three bewildered stares.
Juyeon speaks first. “Almost three hours of Iron Man — Iron Man — kicking ass and you go for the pro-genocide villain?”
His eyes narrow.
(Jaehyun can’t believe he was infatuated with him, once upon a time; when Juyeon was less of a fake-deep friend and more of a gorgeous concept. It was really over the second he opened his mouth.)
“You know that’s not what I mean—” He starts, before getting cut off by Younghoon.
“Stop eating Barney’s evil twin’s ass, then.”
Jaehyun turns to Sangyeon, fixing his eyes on him — Puppy Dog Eyes and all — as if to say back me up here.
Sangyeon does not, in fact, back him up.
“Sorry,” he says, unapologetic.
Jaehyun groans. “I hate you all. Never speak to me again.”
The three pick their conversation back up, as if Jaehyun isn’t in the room, gushing about the plot and the effects and did you see Zoe Saldana? (Sangyeon and Juyeon) rebutted by did you see Chris Evans’ ass? (Younghoon).
It becomes a playful squabble, his friends competing over which Infinity War lead is the most attractive.
Jaehyun, then, decides to speak up.
“Stop arguing,” he mutters, not looking up from his phone. “they’re both hot.”
Unbeknownst to him, he’s being stared at, for the second time that night.
“What?” Jaehyun says, when he finally looks up.
There’s a terrifying grin on Younghoon’s face, Sangyeon just shrugs, Juyeon, however, looks as blank as ever.
“What? ” He repeats.
Only then does it register.
Fuck.
His life is a joke. He really just, as casually as he could have, came out to his closest friends.
Part of him is relieved — that he got it over with, the other half demands a do-over.
(Later, much later, when early morning is more appropriate and both Sangyeon and Younghoon have long-since passed out, Juyeon turns towards him, a thoughtful pout on his face. “So,” he whispers, before pausing. Jaehyun can tell he’s deep in thought, planning his next words carefully. “You like both, right? Guys and girls?” The question is posed so innocently that Jaehyun physically can’t suppress his snort. He thinks yeah, wouldn’t be romantically interested in you in a million years, before giving Juyeon his back and falling asleep.
3. (to a random barista)
It’s Tuesday — also known as Hellsday.
On Tuesdays, his schedule is filled to the brim: it starts with a Lab at 8AM and doesn’t give him the sweet release he craves until 6PM that evening.
Jaehyun has some time to spare before his next class. So, he does what any sleep-deprived undergraduate student would do and makes his way to the campus coffee shop.
(That’s his first mistake.)
It’s a little past noon — lunch rush — he instantly regrets the sequence of decisions that brought him here.
The line spans the entirety of the café, past the door, all the way to the sidewalk. Jaehyun can feel the impending headache. He surely won’t be late to class, it isn’t for another hour, but the possibility of standing here for that long is nauseating.
He doesn’t leave.
After twenty-three minutes, he’s close enough to take a good look at the day’s specials — half off cold brew, he reads. Good enough.
“Welcome to Lava Java, how may I help you?” The barista recites as soon as it’s Jaehyun’s turn, his voice flat. It’s a bit funny, the irony the question serves — the barista couldn’t look like he wants to help him any less. He doesn’t think too much of it, though; most of the employees are also students, he sympathizes with them.
Jaehyun gives a well-practiced smile. It’s known to be effective at least seventy-nine percent of the time. “Hi. Cold Brew with a shot of Caramel, please.”
He gets a curt nod in lieu of a response.
(Sulky Barista is part of the twenty-one percent, then. Noted.)
The rest of the transaction goes as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Jaehyun thinks the service is good enough. He gets his drink within two minutes, the caramel drizzle is a nice plus.
That is, until he actually tries it.
He has to keep himself from instinctively spitting it out.
Jaehyun likes to believe he’s a nice person, which is why he’s almost tempted to put on a brave face and drink the Cold Brew regardless. However, he’s running on very, very little sleep and a grueling three hour lecture awaits him — his anxiety will take a backseat, for once.
“Excuse me,” Jaehyun tries.
Sulky Barista immediately spots him and raises an eyebrow. Jaehyun fleetingly thinks he’d probably be cute without perpetual frown.
“This is a little bitter? Could yo—”
“You ordered it Black.”
Jaehyun scrunches his nose, pauses for a beat. “No?” He says, confused.
“Well,” Sulky Barista scoffs. “You didn’t specify otherwise. We’re not mind-readers.”
Now he’s starting to get a bit defensive. He sets the drink down on the counter, crosses his arms. Looking bigger than he actually is works wonders.
The barista laughs — laughs. “Is that your intimidation tactic?” He asks, honestly cackling. “God, I really needed that. First, the entitlement — now this. Straight men are a piece of work.”
