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“Park Jisung!”
The boy in question looks up and Jaemin briefly falters in his anger at the sight of his cheeks puffed up and how wide his eyes go. He regains it soon enough, though, when his eyes fall to where Jisung is sitting and he finds it littered with breadcrumbs. He narrows his eyes.
“What have I told you about eating in my bed?”
“But Hyung,” Jisung whines and his words are muffled through a mouthful of half-chewed baguette. Jaemin grimaces in disgust and luckily Jisung swallows before continuing. “It’s so much effort to go to mine!”
“It takes literally less than half a minute to climb up to your bed,” Jaemins deadpans, hands on hips.
Jisung pouts and his shoulders slump down. Jaemin resists his in-built urge to coo by forcing his eyes to look back at the mess that is his bed to remind himself that he’s supposed to be angry.
“Hyung,” Jisung’s voice is more of a wail at this point. It’s childish and annoying, Jaemin tells himself. Not cute. “Your bed is just so much more comfortable.”
Jaemin lets his frustration sweep out in an audible sigh and takes a deep breath before fixing Jisung with as hard a glare as he can. Admittedly, it’s not much but even the sight of his bed ‒ the place he sleeps and relaxes and keeps as orderly as he can ‒ covered in an abundance of morsels of bread can’t make him truly angry at Jisung, no matter how hard he tries.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to get a plate?” He sounds resigned and it’s obvious that Jisung knows he has won from the grin that spreads across his face and the triumphant bite he takes of his baguette.
He shrugs. “I was hungry,” he says.
Jaemin rolls his eyes and makes a show of brushing the crumbs off of his bed. He hides his smile when Jisung laughs, disgusting and gross as he continues to eat. Jaemin stands up straight and exaggeratedly wrinkles his nose at Jisung.
“You have ten minutes to finish eating and then you’re changing my sheets or I’m never cooking for you again.”
Jisung opens his mouth to protest but Jaemin turns on his heel and leaves before Jisung can get a word out and Jaemin can go even softer on him. He needs to draw a line and he really does hate it when Jisung is on his bed.
“Jaeminnie,” Jeno reads out a comment, capturing Jaemin’s attention, “have you gotten Jisung off your bed yet?”
Jaemin sighs and Jeno starts laughing because he already knows the answer. Jaemin briefly shoots a look at Jisung to find him at least looking a little sheepish.
“No,” he says, looking at the phone they’re using to film the Vlive. He can see his own face; he looks unimpressed, lips pressed into a thin line. “He was on it again yesterday when I just wanted to go to sleep. And he decides to spread his stupidly long legs‒” he flicks his ankle into Jisung’s calf in what could only be described as a low-effort attempt at a kick, “all over my bed all because he says,” Jaemin clears his throat and when he starts speaking again, it’s in a high-pitched, poor, whiny attempt at imitating Jisung’s voice that has Jisung shouting in protest and everyone else in tears laughing, “Hyung! It’s so impossibly difficult to spend ten seconds going up the ladder and I’m just far too weak and tired to bother.” He falls into his own voice on the last few words, turning to Jisung to glare at him.
Jisung pushes himself up onto his knees, face red and arms coming up to form an X in front of him. “No!” He says indignantly, alternating between looking at the camera and Jaemin every other second in his fight to convince them all that he’s in the right. “No, no, no, that’s not what I said at all!”
Jaemin reclines back into Jeno’s side and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look angry instead of amused.
Jisung only stops spluttering when Renjun yanks him down by his collar and pointedly changes the subject. Jisung slinks back into the sofa they’re all leaning on, sulking. Jaemin laughs quietly and wraps an arm around his shoulder.
“I told you I was sorry, Hyung,” Jisung mumbles, quiet enough that the other members don’t catch it.
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you didn’t,” he says, stifling a chuckle. Jisung huffs and Jaemin grins. “But it’s fine. Just remember you do have your own bed, you know?”
