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Jaemin runs into the tunnel, and Jisung follows, a figure swallowed by the smoky darkness.
He had decided at some point long ago that he would follow him everywhere, to the ends of the earth, into all seven seas. But he settles for this right now. They are late, and as they beat the familiar littered path into the subway entrance, Jisung's phone vibrates incessantly. The sound echoes off the cavern walls, bouncing around tenfold till he feels it buzzing in time with the blood rushing in his ears. They slow to a stop, Jisung collapsing dramatically against the nearest wall to gasp for his breath.
Jaemin giggles at his theatrics.
“Please, it hasn't even been a full five minutes.”
The wall is absolutely filthy, and Jisung knows the regret will hit him when he sees the state of his already scruffy jacket later, but the sight of Jaemin grinning brightly at him, smile sharp and wolf-like in the yellowish half-light, is utterly worth it. He is so close, Jisung can smell the knockoff cologne he uses mingled with something balmy, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and clean sweat, and under it, something so familiarly boy and inherently Jaemin that Jisung feels his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. He loves that smell. He had once spent hours with his face buried in one of Jaemin's stolen shirts, inhaling that smell, breathing deeply until he had felt buzzed and a little dizzy, head spinning and lungs burning with painful want.
His phone had stopped vibrating, but now Jaemin's screen lights up. He rummages for it in the bottomless depth of his hoodie pockets and unlike Jisung, picks up.
“God, you’re annoying. Yes, we’re almost there, stop calling us.”
Jisung loves it here. This place is their sanctuary, their home away from home, memories bled into every wall. He knows every abandoned alleyway and passage like the back of his hand.
He loves the way you can hear the trains rumbling overhead at intervals, drowning out all sound so you're forced to either pause mid-sentence or yell to be heard over the world shaking as if it might collapse at any moment, sending showers of dust and soot raining gently onto their heads. There's some sort of symbolism in that, he thinks.
He loves the industrial smell of the place, the heady vapors of stagnant gasoline and exhaust fumes as comforting and nostalgic to him as freshly baked bread and Coppertone sunblock is to others. To him, It is the smell of youth, of hidden secrets and a hundred joints put out in a hundred soda cans that seeps into his skin and clothes and melts over him like a second skin.
Smells like teen spirit, Donghyuck had muttered when Jisung tried explaining it to them once. Renjun laughed at him, loud and exaggerated, before smacking Donghyuck upside the head. You're so funny, I don't think.
Jisung adores the way Jaemin looks bathed in the neon green glow of the EMERGENCY EXIT strips they pass scattered throughout the station, scintillating off the single silver stud he has in his ear, dyed honey brown hair turned ash grey in the gauzy darkness. Shadows accentuate the planes of his narrow face, and his eyes always look catlike and dangerously hooded, framed by the useless glasses he wears for show,
But really, most of all, it is the way Jaemin’s aura always seems to change between its walls. He steps foot inside, and something shifts, transforming him into something slightly inhuman.
Jisung thinks he looks like something so celestial as he walks there, jacket thrown carelessly off his shoulders. The light swallows him, washes him in it, and presents him an achingly intangible figure. A magic trick. Made of smoke and mirrors and not much else.
In moments like those, he is immortal. Hopelessly beautiful, hopelessly out of reach. He is the mirage in Jisung's desert.
The tunnel opens to a wide clearing. Train rails line the center, extending to as far as the eye could see, and beyond that, the blurred yellow glimmer of passing car headlights playing hide and seek from behind the fence. Jisung tilts his head at the sound of someone's singing echoing through the empty space. It is a hauntingly light and airy sound, delicate as fine glass, reverbing around the empty space and sending goosebumps flashing down his arms. It's a voice he knows well.
“Isn't that Renjun hyung? ”
They reach the flight of stairs—their usual hangout spot—and the sound cuts off as Jaemin whoops at the sight of the heady, sweet-smelling smoke curling through the cold night air. He slides down the center metal railing to join where their friends have grouped around at the bottom of the stairwell. There is a loud clinking of fallen glass bottles as Renjun and Jeno dive out of his way to avoid getting kicked in the face
“About fuckin’ time!” Chenle jumps down from where he was lounging on the roof of the cherry red Honda parked smack in the middle of the train tracks. “What took so long?”
“Jaemin wanted to look extra nice.”
