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Autonomous Sensory Panic Response

Summary:

Look.” Dejun flipped his laptop open, facing Kun. He peered over the top and pressed play, and Jeno on the screen continued to face the notebook shelves. “Does this look familiar to you?” Dejun skipped back to the shots of the store.

Kun’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s the Reject Shop at Waverley Gardens! I can tell because that squirrel lattice fence has been on display in the centre aisle for a year."

Notes:

A christmas present for Natasha merry christmas bitch! I got your present out on time this year! Happy birthday jesus! Sorry this is more eastern suburbs than the west but you know me everything in the west is just werribee and geelong to me. If it helps, xiaojen live in the same suburb as Dan Andrews and they probably all go to the same woolies.

To all the non-Natashas reading this: I hope you are from Melbourne, Australia. If not, then I am sorry.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

‘Hello everyone,’ the subtitles of the YouTube video on the screen read as a man whispered into a mic in Korean, ‘Welcome to JSMR.’

Yes, Dejun is one of those people. ASMR had long since become part of his nightly routine; one ten-ish-minute video a night to help soothe the many, many (many, MANY) thoughts in his head. The quiet Japanese cooking videos his housemate Kun had introduced him to were a gateway drug, and now Dejun had graduated to straight up rubbing sequins, cutting up slime, all that jazz.

And JSMR.

Dejun didn’t know much about Jeno, who ran JSMR. In fact, he was pretty sure Jeno was a fake name. He had never even seen Jeno’s face; just his hands, brief flashes of his (very veiny) forearms when he was working with a lower table, and sometimes his mouth and chin during the eating episodes (he had a very nice mouth and chin). He had heard his voice only in whispers, and in Korean, but Dejun knew he lived in Australia because of the Allen’s pack of lollies he used in the lolly episode. He was probably in Sydney, though. The YouTubers were always from Sydney.

JSMR uploaded once a week, and they were the only channel for which Dejun had alerts on except for Justin Bieber’s Vevo. Friday nights were for JSMR.

On this Friday night, Jeno was testing out bath bombs.

‘This was my first time going to Lush,’ the subtitles read. ‘They didn’t sponsor me, so I can say that I didn’t like the smell.’

Jeno from JSMR was so fucking funny.

Dejun felt the tenseness of his shoulders relax as Jeno from JSMR tested out various bath bombs from lush in large bowls of water and cringed at how messy it all was. He didn’t like ASMR videos with the talking, but with Jeno, it felt like he was watching a friend be a little stupid. JSMR stood out amongst other channels not taking ASMR too seriously – for being a normal human being that also found it weird to scratch at rhinestone pads. It was probably all for show, because Jeno had never fucked up and made a bad video once, but Dejun didn’t mind, because it was entertaining.

His eyes were drooping by the time Jeno thanked everyone for watching and asked them to comment what he should do next. Dejun did what he always did – leave the video a like, scroll down to the comment section to see what everyone else was saying, and leave a suggestion of his own in case he didn’t see anything he liked. Many of the comments were in Korean, but one user named Baby Face KHZCL asked for shelf facing.

Shelf facing… interesting. Challenging, and it would make Jeno get out of the house.

Dejun liked the comment and replied with ‘maybe he’ll flash his face by accident LMAO’ which seemed, to his sleepy brain, like an appropriate thing to say, and then finally snapped his laptop shut and plopped onto his desk, which was barely within reach.

He slept well that night.

👂

Jeno frowned at the most-liked and replied comment on his bath bomb video: ‘guys get him to face shelves I’m pretty sure he needs to get out of the house’ from user Baby Face KHZCL. He wondered if Baby Face KHZCL knew that he and Jeno were group mates for their presentation in Media through the Ages, an elective Jeno took in his final year of uni. Jeno didn’t divulge his side hustle to anyone but his closest circle (exactly four people, parents not included) but he wouldn’t be surprised if Chenle the International Student That Did Absolutely Nothing (And When Jeno Dies, He Would Like Chenle To Lower Him Into His Grave So He Can Let Him Down One Last Time) somehow knew. That guy was weird, and he was always typing things very fast into WeChat.

The replies to Chenle’s comment were a mess. Someone started an entire campaign to make sure facing shelves was the top comment and/or request, so Jeno would notice it (boy, did he notice it); the other half was viewers speculating on his personal life. Something Jeno really didn’t want. At all. There was a reason he never did Q&As.

