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Jaemin doesn't go to parties. Spending hours dancing in the midst of sweaty bodies while chugging questionable liquids out of plastic red cups just isn’t appealing to him. Especially not on a Saturday night.
Saturday nights are reserved for lounging in comfortable pajama pants and eating cereal out of the box while watching whatever slice-of-life drama is streaming for the day. Not partying.
It’s 9:00 PM which means it’s time to curl up on his bed with his choice of cereal for the night. The television should be on, waiting for him to tune-in for his usual Saturday movie night. But instead, he is squished between three other guys in the backseat of a car on its way to a frat house off-campus.
One of the three guys in the backseat with him is his best friend, Jisung. The one responsible for ruining his weekend plans by dragging him out to party tonight.
“We’re almost there, look alive!” Jisung yells at him, having to raise his voice to be heard over the car radio.
Jaemin isn’t familiar with the two guys sandwiched between them in the car, nor is he familiar with the guys in the front seats. They’re all Jisung’s friends. Underclassmen.
Jaemin doesn’t want to “look alive” . He doesn’t even try to look thrilled, wearing his displeasure clearly on his face.
They haven’t even made it to the party and he already wants to go home. He yearns for the comfort of his small dorm room.
As they get closer to the party’s location, everyone in the car becomes hyper with excitement — everyone but Jaemin. All Jaemin can think about is how much he’d rather be dressed comfortably in the new pajama set he bought a few days ago opposed to the ripped jeans and graphic sweatshirt he’s currently sporting.
The frat house comes fully into view as the car parks on the roadside along with a multitude of other cars — the driveway too packed. Everyone piles out of the car, Jaemin sliding out last.
“We’re finally here!” Jisung slings an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards the house excitedly.
“Hurray,” Jaemin deadpans in response, being sure to use the most unenthusiastic tone he can muster.
Jisung elbows him in the rib cage for that.
“Lighten up, you’ll have fun,” Jisung insists, “trust me.”
Jaemin levels his best friend with an unconvinced stare because the words “trust me” never lead to anything good when coming from Jisung.
Jisung just smiles at him as they enter the party. It’s loud. Music blares from speakers stationed in different corners of the house and they have to weave through multiple bodies to get out of the entryway.
“Isn’t this party sick?!” Jisung screams at him over the music.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Sounds like you need a drink,” Jisung waves towards a guy carrying a tray of plastic cups and shot glasses, grabbing two and passing one to him.
Jaemin stares down into the cup the way a young child would look at vegetables. Grossed out . The liquid is a purplish-blue in color and smells sickeningly sweet.
“Drink up,” Jisung encourages, chugging his own as he waits for Jaemin to follow suit.
Jaemin downs the contents of the cup in four dreadfully slow gulps. His stomach does a little turn when he finishes. Alcohol isn’t really something he favors, but he figures he might as well try to fit into the party scene since he’s already here.
Jisung drags him into the crowd of dancing bodies and pushes another cup into his hand. The liquid in this one is orangey in color and smells tropical. Jisung is saying something to him but the music is too loud to hear what it is.
They drink some more before dancing. Jaemin isn’t even sure what they’re doing counts as dancing and after taking a few shots — he’s not even sure if he’s actually moving on his own or just being pushed rhythmically by the dancing bodies surrounding them.
The music seems to get louder — if possible — drowning out everything else and immersing Jaemin in a world where only EDM music and color-changing party lights exist. Jisung holds onto him as they dance to the music — or maybe he’s holding onto Jisung — he’s not really sure.
“Are you having fun yet?”
Jisung’s lips are right against his ear as he yells and it makes Jaemin laugh as he gets close to his best friend’s ear to tell back.
“Maybe a little!”
Jaemin can feel Jisung’s laugh vibrate through him as they remain in a hugged-dancing position.
Jisung is like a magician here, making cups of alcohol appear between them out of seemingly thin air. Jaemin doesn’t even see the trays Jisung is grabbing them from, but he’s not going to bother asking — content with believing Jisung is just magical.
All the drinks are colorful and make Jaemin feel like letting loose and partying even more. The frown he walked in with is long gone — now replaced with a drunken grin as he becomes one of the sweaty, dancing bodies he originally dreaded being surrounded by.
Time isn’t real anymore. Not here at least. Jaemin isn’t sure if it’s been two hours or twenty minutes, but when he opens his eyes — that he closed to feel the music more — he realizes Jisung has slipped away.
Jaemin isn’t sure where his best friend could have gone. He could be anywhere. The party is far too big and the chances of Jaemin finding Jisung seems impossible, so he opts to just stay in his spot and keep dancing with the hope that Jisung will find his way back to him later.