“Always so pretty, our lovely Jaemin,” Donghyuck pops the lollipop out his mouth to make kissy faces from the car roof at where Jaemin is trying to clamber up the cars slick surface. He swipes the orange beanie right off his head and offers absolutely no help.
Jaemin grabs at Mark's legs and pushes off the tire, successfully landing on the hood with a slide. Mark giggles weakly, sticky hands bracing on the windshield to keep himself from falling off.
Jaemin moves his knee, and there is a loud fwump as the dent-resistant steel pops back up from under the weight.
Obviously, they're all high off their asses.
Chenle ignores them and instead offers Jisung the 3DS he was holding. “Look, I redecorated our island.”
Jisung squints at the screen, before nodding in approval. “You finally got rid of Pietro, good job.”
“Right? He was so creepy.”
From the stairs, Renjun says, “Jisung, my love, what is this incredible rumor I hear about you getting asked out today?”
Jisung blinks. He decides to at least make an attempt. “Um, you heard wrong?”
“Yeah, nice try. Why the hell are we always the last to know?”
“How do you know about this? We’re nowhere near the same people at school.”
“I have my ways,” Renjun says dismissively. He pockets his phone and shuffles around from where his head is pillowed on Jeno's lap to glare at Jisung better. His eyes, smudged dark with forgotten eyeliner, are especially striking in the moonlight. “Heejin told Lucy, who told Hwall, who told me. You forget, my social connections are endless.”
“Who was it, anyway?” Jeno cards strands of Renjun's jet black hair between his fingers, trying to calm him. He tilts his head at Jisung sweetly with nothing but pure wickedness. “Hope they were cute, at least.”
Jisung sits and hugs his knees. He watches soda from one of the broken bottles slowly snake its way down the pavement cracks in a thin stream, the fizzy tang of orange carbonation tickling his nose. “You know Chaerin, from the other class?”
They hum in acknowledgment. “Isn't she on the busking crew with you?” Jeno says. “I think I've seen her on the street before.”
Jisung flops his head in a hesitant nod. “Yeah. I turned her down.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed. In retrospect, It would have been so much easier to have agreed. And yet…
“I guess I'm just not ready yet.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance as best as he could in front of people who have known him since he could talk.
“Jisung,” Renjun says, voice low to not be overheard by the people on the car who were, by the sounds of it, loudly trying to convince Donghyuck to drink something radioactive and blue. “The rest of the kids don't know about this. Donghyuck’ll probably hear about it from people soon because you know how he is, but he—I don’t think Jaemins heard.”
Jisung meets his gaze with wide, innocent eyes. “What does Jaemin have to do with this?”
“You're really not going to tell him?” Renjun pushes himself up on one elbow. He’s just getting started. “Wishing isn't believing, Jisung. I think he should know that you're not just going to sit around waiting forever. Other people happen to be interested in you too.”
Jisung flushes. "It was one person, God."
The other boy lets out a sound of disgust, before flopping back onto Jeno's lap. “Fine. Don’t tell him then, and see where it gets you. Just don't come crying to us when he ends up breaking your heart.”
Jeno flicks his forehead. “Hey now, be nice.”
Jisung glances up from where they’re laughing at Renjun rolling around in pain, reflexively looking to see if Jaemin is laughing too. His breath catches in his throat. Jaemin is already looking, as if he was listening to the entire conversation. A jolt of adrenaline ricochets through his body like a firecracker, and for a single, sickening moment, Jisung is sure that he knows. He knows everything. He doesn't smile, but rather looks pensive, as if disappointed that Jisung is trying to keep something from him. I can read you like a book, Jisung. He had told him once. it’s not hard for people to do that, the way you wear your heart bleeding on your sleeves. His stare, perpetually ageless, bores deep into him, and Jisung feels the weight of his emotions sizzle to life in a brilliant, alive spark.
The 3DS pings a low battery warning in his hand, and the spell is broken. Jaemin looks away first, and Jisung feels the winged creature in his chest unfurl its wings to fly.
“Jaemin, wake up,”
A pause.
Jisung cautiously shakes him. The lump of blankets does not move.
“Wake up, come on, hey-”
Jaemins head pops up from under his cocoon of blankets, brows furrowed in frustration. “What the hell do you want?”
“I'm hungry.”
Jaemin stares at him expectantly. His face is adorably sleep-swollen and Jisung resists the frankly alarming urge to bite it. “So?”
He looked as fuzzy as a new teddy bear.