The other comments were bust, too. Way too many people asking for repeats of previous videos, or something ridiculous like face scratching. Although face scratching didn’t involve leaving the house…

“I don’t get what the issue is,” Donghyuck, whose white name was Peter, said, mouth stuffed with Schnitz chips. “Just do the facing, then.”

“I have to take my camera out of the house,” Jeno moaned.

“Cameras are portable,” Jaemin pointed out.

“My mic isn’t.”

“Yes, it literally is. It’s a field recorder. I recommended that model specifically because it’s high quality enough for ASMR but you can use it outdoors, because I knew you’d have to do some stuff outdoors eventually. Like slapping tree bark or whatever.”

“Okay, but my mic and camera together aren’t portable.”

“They literally are–”

Renjun groaned. “Jeno, just get someone to hold the camera and mic for you. How about your brother?”

“Mark is banned from touching my equipment,” Jeno said.

Everyone had a story with Jeno’s brother Mark and expensive equipment, so they didn’t press the suggestion. “What about Jaemin?” Donghyuck asked.

“He will ruin it on purpose,” Jeno said at the same time Jaemin said “I will ruin it on purpose.”

“Damn, take Lucas then,” Renjun huffed. “He’s quiet. And very gentle.” Renjun’s lips spread into a smirk. “I should know.”

Amongst the chorus of “ew”s and “yuck”s, Jeno considered it. Renjun’s boyfriend was, in fact, quiet. Large, but careful. Not all that clumsy, even if it was because he was kind of slow-moving.

Much to think about.

👂

Dejun only made it home at five past 9, and not because he was having drinks with the office after work. His boss had him (literally) pushing papers well into his overtime – which would be fine, if entry level employees actually had overtime, and if he didn’t have an hour-long public transport commute home. (Build the Rowville Rail.) Dejun opened his front door to loud music, muffled behind a bedroom door. Considering it was The Weeknd, it was either Yangyang being inconsiderate or Kun boning his way-out-of-his-league boyfriend.

Yangyang sitting on their living room couch answered his question. “Hey,” Yangyang greeted, “Kun made extras, it’s in the fridge. You look like shit, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Dejun haphazardly yanked the fridge door open, nearly knocking it against the wall the way Kun hates. Kun seemed to have made a feast, but Dejun was used to that by now.

“Wanna play FIFA?”

“No thank you.” Dejun inspected the counter and the lack of anything lying around. “It’s so clean in here.”

“Kun’s boyfriend is a neat freak.”

“God, I hope he moves in with us.”

“I don’t. They’re loud as fuck when they’re rooting. I share a wall with him.”

Dejun didn’t see the problem with this, considering how loud Yangyang was on a general basis, and especially when he was playing video games in the living room instead of his bedroom like a normal housemate. “That’s so sad.”

He finished his (delicious, absolutely divine) dinner as fast as possible so Yangyang wouldn’t convince him to play video games and retreated to his room. It was Friday, which meant it was JSMR night. Nothing got between Dejun and JSMR, not even the vague sex noises coming from Kun’s bedroom as he walked past. Especially not with his headphones in.

The video started out well. Jeno decided to go with the shelves facing idea, which made sense considering the campaign in his comments. He mentioned that a friend was with him to help him film (Dejun made a mental note to leave a comment about how glad he was that Jeno had friends) and that he was scared he would get banned from the story forever because he was filming illegally (hilarious). But then, as the video showed very brief flashes of the shopping centre and the store, and as Jeno started organising notebooks, Dejun felt a sense of foreboding. Like something heavy was sitting at the top of his sternum.

Dejun slammed his laptop shut and tucked it under his arm before marching over to Kun’s bedroom. He couldn’t hear the sex noises anymore; he wasn’t sure if that was because they’d stopped, or because Dejun’s mind was a bit (a lot) preoccupied. He knocked on the door three times. “Hey, Kun?”

“What is it?” Kun called from behind the door after a short pause.

“Can you have a look at something for me?”

“I’ll be over in like ten minutes.”

“I brought my laptop here. It’ll be quick.” Dejun was playing with fire, insisting Kun answer his door when he was probably (definitely) naked, but if Kun confirmed what Dejun was thinking then he might as well have been on fire already.

Kun opened the door after a minute, but only a sliver. Just enough that his head and bare shoulder could poke out. “I was in the middle of afterglow cuddles,” he hissed.