“Yeah, I know I just, I don’t know.” Jisung’s ears are suddenly red. “I like yours better.”
Jaemin chooses to ignore the way his heart gets faster. “I’ve noticed,” he says dryly.
Jisung rolls his eyes and pushes him away, joining in with whatever conversation the others have going on.
Jaemin drops onto the sofa in the living room, still in his pyjamas and hair messy from sleep. He swings his legs up so they’re resting on Jeno’s lap and ignores the glare sent his way. Instead, he yawns and tries to get his eyes to focus on their manager, who is standing in the middle of the room and had called them all in for a meeting about something he won’t tell them. When they’re finally all gathered, he starts speaking.
“Exciting news, guys,” he says and Jaemin nearly flinches at the amount of enthusiasm so early in the morning. It hadn’t helped that Jisung had invaded his bed again last night and fallen asleep there and refused to move and hogged all the covers. It also hadn’t helped that Jaemin had spent a good portion of the night with his arm numb under Jisung’s head, scared to move in fear it might wake Jisung up. “We’re moving dorms!”
“Again?” Jeno asks a second before Jaemin can say the same thing himself. Perks of platonic soulmates, he supposes: having someone to relay your thoughts when you’re too tired to do so yourself. “Almost all of us have our own room here, anyway.”
Their manager nods. “I know, but this one is even closer to the company and actually has enough rooms that everyone will get their own. And there’ll be a couple spare for whenever Chenle or Donghyuck need to stay over.” He smiles at them all, clearly looking for some sort of glee to match his own.
Jaemin thinks about it, taking a little longer than usual to weigh it up through the fog in his brain. On the one hand, it’ll be a hassle to move all of his stuff but on the other, he hasn’t had a room all to himself for years. And he might be able to stop storing his bike in Jeno’s room. He lets out a long breath.
“Sounds cool.” His voice is croaky but their manager sighs in relief. “When do we move?”
“Next week.”
Jaemin nods, and is content to drift back to sleep and let Renjun ask their manager questions when Jeno leans so that his mouth is right next to his ear and whispers, “at least Jisung won’t eat in your bed anymore.”
Jaemin blinks at him, a little confused. Huh. He hadn’t thought about that.
It’s stupid.
It’s stupid because his new bed is far more comfortable than his old one. It’s not a bunk bed, for starters and it’s also not a single. It’s not filled with crumbs and more people than himself. But he can’t sleep.
He switches to his side for the nth time that night. The keyboard on his desk is lit up in neon purple and he watches as it grazes through blue, and green, and red, and pink, and back to purple again. His bike is hanging on the wall, the yellow parts of it standing out against the black shadows that have swallowed the rest of the room.
He turns onto his other side and screws his eyes shut.
“This is stupid,” he mutters. And there’s no one on a bunk above him to hear it.
He’s snappy in practice because he’s tired and that makes him mess up and that makes his mood even worse. They’ve been in the new dorm for over a week now and he’s barely slept at all, only managing it by pushing himself to the point of exhaustion and passing out the moment he collapses into bed. And he refuses to correlate it with the fact that it’s been over a week since Jisung’s been in his bed. That’s not the reason; it can’t be.
He missteps again and ends up a couple of beats behind, letting out an annoyed yell as their dance teacher pauses the music.
“Sorry, sorry,” he manages through pants and irritation, bowing. “I don’t know what’s happening with me today.”
“It’s okay,” their teacher says and Jaemin hates the sympathy. He doesn’t need that; he just needs to get it right. He needs to sleep. “We all have our off-days. Let’s stop early today and try it again tomorrow.”
The others bow and thank their teacher but Jaemin just keeps his head down, palms flat against his knees.
“Hyung,” a familiar voice says and Jaemin looks up to see Jisung holding out a water bottle.
Jaemin takes it with a small smile of thanks and chugs down half of it. Jisung doesn’t say anything else, just stands by him and doesn’t leave for the entire time it takes to get back to the dorm. Jaemin rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder in the car but doesn’t quite make it all the way to sleep; the drive back to the dorm is much shorter than it used to be. Jisung doesn’t leave his side as they eat leftovers for dinner and watch a movie.