“I kinda want to eat a baguette…”
The older boy blinks in disbelief. He takes a moment to process this. “You woke me up because...you’re craving bread? Where am I supposed to get you a baguette from? Do you think we live in a bakery?” He drags a hand down his face and lets out a deep sigh. “Jisung.”
Despite himself, Jisung still feels a wave of heat at the sound of his name being said like that, all low tone and gravelly edges. Warm, sleepy-soft Jaemin was even cuter riled up.
“But I'm just so hungry and since—well, I mean, you’re awake already...” he trails off.
“And who's fault is that?”
Jaemin shuts his eyes for a moment, clearly mourning the sleep he's mentally waving goodbye. His phone screen flashes 5:02 when he checks it. He grudgingly throws the covers off, muttering darkly under his breath. It's not even proper evening yet, really, but it's a well-known fact that Jaemin's four hour after class naps are an integral part of his life's infrastructure. He lets out another sigh. “Subway run it is.”
Jisung flashes a victorious smile at him. “Thank you!”
He had turned around, beginning to walk away, when Jaemin's voice sounds softly behind him. “You're unbelievable, you know that?”
Jisung laughs and whirls around, but the retort quickly dies in his throat at the affectionate look in his eyes. His gaze is as delicate as spun sugar, and disappears just as quick.
Jisung manages a soft smile.
“Think I got it from you?”
He was everything he could see.
Later that day, he's surrounded by tall, napalm trees, branches simmering a deep red as the nearing sunset casts them in shadow. Beyond that: a sun spangled ocean, big and wide and wonderful, free, rolling waves grey as time.
Jisung sits on the cliff's edge and watches the way the waves hungrily churn and crash underneath his dangling feet. In the distance, a curve of jagged coastline glimmers brilliantly, as witchy and otherworldly as if what lay beyond the horizon was a realm more magical than this one. The salty sea wind whips savagely at his hair and clothes, carrying the bright voices of his friends bravely attempting to play ball on the uneven ground. He's just debating going to join them when there's a crunch of scattered pebbles as someone slides in to sit next to him.
“Hey,” Mark laughs good-naturedly at the way Jisung had jumped, startled. “What’re you doing here brooding all alone?” Ever the empathetic person, he had picked up on Jisungs mood.
“Just enjoying the view,”
“Yeah, it really is beautiful. it's so weird they would put up fences and no trespassing signs everywhere. I think they might be trying to tell people not to come through here.”
“Yeah? Good thing we're all hard of hearing.”
Mark grins at that, slinging an arm over his shoulders to ruffle his hair, and Jisung fights to keep from squirming and falling right off the thirty-meter cliff face, puffing his cheeks to hold back a giggle.
“There we go, that sweet smile.”
Jisung shakes his head at his antics, an absent smile still on his face. “Honestly though, people would end up ruining the place. It’d fill up with trash in no time. A view this pretty deserves risking getting arrested for.
Mark leans back, tilting his head up to enjoy the feeling of the wind floating his hair around in a soft halo around his head. He looked like he was modeling in some sea-salt shampoo commercial. “You're not wrong. People have a way of ruining the things they find pretty.”
Jisung looks at him, the sharp curve of his jawline and peacefully closed eyes. Mark opens his eyes at Jisung's lack of response, and the knowing look in them tells Jisung that he knows, too.
He pinches the bridge of his nose in disbelief. “Fuck, why does it feel like everyone's been lecturing me about this lately?”
“I just don't want to see you getting hurt,” Mark says, and Jisung is in instant internal hysterics at how similarly dead serious his tone is to Renjuns. “You, of all people especially.” And this is Mark, fiercely loyal, the first to befriend Jaemin out of their entire friend group. Who would lay his life down for Jaemin in a heartbeat.
“You saying he's a bad person?”
“No,” Marks's eyes flash at the accusation. “I'm just saying...Jaemin, I know him, and sometimes he's—” he breaks off, looking for the right word.
“He's careless,”
“Yeah,” Mark says. “Exactly. Careless. Reckless. Doesn't think things through before doing them, sometimes. ”
“Anyways…” Mark shrugs. I just wanted to remind you. In case you forgot. You know you're like, my homeboy. I'm always around if you need to talk, or have someone hear you out, or—something.”
Jisung feels a swell of affection at his words. It's nice, having people look out for you. Even if it might be against one of their own. He's spared having to answer with something equally as embarrassing by the sound of a camera shutter going off behind them.