“Congratulations. Look.” Dejun flipped his laptop open, facing Kun. He peered over the top and pressed play, and Jeno on the screen continued to face the notebook shelves. “Does this look familiar to you?” Dejun skipped back to the shots of the store.

Kun’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s the Reject Shop nearby! I can tell because that squirrel lattice fence has been on display in the centre aisle for a year. Also the Marvin Gaye. No other Reject Shop plays Marvin Gaye on repeat like that, especially in November. It’s normally Buble by now.”

“You’re sure this is our local Reject Shop?” He skipped to shot of the outside of the store earlier, cleverly framed so the store name was hidden.

“Yep, that’s the Target next door. Look at the trolley handles.”

Needless to say, Dejun did not sleep that night.

👂

One of the few things that got Jeno out of the house outside of the bare necessities (work, groceries) was exercise, either in the form of biking (alone) or the gym (alone). Jeno’s gym of choice was the local Snap Fitness 24/7, which he could go to at 1 or 2 in the morning and not run into anyone. Today, though, he was at the gym at a respectable 7pm because he had an unrespectable 8am the next day, and Jeno knew that if he didn’t go today, he wouldn’t go for the rest of the week.

It was at 7pm, just as he was entering the main floor of the gym, that Jeno saw him.

Back arched, arms taut, pulling… Jeno couldn’t tell without his glasses, but pulling a considerable amount on the low row. His sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders and his biceps bulged with the effort each time he pulled. Most impressive: his eyebrows looked heavier than whatever resistance he was working with.

After ten counts, Buff Angry Bird let the v-bar go with a clank, closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

Jeno pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened his camera and took a picture.

Jeno watched him from a distance as he did his stretches on the yoga mats, his warmups on the treadmill and the cardio steps. Mystery man toed that fine line between effortless and actually working up a sweat, made everything he did seem difficult but doable. God, his arms were big.

When Jeno got to the bench, he faced the part of the gym he normally didn’t (towards everyone). The intention was to lift a little more than he normally did in the hope that the hot guy, now on the ellipticals, would look across the room and see Jeno and be impressed. Preferably not so impressed that he would walk across the room and talk to Jeno. Especially since Jeno had taken a picture of him with his phone without his consent.

(He would delete the picture, but he had to show the group chat first. Renjun would be supportive, at the very least.)

The problem was that absolutely no one looked good lifting. Jeno’s half a brain cell had completely forgotten his one cardinal rule at the gym: his arse looked better than his face. Midnight workouts had gotten Jeno used to lifting without a spotter, but he had never gotten used to the prospect of someone seeing his face make the same expression it did when he was taking a particularly stubborn shit.

He had to learn that the hard way.

By the time Jeno was done shitting himself, he looked towards the ellipticals, then did a full scan of the gym. The very hot man was gone, and Jeno had done all of that for nothing.

At least he had a picture.

👂

Dejun curled himself around Bella, leaving a small kiss against the crown of the Beagle’s head. “Hello, my love. I’m safe with you.”

“Relax, dude.” Lucas pat his back; it felt more like a beating. “There are so many people using that shopping centre. What are the odds you’ll run into him and learn his name?”

“I don’t think he uses his real name for YouTube anyway. It sounds fake.”

“See? You’ll never know who he is. He’ll never know who you are. You can live in peace.”

“You never take anything seriously. I’m pretty sure the guy is big on privacy, so I feel weird even knowing he lives in my area.”

“How can you be a vlogger and big on privacy?”

“He’s not a vlogger,” Dejun sighed. Bella turned her head to stare at Dejun, probably because his breath was stinky from beer. “It’s like, an ASMR channel. You just see his hands.”

“An ASMR channel, ey?” Lucas reached his grubby hands between Dejun and Bella’s faces and scratched the puppy under the chin. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. You want another beer?”

“Yes please.”

Dejun let the poor dog go, watched her jump off his lap and run for one of her toys. He leaned back against Lucas’ comfortable, adult recliner and stared up at his clean, uncracked ceiling, a far cry from the apartment they used to share before Lucas moved in with his boyfriend.

Lucas even through the bottle caps in the tiny recycling bin next to the kitchen counter before bringing the beers over. “So Renjun and I are going out for dinner with friends tomorrow, and only one of them can make it because everyone’s schedule sucks. Do you want to come along?”

Dejun frowned. “I don’t mind, but why can’t you just reschedule?”

