Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jaemin is certain that he didn’t buy anything recently.

Well, there was that one cap he liked, and the plushie he forced Renjun to pay for, but his point still stands. There is no plausible explanation for the small parcel in his hand, yet it’s his name that stares back up at him.

His mother walks by, notices the package in his hand, and opens her mouth, as if to chastise him for wasting money. Jaemin stops her by pointing at their written address, neat and personalized handwriting donning the surface. “Did you get a penpal?” she asks but he shrugs, not sure how to explain the appearance of the small packet. She doesn’t seem to notice his confusion and accepts her own question as the valid explanation. “That’s great, Jaemin. That’s how Misook and I are still so close even though she lives in Gwangju now.”

Jaemin considers making fun of her for still writing letters when you can reach anyone with a few clicks on a phone, but she is his mother and he respects her enough to not get into a petty argument about different ways to communicate. He also just can’t be bothered, not today, so he nods and smiles like the good son he is before scurrying over to his room, closing the door behind him.

The parcel is thin and light in his hands as he opens it with a smidge of excitement, but mostly curiosity. Jaemin lets the cardboard fall to the ground as he sits down on his bed, holding the package’s content.

It’s… a thin notebook, smaller than his hand. Jaemin turns it over, but there’s no description nor title, no explanation for the sudden gift. The cover is a light purple, a soft pastel that’s easy on the eyes, and there’s a small sticker of a cat in a lower corner. Jaemin rubs a finger over it, feeling the edge of it flick under his nail. He opens the book up to the first page and blinks when he sees a ruled page, bursting with handwritten sentences.

My first crush, childish and innocent, was on a boy. He didn’t know me, and I guess I didn’t really know him... We never spoke much, but I knew that he was kind. He made his friends laugh often, his own giggles leaking out in these... strange squeaks? high-pitched and choppy. I found them cute, the squeaks. It was endearing in a strange way, though I think his friends often teased him for it.

My feelings for him died out quickly (it only went as far as admiration from a distance and those always die out eventually) but I couldn’t really look at boys the same way anymore after that. None of my friends mentioned anyone of the same gender in a way that wasn’t platonic, and so I kept quiet and followed their examples.

Jaemin frowns down at the words, confused. Okay, so he now knows that the sender is gay, which is a slightly weird first fact to have about someone, but nothing else. Not even a name. Someone wrote this and sent it to him, for some unknown and strange reason, and Jaemin can’t place the handwriting. He doesn’t recognize it (not that he has ever thought to memorize anyone’s handwriting anyway), but the rounded edges, curves that dip too low, are not complete strangers either. Flipping to the last page, he flinches at the bold words staring back at him.

Jaemin! >:( Read from the beginning please, I put a lot of effort into this.

Okay… A little strange, but Jaemin doesn’t want to disrespect the mysterious author, so he turns back to the first few pages and continues to read.

I remember asking my older sister if it was possible. Was it normal to like someone of the same gender? I wasn’t actually worried: I was only twelve, simply curious and a bit confused. I hadn’t even heard of the word homosexuality before, and just wanted to know if it was a thing. I didn’t tell her that I myself was attracted to boys but she probably understood without me saying it. I mean, why else would I ask her about it? She assured me that there was nothing wrong with it, not really, but she also warned me: not everyone accepts love that is different from the norm. I can’t remember her exact wording (this was 9 years ago after all), but I remember turning more frigid with every statement. I don’t think she meant to scare me as much as she did, she was only looking out for me, but I took the warning as the truth everyone lived in. I had gone to her in a search of information, and left with fear. I didn’t want to be different, didn’t want to spend my life worrying about this. Maybe she should have been more careful with her words, but I sincerely believe she tried to help. She’s kind, my sister, always has been. We’ve never really fought like other siblings. Never really fought at all really, with anyone. I guess my family has never been the fighting-kind. There might be something deeper there, but I don’t like thinking about it: I can’t get angry. We didn’t grow up in a family where negative feelings, with the exception of sadness, are shown. Me and my sister grew up in an environment where anger just isn’t shown. Maybe that’s a good thing, teaching me to solve problems peacefully? Or maybe I just have confrontational anxiety. I’ll admit there are times when I’m proud of our lack of fights, where I can brag about the good relationship we have, but the truth is sometimes I think… we are just not close enough to fight. Not close enough to learn how to clash.

So he’s gay and has confrontational anxiety. What is Jaemin supposed to do with this information? He lays down on his bed and closes the book, resting it on his chest. The ceiling stares back at him, empty, and he listens to the sounds of his parents moving around in the apartment. His own childhood was drastically different and it’s a strange perspective to read. Jaemin wasn’t necessarily an angry kid, but when he snapped, he allowed himself to go mad. He has always been honest with his feelings – Jisung often teased him for being so easy to read – but Jaemin isn’t ashamed of his emotions. His dad has always been very vocal with large reactions to different situations, and his mom has never been afraid of conflicts, sometimes so that it almost feels like she's seeking them out, even. He grew up in an environment where every feeling was valid.

He hears a crash in the kitchen and then grimaces as his mom yells something heatedly from the toilet. Sighing, Jaemin raises his arms up, book hovering over his face as he opens it back up.

After my sister’s ominous advice, I was scared. Of my feelings. For myself. I was different, strange. The thought of talking to someone about this didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t want to out myself, even if I didn’t fully understand yet what it meant or hear anyone directly speak ill of homosexuality. It might not have been discussed as something bad, but that was because no one even mentioned it at all. It wasn’t talked about. That made it worse, I think, made me realize how big of a taboo the subject was. I couldn’t even defend it if I wanted to, because it wasn’t said out loud. It felt like the secret I was carrying was illegal, as if my whole being was something wrong and mutated. I never told my sister how I felt. I’m not sure why, maybe I thought she’d hate me, maybe I felt like the comfort she’d give me would make me let down my guard, or that she just wouldn’t understand. I don’t know what it was. I don’t know, but I truly felt alone back then.

Jaemin places the book back on his stomach, heart in his throat. His own experience of self-discovery hadn’t been identical but he could still relate to it, to the enormous weight he had to carry those first years when he kept it hidden. The first person he told was Jisung, and that was only after the younger had basically figured it out himself and had thrown hints that he was okay with it and accepted him. Jaemin is forever thankful for the support he got from the other, even before he came out, but he can feel the loneliness the text is describing. Jisung has always been a constant in Jaemin’s life, from long before he can remember, when he was only two and stared down at the newborn face of his neighbor. Jisung was his first friend and is still his closest companion, a younger brother, family. Jisung is an ally that has patiently listened to Jaemin’s complaints, from lighthearted rants to raw conversations in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t understand, not fully. He knows what Jaemin feels and what he’s been through, but he hasn’t experienced it himself.

It’s not the same, Jaemin knows, as what the person writing in this book was feeling. Jaemin has been lucky to have Jisung there by his side from day one, and then other friends and supportive parents, but he also held his sexuality a secret for a long time, so he knows the pain of covering up that part of himself. 

Jaemin stops his thoughts: he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, because he’s only read, like, a few pages and though it’s thin and small – Jaemin flips to the end – it’s filled up to the next to last page.