Donghyuck pockets his phone. “You guys look the picture-perfect example of teenage angst right now, it's crazy.” he lifts the plastic bag he's holding in his other hand. “Jaemin and I went to that store we saw near the main road, come get it!”
Honey butter chips, two cans of spicy mini pringles that Jeno claims immediately, a jumbo bottle of green Gatorade, and surprisingly enough, a bag of mixed fruits.
“Why'd you get fruits?” Chenle asks, stealing the Pepero packet from Renjun, who immediately starts noisily fighting him for it.
“Here, Jisung, I got you this.” Jaemin hands him a can of caramel iced coffee.
Jisung holds it against the side of his face, savoring the coldness. “Thank you,”
“These fruits are in season right now, Chenle. Look how ripe they are.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, fake irritated. “They also didn't have any sour candy, so you'll just have to settle.”
They sit in a lopsided circle in the sandy dirt, blades of dry, straw-like grass brushing their ankles. The basketball sits safely in the center.
Jisung makes a paper star out of the coffee straw paper and gives it to Renjun..
Jeno leans over to flick an ant off Donghyucks knee. “It should be getting dark soon, shouldn't we be getting back?”
“Ah, wait,” Renjun checks the watch on his wrist. “Holy shit. We’re about to see the sunset of our lives, you guys.”
Hes right. The view from so far up is stunning enough as it is already, but as the sun sets in the distance and the city's lights slowly flicker to life, the sky is streaked with orange, clouds shot with purple and the most pastel of pinks that settle in a brilliant gradient that leaves them all breathing in awe.
Theyre suspended in time, in the feeling of euphoria that comes from being in total freedom, no matter how temporary. It washes through them, filling them with reckless bravery. They are infinite, and they will last forever.
Jaemin rustles through the bag of fruits, untouched except for an apple munched through by Mark, who had buried the eaten core in some weeds, arguing the entire time with Donghyuck that, It's not littering, I'm fertilizing them.
He takes out a tangerine, shiny and golden, the size of a baby's fist. Pieces of peel start to fall at his feet like Tetris, and he makes a high sound of satisfaction at the sweet taste as he pops the first section into his mouth.
Jaemin looks like someone's first love, this is what the old ladies down the street are always telling him. He's certainly not Jisung's, (that was Mark. Mark's part-time job is being everyone's first love) but something about the way he always burns so bright, boyish and sweet, a supernova masquerading as a teenage boy, draws people to him like moths, drunk and blind to everything but that brilliant, all-consuming light. And rightly so, far from perfect, just possibly the best person Jisung has ever met, always so kind—loveliness with the volume turned up. His best friend. He looks so impossibly young like this, thin silhouette framed by nothing but miles and miles of darkening sea behind him. Shades of gold play through his irises, and the rays of light that are too stubborn to die just yet, lovingly make him their center, their sun. His shadow is a million meters long.
He breaks off another section, juice dripping from his fingers. A piece falls to the ground. Jisung catches his eye as he's about to eat it, and Jaemin pauses. Grins. Sets it between his front teeth and bites, the juice bursting to sprinkle through the air like a fine mist. He offers him the other half of the tangerine heart.
“You want one?”
“I'm good,” Jaemin's mouth is shiny with juice because sometimes he tends to forget where he puts his hands. “Hyung, you have...something on your face.”
“On my face?”
“You got everything on your face.”
Jaemin wipes at the edges of his mouth with his arm, missing the point entirely. “Where?”
“Right here,” Jisung swipes at his cheek and bottom lip with his thumb. It sticks to the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and now his hand is sticky too.
“Gross.” he says.
“Oh,” Jaemin says. “Thank you,”
And he steps forward, head lowered, lifts Jisung's hand to his mouth, and sucks his hand clean.
His tongue is hot over his skin, texture as rough as sandpaper as he swipes it once, and before Jisung can even react, or make a sound, it's over in the blink of an eye.
“I cleaned it for you.”
Jisung is literally speechless.
“That really wasn't necessary,” he says weakly. He's not stupid, and Jaemin's ears start burning red as he truly realizes what the fuck he just did. Jisung is genuinely going to pass away, right then and there.
Jesus fuck. Whatever. Embarrassment is always a good look on Jaemin, no matter how maddingly self-satisfied his smile might be.
