Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a short shopping trip.
He wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place, but the Nirvana shirt hanging in the window caught his eye, and now Felix is on his knees in the middle of Hot Topic digging through the clearance bin, while a guy with about twenty different piercings watches to make sure he doesn't slip anything into his pockets. Which he doesn't understand why, because hey, it was just that one time that he maybe didn't pay for a pop socket.
The clearance bin proves fruitless, as if the anime cosplays lying on top of it weren't enough of a warning.
(Listen, he likes anime—Dressing up as the characters though? That's a hobby he'd prefer to leave to others.)
Even though he's wasted more than enough time here and is definitely running late, he still wants to look around. Leaving empty-handed would feel weird. And maybe suspicious, if the employee's hardened glare is anything to go by. He stands up, dusting the dirt and glitter off his jeans (likely from the group of sequined scene kids that were here before him), and walks over to the skirts on display.
The selection fluctuates in stock available, as there are entire stacks of plain black ones, while others are only in piles of two or three. A testament to the crowd rush from earlier that afternoon. (And probably a testament to the aforementioned scene kids, as the neon and bright colored skirts tend to have the least in stock.)
The skirt that Felix sets his eyes on isn't in a pile at all. It's flung almost carelessly to the side, half buried under a solid red lace one. He digs it out revealing a short black and white skirt, in a plaid pattern that comes to about mid-thigh on him. His fingers are just barely skimming across the fabric when there's another hand on top of his. "Hey—"
The hand freezes, and Felix is forced to look up at his owner. Up being the key word, because he's tall. He's got a few inches on Felix. It's hard to see much of his face, with mussed blue hair covering the top half and a black mask covering the bottom half. What he can make out though, are two round brown eyes staring at him. The eyebrows raise slightly, as if he knows Felix is checking him out. His jeans are slashed to hell and back, revealing fishnet leggings under them. They're topped off with a ridiculously oversized red and black striped shirt. When Felix's gaze lands on his feet, he finally sees why he's so tall—his shoes are platform boots, what he guesses to be two or three inches in addition to the heel.
"Wow, you look really—"
"Hot?"
The words spilled out of Felix's mouth before he even knew they were there and now he can't take them back. And he can't take back what the guy has said either, nor the blush spiking across his own face in response to it, because he isn't wrong.
"Nice," Felix says faintly. He doesn't sound very sure of himself, so he repeats himself. "You look really nice."
If by nice, Felix means that he would happily let this guy crush him under a single platform boot, then yeah, he is the nicest looking person Felix has ever seen in his fucking life.
"Thanks." He looks Felix over now too, though it's hard to judge his conclusion from behind a mask. "I'm Jisung."
"Felix."
"Where's your accent from—Is that an accent or am I just—?" Jisung is peering at him intently now and Felix has to fight the urge to pull away from the eye contact.
"Australia." He says it before Jisung has even finished asking the question. He's too used to being asked it by near every stranger he comes across.
"Oh—Cool." Jisung's hand has fallen away from the skirt, now stuffed inside the pocket of his jeans. "I always wanted to visit Australia."
"You're not missing much."
Liar, is what Felix really wants to say. No one ever says they want to visit Australia until it's where he's from, and then suddenly it's the most interesting place in the world. Jisung looks like a spoiled rich kid who's never been anywhere in his life. His platforms alone are probably worth more than Felix's entire outfit.
"I uh—I actually just got back from studying in Malaysia a few weeks ago."
"Huh?"
Felix's train of thought is such a diverge from reality, that it takes him a moment to pull himself back into the conversation.
"I studied in Malaysia for a few years. I like traveling. There's something about meeting new people and seeing new places, that's just really like, cool, you know? Well, cool is probably a shitty word choice because it's so much more than that, but you get it. Right?"
Felix gets it. He also gets that Jisung indirectly said meeting him is cool, so he now has that to cling onto to fuel the daydream playing out in his mind right now.
Jisung barrels on. "Yeah so—It's kinda weird being back in Korea, to be honest."