The air gets hotter as more people crowd into the party, swaying and jumping to the bear in close proximity. The fun, colorful alcohol he downed decides to make itself known again in the form of a stomach ache. Dancing isn’t mixing well with his sudden queasiness, so he stops his movement, but continues to get pushed around by the dancing bodies pressing in all around him.
The room is too hot and he feels dizzy, on the brink of either passing out or throwing up. Maybe both. He mentally kicks himself for drinking so much without having any water in between.
“Jaemin, is that you?”
Jaemin feels someone press in close to his side and furrows his brows in confusion. The voice is too deep to belong to Jisung.
When he is able to fully turn around and locate the source of the voice, his expression switches to relief. He recognizes that dorky grin.
“Hey Mark, I hoped I’d see you here.”
Mark is an upperclassman. He is also the only frat boy Jaemin knows on this campus. They met through the school’s animal rescue club that gets together to volunteer at local animal shelters every other Thursday. It would be safe to say they are friends.
“I would have greeted you if I knew you were coming,” Mark is speaking directly into his ear to be heard over the deafening music.
“I didn’t even know I was coming until today.”
Mark laughs at that. It’s a nice laugh, almost comforting in a way. Not comforting enough to take Jaemin’s mind off the nausea he’s feeling.
A dizzy wave hits him and Jaemin is positive he’s about to puke, so he does his best to weave through dancing bodies to find somewhere to empty his stomach in peace. He’s not even sure where he’s going, but decides he’s satisfied when he finds the kitchen.
He gets over the kitchen trash can just in time, puking up about half of the alcohol he downed upon arrival. The feeling of a hand rubbing his back surprises him and he sits up from the trash can looking confused to see Mark there.
Mark had apparently followed him to the kitchen, worried about him. Jaemin would feel soft at the thought if it wasn't for the fact that he feels like death . The fun effects of the colorful alcohol have worn off and now he just feels drunk and gross.
“You don’t look too good, Jaemin. Do you want to lie down for a little?”
Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to nod at that. He wants nothing more than to lay down somewhere. The cold kitchen floor was beginning to look like a nice option before Mark began guiding him towards a staircase with an arm around him.
Halfway up the stairs, someone runs up to Mark, shouting something at him urgently. Jaemin doesn’t process what’s happening exactly, but Mark points up the stairs and says something about making a turn to find his room — giving Jaemin permission to go lay down there. Mark gets dragged away after that, leaving Jaemin to make it up the rest of the stairs by himself.
By the time Jaemin reaches the top of the stairs, he feels ready to collapse where he stands. He thinks back to Mark’s directions, but the music was so loud and Jaemin’s mind was so muddled that he can hardly remember what was said before Mark was dragged off.
Jaemin vaguely remembers Mark saying to take a turn upstairs. Which way? Jaemin isn’t 100% sure, but he’s relieved to find that he’s figured it out when he reaches a door.
It’s dark inside, and Jaemin clumsily tumbles through the dark, trying to feel around for the bed. When his hands finally find a bed, he pushes down with his fingers to confirm that it is indeed a mattress there before toeing off his shoes and socks.
It’s too hot to be in long sleeves, so he removes his sweatshirt too, dropping it to the floor with his shoes, leaving him in the white t-shirt he had on underneath. He can still hear the music from downstairs, but it’s more like a muffled beating sound from upstairs in this room.
Jaemin feels up the bed for the edge of the blankets before pulling them back and laying himself down, letting the cool covers fall over him. There’s cold sheets under him, soothing the heated skin of his arms and legs through the tips of his jeans. The pillow feels deliciously cold under his face and the relief he feels is enough to make his eyelids heavy.
He figures he’ll just get a nap in until Mark comes up to get him, and then he can tell Jisung he’s ready to go.
The air of the room smells like lavender essential oil — calming . Jaemin feels comfortable and safe in this spot, so he allows himself to drift into sleep easily.
╳
At some point in the night — or maybe early in the morning, Jaemin isn’t really sure — it gets cold . He finds himself snuggling into what he can only guess is a wall of pillows arranged perfectly to cuddle against.
It’s a few hours later that Jaemin realizes that the pillows he’s snuggling against aren’t pillows at all, but rather a person . A person’s chest, to be exact. A steady rise and fall accompanied by a soft beating sound is what gives it away.
Jaemin almost panics at the realization that someone else is in his bed with him before he remembers that he isn’t in his bed. He isn’t even in his own room. From what his half asleep — half drunken mind can piece together, he remembers that he is in Mark’s room. That is enough to allow him to settle back down into sleep, the dark room reminding him that it’s still late.