“It’s too late now. And trying to figure out when everyone is free is a pain in the arse.”

“Fair enough. I’ll come along, but won’t your friend find that weird?”

“Nah, he’ll be right. We’ll warn him ahead of time. Thanks, bro.”

“No worries, dude.”

👂

Jeno was late.

It wasn’t his fault. He was on time; it was the bus that was late. Things would be easier if Jaemin had just let him use his car, but Jaemin was out meeting some girl he met on Tinder – at 7pm, ridiculous – and Jeno was stuck with public transport, which, in his area, was only buses, and buses got stuck in traffic just like every other car on the road. So, at 7:15pm, roughly two minutes after he boarded the bus, he was stuck in traffic.

Typical.

He explained all of this to Renjun in a very long text and asked him to convey his apologies to both Lucas and Lucas’ friend, who Renjun had invited just to keep Jeno company (for nefarious reasons, he was sure) and was going to have to suffer through 10-15 minutes of third wheel syndrome. Renjun and Lucas, to their credit, did try and include other people in their conversations – providing they remembered other people existed.

This is why they didn’t have dinner with others very often.

Jeno twiddled his thumbs over his phone in his seat, trying to decide between playing Pokemon Café Mix and Animal Restaurant when he felt a weight on the seat next to him. Jeno looked up from his phone and to his right, which was a mistake.

“Hi,” said an old man that Jeno had never met before. “Are you too busy being on your phone to have a real conversation?”

Jeno offered the man the nicest smile he could while pulling up his messages with Renjun. ‘GET ME THE FUCK OFF THIS BUS,’ he sent.

It was 7:20 and he was still a good 20 minutes away.

“I do miss when I was younger and everyone would be talking to each other instead of keeping to themselves,” the old man said.

‘PLEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,’ Jeno added.

Jeno finally arrived at the restaurant 20 minutes late (traffic, someone forgot to hit the pedestrian lights, a line of teenagers walking very, very slow). He peaked through the windows of the restaurant to find Renjun and his boyfriend’s big ass shoulders already at their seats. He rushed through the doors and past the ‘Please wait to be seated’ sign, giving one of the waitresses a smile that said “please don’t ask me where I’m going my friend is here and I’m just going to join him I’m not doing anything wrong I promise”.

“Hi,” he breathed, patting Renjun’s boyfriend Lucas on the shoulder and flicking Renjun’s ear. “Sorry I’m a little late. My bus got caught in traffic.”

“Ay, Jeno,” he heard Lucas say as he sat down, and that was when he finally decided to look at the man sitting opposite.

It was him. Sexy Krillin from the gym.

Oh my god, no wonder Renjun was so suss in the group chat after he sent that picture.

Sexy Krillin stared at Jeno like a goldfish for a few seconds before pressing his lips into a polite smile and giving a small wave. “Hi.”

“Jeno, this is Dejun. He’s bailed you out of third-wheeling tonight, so you better be grateful.” Renjun said the last part between gritted teeth, like Jeno wasn’t just supposed to be grateful to Dejun. “Dejun, Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeno told him, painfully polite.

“Likewise,” Dejun replied, equally painful.

Jeno waited two seconds in silence before turning to Renjun with a smile. His friend eyed him warily, then reached for his menu and flipped it open, reading it upside down.

“Shall we order?” Renjun asked.

“Yes!” Lucas piped up. “Mm, I’m hungry. Are you hungry, Dejun? Jeno? I’m hungry.”

Jeno wished he’d never left the house.

👂

Dejun considered moving gyms. He could probably do the one just down the street from him instead of going to the 24-hour gym all the way in the shopping centre. He could live with the more intense trainers over there, he thought; he’s not the scrawny strawman he was when he first started working out. And anyone was better to train with than Lucas was.

But Jeno did say he had a habit of going at odd hours of the morning instead of sometime decent, so Dejun figured he was probably safe. He could continue on about his schedule as usual, as if he’d never met the face (or hands, rather) (the very veiny, sexy hands) behind his all-time favourite ASMR channel and one of the few things he looked forward to in life. He couldn’t even enjoy the previous Friday’s episode because he’d met the (hot) guy just a few days before, but perhaps if he went to this common area he knew he shared with Jeno and didn’t actually meet Jeno, then life could return to normal once again.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Dejun didn’t at all guess the man using the locker a few down from him was Jeno. He couldn’t exactly recognise him from his (muscular) back. The realisation slammed into him, so to speak, when Jeno slammed his locker door shut, looked to his left and met Dejun’s eye.