Jaemin lays the book down beside his torso, sucking in air through the gap between his teeth and his bottom lip in an inattentive squeak. He feels a bit… empty. He flails blindly for his phone, lying somewhere on the bed with him, and grabs it with tired fingers. He finds two unread messages.

From: Mark [10:03 AM]
Jisung said you weren’t coming today?

From: Mark [10:55 AM]
Just checking if you changed your mind cause like you can still make it, we can wait

Jaemin stares at the messages for a few seconds before locking his phone with a sigh. It isn’t even anything big, just a brunch out with friends, but he still feels bad for ditching. He just… can’t though. Not with Jeno there.

Jaemin drags his hands through his hair with a deep inhale, holds his breath and closes his eyes. He presses a finger against his throat, counting the soft rhythm of his pulse. It speeds up, in distress at the lack of air and when he feels his lungs burn, he holds out for just a few more beats. Let’s go at 40. His lungs feel larger, heavier, but his mind is still. 

From: Jaemin [11:14 AM]
sry ill see u at uni tmrw (つ◡‿◡)つ

From: Mark [11:15 AM]
Okay, cool

Jaemin throws the phone away, it bounces carelessly against a pillow, and he blinks at the white paint above him. There’s a strange yellowy stain in a corner. It’s been there since before Jaemin’s parents moved in, before he was born.

“Maybe I’m making it weird. Should I just have joined them?” Jaemin asks the ceiling. “But then maybe it’s more strange for me to show up when I’ve been avoiding him on campus…” 

The ceiling doesn’t answer.

It’s so easy for his mind to wander when he’s like this. Empty, alone, staring at a blank surface without seeing it. For his thoughts to bubble up into water, wash him away.

He swims past a laughing Jeno. Eyes mere lines, barely noticeable whiskers on his cheekbones, body tilting, just a little, into Jaemin’s space. Jeno always moves around when he’s laughing. He’s bad at staying still, upper body swaying with mirth, shoulders bouncing up and down, up and down with every soundless cackle. Jaemin places a steadying hand on his thigh, leans forward to get a better view of his face. Jeno looks so effortlessly and genuinely happy, unguarded, angles his head towards Jaemin to meet his gaze. His laughter dies out to be replaced by a soft smile but Jaemin can still feel Jeno’s chuckles vibrating in his own throat. As if they’re trying to escape the wrong person. It fills him up, happiness, a trembling surface that stretches beyond its capabilities before it overflows. Water that envelops him and sweeps him away again.

Jeno’s lips are a straight line, barely visible around the glint of teeth biting down. His eyebrows are furrowed as he taps his pen impatiently against the table. Jaemin watches him narrow his eyes, grab a calculator, and blink in surprise at the answer it gives him. He looks up at Jaemin with an apologetic smile and doesn’t even have to open his mouth before Jaemin has moved to the other side of the table. He leans down to read the equation that has the smart Lee Jeno stumped, but gets distracted quickly. Fruity shampoo, clean linen sheets, crisp winter air even though it's summer. He dares to whiff the air a bit closer to Jeno’s hair, taking in the clear scent. Jeno whips his face towards him at the action though and looks bewildered for a second. Jaemin pretends like nothing happened and points down at a number he had accidentally written down wrong, the cause of his struggles. He silently fills his lungs with fresh snow and newly washed clothes. It engulfs him.

In the water he sees a reflection of Jeno. Eyes cast down, shoulders tense. Whispering Sorry.

Jaemin blinks himself back to awareness. Holds his breath, counts his heartbeat to 40. Exhales slowly. Forgets about silent laughter and crisp winter air.

Remembers but pushes them to the back of his mind to drown.

After having spent an uneventful lunch with his parents, doing his best to act as cheerful as usual, Jaemin throws himself onto his bed and picks up the book again, flicking the pages under his thumb absentmindedly before opening it back up with a sigh.

I kept my sexuality an exhaustive and absolute secret, even convincing myself that I was straight. I would force myself to count the things I found attractive about different girls, checking them out and even flirting (although very awkwardly).

I remember the first time I watched porn (sorry Jaemin, this is a bit embarrassing and a little graphic). I was fifteen, neck deep in denial and self brainwashing, and porn felt like the next step in my journey to becoming “normal”. It was nothing wild. Vanilla sex that didn’t generate an exaggerated amount of moans, or skin slapping skin, or bodily fluids. Clean, and gentle, and nice. The beginning was boring. The woman on my screen was walking around seductively, taking off her clothes slowly. I didn’t dislike it, but I also couldn’t really get it up. I got more into it when the foreplay began. A bit. But I didn’t realize until it was time for her to get dicked down (lmao) that I wasn’t even watching the woman at all, only jerking off to the body of the man that was caressing her. I felt sick to my stomach. Shut off my computer and hid under the covers. I didn’t even try to watch porn again for a couple of months, and the next time ended up basically the same. The woman did nothing for me. The man did everything. I don't think my reaction was as dramatic that time, but I can't remember very clearly. It might be wishful thinking, or a repressed memory. I just remember feeling disappointed but thinking, hoping, it would be different in real life.

I got a girlfriend a week before my sixteenth birthday. It lasted about three months before she dumped me for not being able to have sex. I couldn't get it up, and that must have been a clear enough indication that I wasn't attracted to her. Not sexually at least.

The day after she dumped me, I watched gay porn for the first time. I don't know where I got the courage from. I think I wanted to show myself that I wouldn't like it. To prove to myself that my sexuality wasn't the reason. That was my excuse at least. I think I would rather have been unable to pop a boner for the rest of my life than to get hard over a dude, back then. That's how desperate I was.

Of course, that's not what happened. I got undeniably hard and jerked off and then cried myself to sleep, ashamed and scared. 

That night was horrible, but it might have been the wakeup call I needed. I still didn't like that part of myself, and it was still a sinful secret, but at least I realized it fully after that. I was gay. I couldn't deny it anymore. But realizing was not the same as accepting it. I realized I was gay. Realized I would never find myself attracted to a girl, no matter how hard I tried to. Realized I would spend the rest of my life hating myself for it. Realized, but didn't accept myself. I continued to push it to the back of my mind, suppressing and repressing, but I stopped pursuing girls. If my friends began a conversation about women, I changed the subject or made up an excuse to leave. I couldn't pretend to be straight anymore, but I didn't out myself either. I was in a strange place, stuck between the desperation to keep my secret hidden and the exhaustion of it.

"Hey." Jaemin lifts his head in surprise and sees Renjun stand by the door to his room, leaning against its frame. He looks worried and confused. Frustrated.

"What. Why are you here?" Jaemin frowns and closes the book, watching in caution as Renjun walks over with a sigh.

"Why didn't you come today?" Renjun asks and sits down on the bed beside him. Jaemin looks down at his fingers, picks at the skin around the nail on his thumb. Stays silent. Renjun waits for a few seconds before rephrasing his question. "Why are you avoiding Jeno?"

Jaemin isn't surprised by the question. Renjun has always been blunt, and besides, Jaemin hasn't exactly been subtle, dodging Jeno on and off campus, declining offers to meet up with their group of friends. It’s a big shift. A week ago, Jaemin would cling onto Jeno every chance he got.

Jaemin shuffles closer to Renjun and places his head in his lap with a dramatic sigh. Renjun doesn’t push him off, which should indicate that the other is seriously worried, but Jaemin still answers with: “He hit me with a blue shell right as I was about to win in Mario Kart.”

