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I
Everywhere he goes, everywhere he’s ever been long enough to host one, people have heard of Jackson Wang and his parties. There’s a certain veil of mystery shrouding these events, so many questions that people can’t seem to answer even if they did attend one. How do the alcohol and snacks never run out? How is it that no matter how loud the music is, the police never shut them down? And what might be the biggest mystery to everyone, how is it that one can go to the party single, and return perfectly matched?
Whatever the answers to these lingering questions might be, one thing is for sure: there’s something for everyone at a party hosted by Jackson Wang.
Youngjae in particular is looking for someone to make out with, possibly sleep with. He doesn’t exactly consider Yongguk his wingman, more so his company. Oftentimes Yongguk is the one he ends up sleeping with, be it a sudden loneliness in the middle of the night, or being riled up at a party, Yongguk is simply safe. Circumstances have led to them fucking enough times for them to know each other perfectly, to know exactly how to please each other, to understand each other’s varying moods. Best of all, they don’t hold each other down. Youngjae can always go to Yongguk for any kind of fuck he wants, and vice versa, but there are absolutely no responsibilities. It’s safe.
Tonight, however, Youngjae isn’t looking for safe. He’s looking to make a mess of someone he’s never seen before.
Yongguk isn’t as interested in screwing around, not tonight anyway. He’s only going because Jackson is his friends, an acquaintance really, but he’s intrigued enough with the stories to want to make an appearance. A perfect compromise, a perfect reason for them to go together.
They hardly even cross the threshold when Jackson appears before them, as if out of thin air. He’s tearing himself apart to be the perfect host, hopping around from person to person like a busy bee, making sure to greet everyone who comes in no matter how frequent the arrivals are.
He greets them with a big smile and a bow. “Guk! And you must be Youngjae. Lovely to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Youngjae chimes. “You must have a lot of work when you make yourself so helpful to your guests,” he adds, subtly checking their host out.
Jackson gives a bashful little shrug. “I like to make sure everyone’s having fun. Is there anything you need?”
“Where’s the bar?” Yongguk asks rather dismissively.
“By the pool, right over there.” Jackson points towards the open sliding doors leading outside. Yongguk thanks him, but Youngjae doesn’t miss how eager he seems to be to leave.
He has to jog a few steps to catch up to Yongguk’s strut. When he does, he hooks his arm to Yongguk’s without hesitation.
“You didn’t have to go, you know,” Youngjae hums, coming to a stop only once they reach the bar.
“I wanted to,” Yongguk says. They order. They wait in silence to get their drinks, and Yongguk takes his glass of whiskey with both hands. “I guess it’s a bit of a letdown.” He takes a sip.
Youngjae raises his eyebrows, no longer smiling cheerfully. He taps his fingers against his glass, frowning at his friend. “A letdown? All of this? Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”
Yongguk barely spares him a glance. “I’m just not in that much of a party mood, okay? I can’t predict when I’m gonna feel down. Now did you want to find a fuck buddy or not?”
Youngjae has heard enough. Yongguk wasn’t mean often, he hardly ever was. And when he was, it meant that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Which doesn’t mean that Youngjae is willing to excuse shitty behaviour or hurtful words. More importantly, he is not going to let anyone ruin his night, not even his best friend. He takes his glass and straightens up. “Okay then. Have fun,” he spits, turns on his heel and walks away.
Fun. Yongguk could try to have some fun. He might as well, since he’s already here, alone. Just a few more drinks and he might be able to have some fun. Just a few more.
Yongguk was never much of a dancer, not sober at least, but the dance floor is where to go when you’re looking for a quick fuck. At first it resembles dancing, until it turns into shameless grinding, and before long it’s heated making out and groping in the middle of the a swaying crowd.
The man grabs Yongguk’s wrist and starts dragging him back towards the house.
“I’m Daehyun by the way,” he breathes.
“Yongguk,” he responds, almost instantly forgetting the other’s name.
At the door, Daehyun staggers, having bumped into someone. Tugged forward, Yongguk stumbles as well, slamming right into Daehyun. A hand appears on his shoulder, helping stabilize him. Not Daehyun’s. Jackson’s.
Yongguk isn’t surprised.
“Just the person I needed!” Daehyun exclaims. “We’re looking for uh—”
“A bedroom?” Jackson finishes.
Daehyun nods.