He’s never even hugged Mark, much less cuddled with him, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it. The body he is snuggled against is warm and smells good — really good . It’s comforting. Jaemin sleeps soundly after that.
His mind swims with odd dreams that make no sense — surreal images with no meaning swirling behind his heavy eyelids. The party from downstairs serves as a muffled soundtrack to his dreams before it fades out slowly, switching his dreams to quiet and peaceful.
He is surrounded by warmth — not like the heat that rolled off the bodies around him on the dance floor — more like an embrace. It’s too warm to be the blankets, but it is the perfect amount of warmth to stop his shivering — so he welcomes it — snuggling in closer to the source.
The smell of lavender and something fresh fills his senses — something like a light soap. The scent screams “fresh out the shower” and it soothes Jaemin as he sleeps.
His relaxed slumber comes to an end earlier than he would have liked. There’s light coaxing his eyelids open, he needs to pee, his head is pounding, and there’s a horrible taste in his mouth. Jaemin feels terrible.
When he manages to pry his eyes open, he realizes just how close he is to Mark and quickly sits up to apologize about the awkward position before stopping short. All words die in his throat as he stares at the male whose chest he just had his face buried in.
That’s not Mark.
Jaemin freezes. The stranger is awake and staring at him. A stranger — Not Mark — A complete stranger.
“Good morning,” the stranger speaks casually, not giving any explanation about who he is or why he’s in Mark’s bed with him.
“Who— What— How— ” Jaemin splutters, “Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”
The stranger raises an eyebrow at him.
“That’s what I should be asking you.”
“What do you mean?” Jaemin gives him a pointed look of confusion.
“Well,” The stranger starts, sitting up, “You’re the one that barged into my bedroom and passed out in my bed without any introduction.”
Jaemin looks at the stranger as if he has grown two heads because that can’t be right.
“No, this is Mark’s room.”
“Wrong. Mark’s room is down the hall.”
“Then who’s room is this?!”
“I just told you, it’s mine .” The stranger makes a gesture with his hand as if to emphasize his point, “not yours. Not Mark’s. Mine .”
Jaemin goes quiet. His head hurts too much to try and make sense of anything, but he recalls stumbling confusedly up the stairs. He can feel a loading symbol appear over his head as he finally pieces the situation together.
He crashed in the wrong room.
He never made it to Mark’s room. And it wasn’t Mark who he snuggled with through the night. It was this stranger. This very handsome — oddly calm about a rando being in his bed — stranger.
“Why didn’t you kick me out?”
The stranger shrugs.
“You looked like you needed a rest.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
The stranger shrugs again, “This is a frat house, I am used to finding random strangers passed out around the house after a party,” he stretches before continuing, “besides, I figured you would show yourself out at some point in the night.”
Jaemin doesn’t understand how this stranger is so chill about this. He’d be terrified and flip out if he found a stranger in his bed.
Jaemin’s full bladder makes itself known again and he takes the opportunity as an excuse to disappear out of embarrassment.
“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Two doors to the left.”
Jaemin slides out of the bed and hurries out of the room as quickly as his half-asleep legs will carry him. After locking the bathroom door behind himself and emptying his bladder, he faces the mirror and an entirely new wave of embarrassment hits him.
He looks awful. He’s got a horrible case of bed head, his eyes are rimmed red, and he definitely radiates “I got wasted at a party and crashed hard” energy.
He spots mouthwash on the counter and utilizes a cap-full to rid of the horrid taste in his mouth. After splashing his face with cold water and patting his skin dry with his shirt, he washes his hands and steps back out into the hall.
“Jaemin!” Mark waves to get his attention from down the hall, walking towards him, “You’re still here? I got a little worried when I went up to check on you last night and didn’t find you in my room.”
Jaemin rubs at the back of his neck and laughs awkwardly at that, “yeah I um… apparently I got the wrong room.”
Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at that.
“Oh? Whose room did you end up in?”
Jaemin shrugs at that because he still doesn’t know who the stranger is, but he points in the direction of the bedroom he woke up in.
“Oh, Renjun. Well that’s a relief, he’s great at looking after people. Glad you were in good hands.”
Renjun, huh? Jaemin mentally takes note of the stranger’s name.
“I was a little startled, I didn’t realize I didn’t have the right room until I woke up.”
Mark gives him an apologetic look, “my instructions probably weren’t the clearest last night, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m just glad I made it into a room at all,” as Jaemin says this, he glances to where a stranger is passed out in the hallway.
Mark follows his eyes and sighs. “Clean-up after parties is never easy. I should go take care of that.”
Jaemin let’s him go and heads back to the stranger’s — Renjun’s — room. Renjun isn’t in the bed anymore, though. He isn’t anywhere in the room at all.