Fuck.

“Jeno!” Dejun’s lips spread flat over his teeth till they felt like they were about to split down the middle. “Hi, fancy seeing you here! This isn’t your usual time, is it?”

Jeno’s smile was equally fake. “Oh shit, just came in on a whim. I forgot you’d be here too. Funny!”

‘Fucking fuck me,” Dejun thought.

After a few minutes of painful small talk, they went their separate ways. But instead of pretending Jeno wasn’t a real person – that polite Korean man he kept seeing on his laptop screen – Dejun kept thinking about how Jeno was very real (mild mannered; sounded like he grew up in Frankston) and very close, distance wise, and very (very, VERY) hot. His stretch form was near perfect, he barely broke a sweat on the spin cycle, and Dejun didn’t even see his arms shake while lifting and swinging the kettlebells.

Dejun was wrong. Lucas was not the worst person to train with.

They bumped into each other outside the showers, after both of them were nice and clean. Dejun was not close enough to smell him, but he was pretty sure he smelt of fresh laundry. And cats…?

“Heading off?”

“Yeah, I’d better.” Jeno nodded. “I have an assignment due this week. Don’t know when I’ll actually get to sleep. Catch ya later!”

Oh, shit. Dejun may actually, in fact, catch him later. Oh god.

“Oi, Jeno,” Dejun called, causing the other to stop in his tracks. It was clear he wanted to leave quickly, but if Dejun was going to keep seeing him in the gym, or in the shopping centre, or at fucking Reject Shop, god forbid, then he might as well say his piece.

He strode over to where Jeno was waiting. “Sorry if I’ve been awkward or whatever. It’s just that…” He looked around. None of the naked men around was watching them. “…I watch JSMR and I kind of figured out that it was you. I wasn’t sure how to tell you, because I wasn’t sure if it would freak you out or anything.”

“Oh.” Jeno blinked, brows furrowed till they almost met. “Really?”

“Really really.” He didn’t mean to quote Shrek. Hendery’s impact. “I even have notifications on and everything.”

Jeno let out an awkward laugh, sounding like a little “aha!”, and that was how Dejun knew he fucked up.

“God, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Dejun added quickly. “I’m so sorry, I know this is weird –”

“Nah,” Jeno shook his head. “It’s not that. Well, it’s a little bit that because I’m terrified that I might just bump into subscribers on the street, but… jeez. No, I think Renjun and his boyfriend Lucas were trying to set us up.”

“What?”

“I saw you here, two weeks ago.” Jeno reached into the side pocket of his duffel bag and fished out his phone. Dejun waited until Jeno showed him the screen: a picture of himself on the low row.

What.

“I took a picture of you and sent it the group chat I’m in with Renjun, and he fucking knew you the whole time. That bastard.”

“Why did you take a picture of me?”

Jeno laughed that “aha!” laugh again. “I thought you were hot.”

What.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I know it’s weird. But I’d been scrolling through browncardigan on Instagram earlier that day, so it didn’t even occur to me how weird it was to take a picture of a stranger.”

Dejun felt something strange curl up in his belly. “Send me that picture. I’m going to ask Lucas how much he knows.” He pulled out his phone. “Wait, let me give you my number.”

Lucas Wong and Renjun Huang. Those bastards.  

👂

Jeno was not sly. He was not coy or flirtatious unless he was doing it for shits and gigs with a friend. His one relationship had begun before he’d even realised it had begun, and he wasn’t really sure how it ended either. At this point, he didn’t even remember who it was with; he only knew because the group chat swore it happened. It apparently lasted a week. He did remember the sex, which was great.  

He hoped sex with Dejun would also be great, but after a few weeks of talking to him over text, bumping into each other here and there, spotting each other at the gym and giggling stupidly over his YouTube comments, he was hoping the very bold, very confident moves he would make today (with Jaemin’s help and with everyone else’s support) would come across as “you’re cute and I want to date you and remember that I dated you” rather than “if you ask me to be your boyfriend I will say yes and have no recollection of it”.

“I’m starting a new series,” Jeno explained. He hoped Dejun was listening but he understood if he wasn’t, because Jeno’s cats were adorable and very distracting. “I’m kind of running out of ideas. Basically, I get a friend to try making a video every once in a while.”