“They’re upstairs, just find an empty one,” he says, but he’s reluctant to let go of Yongguk’s shoulder. His tone was border on dissatisfied when he spoke, but Yongguk can’t figure out why. He isn’t judging the two of them, is he? Jackson has never had a problem with people hooking up at his parties. Some say that’s the whole point. So what’s up with him?
Yongguk doesn’t wait to find out. He shrugs Jackson off, this time taking the lead towards the stairs.
They both stumble, trying to hold onto each other. Yongguk’s head is spinning. He can do it though, he knows he can. Daehyun pulls him along. He checks two doors, locked. The third one opens. They slip inside, fumble a little before managing to lock the door.
For as gentle and precious as he seems Daehyun sure is able and willing to be assertive. He pushes Yongguk onto the bed and straddles his hips, presses wet, open mouthed kisses down his neck.
Yongguk’s head spins more violently than ever. He isn’t sick, not quite, but he doesn’t feel in control of himself. He just lies there, barely able to touch Daehyun.
It isn’t just the alcohol. It feels wrong. For the first time ever it feels wrong. It has from the beginning, from the moment him and Daehyun made eye contact across the dance floor.
Daehyun stops, pulling back. “Hey, you with me?”
“I’m dizzy,” Yongguk mutters, looking up with glassy eyes.
“Don’t pass out on me,” Daehyun says, trying to keep a light tone. But seeing Yongguk’s lack of reaction, his smile fades. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he says softly, carefully moving off of Yongguk’s lap.
The bed dips when Daehyun sits beside him. The music is muffled, watery, yet loud enough to make Yongguk’s head pound. It doesn’t exactly set the mood for sex, in his opinion.
“Thank you,” he tells Daehyun.
“No problem,” he replies. He hesitates, but finds the courage to place his hand on Yongguk’s head. When the elder makes no objections, Daehyun proceeds to play with his curls.
He stays. Yongguk appreciates it. He knows it would take some time for the dizziness to pass. Daehyun brings him some water, and sits with him in the dark, neon lit room, waiting for him to feel better.
“I’m sorry,” Yongguk says once he’s managed to sit up. “Thank you for staying with me, but I don’t think I can…”
“That’s okay,” Daehyun says, shaking his head. “You didn’t seem all that into it. There’s no point if you’re not.”
Yongguk smiles. He leans in and kisses Daehyun’s cheek. Daehyun embraces him, sighing quietly.
Pulling away, Yongguk says, “I’d better find my friend..”
“I can help you look,” Daehyun offers.
“No need,” Yongguk assures. “Thank you though.”
They keep their hands intertwined until they’re at the bottom of the stairs, just out of precaution. They hug once more before parting ways.
As he stumbles through the house, Yongguk wonders if he should’ve accepted Daehyun’s help as he has no idea where Youngjae might be. But truth is… he doesn’t want anyone there when he confronts Youngjae.
As he walks out into the backyard, he realizes that there definitely would be someone there, because Youngjae must have found someone to hook up with. Which he definitely has. He never fails, and how could he, when he looks the way he does.
It makes Yongguk sick. It feels like a punch to the stomach, nearly knocking him off balance. The thought of Youngjae with someone who doesn’t know him, can’t possibly appreciate him for who he is, beyond his looks.
Yongguk stumbles his way to the bar. He knows he shouldn’t drink anymore. He isn’t sure he will, but he needs something to hold onto.
He grips onto the surface, staring at the pool and trying to keep the nausea down.
The calm water shimmers, splashing around, reflecting the lights from all around right into Yongguk’s eyes. He watches, finding little consolation in the calm of the water…
The water that splashes right into his face. Yongguk gasps, nearly falling over.
“Youngjae!?”
And indeed he is face to face with his friend, who is dripping wet, bangs sticking to his forehead. He is still fully clothed, the fabric sagging off his frame as he pulls himself out of the pool. He sows water everywhere he steps.
“What—what are you doing, what happened?” Yongguk stutters, watching him walk over.
“Went for a dip,” he mumbles.
“A—dip? Youngjae you’re—” Yongguk goes quiet as Youngjae stumbles into his chest. Despite his obvious intoxication and incoherence, he has a strong grip on Yongguk. Water seeps into Yongguk’s clothes, but he doesn’t let go. He cradles Youngjae’s head, laces his fingers in his damp hair.
“What happened?”