Jaemin finds his sweatshirt and shoes in the spot where he shed them last night and sits down on the floor to pull his sneakers back on. Halfway through folding his sweatshirt, Renjun re-enters the room and holds a plate out to him — to his surprise.
“Figured you might be hungover,” Renjun hands him a plate of toast, followed by a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water.
Jaemin gratefully accepts it, downing half of the glass of water first, feeling parched. He eats the toast faster than he’s ever eaten anything in his life — feeling like he hasn’t eaten in days suddenly.
He takes two of the painkillers with the rest of the water and sighs in relief at the way his nausea subsides slightly.
“Thanks… Renjun.”
When the other male gives him a questioning look — probably wondering how Jaemin knows his name — he hurries to clarify, “Mark told me your name.”
Renjun hums.
“Guess that just leaves your introduction then.”
Jaemin internally facepalms, wondering how he could have forgotten to introduce himself.
“I’m Jaemin.” He doesn’t know what else to say, so he expresses gratitude again. “Thanks for the breakfast… and painkillers… and for not kicking me out.”
Renjun waves off the thanks as he collects the empty plate and cup from Jaemin’s hands.
“It’s no problem. Nice to meet you, Jaemin. Do you stay off-campus too?”
Jaemin shakes his head, following Renjun out of the bedroom as he descends the stairs to put the used dishes in the kitchen.
“I stay on campus in the dorm buildings.”
Renjun hums at that, putting the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Do you need a ride?”
“Um…” Jaemin pulls his phone from his pocket and sees that he has no notifications from Jisung meaning his best friend is probably passed out somewhere and unavailable to get him a ride. “Yes, please.”
╳
Renjun’s car is nice. It’s a white Toyota Camry with purple seat covers on the inside. It smells like lavender inside, just like Renjun's bedroom. There’s one of those solar-powered lucky cats suctioned to the dashboard, paw waving up and down at him as Renjun drives.
The ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing morning jazz. It’s peaceful. Renjun’s vibe overall is comforting and peaceful — Jaemin mentally notes.
It’s only about a ten minute commute back to campus from the frat house. Jaemin finds himself almost disappointed when they pull up in front of the dorm building. He’s not sure why, but he isn’t completely ready to leave.
He lingers in the passenger seat for a while after Renjun parks, thinking of something — anything — to say.
“Thanks for the ride and everything in general,” Jaemin chews at his lip before continuing, “Is there any way I can re-pay you?”
Renjun shakes his head.
“You don’t need to re-pay me.”
“I insist. I’ll feel bad if I can’t make it up to you in some way. Do you like coffee? I can treat you to a drink sometime.”
Renjun eyes him with an expression akin to amusement.
“I don’t care for coffee much.”
Jaemin feels his stomach sink.
“However,” Renjun continues and Jaemin perks back up, “I do like tea. I guess you can treat me to a tea from the campus café if you really insist on doing something for me.”
Jaemin nods — hopefully not too eagerly — at the proposal.
“I can do that!” Jaemin clears his throat, taking it down a notch, “I mean that works. When are you free?”
“How about I give you my number and get back to you when I have a day in mind?”
Jaemin nods — definitely too eagerly — and hurries to get his phone out of his pocket. He types Renjun’s number into his phone and adds him to his contacts, pressing the gold star icon beside his number to mark the contact as a favorite.
Now feeling content, Jaemin steps out of Renjun’s car and waves goodbye to him, watching his car disappear into the distance before using his school ID to get into the dorm building. There’s a few students in the residence lounge area — most likely having a cram study group if the piles of textbooks and coffee cups are anything to go by. Jaemin passes them and takes the stairs up to the second floor where his dorm is located.
His room is just the way he left it: his pre-planned pajama set laid out on his bed with a box of cereal next to it — abandoned from his night out. The room feels like it’s missing something and Jaemin tells himself that it’s just a coincidence that he’s adding lavender scented candles to the ongoing shopping list in his notes app.
He spends an hour staring at his phone — eyeing the new number in his contacts list. He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with a simple: ‘Hey, it’s Jaemin’
A few minutes pass before he gets a message back — It’s a photo. The picture is of Jaemin’s sweatshirt folded on the floor of Renjun’s room.
Renjun (2 new messages):
[image attached]
‘you left your sweater.’
Jaemin didn’t even realize he left it behind until now. It’s not one of his favorites and he really couldn’t care less about getting it back — but it gives him an opening to see Renjun again and he’s not passing that up. And so — with a stupid grin on his face — he texts back:
‘Mind if I swing by later to pick it up?’