On one trip a few days later, as they're beating the way back down the mountain face, (Jisung holding firmly onto Jeno's arm so he doesn't trip in the long shrubbery and end up bouncing down the rest of the path like a human basketball) Chenle somehow manages to find an out of the way clearing that leads right down to the rocky shore. It's dangerous, definitely stupid as shit to be walking around an uninhabited area so carelessly, where they could fall into some cesspool or have some massive boulder break off and fall on any of their heads, but Jisung points out a stretch of pebbly beige sand that's wide enough for them to run around in relatively safely.
And before he knows it, he's lifting the ends of Mark's legs to help Jeno dump him in the icy water.
“Jisung! Jaemin's looking for you,” Donghyuck walks over to them, hiking his shorts safely up and away from the harsh water crashing against his scraped knees. All the running around has made him shine with sweat, but it is somehow a good look on him. He looks happily exhausted, cheeks rosy and skin shining with a healthy glow.
“Oh, where is he?”
“Over there, I think he found something in the dirt. You want me to go with you?”
Jisung scoffs. “Thanks, hyung. I'm sure I'll make it safely."
“No, you idiot. I'm not trying to sound sarcastic,” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows at him. “I'm saying that if you're worried about another weird, awkward situation—”
“Jesus, what's wrong with you people? It's not like he’ll eat me”
“He will,” Donghyuck grabs his arm, doe eyes round with dramatic fear. “He’ll rip you to shreds and swallow you up with that perfect set of teeth.”
“Okay, sure,” Jisung darts out of his hold and finds his shoes, his feet squelching under the damp sand. “Thanks for your concern, I'll make sure to scream extra loudly if he starts growing fangs.”
Jisung finds him alone, crouched down and drawing in the sand with a stick. It's kind of adorable how tiny he looks, which is why Jisung pauses for a second to drink in the sight of him.
Jaemin looks up, sees him standing there. He must have mistaken Jisungs hesitance for something else, because he drops the stick and stands up straight, waving him over.
“Hey! I want to show you something.”
Jisung trails behind as they walk to the end of the shore, where the rock face juts out in a curved bend. They have to carefully press their backs against the sleek, wet, black rock to avoid the water. Jisung pushes through to the other side and is surprised to see a mirroring wall facing him a little way off, essentially making a little alcove. It's as if someone took a massive bite out of the mountain, and they were standing in the tight u-shaped hole left behind. Even the winds are hard to reach here, and all other sounds seem muted. sounding like the inside of a car going down the highway with a window half-open.
“What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”
Jaemin is uncharacteristically fidgety. He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly strangely shy. “Just...y'know,”
“...Um, no, I don't?”
“There isn't anything to show you. I just wanted to talk to you alone for a bit.”
Its everything in him not to roll his eyes. “Wow, smooth. And clearly squeezing past that terrifying bend just now was easier than just asking, right?”
Jaemin laughs, but something about its tone is off, too high, too shaky. His forced smile looks a little unhinged, too big and wide for his face. Shark teeth.
“I have something to tell you, and I just want you to know...I've been thinking about how to say this for a long time—”
The expression on his face is all Jisung needs to know. He feels a horrible, horrible wave of ice-cold dread rush through him, of pure terror, as if a giant wave had just risen from the sea to tenfold of its size and decided to break itself in half over his head.
It's the same look. From the tunnel, from the train tracks, from the cliff, from countless times before that. It's a look that comes from knowing how much power you have on another person's heart and feeling awfully guilty about it.
and why would he be feeling guilty? Something in Jisung's head says, unless he didn't—
Jaemin is talking, maybe explaining himself, but Jisung can't hear a thing over the ringing in his ears.
"You knew? This entire time?"
Jaemin, interrupted, cuts off. “What?”
“You knew. How long have you known?”
Jaemin blinks. “Of course I knew. You aren't exactly subtle. I've known for ages.”
fuck.
"And you still...you still acted like that?"
“Acted like—what are you talking about?”
Jisung can feel his fear slowly turned to anger, solidifying into something red hot and destructive. “Are you fucking serious? Like, literally two days ago, on the cliff, Jaemin. Licking my fingers clean. Why would you do something like that?”
“I was messing around.”
“You were being a fucking dick.”
Jaemins face falls, and Jisung can see the moment he finally drops the facade.
He watches the pin drop.
“No, you're right. I've always acted so carelessly towards you. Jisung, I'm sorry.”
“And you never said anything, all this time,” Jisung's voice cracks, and this is it. This is what everyone had been warning him about. That Ignoring something doesn't make it disappear, that something shunned will only grow larger, more solid and substantial, violent in an attempt to get you to notice its existence.