Youngjae buries his face in the crook of Yongguk’s neck. He doesn’t speak.
“I thought you were getting laid,” Yongguk tries to lighten the tone.
“Didn’t feel right.”
Yongguk freezes in disbelief. But when it melts away, there is only relief. Youngjae and him have always understood one another and Yongguk is so grateful they understand each other on this as well.
Finally.
Yongguk has known for a while that things have changed, but he has been scared to speak up about it in fear of Youngjae not following. He didn’t want to ruin what they had.
He isn’t afraid anymore. He pulls Youngjae closer, kisses his temple. “Let’s ask Jackson if he’s got some spare clothes, okay?”
Youngjae nods. Hand in hand, they set off to find their host, and a room.
II
For some, Jackson’s parties are the final, but not the first destination of the night. Jiho and Mino have a habit of getting extremely fucked up before they even reach the party. It makes them the centre of attention as soon as they crash through the door.
Ah, those two. Jackson’s everlasting headache.
He doesn’t mind them being loud, or drunk. He’s only frustration is their immense obliviousness.
The odd thing is that tonight they aren’t that loud or destructive. Upon entrance there’s no broken glass or other breakable materials for that matter, no injuries or throwing up. If anything, their little group seems much calmer than usual. Jackson can’t begin to guess the reason, but it unsettles him just a little. So, he goes to check on them.
Mino, Jiho, Seunghoon, Seungyoon, Jinwoo and Pyo, along with his own friends Jaebum and BamBam are all sitting in a circle by the pool. At first Jackson guesses they might be sharing a joint, but as he approaches he realizes that what they’re sitting around is an empty bottle of soju, and the smoke is merely coming from Mino’s cigarette.
Jiho watches the bottle come to a stop, slightly to the left from his thigh. Just as he’s about to move out of the way and claim the bottle landed on Pyo instead, he feels a hand on his shoulder and hears Jackson’s voice above him,
“Spin the bottle? What are you, fifteen?”
“Oh yes,” Jinwoo chimes. “I’m about to have my first kiss.”
Jiho somewhat hopes the ripple of laughter will distract everyone from the fact that it’s his turn. It’s true, it’s a game for children as Jackson pointed out, Jiho isn’t supposed to be this scared to have his turn. However, everyone in the circle throughout the game seemed so adamant on asking questions about Mino, and it was becoming quite bothersome.
That’s why, when he inevitably gets reminded to choose between a truth and a dare, he picks a dare without doubt.
“You picked a dare three times in a row already! You have to pick truth now!” Pyo yells.
“What? That’s not a rule!” Jiho thinks he might strangle Pyo on the spot. If he wants to embarrass himself in front of hundreds of party guests to avoid answering awful questions, then it is his right.
“It is a rule we decided beforehand,” Seungyoon clarifies. “Now quit complaining and listen to hyung’s question.”
Jinwoo flashes a bright smile and repositions himself, setting his hands on his knees and leaning in. “Who’s the person you’ve always wanted to kiss but didn’t get the chance to so far?”
Jiho runs a hand through his hair in distress. He has an answer, the first thing that came to mind and the most genuine answer, but he knows, he just knows that it will only make matters worse.
But time is running out and Jiho can’t think of anything else to say. When playing this game if you want to appear like you don’t care, you just need to do the dares and say the truths without agonizing over them.
No room for agonizing. Jiho just blurts it out as casually as possible, “I always thought it would be interesting to kiss someone with a lip piercing? Like Dongwook? I don’t know.”
Jiho hears Jackson sigh above him, but he can’t really determine the source of the younger’s distress.
Thankfully, other than this vague sign of annoyance there isn’t much of a reaction to Jiho’s answer. Odd, but a relief nonetheless. The game continues.
“Wanna join for a round?” Seunghoon asks Jackson.
He glances around, as if checking if everything is alright, if he has the time to relax. “I suppose,” he says, sitting down.
Jiho has some time to breathe as the bottle lands on Seungyoon, who gets a dare to keep his head underwater for minute, on Jinwoo, who’s asked about his most embarrassing hookup experience, and then on Jackson.
“Kiss the person to your left for thirty seconds.”
Jackson shrugs. To his left sits BamBam, who fidgets furiously with his bracelet. He looks up at Jackson, makes no move to complete the dare. It’s Jackson who leans in, takes him by the chin and begins with the brief kiss.