Dejun was actually listening, bless his beautiful soul. “Oh, nice, that’s a great idea. You can get someone who’s actually clueless about it so you can keep the same tone even as you learn more. Smart.”

“Yeah, and I thought it’d be nice to get someone who’s seen ASMR videos before to do it.”

“Interesting.” One second. Two seconds. Dejun swivelled around, eyes wide, Bongshik in tow. “Me?!”

“Yeah! It’ll be rad! You’ll get to be on the channel you’ve been watching for forever.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the right guy. What about Jaemin?” Dejun turned to Jeno’s flatmate. “You know a lot about this kind of thing, don’t you?”

“He’ll ruin it on purpose,” Jeno said at the same time as Jaemin said “I’ll ruin it on purpose.”

“You’re perfect for this one, Dejunnie,” Jaemin cooed. “Now please, you two go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Jeno gave Jaemin his best death glare (his best death glare was not very good) – Dejun interrupted him with a whistle. “I don’t know how good I’ll be, but alright, I’ll try it. See how we go. What am I doing?”

“Eating.” Jeno wandered over to the kitchen, where the soup Jaemin cooked earlier was sitting. “Jaemin made gukbap.”

“Well heck, you should’ve opened with that. I’d do anything for a free meal.”

It took a while to get Dejun to adjust to eating from a high table with the camera zoomed into his lips, but the trooper managed it nonetheless. It was kind of (very) cute how hard he was trying to be quiet, pouring the soup into spoonfuls of rice as quietly as possible, shoving the pieces of meat all the way into his mouth, eating cubes of radish kimchi straight from the bowl. Dejun kept asking (whispering) if it was alright that he didn’t speak Korean, whether that would make him lose his Korean audience, if Jeno was really, really sure that he wanted Dejun to be the first episode of this series, and other dumb questions like that.

It was fantastic footage. Jeno would have something to work with, even if Dejun didn’t catch on tonight and ask him out. God forbid Jeno had to do the asking himself.

“Jeno, you should walk Dejun to his downstairs!” Jaemin said coquettishly, after they were done packing up. “Just in case he doesn’t know how.”

“Oh, I know the way,” Dejun grinned. “Don’t bother!”

God forbid.

“I insist,” Jeno told him sweetly, putting his arm on the small of Dejun’s bag just as soon as he’d picked up his tote bag. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Besides, you hadn’t finished talking about Justin Bieber,” Jaemin added.

Jeno was never going to ask Jaemin to wingman again. He glared at his flatmate on the way out. Jaemin didn’t flinch, making a donut with one hand and inserting into it one finger, then two, then three, his smile progressively resembling the Grinch’s with every penetration.

Jeno sent a silent prayer to Santa Claus or whoever that Dejun didn’t catch that.

“You did great,” Jeno told Dejun before he could start talking about Justin Bieber. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”

“I have not, I promise. I’m not even a quiet person.” Dejun frowned. “Also my eating face is ugly.”

“It is not! It’s… good. A nice eating face. As in I’m jealous. Lel.”

“Did you just say ‘lel’ out loud?”

“Subtle Asian Traits made me who I am today.”  

Dejun barked out a laugh. It was a good laugh. “Are you free for the rest of the evening?”

Technically, Jeno had a lot to do. It was nearing the end of his semester and he had exams to study for. Not to mention that big, all-important NAATI test that he’d spent all year preparing for that would ensure he had a job next year.

But Jeno was a bit of a slut, so he leaned forward on the balls of his feet and said, “Nope.”

“Wanna go get drinks later?”

“Only if it’s a date.” Oh, if Donghyuck could see him now.

Dejun’s eyes widened a little, then his lips disappeared into his mouth. “I definitely totally had a date in mind.” Dejun unlocked his car and opened the passenger side door for Jeno. “But if we’re carrying on after drinks, I think we should come back to yours. My housemate has his boyfriend staying at ours tonight.”

Jeno threw his head back and laughed. “Trust me, nothing would make me happier than kicking Jaemin out of the house.”

👂

“Before we continue, I have to ask: is Jeno your real name? Because when I googled ‘jeno name meaning’, it said your name was Greek. Okay, judging by your expression, I’m guessing it is your real name and that you’ve been asked this before. Shit, I’m so sorry. Can we go back to making out? My mouth will be more useful that way.”  

Notes:

Twitter || Retrospring