"Mm," Felix hums, nodding even though he can barely hear Jisung, too fixated on the way the striped shirt dips down to reveal his collarbone.
"When did you move from Australia?"
The question resonates somewhere in Felix's mind, just to be drowned under a rush of waves over the way Jisung is looking at him.
"Felix?"
He snaps back to attention at the sound of Jisung calling his name. "Yeah?" He says, not giving himself any time to dwell on the way Jisung says his name, with the inflection just right and the way the word jerks up at the end, less like he's asking a question and more like he just isn't sure of Felix's name.
Okay, that was a lie, he's dwelling on it.
"When did you move here?" Jisung repeats.
"A few years ago." He's still looking at Felix though, like he's waiting for something more, so he clarifies: "Right before high school. So that would've been—" He squints. "Six years ago."
"Little more than a few years ago," Jisung comments. He looks up suddenly. "Wait, how old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Me too—Hey when's your birthday?"
By now, Felix is probably verging into the type of information he shouldn't be giving out to strangers. Well at least internet strangers. Strangers in real life require an entirely different rule-book—Like, in theory, wouldn't it be safer to give this information to some kid halfway across the Earth? Who has very little chance of ever coming to Korea? Rather than a guy in a mall not too far from his place, who could easily enough follow him home?
Jisung doesn't look like the type to follow him home though, not even if Felix asked him to.
"September 15th."
"Wait—You're kidding me."
Raising an eyebrow, Felix shakes his head. What kind of audacity does this guy have to accuse him of lying about his own birthday?
"Mine is September 14th."
His breath catches in his throat. "Oh."
"I'm only a day older than you!"
Encouraged by this new information, Jisung reaches forward to intertwine his fingers with Felix's. His grip is loose and messy, only made messier by the way he starts swinging their hands back and forth. In between swings, Felix can see chipped black polish on Jisung's nails that he didn't notice before. He laughs, watching it like a pendulum.
It's mesmerizing, not only because it's Jisung and it's really the most physical touch Felix has received in weeks, but because of how Jisung does it, light, like it's a natural reflex. His eyes, which are still really the only visible feature that Felix can judge his mood based off, seem relaxed, creased at the edges. He gets the sense that the awkwardness of meeting a stranger has already worn off, that Jisung feels comfortable around him.
He wishes he could say the same for himself but the awkwardness still wraps around him, so tight he can barely breathe without wondering what the rising and falling of his chest looks like to Jisung.
Jisung's movement slows until they're not moving at all, just holding hands in the middle of the store for anyone to see. And the store is far from empty, so people must see. "So since I'm older, I get the skirt." With his unoccupied hand, Jisung snatches the article off the shelf.
"Hey—"
"Were you gonna take this?" His hand drops away from Felix's, replacing itself in his pocket.
Felix's brain gets the memo a bit too late, and for at least a solid minute, his hand is still up in the air, gripping nothing. It's not until he finally drops it, that his brain gets the other memo as well—Jisung's question. "Did you want it?"
(Yeah, no shit Jisung wants the skirt. If he didn't, Felix wouldn't even be talking to him.)
"Yeah. Is this really all they have here?" Jisung laughs then, and it's such a startling noise that all Felix can do is look at him wide-eyed.
He does laugh, eventually, but it's long after Jisung's gone quiet so it just comes out exactly how he feels—Empty, and alone. To cover up whatever the fuck kind of noise that was, he forces himself to start talking. "I guess. You could see if there's more in the back, maybe?"
Jisung winces. "I don't really feel like talking to people."
"You're talking to me."
Felix doesn't mean it to be funny, but Jisung still laughs.
"People I don't know, I mean."
"Again, you're talking to me." If Felix isn't a deterrent, then he doesn't understand why a store employee would be.
"Yeah, okay, you've got a pretty good point, I guess. Still." His arms cross over his chest. "Whenever I ask them that, they usually don't, and then I feel like an asshole for asking, because I just made them do something useless."
