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Liu Yangyang is a fucking cryptid.
He spends his free time in the third cabin, from left to right, of the abandoned bathroom of his university; truly interested in listening to strange emo music and read psychology books so he can try to understand why the fuck people are so insane.
He hasn’t stabbed professor Moon in his first year in college; He hasn’t blanked out at some random party after drinking more than his brain could support; he doesn’t even like alcohol. He hasn’t gave fucking Lee Donghyuck a blowjob in the backseat of his Chevrolet Caprice. Nor Jung Sungchan in the school’s bathroom. Much less Wong Kunhang and fucking Xiao Dejun at the same time.
And for God’s sake, he doesn’t sell drugs. At least not in the fucking university.
But people are unbelievably deranged and they don’t give a damn shit about the impact they cause in other people’s life by saying a bunch of shit. It was them who walked away from Yangyang when he finally appeared in college after a week off, and it was them who didn’t think twice after spreading a lot of stupid rumors.
Nevertheless, Yangyang grew strong, unashamed. A fucking manipulative personality, ready to do whatever the shit he wants because if he has lost everything due to some stupid jock who did record him having sex with Zhong Chenle without his fucking knowledgement, he doesn’t actually need to care about what people think about him anymore.
For him, that’s the interesting, undeniable funny part.
By first, people didn’t come closer to him because they were fucking shocked, repulsed; now, they don’t come closer to him because he doesn’t allow them to. Because he is in control .
And because he’s fucking scary; walking around wearing his full set of black clothes, dark grey denim jacket personalized by his best friend he hasn’t talked to in a while, colorful Vans, black eyeliner and well hidden tongue piercing; holding random books bigger than the Holy Bible, fiery red backpack falling down his shoulder.
He’s fucking scary when he disappears out of nowhere for days in a row and no one knows where the fuck did he go or even if he will come back, if he is alive .
Still, Na Jaemin thinks he is fascinatingly hot.
The first time they noticed each other was during a party that none of them were enjoying.
Jaemin went with Jeno and Mark, which was a bad idea since Mark vanished in the first ten minutes and Jeno got so drunk with two shots of Absinthe his older brother needed to pick him up after a while; dumb Jaemin who didn’t accept a ride back to home.
On the other side, Yangyang was just so fucking bored. People unashamedly trying to hit on him, bringing up the things they know he haven’t done (and some of the things he, actually, did); and when Donghyuck excitedly approached him smiling wide, a lit joint in the middle of his fingers and a plastic cup filled up with cheap beer and God-knows-why-else, Yangyang knew it was time to leave.
At least to take a breath.
That was the moment he saw Jaemin for the first time, laying on the grass, eyes closed, a cold breeze hitting his face; messing up his recently dyed orange hair strands. A single plastic bottle of water laying against his rib, legs up with toes drumming the grass in the same rhythm as the music playing loud inside of the house.
For Yangyang, he truly looked like someone who could destroy his stupid life with so, so little. Perhaps in a bad, sad way; but hopefully in an exciting and good one. He didn’t think twice before sitting beside him, playfully poking his hips with the tip of his red and blue Vans shoes.
Jaemin can’t bring it up in a really clear way nowadays, but he does know that after two and a half hours of conversation, gummy smiles and a lot of touching; he ended the day jumping through the window of Yangyang’s bedroom.
They had sex for the first time.
It took Jaemin three weeks to find Yangyang again.
When he unexpectedly crossed under the bleachers of the football field holding a box of donuts and earphones buried deep inside of his ears, he saw him.
Just like Jaemin when they first saw each other. Lying on the cold ground, legs up and eyes closed. It was the first time Jaemin saw him in a white shirt, big and bold Kanji letters stamped all over the fabric, ripped skinny jeans and that intriguing yet very personal double colored Vans; a book opened in front of his face, even if he didn’t look like reading .
“I can feel you staring at me,” He said, closing the book faster than lights while turning his head just enough to watch Jaemin’s entire body tremble due to the adrenaline of being caught watching like a cat watches its prey, “What you want?”
That was the first time Jaemin noticed that Yangyang is a mess , the pure form of chaos; he will approach you when he feels like approaching you, when he needs to; but he would never let you approach him, bitter words being thrown into the air to Jaemin to catch them with sad yet curious eyes and the giant willing to solve the Rubik’s cube of Yangyang’s personality.