Jiho thinks he can see BamBam shaking, but it’s hard to say. He sees him grabbing onto Jackson’s shirt and holding on for dear life. But the kiss is over as quickly as it started and BamBam bows his head to wipe his mouth. After that, Jackson excuses himself saying that the round was fun, but he needs to go continue doing his thing.
Jiho isn’t exactly sure what he just witnessed. He busies himself observing BamBam and his behaviour, trying to figure out what’s going on, when the bottle stops in front of Mino and he picks a dare.
“Kiss Jiho for a minute.”
When the words leave Seunghoon’s mouth, all of Jiho’s blood freezes in his veins. He realizes, as Mino shrugs, leaves his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and stands up, that he has been placed in a carefully orchestrated plot.
Mino comes forward. But why? Jiho doesn’t like Mino. The thing about him kissing someone with a lip ring—that was a generalized statement. He meant, anyone with a lip ring, he even said Dongwook’s name. Why would they think it had to be Mino?
Mino kneels in front of him. They probably think they’re so smart, that they’re fulfilling Jiho’s wish or something. They don’t understand that all they’re doing is creating an extremely uncomfortable situation. Mino is Jiho’s friend. He knows it’s just a game, but when it’s so obviously an orchestrated thing it makes it weird. It’s not like they’re just kissing casually, they’ve been set up.
Mino places his hand on Jiho’s thigh for balance. He’s shaking. A second ago he appeared so collected, almost as if he didn’t care. But Jiho can feel him trembling and as he leans in he can hear Mino’s rapid breathing. He must be so uncomfortable. Jiho feels awful.
“I’m sorry about this,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” Mino responds. Their lips are almost touching, but Mino pauses. Then he closes his eyes, he probably just wants to get it over with. The moment their lips touch, Seunghoon looks at his phone to measure the time.
Mino’s tongue tastes like nicotine. Jiho isn’t sure he likes it. But he does like the press of the metal against his bottom lip, he likes how Mino sucks on his tongue, how he grips onto Jiho’s thigh.
Mino opens his mouth and pulls back a single millimeter and he—moans. A low, breathy noise that Jiho doesn’t have the time to process before Mino is kissing him again, moving his hand up from Jiho’s thigh to his hip, holding him down. His other hand moves up to the back of Jiho’s head and he starts to wonder if Mino is uncomfortable at all. If that’s the real reason he’s holding onto Jiho so tightly.
Their friends have started counting down from ten. Mino moves forward, lets out another little noise and he almost sounds frustrated, as if he wants to get more before the time runs out.
Jiho unfreezes only when the countdown is over. Mino doesn’t pull away. And Jiho figures, what the hell. He grasps the front of Mino’s shirt and pulls him down, the boy tumbling over. Jiho lies on the ground with Mino on top of him and they’re kissing, neither holding back anymore.
The stupid dare is over.
“Guys, you—you can stop now,” Yoon stutters.
Jiho is the one to moan this time, due to Mino accidentally lifting his knee between his thighs.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Pyo mutters.
“Someone call Jackson,” Jaebum says through giggles. “Looks like we need a room.”
And as satisfied with themselves as Seunghoon, Seungyoon, Jinwoo and Pyo are, they must admit they deserved this. They pushed their friends, whom they knew have been pining for each other for a very long time, and now they’re being punished by getting to listen to their wet making out.
It’s only fair.
III
Another successful night.
Jackson is surprised by just how successful. For as hard as he tries it’s always the people he’s closest to that he can’t seem to help. This time however, he seems to finally have done a good job.
Of course, it was Yongguk and Youngjae, Mino and Jiho, and their friends in that case, doing the work for themselves. Jackson is only there to give a push where he needs to, and he’s happy that they finally made it.
He can take a rest. He can sit down, have a drink. The guests have started to leave. He isn’t the one to cut a party short and ask people to leave, but after hours of hosting, he’s happy that it’s getting a bit quieter…
Jackson feels the cushions dip beside him. He’s saddened by the loss of his solitude, so he takes a second to collect himself in order to continue being a good host despite his social battery slowly running out.
He sits up and opens his eyes, looking to the side. There, he sees BamBam lying on his back on the couch, feet on the cushion. His hands are rested on his stomach, his head lulls from side to side for seemingly no reason.
Jackson frowns. “Bammie?”
The younger tilts his head back, looking up at Jackson. “Oh, hey.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
BamBam nods, closes his eyes. “A lil sick,” he mumbles, voice weak.