Renjun nudges the back of his head with a hard knuckle. “I’m serious!” he says, and Jaemin glances up to see the other’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes stern. “We haven’t known him for very long and I think Jeno’s worried we’re all going to take your side and ditch him just because we’ve all known you longer. Well, except Mark.” Jaemin turns his face away, pressing his cheek against the soft thigh under him. His fingers begin to absentmindedly scratch on the inseam of Renjun’s jeans.

“I don’t want you guys to ditch him,” he mumbles.

“Okay. We don’t want to ditch him either,” says Renjun, “We weren’t going to.” And then they’re quiet for a while. “Are you not gonna tell me what’s going on between you two?” Jaemin feels a soft hand on his head, scratching his hair as if he’s a dog. Renjun isn't the best at physical touch, but he's trying. They turn quiet again, Renjun waiting patiently but insistently, and Jaemin gathering the courage to speak. He holds his breath, feels his heart beat against his chest. Quickly reaches 40.

“I really really like him, Renjun,” Jaemin whimpers and smashes his entire face onto Renjun’s lap, as if he can erase the red on his cheeks and stop the burning behind his eyes by putting all his attention on the pain in his nose, smushed harshly into Renjun’s thigh.

Renjun simply continues to calmly caress his head, fingers tangling in his hair carefully.

“I’m pretty sure he likes you too,” he says, thoughtfully. Jaemin shakes his head.

“I thought so too.”

“Then tell him.” Renjun’s hand stops on the side of his head, near his ear, and he pushes, gently, until Jaemin’s face peeks out from its lousy hiding spot.

“I did,” Jaemin whispers and then presses his lips together, avoiding the other’s concerned eyes. It’s quiet as Renjun gazes down at him, slowly realizing what he’s trying to say. Realizing what Jeno’s answer was.

“Okay,” Renjun says softly and nods. He lets Jaemin cling closer, winding his arms around his torso. “Okay.”

Renjun stays for another hour. They don't mention Jeno again, but Jaemin still feels better when he sees his friend trudge off to the bus stop. He didn't cry, and they didn't talk about it, but he feels better. Maybe it's enough that someone else knows what happened. Maybe he just needed some silent comfort.

His room feels empty when he returns. Lonely. He grabs the book again.

A few months later I fell for a guy. I don't think you know him, Jaemin. His name is Dongyoung and he was my older sister's new friend, four years older than me. Spent a lot of time at our house together with a few others, and he was always kind. He didn't treat me like his friend's annoying younger sibling, but like one of them. He wasn't afraid to tease the others, but was always kind towards me. Always gentle. Often initiated conversations I didn’t know I was allowed to have.

I really liked him, but it took me a while to realize. My sexuality was so repressed that the thought didn't even hit me. I remember when I realized it though, so clearly. Hyung was wearing this stupid sweater. Dark blue. There was something written on it: Super Mario something. Stupid sweater, but he looked nice in it. Soft. My sister's friends were ganging up on him, teasing him. I can't remember what it was about. I never heard the beginning of their conversation. Our eyes met when I walked past them, on my way to my room, and he reached out. Hopeful smile. I walked over and he pulled me to sit next to him as he turned to the others. He said something along the lines of: "At least Jeno's on my side!" I just nodded, not sure what I was agreeing to, but wanting to help him out anyways. He reached out and clasped our hands together, as if to make a point to the others, who laughed at the action. My fingers were stiff, stretched straight up, but he used his other hand to fold them down. His hands were warm around mine. The subject changed and Dongyoung let go of me as he attacked someone and I just sat there. My palm was sweaty and itchy. I left and went to my room. Sat down on my bed. Stared at my hand and could only think: fuck.

It was a big realization, but for some reason I wasn’t as frightened as my mindset should have made me. Maybe because it was such a hopeless case anyways. I only found out that Dongyoung hyung is bi a few months ago, but at the time I was convinced he was straight. And I was only sixteen years old, a kid in comparison to his twenty. I don't think he ever saw me as anything other than a younger brother, and I already knew that when I had my revelation over my feelings. I would never act on them, and so maybe that’s why they didn’t scare me so much.

It was just one more secret to carry.

Jaemin’s phone dings next to him.

From: Jisung [03:14 PM]
u ok hyung

From: Jaemin [03:15 PM]
yeah?
y

From: Jisung [03:15 PM]
just
checking
renjun hyung said he went to urs?

From: Jaemin [03:16 PM]
yup
he left a while ago

From: Jisung [03:23 PM]
u know u can talk to me right
i dont know what u talked about but he said u might wanna talk?

From: Jaemin [03:24 PM]
yeah maybe later
Ily 💚

From: Jisung [03:24 PM]
ew
💚

Jaemin thinks about telling Jisung. He wants to. Trusts him. And he already told Renjun which maybe wasn’t fair to the younger, who's been there since forever and has asked him what’s wrong several times this week. Who has clearly been worried, despite denying it.

From: Jaemin [03:31 PM]
u wanna come over later?

From: Jisung [03:35 PM]
when

From: Jaemin [03:36 PM]
in 1 hour?

Jaemin puts down his phone after a short confirmation.

Nothing really changed. I repressed my sexuality and acted like usual around Dongyoung. I don't think that he, even to this day, knows that I used to like him. Or that I'm gay. 

It's not until now, when I can look back on that short time I knew him, that I fully realize what a big and important step this was. I'm glad it was Dongyoung. I'm glad it was someone I didn't believe I had a chance with, because that made me braver. Not when it came to our relationship, but with my inner thoughts on sexuality. The crush I had didn't feel so crucial, despite my strong feelings, so instead of suppressing and ignoring the thoughts and emotions that popped up in his presence or when I was lying in bed at night, I allowed myself to indulge in them. It wasn't serious, I was only humoring myself, but it truly helped me normalize that side to myself, without me realizing it.

He and my sister stopped hanging out after a while and I didn't have an excuse to see him anymore, but I've seen him around a few times since then. He seems happy and is always glad to see me. He still treats me like a friend, like a brother. Not like the angsty teenager I was when we met. I still really like him, but maybe not in the same way anymore. Maybe a bit, maybe not at all. It’s hard to differentiate my feelings for him when they’ve stayed large and fluttery, even if its shape has shifted. He will always be my real first crush. That has to mean something.

The next time I fell for someone seriously I was almost eighteen. I was still struggling to accept myself, but I was tired of thinking of it constantly. I didn’t really put myself behind the label of my sexuality in my head anymore: I tried to just not think about it. But then, painfully, I fell for Mark.

Jaemin’s breath hitches as he reads the name of his close friend. His heart is thudding loudly against his ribcage and for a second, Jaemin allows himself to hope. Jeno met Mark when he was seventeen. Jeno could have written this, and that thought is… nerve-racking.

There is something undeniably exciting about this book. Jaemin can’t think of a reason why Jeno would send this, and he could be projecting his own hopes onto the writer, but he can still feel his stomach flutter at the possibility. 

It wasn't as sudden or groundbreaking as with Dongyoung. I didn't have a big realization in the same way. I just… slowly fell for him, and slowly accepted my feelings at the same tempo. It began as pure admiration. Idolization. He is a great guy, talented and funny, and in a way, I wanted to be like him. It is so easy to talk to him, and I've never met anyone who can badmouth him.