“I didn't know how to approach it, believe me. What if I was reading you wrong?”
“'Reading me wrong,'” Jisung repeats. That's funny. He laughs, hurt, feeling irrationally betrayed. “So, instead of risking saying anything...you end up leading me on, laughing at me while you keep your foot in the grey area so you don't lose anything. And you knew that meanwhile, I was somewhere losing sleep, wondering if you were just being your usual overly friendly touchy self or something more."
Jaemin tries, “you didn't say anything either—
“Who am I to say anything? You're not getting it. If you knew someone liked you, wouldn't you try and be a little more sensitive to what you’re doing to them?”
“You're right.” Jaemin steps forward, places his hands on his shoulders in an effort to placate him. His expression is stricken. “You're right, and I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry. I'm really, truly, sorry. Just please don't cry. I can't stand seeing you cry…”
“I can't believe you would give me false hope like that. It's not your fault that you're smart enough to have realized, but it's so unfair, you know?" he buries his face in his hands. "You having that advantage. God, this is so embarrassing.”
“No, no, no,” Jaemin says. “Not false hope, Jisung. Never false hope. Hey, look at me.”
Jisung meets his eyes with difficulty. The intensity in them is unbearable, and it's everything he can do not to look away again, gripped by a fresh wave of pain.
“Jisung, I wasn't thinking,” Jaemin starts, his voice so soft. Jisung faintly registers the sound of his friends laughing not so far away. “I see the way your face lights up when you see me, and It's so beautiful, I can't think straight. I feel like I have to do everything to keep your attention on me. I know it's selfish, but I can't help it. That's you, I can't think or do anything properly when you're around.
"I never meant to give you false hope or mislead you. This...It's not false, Jisung.”
“Stop that,” The younger boy wipes away at the tears on his face angrily. “Stop with the double meanings, Jaemin, I'm sick of them.”
“I meant—“ Jaemin cuts off. He steps away and roughly rakes a hand through his hair, equally as frustrated at his inability to accurately word was he was feeling. Though Jisung can tell none of the frustration is directed at him.
“What you're saying, I feel the same way, basically. I do. And I wish this could be easier, for both me and you, but especially you. But it's just—I hate how everything is so complicated.”
“What exactly is so complicated?”
“This, the dynamic of us, me and you, us and our friends….I'm scared of that changing. Even if it might change for the better, eventually...I'ts not wrong that I'm just not ready for it right now.
“My feelings for you...you make me so fucking scared, Jisung.” Jaemin's eyes are impossibly wide. “I don't know how to deal with it. There was this other thing happening a while ago, with someone else—
"I know about your thing with Jeno." Jisung interrupts him.
“Yes, everybody knows everyone's fucking business around here, how does it feel?” Jisung hisses when Jaemin is stunned out of his words to answer. “I heard about you breaking up over the summer. If its that you're worried about what I think, I don't care."
“You can't just not care.”
“Really? I don't.”
“No, I'm saying that I didn't want to start something with you while still carrying...emotional baggage because of someone else. You don't deserve that. If I'm going to give you my heart, I want to give you everything inside it, inside and out.”
“Even though you already have it,” he adds in a whisper.
It's silent for a few moments as they both process this. Jisung's stomach twists and burns with painful knots. This was, the very exact impossible situation that he had fantasied about, crafted in his head, chipped out every detail to. Jaemin, confessing to him. Jaemin, feeling the same way.
But now that it was actually, finally happening, as things with Jaemin usually tend to be, it's entirely unpredictable. A polaroid coming out in inverse color.
“What if I wait for you?”
Jaemin startles at the break in the silence. “What...?”
Already, his anger is ebbing away, the rational part of his aquarius lizard brain looking for a practical solution. “I can wait for you...to get over Jeno. To be ready.” he knows how he sounds, and he hates it, but this is Jaemin, and he's someone worth sounding desperate for.
“No, Jisung. That would be too cruel of me to—
“Save it. You know I've always been waiting for you anyways.” His voice shakes as he says it. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Jaemin. Waiting for you is nothing.”
Jaemin still looks unsure, wracked by guilt and doubt. “I don't know how long that might be."