“Do you want to get high?” He asked, low voice tone, small eyes with long and beautiful lashes; he came closer, seated by Yangyang’s side and gave him the small box of donuts already opened.
“Listen, Jaemin,” Yangyang’s sigh was loud, heavy, “Don’t act like we are friends or more than that just because we had a nice conversation at a party, you know?” He grabbed his backpack from the ground and stood up, giving the box back to Jaemin, “If you want to hook up again just tell me.”
That was the first time Jaemin noticed that Yangyang wasn’t scared of being harsh or hurting other people. And that was also the first time he noticed that he wasn’t scared of hurting other people because other people were never scared of hurting him either.
Jaemin decided to try again.
Jaemin hadn't seen Yangyang in the university for days when he found himself throwing small rocks against his window, hoping for the best; hoping for him to turn the lights on, open the window and show him his adorable gummy smile.
That didn’t happen.
“I accept your invitation,” Yangyang whispered next to Jaemin’s ear, and that was enough for him to almost freak out, caught by surprise. That was the first time Yangyang talked to him in two weeks, four days and twelve hours, “Meet me in the abandoned bathroom in thirty minutes. Let’s get high or something.”
“You need to stop doing that.” Jaemin said the moment he entered the bathroom, throwing his backpack somewhere on the floor while approaching Yangyang’s shape. Yangyang was rolling a joint while looking through the window.
“Doing what?” He asked, licking the rolling paper. He gave it to Jaemin and sat on the floor, waiting for him to follow his steps. Jaemin sat beside him, joint resting between his puffy lips, Yangyang lit it up for him, still waiting for a response.
“Disappearing.” He blew the heavy and grey smoke into the air, giving the doobie for Yangyang. He grabbed it in silence, foot drumming against the floor and eyes slowly closing.
“Why do you keep going after me?”
Jaemin shrugged, “I don’t know, I just like you.”
Yangyang’s smile wasn’t sweet but challenging, “You truly look like someone who will make me fall in love and then wake up one day and realize that I’m not what you want for your life.” He took another drag, smoke drawing an unrecognizable pattern when leaving his mouth, “I’m scared of you. That’s why I keep disappearing.”
“Will you let me kiss you?”
That was the first time they kissed with no second intentions. Yangyang’s tongue piercing being explored and carefully circled by Jaemin’s tongue. Yangyang tasted like lollipop, weed and his grape flavored chapstick; while Jaemin tasted purely like caffeine; strictly addicting just like it.
Jaemin started to visit the abandoned bathroom frequently.
Stole kisses in the middle of abandoned classes, curious hands exploring each other’s bodies and an entire world of opportunities for them to explore.
Yangyang was still scared and sometimes he would still disappear. On the other hand, Jaemin was still trying again and again.
They would listen to music in Yangyang’s earphones after Jaemin’s morning classes every Thursday; they would dance together and messily in the middle of the street after a tough day, they would look so goddamn in love that people around him would find that gross.
They made love for the first time after two months of occasionally having sex.
Yangyang’s hands being held so tight he thought they would merge; soft moans filling up the atmosphere of his bedroom while Jaemin nibbled carefully onto his skin just right to leave some colorful bruises here and there; his skin burning slowly and delightfully beneath Jaemin’s touches.
Jaemin kissed his neck, shoulders, chest; Jaemin bit, sucked and licked all over his body, slow and meticulous, as if that was their first time sleeping together. For the first time, Yangyang was his, and Jaemin did want to praise him, give him all of his devotion and love.
Yangyang felt good when Jaemin first called him baby. Yangyang felt good when Jaemin told him he was doing well and Yangyang felt good when Jaemin held his length as if it was the most delicate thing in the whole world and stroked him until pearly white jizz dripped onto his stomach.
And, fuck, Yangyang felt so good when he asked Jaemin to come inside of him and make him his. He would go back in that memory for hours just to remember Jaemin’s silly smile and red cheeks after done; long kisses displayed all over his shape, but mostly against his lips.
Yangyang felt so good when he said “I love you” for the first time after that day. And he felt so good when Jaemin kissed him for three minutes straight so he wouldn’t need to answer and Yangyang wouldn’t be able to see that his eyes were fucking wet.
Jaemin didn’t give up on Yangyang.
In exchange, Yangyang gave him his trust and love.
(And fuck it if people are still talking shit about him behind his back.)
(Because Jaemin would love him no matter what people are making up about him.)
(And Yangyang truly don’t give a shit about stupid rumors anymore.)