As we grew closer I got to see other sides of him. He isn't perfect, of course, no one is, and it was…. refreshing? in a way, to see that. I stopped idolizing him so much, I think. I could appreciate him while still acknowledging his faults. I looked up to him, but I wasn't putting him on a pedestal. And perhaps that's what changed it. He wasn't… unreachable. He was just another guy, and we were growing closer.

I might have been repressing my sexuality but I knew myself well by then. I could tell that I was going to fall, long before the feelings arrived. He was just that kind of person. The kind I fell for.

This next part might sound stupid. I can’t really explain my own thought process, I can’t remember the exact reasoning. I began to consider him in a romantic and sexual manner before I could connect with those thoughts. Like, dream of us together before I even fully wanted it? It’s hard to describe when I can’t even explain why. Maybe to get it over with, in a way.

If I got the embarrassing teenage feelings and lust out of the way, maybe I could act like nothing was different, like normal, when I later on actually fell for him, for real. Maybe that was my rationalization. To think about everything now so it doesn’t hit me like a punch when I actually crave it. Yeah, I'm not sure why I did it. That's just a theory, I think.

Whatever it was that I tried to achieve by dreaming about us together, before I wanted to see it as a reality, I'd call it a complete failure. It probably just made it worse. When my feelings finally caught on, I already had so many fantasies, so many perfected dreams about what we could be, I didn't know how to just forget them when they now meant something. I dug my own grave, really.

So I was awkward, and tense, and hesitant around him, and he noticed, of course he did. This was different from Dongyoung. Different from the small crushes I’d experienced during the time between Dongyoung and Mark. This one was actually… plausible? I didn’t know Mark’s sexuality, but he was only one year older than me, and we were close, so close, and I knew that he liked me. Maybe not in that way, maybe completely platonically, but he liked me. He was quickly becoming my best friend, and I could tell that he felt the same. So he noticed, when I began to behave weirdly around him. I wasn’t sure how to act whenever we met up. I was scared he could read my mind, would hear and see the self-directed movies I’d play in my mind, with him as the romantic interest. And honestly, I felt a bit guilty for my thoughts, a bit embarrassed and a bit ashamed. Not even anymore because he was a guy, but just for seeing my dear friend in that light.

He confronted me about it, eventually. I didn’t know what he thought about people like me, so I couldn’t tell him the truth. There wasn’t just the fear of being rejected, there was the fear of a disgusted reaction, of losing him as a friend, of him turning out to be a huge douche just because of my sexuality and outing me and bullying me forever and ever and I’d be an outcast and be shut out from society... And okay, maybe I had a habit of overthinking, and overdramatizing, but it was scary, and I had never said it out loud.

He was probably already my best friend by then, but I couldn’t tell him. Not even if I ignored my feelings for him and only confessed my sexuality. It wasn’t even an option in my mind.

So I… Well, I didn’t lie, when he asked. I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell him the real reason. I told him that my parents had brought up thoughts of a divorce, that my grandfather had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, that my sister had moved away to leave me alone at a silent and sad home. Which was all true, and it was stressful and horrible and exhausting, but it wasn’t the real reason.

I guess you can’t really call someone out if they list their sob-story like that, so Mark let it go. He comforted me, asked me if I was okay, and looked at me with concerned eyes sometimes, but he didn’t investigate my strange behavior further. Which he probably would have, had I given less devastating excuses. 

It wasn’t like I was acting sad, or stressed. It was probably obvious that I hadn’t said the complete truth.

I was twitchy around him, and would flinch every time he touched me. I’d laugh too loudly at his jokes, listen too attentively, too greedy for every fragment of his private thoughts I’d get a glimpse of. I must have been obvious. Maybe he even figured it out, but I’ve never asked him if he did, he’s never said anything. And I never told him.

Jaemin flinches in surprise at the knock on his door and looks up in shock as it opens to reveal Jisung, smiling gently.

“It’s already been an hour?” he asks and Jisung gives him a weird look when he walks into the room.

“Yeah?” He spots the book in Jaemin’s hands. “What’s that?”

Jaemin looks down at the purple book, at the cat sticker, and he… he doesn’t want to show Jisung. It isn’t his secret to tell, and it’d feel rude to reveal someone’s genuine feelings without consulting them. Besides, this was sent to Jaemin, not anyone else. It’s his.

So he shrugs, as if it isn’t important, as if it hasn’t been Jaemin’s faithful distraction this whole day, and places it on his nightstand. “Nothing really. How was brunch?” he asks. Jisung flops down on the bed beside him with a sigh.

“Weird. We all tried to act as if it wasn’t strange that you weren’t there. Jeno wouldn’t stop smiling. It was all very fake.”

Jaemin imagines Jeno sitting amongst their friends, lips stretched wide and thin and eyes turning crescendant, but nose staying unwrinkled - smooth despite his habit of scrunching it up when genuinely happy. His body staying still as he forces himself to laugh at jokes, pretending as if he doesn’t know why Jaemin hadn’t joined them.

Jaemin lies down beside Jisung. Grabs his hand, and Jisung lets him. Threads their fingers together.

“I told Jeno I like him last week,” Jaemin spits out, and it’s easier to say now, after having clumsily confessed it to Renjun. He can feel Jisung’s stare burning against the side of his face, but he keeps his eyes stubbornly at the ceiling. It hasn’t helped him once today, but maybe the flat white surface will prove its importance during this conversation. “He rejected me and now I don’t want to see him. Because it hurts, and I- I really like him, and I really thought he’d say it back.” Jaemin’s bottom lip quivers as he lolls his head to the side, meeting Jisung’s concerned eyes. “I really, really thought he liked me too.”

“I’m sorry,” says Jisung. “I’m not good at noticing that kind of stuff, so I can’t say what I’d guess his feelings are.”

“No, you don’t have to guess, because clearly he doesn’t like me back. What with the rejection and all.” Jaemin tries to grin, as if he said something funny, but Jisung’s face stays the same.

“Tell me about it?” Jisung asks.

“About the rejection?” Jaemin frowns, but Jisung shakes his head, smushing his cheek against the mattress.

“Not, if you don’t want to. Just… about him?”

“You know him already.” Jaemin scoffs and Jisung lets out a breathy chuckle, a puff of air through his nose.

“Not like you do. Not through your perspective,” he counters, and Jaemin moves his head to stare at the ceiling again. The yellowy stain looks like a dark cloud. He thinks it might rain soon.