"Okay, you've got a good point too." Felix sets his lips into a firm line, gazing wistfully at the skirt in Jisung's arms.
He doesn't even know why he's fighting it so hard. But as long as he's fighting for it, he's talking to Jisung, and Jisung is right here with him, and he thinks that he would like to cling on to this moment for as long as possible. Even when it runs the risk of him looking like an petty asshole.
Especially when it runs the risk of him looking like a petty asshole, because Jisung doesn't seem to mind this fight one bit, and if Felix wasn't mistaken, he would think that Jisung is enjoying this just as much as he is.
Jisung hums as he pulls out a phone, checking something. While he's distracted, Felix peers at the black bag hanging off his shoulder. There's several pins on it, but he can't quite make the words out. He takes a half step to the right and is able to read one of them before Jisung adjusts it out of his sight.
Kinda gay
Well Felix is kinda gay too, so that works out a lot better than he ever could've hoped.
(Well it's kinda a little more than kinda, he's been sure of his sexuality since middle school, and he knows that he does not like girls.)
He finds that Jisung is staring at him and glances back up.
"What?" Jisung asks.
"Nothing." Felix bites his tongue, wondering if he should ask about the pins. Might as well, as it's a good conversation topic, and he wants Jisung to know they're in the same boat, right? Er, playing for the same team? Is that the right phrase? He doesn't get a chance to though, because Jisung is already talking over him.
"What were we talking about?—Oh yeah, good points. We both have good points. That and the birthday thing. That's like, some soulmate type of shit."
Felix snorts, moving the conversation along before his mind starts fixating on the soulmate part. "So we're not asking them to look in the back?"
"Nope. Are you a size medium?" Jisung asks, noting the M tag.
"Yeah. Are you?"
"Yeah." Jisung kicks at the ground. "Shit."
There's a certain finality to the "Shit", because if there's nothing stopping either of them from having it, one of them is going to have to give it up. Felix knows it isn't going to be him, not because he's selfish, not in that way, not for the skirt, but because he's selfish in the way that he wants Jisung, he doesn't want the conversation to end, even if it means they're going to be standing here for the rest of the night.
Jisung's mouth starts to open, or at least Felix thinks it does, because the goddamned mask is still in the way, but he can hear an intake of breath and Jisung's eyes narrow like he's just thought of something, so before he can get a single syllable out of his mouth, Felix speaks up, using the pins as a last ditch effort for conversation:
"I'm gay too."
Of course, his mouth conveniently forgets to leave out the context to that sentence, so he's stuck with a wide-eyed Jisung staring at him. A very wide-eyed Jisung, and if Felix hadn't already been drowning in his eyes, he would be now.
Actually, he drowns a little more.
It's really fucking homophobic that falling in love doesn't have life rafts.
"Huh?" Jisung finally gets out.
He doesn't look angry or even upset at Felix's statement, so he gets the hint that he must be pretty open about his sexuality. He must be, if he has the pin on his bag, for anyone around him to see. No, his look is mostly of confusion, and he can tell by Jisung's rapid blinking that he's trying to process this.
Felix should speak again, to clarify, but he's still drowning and it's a little hard to talk when he can feel the water rushing against his skin, the salt stinging against his neck, so he opts to just stare back at Jisung, leaving him to decipher whatever the fuck is going on.
"I don't—" Jisung says again. "What?"
Or maybe Felix just made a big fucking mistake, and the pin on Jisung's bag says nothing of the sort.
Felix forces himself to speak against the river of emotions that he's still swimming in. "Your pin. I mean—On your bag. I noticed it earlier."
He can see the light bulb click on in Jisung's mind.
"Oh—"
He swallows, and suddenly it's like the sheen of awkwardness has fallen back over him. His fingers tense, clutch on the skirt deepening more with every breath he takes. And just like that, Felix slips out of whatever trance Jisung's eyes have held over them, because suddenly they're muddy and unreadable. Unfocused, and they're looking at everything other Felix.