He only leaves when everyone else has already retreated back to their own rooms and the light from the TV makes Jaemin’s head hazy. He stands up and Jisung follows him all the way to the door of his room. They pause outside the closed door.
Jaemin pulls Jisung in for a hug because it’s the most natural thing in the world. Parting and going into separate rooms is not. Jaemin hopes Jisung understands his hug for what it is: a thank you.
“Night, Hyung,” Jisung whispers and Jaemin thinks that he must understand.
They linger a moment more after they pull away.
“Goodnight, Sungie.”
Jaemin closes the door behind him and finds that his room is too cold.
He should be used to it by now, he knows that. It’s been almost two weeks.
But his bed is too big, his blankets suffocating in their size. He tosses about during the night, getting tangled in the sheets and they feel itchy against his bare skin and it’s too hot but without them, it’s freezing. Cold drops of sweat sink into his pillow from his forehead and he feels gross and he can’t get to sleep even though fatigue pulls at him.
He stands up and for the fourth night in a row creeps out of his room and down the hallway. It’s quiet. That gentle, peaceful brand of silence Jaemin wishes he could replicate within himself. He gets a little further than the night before: all the way to Jisung’s door.
His hand hovers over the door handle, so close but not quite touching.
He stands there too long.
The carpet is soft under his feet, the weak light of the moon delicate.
He wants to go in. Whether it’s instinct telling him to, or his mind, or his heart he’s not sure. Only that he wants to. Wants to twist the doorknob and open the door. Wants to tread across the room with care not to step on the clothes that he knows are strewn about the floor. Wants to pull back the covers and whisper muted words which will be understood nonetheless. Wants to sleep. Wants Jisung.
He climbs back into his own bed and wishes for sleep.
It doesn’t come.
Jaemin adds more coriander to his ramen, mixes it around with his chopsticks before promptly shoving as much as he can into his mouth and chewing aggressively.
Jeno eyes him warily from where he’s stood in the doorway but Jaemin ignores him; he’s gotten good at that, lately. It’s when Jaemin almost chokes on a stray piece of coriander that Jeno decides to intervene, sitting in the chair next to Jaemin with a sigh.
“Nana,” he starts gently, “I thought I’d give you time to either come to me or sort it out on your own but I think maybe it’s time I step in and try to help.”
“I don’t need help; I’m fine,” Jaemins says after a particularly violent swallow.
It’s not convincing to his own ears, and least of all to Jeno’s, who is trained to sniff out bullshit, especially Jaemin’s. They maintain eye contact for a terse moment before Jaemin concedes.
“Okay, maybe I’m not fine,” he says. “But I will be.”
Jeno hums, still unconvinced.
“It’s just that I can’t sleep but that’s fine because who needs sleep anyway.”
Jeno blinks at him, his smile a little strained.
“I also apparently can’t dance anymore but that’s also fine because it’s just my job.”
Jeno is grimacing at him at this point. Jaemin thinks that his own right eye might be twitching slightly.
“And I don’t even know why but everything just feels wrong. Like my life is a board game and someone has come and, not flipped the table, but tilted it? And now everything is off-kilter and in the wrong place and uncomfortable.”
Jeno looks a little constipated. “If you really don’t know why, then you’re an idiot.”
Jaemin huffs and stuffs more food into his mouth. Jeno laughs but Jaemin refuses to look at him.
“Come on, Nana,” Jeno says. “You’re smart; you know what this is all about, even if you’re in denial.”
Jaemin breathes out through his nose. Defeat. Resignation. He pouts around his mouthful of coriander and ramen. “Of course I know,” he says quietly. “But it’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not, Nana.” Jeno’s voice is so impossibly tender, reassuring and kind. “It’s the furthest thing from stupid, I promise you.” Jeno has never broken a single promise. Not to Jaemin, at least.