“We’d have these moments, yeah?” Jaemin begins. Feels Jisung scratch gently with his index finger between two of Jaemin’s knuckles. “I’d catch his eyes, or we’d bump into each other and we’d both just… stop, kinda. Just, linger. And I remember one time, what really made me suspect he liked me back in the first place. We made eye contact, and he’d given a small smile, and I smiled back, and his smile grew, and then slowly, as if out of my - and his - control, we’d just... smile. Bigger and bigger at each other. Smiles growing as if we saw the fucking winning lottery numbers in each other’s faces. And we just kept smiling. It was the strangest fucking thing, but I was just so happy and jittery. All teeth on display. Just from meeting his damn eyes. From someone else’s perspective we must have looked like dumb fucks, but it was really the beginning, I think. Of our relationship turning to something else. Or at least the idea of what it could turn into. Well- for me. Apparently he hadn’t experienced it in the same way.” Jaemin blinks away the sting in his eyes, and Jisung clasps their joined hands together a little harder, urging him to continue. “He was the first to look away. At the time I thought he looked shy, looking down and kind of hiding his face- or, his smile, rather. Now I wonder if I just made him uncomfortable?” Jaemin’s eyes land on the spot on the ceiling again. It looks blurry and wet. “And then this one time, we- he wanted help with an essay, so we studied together. At his house. And we just got to talking and kind of just? Talked a lot? Like really deep stuff too. I mean, I can’t tell you what exactly, because it’s not my story to tell. But, anyway, he really opened up and it felt really special, right? Because he is kind of closed off and doesn’t tell us much.” The cloud starts to drip. Jaemin can’t see it, but he can feel it. Jisung shuffles closer. “I really felt like we grew closer. I told him a lot of stuff too. Like, stuff I’ve only ever told you.” Jaemin rolls his head to the side. Meets Jisung’s concerned eyes. “Because it was so easy to tell? And he was so understanding and nice about it all. Didn’t judge or brush it off. It just felt- right, I guess. He felt right.” Jisung sighs loudly and brushes Jaemin’s tears off his cheek.

“He sounds right,” he mumbles and Jaemin’s bottom lip quivers.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Jaemin snivels and his sight turns hazy, Jisung just a colorful blob in front of him.

He sees Jeno through the blurry tears, sees him lean against a desk, biting his lip to poorly hold back a smile. The lecture ended a while ago, the classroom is empty, and they should leave, but Jeno seems happy, and Jaemin can feel his heart push joy through his veins at the thought. That he makes Jeno happy.

And he blurts it out, then, because he feels so sure, so certain of himself, and Jeno looks so content in his company, and he doesn’t want the day to end.

But Jeno frowns, looks scared almost. Eyes cast down, shoulders tense. Whispering Sorry.

He withdraws. When Jaemin blinks the tears away, Jeno has vanished. Jisung is still there, patient, comforting. “I told him I liked him and he rejected me,” he says, simply, because it’s simple. “Apologized and ran off. Didn’t even explain, just-... ran off.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath and exhales slowly after counting 40 fast heartbeats. He rolls to the side and curls up in Jisung’s arms. Jisung used to be so small, such a little kid, but he’s grown so tall, so big these last few years, it doesn’t feel awkward to let himself curl up against him.

“Maybe he had his reasons,” Jisung tries but Jaemin ignores it. He’s already spent too many nights pondering over Jeno’s reaction.

“Maybe I just read the whole situation wrong.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything else. He knows that Jaemin is stubborn, won’t accept any comforting words now and only wants to wade around in his pond of self-pity.

He doesn’t know that the pond is a lake.

Jaemin is submerged and he swims and swims and never reaches the surface. He holds his breath and counts to 40. He exhales and when he breathes in again, when he fills his lungs up with precious air, he feels like he might have actually made it out of the water. Just for a while.

Jisung stays silent for a long while. He lets Jaemin whine and grumble and complain, and hugs him tighter when he really needs it (though he’ll probably deny it later). When Jaemin feels drained and empty of words, Jisung finally opens his mouth.

“I think you should talk to him?” He voices it like a question, uncertain if he’s giving good advice. “I feel like you’re not doing anything right now.” Jaemin frowns, confused, and waits for Jisung to continue. “I mean, you’re not talking to him but you’re not gonna get over him like this either. You’re kinda just stuck? If that makes sense. Between hearing an explanation and letting him go. I don’t know. I’m not good at this,” Jisung huffs in frustration, but Jaemin understands. It does sound legit. He almost, kind of, sounds wise, which is really fucking strange considering he’s Jaemin’s awkward little son.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jaemin sighs.

“I am?” He sounds genuinely surprised and Jaemin rolls away, out of his embrace. He lies on his back, tries to spread his arms wide, but has to bend an elbow a bit over Jisung’s chest. The blotch on the ceiling doesn’t look as dark anymore.

“Yeah. I’ll text him later. Not now but-… later. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah.

Jisung stays for a long time but leaves after dinner. Runs across the street to his own home and then he waves adorably awkwardly from his window before walking out of view. Jaemin has been silently brooding since, contemplating the pros and cons of calling Jeno, of making the effort to contact him and hear his side of the story.

The cons are pretty hefty though, largely composed of embarrassment and the suffering of his heart, drenched and dripping with sadness and bitter rejection.

Not wanting to ponder on it for too long, Jaemin decides to ignore it for now, again, and returns to today's loyal distraction.

It continued like that for a while. I was weird around Mark and he, I guess, just accepted it? Fortunately I calmed down after a few weeks. He was my best friend and I hated the wall that had appeared between us. It was my own fault, so I tried my best to break it down and act as if nothing was different. Fake it 'til you make it, right? I'd say we managed to return to normal. I feel like we did. Of course, he had never changed, but I really believe I got better at hiding it. I got used to hiding it, and got a lot of practice at it. He even had a girlfriend for a while. I won't say that it wasn't painful to see them together, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been and I feel proud for not breaking down. Not in front of him at least.

Maybe I allowed myself to feel dark and sad by myself in bed, but he doesn't have to know that.

After two years of this, it kinda… died out? Okay, not really, but almost the same way my feelings for him had slowly emerged, they also slowly calmed down and disappeared. They say that time heals wounds or whatever, but I never really expected them to vanish like that while still being so close to him. Not when they were so strong.

Dongyoung might be the first person I seriously liked, but Mark is my first love. I'm sure of that.

But maybe it wasn't only time that made it easier to let him go.

Maybe it was you.

Jaemin holds his breath. Doesn't even mean to, isn't even counting his heartbeats. Just-... holds it.

It has to be Jeno. Jaemin can't imagine anyone else sending this. No one else is that close to Mark. Except maybe Jaehyun, or Youngho, or-

Jaemin halts his thoughts and forces himself to breathe normally. Okay, Mark has a lot of close friends. He is just giving himself false hope, and will inevitably feel even more bitter when he finds out the identity of the mystery writer. That being not Jeno.

Turning the page slowly, Jaemin continues to read, suppressing the hope that tries to bubble up in his lungs.

I met you, and it wasn't love at first sight or anything cliché as that, but, I met you, and you- Jaemin, you're funny and gorgeous and so proud and open. Meeting you and Haechan was like an eye-opener to me. You were both so free. Everyone knew you two were gay, and it's not like everyone accepted it but you didn't even care if anyone was against it because you had the support of your friends and family. It was the first time I met someone else like me. Of course, Haechan is strong and confident and amazing, but, Jaemin, I became so close to you.

You were so easy to talk to, so understanding and honest and loving. And it affected me, of course, steadily, but quicker than with Mark.

And suddenly I noticed how I wasn't wondering what Mark was doing during the weekend, or what he thought about my outfit or who he was seeing. I was thinking about you.

I wanted to text you, wanted to meet up and see you. I wanted to touch you, and I wasn't even afraid.

And that scared me even more.

You need to understand that I've carried this fear for so long, and I've kept my feelings hidden for so many years.