Jackson immediately leaves his glass on the coffee table and moves to crouch next to BamBam. “Hey, hey… Maybe it’s not a good idea to be sleeping when you’re sick, okay?”
Bam stubbornly shakes his head. “‘m sleepy.” He curls up, turning away from Jackson and into the backrest of the couch.
“No, no, Bammie that’s not good.” Jackson places a gentle hand on BamBam’s shoulder. “Try to get up, okay. Let’s sit up, Bammie.”
It takes him a second and Jackson’s push, but BamBam does sit up. He sits, elbows rested on his knees, staring ahead. He whimpers. He’s been letting out brief, pained whimpers every now and again ever since he lay down. This time when he does, he puts a hand over his mouth.
Jackson jumps to his feet, pulls BamBam up and rushes him to the bathroom. He tries to hold Bam from falling too hard onto his knees, prevents him from slipping.
Helping someone who is throwing up is something Jackson has to do at every party, multiple times even, provided that he’s around when the person gets sick. It isn’t unusual. What’s unusual is that it’s BamBam. Jackson can’t imagine how much he must have drank, he’s good at holding his alcohol. It’s really unlike him.
Jackson waits until he’s helped Bam collect himself to bring it up. Only once Bam has washed up, only once he’s back on the couch with a glass of sparkling water, sitting up and leaning on Jackson does he ask what happened.
“Just got a bit carried away,” Bam mutters.
“Why though?” Jackson asks. When he tries to pet Bam’s head, he pushes his hand away.
“No reason,” he says irritably. “Can you call a taxi for me or something? I want to go home.”
Jackson frowns, sitting there, utterly confused. He tries to remember, but he can’t think of a single reason why BamBam would be upset with him.
Perhaps he’s been a little negligent. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? His parties are huge, all of his friends know that. They also know how dedicated he is to being a good host and being there for everyone, making sure everyone has fun, so they also know not to expect too much interaction with Jackson himself. He’s always up for catching up with friends, but not at these parties.
So why is BamBam this offended? That can’t be it. Jackson wonders what he’s done.
“Don’t go,” Jackson says. “You can sleep over upstairs.” He tries again, to put his arm around BamBam, and this time he lets him.
“You’re so cruel,” Bam whispers, and the shakiness of his voice is mortifying.
Jackson freezes with the realization that he must have messed up big time. The fact that he is completely clueless as to how, and therefore can’t fix it, makes it that much worse.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but it rings hollow as he has no idea what he is apologizing for.
They sit in silence, and Jackson thinks he can feel BamBam trembling with quiet sobs, but he doesn’t dare look.
When the shaking mostly stops, Jackson clears his throat.
“Let me take you upstairs. Please.”
BamBam only shrugs.
The entire way up the stairs Jackson racks his brain trying to figure out what is wrong. Even as he reaches the room, even as he puts BamBam to bed, he can’t figure it out.
BamBam hugs the pillow to his chest, smushing his face into it. Jackson stays crouching by the bed, watches BamBam’s tear stained cheeks, almost feeling nauseous with guilt.
“If I did something to hurt you—” Jackson tries, but BamBam cuts him off promptly,
“Don’t. Just leave me alone.”
Jackson stares. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, standing up. He stops at the door, throws one last glance at BamBam before leaving the room.
On his way down the stairs, Jackson runs into a distraught Jaebum.
“Jackson! Have you seen Bam anywhere? I need to find him, I know he’d be okay staying here but it’d be shitty just to ditch him, you know?”
Jackson nods. “I just put him to bed upstairs.”
Jaebum sighs a breath of relief. “Oh, thank god.” He looks around himself as a man who no longer has a purpose. “I guess I could… go home, or stay with him…”
“Jae, am I crazy?”
The elder gives him a quizzical look.
“I think,” Jackson says carefully, “BamBam is upset with me. He got so wasted he was sick. He—cried. But—what did I do? I feel terrible, but I have no idea what I did.”
Jaebum’s expression goes from questioning to blank. He glares at Jackson from beneath his brows, and Jackson wonders if every one of his friends knows something he doesn’t.
“Sometimes you’re really dense, you know.”
Jackson stares. Anything he says might only confirm the statement. The silence does too, but he figures it’s better.