Jisung steps forward now, takes Jaemin's hand in his. “If things on my end change, although they won't, then that's fine too, isn't it? You’re not forcing me to do anything. We’re smart enough to know It's not—this is nothing like love. It won't last, at least not forever, but what's important is this: you're right here, and I'm here too, and we both want to try. So why not?”
“I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have.”
“No,” Jisung shakes his head, though the movement is lost in the way they can both barely see anything clearly. “I'm still fucking upset with you, by the way, but that doesn't mean I've suddenly stopped liking you. I already got everything I want, and I'm happy with just that. The rest, I don't mind waiting for. The rest, I'll leave to your own pace. Okay? Starting from now.”
“Starting from now…”
Jaemin looks at him. His eyes glisten with tears. Even while crying, he is so beautiful Jisung aches with longing. “Just...before that. Before we start waiting, I want to say it properly. I like you.”
Jisung's heart swoops, fiercely pounding an incessant thud thud as it tried to beat its way out of his chest, out towards Jaemin, where it belonged. Such a sweetly childish phrase, what does liking someone mean? He had already said it in different words, but something about hearing it so refreshingly direct from Jaemin makes it feel like something else entirely. A rising pressure pressing against his skull, slowly building. A ticking time bomb. It feels like hope, the thing with feathers, as fragile and defenseless as a new-born bird.
“You like me...?”
“So much,” there's that pained look again. “You have no idea.”
“Can I kiss you,” Jisung blurts out. It's not a question. He slaps a hand over his mouth, too late.
Jaemin looks surprised, an expression Jisung had seen on him only enough times to count on one hand.
When Jisung makes no other move to say anything, He steps forward. Jaemin is shorter than him by barely a few inches, but his presence is massive, taking up all his personal space. He places a hand on his shoulder.
“Is this okay?”
Jisung nods, not trusting himself to speak,
Jaemin crowds him against the rough wall.
He unconsciously swallows, the movement bringing Jisung's eyes flitting down to his throat, chest, mouth.
It is this, the cloyingly thick tension of the still, charged air between them, as tangible and gummy as cold honey, that sets his heart to racing, pulse pounding in his ears.
Jisung exhales as Jaemin draws in a breath, leaning closer, the hand sliding across his nape suddenly feeling so heavy.
Experimentally, Jaemin tangles his fingers in the soft hair there and tugs. The reaction is immediate. Jisung's lips part in a soft gasp, and before he knows it, there are a pair of lips melded to his.
oh, he thinks. so this is what it feels like to kiss him,
There's a low, wet sound as Jaemin slowly pulls away, eyes wide, and he looks so fucking pretty all wide-eyed and startled like that Jisung wraps his arms around him again and pulls him back in, mouth falling on his.
Jaemins mouth is soft, and warm. He was eating tangerines again earlier, and his mouth is still sticky-sweet. Hot with it. It should be gross, but he tastes like oranges, and Jisung's heart soars at the taste.
He kisses him over and over and over, more soft presses of his mouth than actual kisses, and his inexperience is so sweet, enthusiasm so endearing, Jaemin catches him, holds the sides of his face with both hands and turns his head to kiss him properly, square on the mouth.
There's no rush, they aren't going anywhere.
Jaemin's long eyelashes, still wet with unshed tears, flutter shut, but Jisung wants to see him, revels in seeing the way he tilts his head up, wanting to engrave the way his soft mouth falls open so pliantly into his brain. He pulls back his head to nose at Jaemin's stubbly cheeks and the hollow of his jaw, gently biting the smooth skin there. He splays his fingers over that long, slender neck, fingertips brushing under his ears where he knows Jaemin is just sensitive enough to gasp,
He kisses him, forehead to nose to mouth.
Like he might fall apart in his hands, like if Jisung didn't ground him by pinning him down, he would disappear like sugar in his mouth, break apart and disappear like ceramic ground to dust.
He kisses him until the orange bursts. His heart, overripe, gushing sweet nectar that fills his entire body in an addictive, heady rush. He thinks of the way the slice had looked before it broke in between Jaemin's teeth. Filled to burst, before breaking in hot, pulsing waves down his chin.
he makes my heart beat like that, Jisung thinks.
Now, he stocks up on the sweetness, hoping it would be enough to tide him over until the next time he would be allowed to do this.
He kisses him as it was, their last hour on earth, pouring the years of slow and torturous yearning, as painful as a low burning flame slowly but steadily consuming everything in its way, into this.
He kisses him as if it were the last time.
Though Jisung knows, if they're both lucky, it only just starts from here.