I could see that you felt the same. I don't think either of us were subtle, even if I tried to be. And you confessed. And I freaked out. I ran away, and I'm still freaking out.

Because the thing is: even to this day, I’ve never said it out loud.

That I’m gay.

It’s hard even to just write it, I can’t imagine saying the words to someone else. Gosh, Jaemin, you’re the first person I’m coming out to, and I’m too much of a coward to do it in person.

And I don’t think this will go away. This fear, this burden. Even if I someday manage to accept or even appreciate this side of me, I believe it will take a long time for me to arrive at that point.

And you’re here now. And I’m not ready.

I can’t ask you to wait. I’m not even waiting for myself. I think we’d both be happier if we ignore what we could have been, because the criteria for us to succeed are criteria I can’t fulfill. 

I just wanted you to know, though. Why I rejected you. Why I couldn’t accept it. Can’t.

Now isn’t the right time for me, but I really hope we can still be friends. I understand that you’ll need time, and I won’t push, but if you’re willing to try, I can act like normal. I’ve gotten a lot of practice at that.

I’m not sure how to finish this. It was quite therapeutic in a way. To write it all down. I’m sorry if it feels like I forced you to listen to my side. You can do whatever with the book. Keep it, throw it away, give it back. Just… don’t show anyone else? I know you wouldn’t, but I still have to ask.

I guess I’ll see you around? If you want to see me, that is.

Jaemin! >:( Read from the beginning please, I put a lot of effort into this.

Jaemin closes the book. His ears are ringing. The room is too silent. The sun is already on its way down outside, and he gazes out through the window, watching the clouds slowly disperse and form new shapes against an orange surface, carefully turning darker.

His lungs burn when he holds his breath and he reaches 40 but keeps it in still, 45, 50, clenches his eyes shut before exhaling it shakily, the seed of a sob planted heavily in his stomach. He tries to inhale but only swallows murky water.

He’s not ready? It’s not the right time?

For what? Jaemin doesn’t understand what Jeno is waiting for, because it is Jeno. He no longer has any doubts about that. He read the whole book, his life, his explanation, but he doesn’t- can’t understand. What exactly is Jeno waiting for?

Jaemin thinks back to Jeno meeting his eyes, smiling wider and bigger with each second. Happiness growing on his face because… he likes Jaemin back. Jeno likes him, and he’s happy with him, but he’s not ready. He’s not ready to be happy?

Jaemin punches his pillow with his face, groans into the fluffy fabric, dizzy with confusion and frustration. Why would he send this book just to tell Jaemin that they can’t be together? Why go to such a great length?

With a frown, Jaemin sits up straight. He blinks at the nearing night outside before rushing out, yelling to his dad that he’ll be back soon.

Jaemin arrives at Jeno's house, and rings the bell, five minutes quicker than it usually takes to travel between their homes. Thinking it through on his way, he'd grown furious during the trip, determined to speak his mind, and rushed here in hopes of not forgetting a single word he wants said today. Jeno opens the door and looks thoroughly confused and shocked at Jaemin’s sudden visit before he notices the book in his hand. He pales, and Jaemin forces his way inside.

“Your mom?” Jaemin asks – because this conversation is gonna be really awkward if they’ll have to do it in front of an audience – while advancing towards the other’s room, knowing Jeno will follow. Jeno mutters something, she’s out, and Jaemin charges into the room before stopping in the center. He turns around to watch Jeno close the door.

“The fuck is this?” Jaemin throws the notebook at Jeno. Jeno flinches back in surprise at his words. Or the flying book, yeah, probably. It ends up softly hitting the wall before landing on the ground, sliding next to Jeno's feet, and maybe Jaemin wasn't actually throwing it at him, wasn't even aiming anywhere close. 

"Are you… angry?" Jeno asks. Carefully. Bewildered.

"Yes!" Jaemin exclaims, because he is. "What the fuck is this bullshit?" He gestures towards the dejected book and Jeno frowns, crosses his arms, and takes a step back. Defensive.

"That's... my life," Jeno responds, sounding offended at Jaemin's question.

"Exactly!" Jaemin lashes out with his arms. "You sent me your whole fuckin'... Fuckin' life story to- to what, reject me? Again!?"

"I just wanted to explain but you wouldn't let m-” Maybe it’s ironic that Jaemin decided to interrupt him at that point. Maybe he’s just mad and doesn’t care.

“Well, okay, but it’s still stupid!”

“It's not!” Jeno opposes, sounding more sad than angry, and Jaemin knows why, he knows, because he fucking read the whole thing. “I put a lot of time and effort into writing that! Poured all my feelings into it. I wrote some really really embarrassing stuff in there because I thought you deserved to know it. I wanted you to understand why I rejected you, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Don’t call it stupid.”

“No- Look,” Jaemin presses the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, takes a deep breath and hesitates, drags his fingers through his hair. “What you wrote, the- your life... That’s not dumb, that’s you, and that’s great. It’s fantastic. Whatever. Your insecurities are valid. Why couldn't you just tell me this in person?"

"You kept avoiding me!"

"But you could have texted me. Or – even better! – called me!" Their voices are slowly getting louder and Jaemin feels a coarse desperation settle in his stomach. He wants Jeno to understand why this was dumb.

"I couldn't explain everything in a text! You deserve something better than that. And would you have picked up the phone if I called?"

"Okay. Maybe I wouldn't have. But you could have tried! It's not like you made an actual effort to talk to me!"

"Don't blame me for that! You're the one who ran off each time you saw me!"

"Yeah, but maybe I wanted you to run after me!"

They turn quiet at Jaemin's sudden confession. Jeno's eyebrows are furrowed harshly and he looks slightly out of breath. Jaemin doesn't think he has ever seen Jeno this riled up. He's not angry, not really there yet, but he's not his usual collected self either.

Jaemin holds his breath and begins to count, trying to calm down, but he gives up after only a few beats. 

"Okay. Okay, shit. Yeah of course I wanted to talk to you." Jeno seems to deflate a bit at Jaemin's words, his whole body sinking and becoming smaller, tense shoulders relaxing again. "I've missed you, and I wanted a clear explanation, but I also… I was just... sad. I was sad that you rejected me, and I felt stupid for having believed you felt the same. Every time I saw you I was reminded of that and so… I avoided you." Jaemin can feel his cheeks burn. "But the most frustrating thing was that you didn't even try to contact me. No messages. If you saw me, you let me leave immediately. Gave up so quickly. It made me feel that much more stupid. How could I have believed that you liked me when you just… gave up like that?"

Jeno is looking down at his hands, flicking the nails of his thumbs against each other. It makes a soft clicking sound, barely audible. Jaemin watches and listens. Waits.

"I thought you needed space. I didn't want to bother you when you obviously didn't want to see me." Jeno is still staring downwards, avoiding Jaemin's gaze. "But I still felt like you deserved an explanation so this was the only thing I could think of."

Jaemin clenches his eyes shut, messes up his hair. Can feel his frustration overflow and burst from his mouth. "But, Jeno, this is like... the most romantic shit I’ve ever seen!”

Jeno finally looks at him again when he blinks in surprise. "What."