He starts to get that the hint that maybe he's fucked up, but he still doesn't quite get why.
When Jisung still doesn't say anything else, and there's a definitive silence that's more deafening than hollowing, Felix makes one last attempt to keep Jisung talking to him. Last, because no matter whatever other ideas pop into his brain, they're not going to be able to follow this one.
"You can have the skirt."
It doesn't have the desired effect—Though what that is, Felix isn't sure. It's definitely not Jisung absently sighing and straightening his shoulders, gaze still somewhere between Felix and the wall of t-shirts behind him. "Oh," He says again, but he sounds a little less wary than the first "Oh" sounded, which is an improvement.
"I can—I can come back some other time. See if they get more in stock. It's fine."
It's not fine, nothing about this is, because Jisung is completely unengaged and Felix is starting to wonder if he just imagined the previous conversation between them. So he doesn't know why he keeps talking. But he feels like he has to.
"Um," He starts, fumbling for more to say, something, anything, that will draw a response out of Jisung.
And that "Um" turns out to be just enough, because then Jisung is talking, and it's a lot more words than Felix expected.
"You can have it actually. You should take it. Trust me, you'd look, like, really good in it. Trust me. It's yours now." He shoves the skirt towards Felix's chest, Felix just barely catching the hanger of it with his pinky finger. He still hasn't quite met Felix's eyes but his own seem slightly clearer.
It's Felix's turn to be at a loss for words. "Oh."
"Take it."
"Are you sure?" He squeaks out, and that's what makes Jisung finally look at him.
And thus, what makes him start drowning again.
"Yeah. I'm sure. I'm like, really sure. You'll probably look much better than I would."
"That's—That's probably a lie," Felix mumbles. There's that blush on his face again, splashed in between and all around the freckles on his cheeks, lighting up his whole face. It doesn't seem to deter Jisung though, as he leans even closer. He must have shaken off whatever happened when Felix brought up him being gay. Maybe it was actually a good thing Felix did, because now he just seems to be acting gayer.
Good in the sense that Jisung being comfortable enough to express himself in front of Felix is good. Not good in the sense that Felix is about to drop dead on the floor.
"Prove it then."
Yeah, he's definitely dead on the floor. Or he would be, if he had any idea of what the fuck Jisung is talking about. He doesn't, and it reflects in the way he pulls back from Jisung, mouth twisted, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"Huh?"
"Prove that you don't look good in it."
Not much of an explanation, as it still leaves Felix with several unanswered questions.
"How?"
Jisung shrugs, proving he hadn't thought this out as thoroughly as Felix would have assumed. It's nice, really, to see a little lapse in control from him. "You have a phone, right?"
Felix pats his left jean pocket, nodding.
Jisung jerks his hand out expectantly. "Give me it."
When the phone is in Jisung's hand (because of course Felix hands it over), it doesn't take him long to find Felix's contacts. He inserts himself, as Felix sees when the phone is back in his possession. He even adds a smiley face to his contact name, something that makes Felix smile too.
"There. Now you have my number. You can text me."
"Text you? Like, about the skirt?" Felix still hasn't fully grasped exactly why he now has Jisung's number.
"I mean. . . Yeah? That was the general idea. It's kind of stupid though." Jisung shrugs again and then his gaze is skittering back off into the background. "Or you can text me about anything else. It's not like I have a ton of people blowing up my phone. I don't mind."
"Okay," Felix says, even though he still doesn't quite get it. It hasn't sunk in yet, not really, and he doesn't think it will until long after he gets home. "So I get the skirt?" He asks again, just to make sure.
"Yeah." Jisung grins then, kind of sheepishly, like he's embarrassed to have given it up, but at the same time, not too mad about it. " I guess we can pay for this now. Or—Or you should. Since it's yours. Unless you don't have the money, I can help—"
"It's okay. I got it."