“I can’t just march up to him and tell him.”
Jeno tilts his head to the side, and suddenly his eyes are alive with mirth. “But maybe you can get his attention in another way.”
“Hyung!”
Jaemin looks up to see a confused but annoyed Jisung standing in the doorway of Jisung’s room. He’s wearing an oversized grey t-shirt and shorts; his hair is messy and still a little wet from his shower. His glasses, wiry and circular, sit on his nose. Jaemin beams up at him.
“What’s up, Sungie?”
That seems to confuse Jisung even more as he squints at Jaemin. “Why are you in my bed? And why are you eating bread?”
Jaemin laughs. “Payback,” he says cheerily.
“But I haven’t done that in ages.”
“Exactly.”
Jisung tilts his head to the side. “What?”
Jaemin shrugs and continues munching on his bread because it gives him an excuse to not talk. This is the part he and Jeno hadn’t planned. The what to say.
“Hang on.” Jisung laughs a little; it’s different to his usual one. Jisung smirks and it’s the closest to cocky Jaemin has ever seen him off-stage. Jaemin pointedly looks away. “If you missed me, you could have just told me, Hyung.”
Jaemin feels his ear go hot. “Shut up,” he says. This is why he didn’t want to say anything. The vulnerability, admitting that he’d missed something he had spent so much time claiming he hated; it’s a little embarrassing to say the least.
He feels Jisung sit down on the bed next to him.
“You were right,” Jisung says, amusement obvious in his voice. Jaemin doesn’t like how much this feels like a role-reversal, but can’t do much about it when his heart is high in his throat. “The crumbs are annoying.”
It’s quiet for a moment or so, the only sound Jaemin chewing on his bread.
“Don’t tell me this is the reason you’ve been in a bad mood lately.” When Jaemin doesn’t respond, Jisung breathes out a laugh and continues, his voice slightly higher in pitch. “You scared me, Hyung! I thought something really bad had happened. You should have just told me instead of eating on my bed to get back at me.”
Jaemin makes a vague noise of disagreement.
“Though,” Jisung says, eyes now boring into the side of Jaemin’s face. He’s enjoying this far too much. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever miss sleeping in a bed full of crumbs.”
“Wasn’t the crumbs,” Jaemin says. He sounds childish.
“Then what was it?” Jisung prods, face too close now.
That’s when Jaemin realises that he’s in too deep to back out now. He squares his shoulders and looks Jisung directly in the eyes and reclaims all of his usual confidence from wherever it’s fizzled off to.
“You,” he says, happy when his voice doesn’t falter and Jisung startles, face going pink. This is it, he thinks. This is better. “I missed you. Obviously.”
Jisung doesn’t speak. Jaemin can feel his confidence wilting slightly but doesn’t let that deter him. It’s all out in the open now. Well, not all of it. Not quite. But Jaemin thinks he’ll keep that part to himself for now.
“That’s the reason you couldn’t sleep?” Jisung speaks slowly, disbelieving. “Me?”
Jaemin shrugs, but it isn’t shameful or abashed; it’s relaxed. He’s relaxed. Jisung is relaxing. “I missed you.”
“I was only down the hall the entire time.”
“And that was too far,” Jaemin says simply.
Jisung laughs; it’s musical and light and wonderful. “I missed you, too.”
It’s quiet again.
“Let’s go to sleep.”
Jisung switches the light off and they brush the breadcrumbs off of the bed. They’ll vacuum in the morning, they decide. They slip under the covers and it’s all too natural the way Jaemin pulls Jisung into his arms so that Jisung’s head is just under his chin.
Jisung dozes off quickly. Jaemin presses a kiss to Jisung's forehead. Feather light. He feels his own eyelids grow heavy, every other thing in the world filtering out beside Jisung's soft, regular breaths.
He'll tell him. He'll tell him, just not tonight. For tonight, he'll sleep. The thought sits happy in his chest and pulls him into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.