“This. The book!" Jaemin gestures towards the dejected book and Jeno's eyes seem to get stuck on it. Eyes lingering as Jaemin continues. "It's some next level rom-com movie stunt. Like, have you seen ‘To all the boys I've loved before’?” Jeno shakes his head, face stuck in a strange confused and affronted grimace. “Okay, nevermind then, but you totally pulled a Lara Jean on me, sending your deepest feelings in handwritten text, and, okay, you only sent it to me – I assume? – and you didn’t pretend to da- It doesn’t matter!” Jaemin is rambling and he’s not good at referencing and he’s not sure where he’s going with this, but he’s frustrated and likes Jeno so, so badly, so he continues, for the greater good or whatever. “It’s fucking romantic and you even confessed to liking me. Nice, I guess, if you didn’t also reject me? Way to send mixed signals, what the fuck.” Jeno walks over to the book, picks it up and dusts it off. He looks sad. Jaemin kind of doesn’t want to yell anymore. “My point is,” Jaemin tries to formulate a conclusion. “You do a romantic gesture, confess even, and you still want me to interpret it as a rejection?”

It’s quiet. Jaemin is done, he thinks. He might change his mind any second, but- no, yeah he’s done.

“Yes?” Jeno’s voice is hesitant and small and Jaemin flares right back up.

“No!” yells Jaemin, because fuck it all. “No, Jeno. That’s just… Like- an excuse!” Jeno walks further into the room, stops in front of his desk, places the book down carefully before turning back to face him, hugging his own torso. Jaemin kind of wants to smother him. With a pillow. With kisses. “You like me! You wrote it down with your own fucking words. Your hand did that! You like me, but you’re too fucking afraid to fight for this,” Jaemin gestures with a wild hand between them, “so you wrote this damn book, told yourself it was to explain yourself to me, and secretly hoped I’d be the one to take the step. Again.” Jaemin clenches his jaw, because as he’s saying the words, they feel that much truer. This has to be it, and that makes his blood boil. “You rejected me, regretted it, and wanted me to fix it.”

Jeno is staring at the floor. His eyes look glassy and his shoulders are hunched over, as if he’s trying to make himself as small and insignificant as possible. Jaemin takes a step forward. “Do you have nothing to say?” Jaemin asks, and he’s aware that the bite in his voice is a bit too sharp, but he doesn’t want to just let this go, no matter how pitiful and tiny Jeno looks.

“I don’t know…” Jeno sniffles and Jaemin inhales quickly, clenches his fists so he won’t grab the other into a hug. “I just… I guess I didn’t really realize it myself. It sounds really fucking bad when you put it like that, but I… It wasn’t my intention, not consciously.” Jeno finally looks up at him, and his face is red, eyes unfocused. He looks absolutely ashamed and miserable and Jaemin can feel the corners of his mouth pull down, straining as he holds back tears. “But I guess you’re right. Maybe I just fooled myself into doing this because I’m too much of a coward to tell you face to face. That…” Jeno takes a deep breath and looks hesitant, so fucking scared, but stares straight into Jaemin's eyes, “that I like you. Jaemin. I really like you." Jeno exhales loudly and then looks like he emptied his lungs completely, sunken and dizzy. "It was stupid of me to pretend like that didn’t matter. I’m sorry," he says, and then he just kind of, folds in on himself, defeatedly. He squats down and holds his legs tightly, lets his face disappear behind his knees. His ears are pomegranate red where they peek out from under his hair.

Jaemin isn't sure how to respond to this. "Are- are you okay?" he asks because he's not sure what else to do. Jeno shakes his head against his legs so Jaemin walks closer and sits down in front of him. "I know I put it very harshly, but I said my thoughts. Can't you tell me what you're thinking? I'm still not sure I fully understand why you rejected me. Like, I kind of get it but I also don’t."

Jeno stays quiet for a while so Jaemin waits and places his hands on the floor behind him. He slowly breathes in and holds it, finally able to calm down and do it properly. He's at 37 when Jeno speaks.

"I just… don't want to hold you back," he mumbles, and Jaemin barely catches it, it’s so quiet. He frowns but stays silent, waiting for a continuation. "You're so open. So free when it comes to your sexuality but I… I can't do that." Jeno doesn't lift his head completely, but he peeks up at Jaemin through pink fingers. His eyes are dark and watery. "I'm not ready. I can't ask you to hide our relationship. You don't-" he sniffles, "You don't deserve that. Maybe I'll never be ready."

He seems done. Quiet. Jaemin waits a few more moments but when nothing follows he scoots a little closer. "Can I touch you?" he asks, because while Jaemin normally clings to his friends, even when they don't want it, he's not stupid enough to believe that everyone feels comforted by touch during such a vulnerable moment.

Jeno nods though, a slow gesture that makes his bangs bunch up over his forehead when he hides his face back against his knees. Jaemin reaches out and presses the pads of his fingertips against a tense shoulder. When Jeno stays still and silent, he lets his palm smooth over the other's t-shirt, sliding up and down his back.

"Can I say what I think?" asks Jaemin. He knows it's a bit stupid after forcing the other to listen to his unfiltered thoughts earlier, but he feels calmer now. Collected himself enough to think more about Jeno's feelings too. Jeno nods again. They both pretend to not hear the small sniffle. "Jeno, are you… never going to come out?" He lets the question sit in the air for a bit before continuing. "I'm not trying to pressure you into telling everyone right at this moment but… are you going to pretend forever? To be straight." Jeno curls up even further and Jaemin halts the hand on his back. Nothing else happens for a few seconds though, so he resumes his soft caressing. "You wrote down that you tried to be with girls. You tried and it didn't work. And you don't want to be in a public relationship with a guy. So… when you're older, say forty, fifty, sixty... an old man, are you just going to be… alone?" Jeno doesn't say anything but his quiet sniffles are growing in volume, the tense time between each one reduced to barely a few seconds. "Look, Jeno, I'm not trying to make you cry, or feel guilty. I… I really like you Jeno, and if you'd be willing to try then I'd… wait. I'd gladly wait until I can hold your hand outside and introduce you as my boyfriend, but I can't…" Jaemin trails off as Jeno shifts to press his hands against his face. What is escaping him, slipping out between his fingers, is the bastard child of painful sobbing and panicked panting, and Jaemin throws caution out the window and pulls him into his embrace. It's a bit awkward, his legs on either side of Jeno's curled up body, arms reaching around him as far as they can. Jeno is shaking badly but seems to be doing his best to stay quiet, cries coming out in quick muffled whimpers. Jaemin breathes slowly with him. He holds him closer. “It’s okay. Breathe with me, Jeno.” His own eyes burn. He counts their breathing out loud.

It takes a while for Jeno to calm down, for his breathing to slow down to normal and his sobbing to turn to quiet sniffles again. One of his hands is tightly clenched around the hem of Jaemin’s sweater and Jeno usually takes up a lot of space, so strong and great and big, but now he’s so small, so small, in Jaemin’s arms.

"I can't wait forever, Jeno," Jaemin murmurs against his hair, blinking away his own tears. "And you shouldn't… You shouldn't hold this in. It won't make you happy. Not in any way. You owe it to yourself, to be honest, when you're ready. You don't have to do it now, take your time, but the day will come when you can't bear it anymore and…" Jaemin looks down at the trembling boy in his arms. "You're not happy. Not like this. That day is coming soon, if not today, and I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” Jeno clings closer, presses a wet nose and a hot cheek against the side of Jaemin’s neck. “You need to accept yourself, Jeno,” he finishes, leans down to press his face against Jeno’s shoulder and breathes in the soft scent of winter.