Jaebum runs a hand through his hair, looking to the side for a moment. “Listen, I can’t think for you. If you don’t understand what you did—it’s not mine to say.” He shrugs. “I’ll stay with him,” Jaebum adds and starts up the stairs, leaving Jackson behind in his bewilderment and guilt.
He walks around the now mostly empty ground floor. He gingerly picks up plastic cups and stray decorations, as well as empty bottles.
Empty bottles.
And he thinks back to his brief round of spin the bottle. Jackson recalls his kiss with BamBam. Just a silly dare straight out of a stupid game for teens. He recalls the way BamBam’s hand shook as he clung onto Jackson’s shirt, the way he seemed to try to make the kiss progress even though they had a time limit on it.
He remembers his own heart weighing a ton, the butterflies in his stomach that he willingly ignored.
Jackson is too busy for romance, you see. Between his ambitious career and being a matchmaker for everyone, he has no time navigating his own thoughts and feelings. It’s much easier to ignore them.
He never imagined that this way of thinking would ever hurt someone, then again he never imagined his unacknowledged feelings being returned in any shape or form either.
And he cannot believe that he, Jackson Wang, the ultimate matchmaker, failed so miserably to make a match for himself.
The sun reflects off the restless water of the river Han. The sky is too bright, it hurts Jackson’s eyes. He can only imagine this feeling is worse for those sensitive due to their hangovers. Jackson has a no drinking policy for his own parties. It gives him an advantage in this moment, when everyone who’s slept over is sluggishly making their way home at last.
With a blanket around his shoulders and a cup of coffee, he wishes everyone a goodbye. Mino and Jiho who are finally holding hands without their actions screaming no homo. Yongguk and Youngjae, who are leaving just as they came, but with a different energy between them.
Jackson would consider this a very successful party, if it wasn’t for…
BamBam trots down the stairs, holding his earrings and his heels in his hands. He stops halfway, giving Jackson a tired look, before he looks away again and continues walking.
“Good morning,” Jackson tries.
BamBam ignores him. He sits on the last step and pulls his heels back on.
“I can borrow you something more comfortable if you want,” Jackson offers, inching forward carefully.
“It’s fine,” BamBam says sharply. Not having noticed Jackson approaching, BamBam is surprised to see him so close as he stands, and he stumbles. Jackson catches him before he falls, holding him by the arm.
“Listen, about last night,” Jackson starts, because he knows Bam won’t give him another chance to speak.
Surprisingly though, BamBam is the one who apologizes, “I’m sorry. I got really drunk and whiny, I said stupid things… Let’s just forget it, okay?”
“I don’t think we should.”
A silence falls over them both. Optimistic, Jackson takes it as a good sign that BamBam isn’t trying to free his arm.
“I should be the one to apologize,” Jackson says. “For having been so stupid.”
BamBam doesn’t respond. He bows his head more, bangs falling over his face, trying to hide.
“I don’t want to say it was obvious, but it was still pretty dumb of me not to have realized,” Jackson rambles, because he’s never been good at this, opening up, admitting to how he feels. He prefers staying hidden away and presenting himself in a certain light, but he knows in this situation it’s unavoidable. “I guess I’m just—not really in touch with my emotions… I find it easier to be cold. But I really didn’t know, not until it hit me right in the face. I never meant to hurt you.”
For a moment BamBam stays frozen, hardly even breathes, but then he manages to inhale deeply, straightens up and looks at Jackson. His expression is flat, but the way his eyes sparkle makes Jackson sick with guilt.
“It’s fine. I should’ve taken a hint.”
Jackson stares. “You think I don’t like you?”
BamBam frowns. “Your behaviour wasn’t exactly ambiguous.”
“I’m… less in touch with my emotions than I thought,” Jackson mutters.
BamBam rubs his elbow, shrinking a little where he stands. “So… do you like me?”
“I’m pretty sure I love you,” Jackson whispers.
The sound that escapes BamBam is a mix of a sigh and an excited yelp. He runs a hand through his hair then rests it on his hip. He pants like he’s just come back from running a marathon.
“Took you long enough to figure it out,” he breathes.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson says timidly. “My own head has always been an enigma to me.”
When BamBam looks at him, he’s still tired, exhausted. But he is smiling.
“Hopefully we can decipher it together,” he says.
Jackson nods. It’s an awkward second of both of them being unsure what to do next. But when the second passes, BamBam tumbles into Jackson’s embrace.