“Straight?” Jaehyun grins, sharp. “Who said anything about being straight? I like dick, too.”
(He doesn’t get another drink. Still, the look on Sulky Barista’s face is better than anything caffeine could give him.)
4. (to hyunjoon)
Heo Hyunjoon is, by far, the coolest teenager Jaehyun knows.
Hyunjoon is also — initially — just a first year Jaehyun is tutoring.
Initially, because a week into knowing him, he decides he’s going to latch onto the older boy. Months later, he’s still around; he has an iron grip.
(Hyunjoon is having problems with his Statistics class, and as an Undecided major, he’s unable to drop it. Jaehyun is looking for a part-time job, but between classes and student organizations, his schedule isn’t too flexible. So, the university’s peer tutoring system sets them up. Despite the three years between them, they become friends. And if Jaehyun imprints on him, starts treating him as the younger brother he always wanted but never had — well, nobody needs to know. Jaehyun dots on him, makes sure they meet up once every few weeks and Hyunjoon pretends to whine despite absolutely thriving under all the attention.)
It’s been seven months since they’ve met, and this is by far the longest they’ve gone without catching up — three entire weeks.
Jaehyun suspects he was being avoided. The nervous fidget to Hyunjoon’s fingers, steadily tapping against the table, confirms his suspicions.
He studies the younger boy for a moment, before asking. “You good?”
Hyunjoon nods once, twice, but stays silent. Jaehyun knows he’s on the quiet side, more of a listener than a talker — like himself — he can practically hear his thoughts racing, though. He wants to help, but understands that he’ll need to approach this differently than he would, say, his same-aged friends. He needs to be empathetic, yet give him space. Offer an ear, but be careful not to pressure him.
“Okay,” he says, not wanting to push, to scare him into completely closing off. “If you do want to talk, I’m here, but — until then, what were you saying about this place’s chicken?”
Dinner is uneventful, as far as their usual hangouts go. They eat, make casual conversation, Jaehyun asks about his classes and gets told to stop mothering. He eventually manages to make Hyunjoon crack a smile, though, so he counts it as a Win.
As he’s settling into bed that night, he gets a text.
He knows it’s Hyunjoon before he opens it — this is how he works, communicating indirectly — but to say Jaehyun doesn’t expect the content of the text is the understatement of the year.
I like someone, it reads, before following up with another guy.
Jaehyun is relieved — both for the lack of failed classes mentioned and Hyunjoon trusting him with this.
However, he cannot deny the absolute sadness he feels for the younger. His heart aches, knowing the reason behind how glaringly anxious he’d been earlier. His so-called mothering instincts are going into overdrive. Jaehyun wants to protect him, to be able to promise he can be himself — like whoever he likes — without fear.
For tonight, he settles with sending a simple me too. I like guys, too.
5. (to himself, again)
Jaehyun is fucked. Screwed with a capital S.
Younghoon’s Links of Wisdom have not only failed him, but failed him immensely.
Accepting — and becoming comfortable with — his attraction to other men doesn’t even begin to cover it.
He’s hit, face-first, with the realization that feelings are bound to be involved, at some point.
What the fuck.
Here he is, minding his Baby Bisexual Business, when his good-for-nothing friends had to do the unspeakable and introduce him to Jacob Bae.
As far as he’s concerned, it’s the worst thing they’ve ever done. There’s no concern for his well-being whatsoever. He needs new friends — and fast.
(Younghoon knows Chanhee — apparently Grumpy Barista isn’t always grumpy — who knows Kevin, who knows Jacob. Jacob is new to Seoul and in dire need of friends.)
He’s being sacrificed, thrown to the wolves, all in the name of one Jacob Bae.
Beautiful, sweet, soft-spoken, kind, cute, Jacob Bae.
Can play the guitar, Jacob Bae.
An actual angel on earth, Jacob Bae.
Looks unbelievably hot with glasses, Jacob Bae.
Allegedly likes guys, too, Jacob Bae.
Jaehyun maybe, possibly wants to kiss him and hold his hand, Jacob Bae.
So, yeah — feelings. That’s a thing, apparently.
He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the influx of butterflies cage-fighting in his stomach if Jacob as much as smiles at him, doesn’t like that his reflex is to sigh ever-so-fondly whenever Jacob stumbles on his Korean, doesn’t like the giggles — fucking giggles — that threaten to escape his throat because Jacob, well, exists.
Jaehyun truthfully doesn’t.
No, nope, never in a million years.
A quick Google search of does having no feelings make me any less bisexual only confirms his perfectly reasonable theory.