“I’m not sure I can,” Jeno whispers and Jaemin pulls him in tighter.

“Of course you can. You already told me, kind of. And Renjun suspected you might like me so he probably assumes you’re at least somewhat queer. And you know that none of the others will care. We’re here for you, and you don’t need to tell everyone you meet. Just start with us six.” Jeno stays quiet, so Jaemin decides to begin even smaller. “Start by telling me. Or yourself, out loud.”

Jeno is still shaking in his arms, but he pulls back a little, to look into Jaemin’s eyes. Jeno looks tired, eyes red and sunken, but he opens his mouth, lips trembling to form words.

“I-...” Jeno takes a deep breath and bites down on his bottom lip. He frowns, as if frustrated at himself for being on the verge of tears again, before he tries again. “I- I’m gay.”

For a second it looks like Jeno might cry again, face scrunching up into an unbelievably contradicting grimace, looking sad and angry and relieved all at once. He hides it on Jaemin's shoulder, breathing heavily and loudly against his collarbone. Jaemin stays silent, lets the other sit with his own words for a while. 

"I am." Jeno whispers, confirming, reassuring himself. "I am gay. I like… guys." He lolls his head to the side, pressing his eyes against Jaemin's neck. His eyelashes tickle, fluttery and damp. "I like you."

Jaemin holds him closer. Let's a hand cup the back of his head, fingers threading through black locks. "I like you too, Jeno," he says. Jeno swallows loudly and nods. Jaemin can feel new tears damp his neck.

"Okay."

They sit there for some time. Jaemin's foot falls asleep but he doesn't want to move - doesn't want to let go of Jeno. He just quit crying a while ago, sniffles dying out into sluggish breathing, air puffing out against Jaemin's neck. His hair flutters with each exhale.

"Jaemin?" Jeno murmurs, and Jaemin tilts his head down, trying to catch a glimpse of the other's face. He hums, signaling that he's listening. "I'm sorry."

Jaemin’s fingers play the piano on Jeno’s spine, a slow tune in a minor key. “I know,” he whispers. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do?” he asks, and Jeno pulls back a bit. His nose is red and eyelids swollen, lips puffy and wet. He stares into Jaemin’s eyes with determination, as if he’s making his decision at that exact moment. For a second he looks so brave, but then he reverts back to a frightened hesitance.

"I don't think I can-" Jaemin interrupts him.

"Forget- forget everything for a sec. Just… What do you want to do, Jeno?"

"I- want…" Jeno's eyes flicker, dance across Jaemin's cheeks, his eyebrows, his nose. He looks into Jaemin's eyes and looks beyond scared. Scared and hopeful. "I want to try. I want- want to be with you." Jaemin feels his shoulders sag, limp with relief. "I want to kiss you," says Jeno. "Can I kiss you?"

And he looks like he means it, pushing away the fear and uncertainty and trembling nervosity. He looks like he'd be fine, kissing Jaemin, like he won't freak out or regret it. Like he needs it now, a proof of sorts that it's fine, that he can do this and be fine. That this is happening.

So Jaemin nods. He doesn't initiate it because he wants Jeno to do it, to be in control and sure and comfortable with what's happening. Jeno doesn't wait for long. He leans in, stops a mere second away, breathing quick and tense. Their eyes meet and Jaemin does his best to look reassuring, whatever that looks like. 

Jeno pushes forward the last bit, a silent but gentle brush against his lips. It's very short, very light, but Jeno leans in again before Jaemin even has time to register the first kiss. And again and again, each press of lips just as fleeting and nervous. Jaemin lets his hand fall, clasps Jeno's thumb and feels the other's fingers fold in over the back of his hand, trembling and sweaty.

"I feel like a sixteen year old virgin," Jeno confesses, a small and embarrassed smile grazing his lips.

"You are a virgin though?" Jaemin chuckles when Jeno makes a disgruntled face at him.

"But I'm not sixteen," he huffs.

And Jaemin thinks that it's okay. It's completely understandable for Jeno to be nervous and shaky, considering. It's fine, and they can take their time. Age doesn't have anything to do with it and Jaemin isn't even expecting anything, really. He is already going to wait for a lot of things, and this would just be one more thing to look forward to.

He doesn't get a chance to voice these thoughts though, because Jeno kisses him again. Kisses him for real. And it's not the best kiss he's had, technique-wise – and somewhere in the back of his mind, Jaemin remembers that Jeno's only had one girlfriend for a few months back when he actually was sixteen, so he’s inexperienced and unskilled – but Jaemin really doesn't mind, because though there might be a bit too much tongue, a bit slobbery and wet, Jeno kisses with an enthusiastic urgency, excited and wanting. He wants it. He isn't letting his harmful anxiety get in the way and the thought makes Jaemin's chest swell with pride. Which might be a bit weird when he has a tongue down his throat, but, whatever. Jeno makes him feel a lot of things at all times, appropriate or not.

Jaemin feels Jeno shift a little closer, feels a hand around his waist and he leans into the kiss, calms Jeno’s enthusiastic tongue. Their lips move firmly before Jeno pulls off with a wet sound.

“Jesus,” Jeno mutters, resting his forehead against Jaemin’s shoulder. He’s breathing deeply and shakily, as if doing his best to calm down, to stay quiet, to not give away how winded he is. Jaemin can feel the other’s fingers play with the hem of his shirt on the back and rests his cheek against Jeno’s black hair.

“You okay?” he asks, because this must have been an immense step. Jeno nods against him, swallows loudly. He looks up and Jaemin can’t help but wet his own lips, gaze darting from Jeno’s dark eyes to his swollen lips to his sunrise cheeks, prettily pink and lovely. He lifts his fingers to the back of Jeno’s neck, scratching gently at the short strands of nape hair. “Wanna kiss some more?” Jaemin asks, cheeky smile, and he knows he sounds a bit stupid, but Jeno laughs a little so it doesn’t matter. They meet in the middle. 

Jaemin knows it will take a while, knows Jeno won’t conquer his negative thoughts in one day, knows he can’t do it alone and will need convincing to recieve help from everyone around him. He knows this, understands it, and can’t help but look forward to it.

Of course, there will be bad days. He can feel them creep up his spine already now, slowly making their existence known. Jaemin will be tired, feel frustrated, restricted by their concealed relationship. He’ll get irked at Jeno’s unwillingness to open up to others, will feel saddened at having to hide such a big part of him. Jeno will probably have days where he shuts Jaemin out, where he’ll drown in self-disapproval and self-hatred, and Jaemin can’t help because he won’t let him.

Jaemin can feel this in the background. The knowledge that this is a part of their future they’ll have to fight through.

But he also knows that it’ll be worth it. He likes Jeno. Can see himself fall in love, maybe not even too far from now. And Jeno’s willing to try. He’s willing to battle his inner demons, for Jaemin, for this.

For himself.

The small purple notebook lies forgotten on Jeno’s desk. The cat sticker stares up at the ceiling. There’s no weird stain in Jeno’s room, and Jaemin thinks that’s perfect. He doesn’t want them covered by rain.

He’s had enough of that.