And he does. He fishes his wallet out of his pocket as he walks over to the register and is surprised to find Jisung following behind him. He doesn't say anything, simply watches Felix pay for it. He might be smiling, and even if his lips aren't, Felix can tell that his eyes are.
Jisung stays quiet, though he walks with Felix out of the store. His hand is clutched protectively over the strap on his shoulder, and Felix notes that he keeps his bag on the side that isn't facing Felix. Something he still doesn't quite get, because what's the point of being self-conscious over the pin if you're going to leave it visible, but he doesn't say a word either.
Jessing finally does though. "I was going to meet my friends upstairs at Cinnabon." As if it just occurred to him, he reluctantly adds, "You could come, if you—"
"I have to get home," Felix says, before the invitation has even processed in his mind. When it does, he hates himself for it, but knows he needs to be home anyway.
"Oh, it's cool. See you." He waves at Felix before getting on the escalator nearby and Felix realizes that he didn't notice Jisung walking away from him. He moved too quickly.
He moves too quickly, in present tense, because in the blink of an eye Jisung is already off the escalator and out of sight.
"Excuse me."
The voice behind him is loud and raspy, startling Felix enough to make him jump at least three feet in the air. Back on the ground, he turns to face a woman at least twice his size, with about five kids behind her.
"You're blocking the entrance."
Felix's hands are shaking the whole way home.
Really he doesn't know what he's more terrified of—The prospect of texting Jisung, the ability to now that he has his phone number, or his roommates' disapproval when he arrives home with a noticeable lack of groceries. Which is what he was supposed to be buying, instead of stopping by the mall. It's getting late though, the sky already turning to an creamy orange shade with pink highlights, the sun a flat white circle in the center. He doesn't want to worry them, although maybe that's better than them being upset with him.
He's already halfway up the stairs to his apartment though, in a small complex that's at least several decades behind on modern technology, or at least that's what their lack of elevators says. Inside, he heads straight to his room. He flings the skirt onto his bed, which is nothing but a flimsy wooden frame holding a mattress and a few stray blankets. The skirt just gets lost in the piles in fabric, and he promises to dig it out later.
Minho is found in their tiny kitchen, barely enough room for both of them to squeeze in. Felix does anyway though, leaving them shoulder to shoulder.
"Dinner?"
It's more of a statement than a question, as he's already pulling open their fridge, and Minho's only response is a grunt.
He shifts so that Felix can see what he's hunched over on the counter for—a glass bowl filled with some kind of orange sauce, various bottles and condiments surrounding him. Plus, an array of measuring cups and spoons.
"What is it?" Felix leans forward to get a whiff. The scent crackles in his nose and he recoils. "Spicy."
"I'm trying to make hot sauce."
Felix checks the bottles on the counter again.
"Out of hot sauce?"
Minho flushes then, the tip of his ears and nose turning pinkish. "Yeah. Don't ask."
"So how's it going?"
"Tastes like shit."
Felix pulls a box out of the freezer. "That's what I figured. Frozen pizza tonight?"
"Yeah."
Both of them are startled by the third voice, although not for long because they then notice the lithe shadow in the doorway, peering at them. Hyunjin.
"I'll make it," He says, taking the box from Felix, and neither of them stop him, or even bother to point out that turning an oven on and putting a tray in it are pretty far from "making" something. The kitchen, now with three people in it, is definitely too crowded, and Felix moves into the nearby dining room, close enough that he can still hold a conversation with them as Hyunjin readies the pizza and Minho cleans up his "project".
They haven't asked where the groceries are, even despite the glaring reminder still written on their calendar for the week.
GROCERIES — FELIX
Then again, the only time any of them really take a look at it is in the morning, in preparation for the day, so Felix probably has at least twelve more hours before they take notice. Twelve more hours that he intends to enjoy before he's woken up with a crass Minho shaking his shoulders, telling him that if he wants any kind of breakfast he's going to have to walk to the corner mart and get it his damn self.
Before then, he's going to enjoy his pizza, which probably the last edible thing in their kitchen.