He doesn’t like Jacob Bae — not in a gooey romantic sense, at least. His Baby Bisexual (stop saying baby bisexual, the mini Younghoon in his head yells) mind is playing tricks on him, clinging onto the first cute, emotionally available guy that waltzed into his life. He’s bound to get over it, the way he got over his cursed crush on Juyeon.
Jaehyun might want to kiss him, overwhelmingly so, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he likes him.
Right?
Right?
(+1)
Naturally, denial goes nowhere.
Jacob is integrated into Jaehyun’s friend group, which grows, exponentially. Running into him — one way or another — is almost expected, at this point, as is the stuttering of his heart whenever he’s within the vicinity of him.
(He’s a friend, maybe.
Definitely, a voice in his head corrects.)
Unfortunately, for Jaehyun, the infatuation does not deflate.
It burns hotter, brighter every day, as if Jacob’s smile is single-handedly keeping it aflame.
His theory proves to be incorrect, it’s sad, should make him feel miserable, rather than warm with the thought of Jacob’s laugh.
(Jaehyun confides in Younghoon, once, goes on an entire woe is me spiel before he’s told to suck it up — called whipped, fond, other disgusting words he’s hesitant to repeat.)
The phone on his desk blinks with a notification. His breath hitches.
jacob bae (7:24PM)
hey :)
meet me @ the park??
i’m bored :/ we can play with ppl’s dogs
God, Jaehyun is a mess. It’s almost unfair how perfect he is.
He sends back a yeah see you in ten, before changing into a more weather-appropriate outfit and practically running out of the door.
Jaehyun is waiting for five minutes when he finally sees Jacob’s silhouette in the distance, inexcusably pretty like the rest of him. He lets himself stare, just this once.
“Hi,” Jacob breathes, his cheeks flushed — from the wind, he tells himself.
(Jaehyun is praying to every God he knows, lest he makes a huge fool of himself.)
He beams. “Hey.”
“Wanna sit on the swings?” Jacob asks around a hesitant smile. “Nothing like embracing your inner kid.”
A nod. “Lead the way.”
There’s a lull of silence, as they get comfortable, the rusty screech of the swings settling between them.
Jaehyun sways experimentally, back and forth, back and forth, wary of getting too high. He knows Jacob suggested the outing with a purpose, but he can’t bring himself to worry, to let anxiety get under his skin — things are always comfortable with him.
Jacob shifts. Jaehyun is staring at him from the corner of his eye (be subtle, he reminds himself), when he says, “You’re Bi, right?” It’s a statement, not a question, his breath gets caught in his throat.
Wow.
Out of all the possibilities, this is one Jaehyun is probably expecting least.
He doesn’t know where it’s coming from.
There’s a pause, heavy with words they’re both hesitant to say.
Jacob probably sees the astonishment written all over his face, because he continues. “Sorry. It’s just — Younghoon might have implied something?” Of course he did. “I didn’t want to assume. So..” He trails off, breaking eye-contact.
“Yeah.” Jaehyun croaks, before clearing his throat. “Yeah.”
Jacob pauses, slowly turns back towards him. “Yeah?” He nods, mostly to himself. “Me — uh, me too.”
It’s lost on him, where Jacob and I are friends ends and oh, I really want to kiss him begins.
Jaehyun should say something.
He wants to say something.
He opens his mouth — and nothing.
For the second time that evening, Jacob has to read the complicated emotions coursing through him off of his face. Jaehyun never considers himself much of an open book, before this.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, again. Jaehyun hates how meek he sounds.
(In the end, it’s the final push he needs.)
“I really like you,” Jaehyun blurts out, smacking a hand against his mouth in shock. “I mean.. Yeah,” he continues, voice a bit muted. “I really, really like you.”
It’s Jacob’s turn to gape, to silently open and close his mouth.
Me? He mouths. Jaehyun isn’t looking, though, opting to save himself the embarrassment and swig as high as he can.
He reaches a peak.
And jumps.
Jaehyun is forced to regard Jacob again, now that he’s back on the ground and without distractions.
He expects pity, rejection, sadness — not the, well, borderline fond grin on Jacob’s face. He doesn’t know what happened between the silence following his confession and his impulsive (metaphoric) Leap of Death.
“Come here,” Jacob whispers. It’s beyond him, how something so soft could sound straight out of a fantasy Jaehyun has never had. He’s going to die.
Jaehyun obliges, but takes slow, calculated steps.
“So,” he says, once he’s reached the other boy, his grin coy. “Two Bisexuals walk into a park. That’s a joke waiting to—”
Jaehyun shuts up.
Not on his own merit — the hand pulling against his shirt, the lips on his own, prove talking to be a bit difficult.