Chapter Text
Fever dream high in the quiet of the night
You know that I caught it
Bad, bad boy
Shiny toy with a price
You know that I bought it
Jihoon is in his room studying for an upcoming test when Soonyoung climbs up his open window, hair full of maple leaves, persuading him to go for a night out.
“I have a test tomorrow, Soonyoung.”
“You’ll pass anyway, Jihoon.”
Jihoon looks at the state of his room- dirty, messy just like Soonyoung. He’s never tried to make it better, just like he has never tried to make it better with Soonyoung.
Soonyoung. He’s the kind of boy your mother warns you against, the kind who’s bad for you. Who roams the city on his bike and shows up late to the school smelling of grease and mischief. The kind to sneak in your room way past your bedtime and waste your whole night, by talking or not talking. The kind who’ll give themselves to you every night only to forget your existence in the morning. Not like Soonyoung has ever done any of that. Jihoon kinda wishes he did, at least then he'll have a clue on what he wants from him. Jihoon doesn’t know what Soonyoung wants and why Soonyoung does the things he does. They are not friends. So what if Soonyoung shows up in his room at midnight thrice a week. So what if Jihoon pretends to not notice empty eyes full of wistfulness. So what if his mind feels at peace in the moments Soonyoung rambles about sky, stars, fate and falls. So what if he searches the school hallways for a pair of eyes speaking of exhaustion. He does, finds it- he tries not to stare. They never look back. Those eyes, they never search back for him or glance at him. Even after knowing all of this, Jihoon indulges, like a fool.
Killing me slow, out the window
I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below
Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes
What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more
Jihoon was revising when Soonyoung knocked on the glass windows. Rose flushed cheeks and disheveled hair telling a story of winter on the roads. Detaching himself from comforters isn’t as difficult as it was few hours ago when Jihoon went to retrieve his water bottle. Somehow his feet moves before his brain does when it comes to him. Jihoon walks over to the window, unlatching the lock, he opens it for him. Cold air drifts inside his cozy room making hair on his arm stand up.
“There’s an exhibition going on in the old museum and there are walls. Many of them.” Soonyoung takes a breath, close to Jihoon’s face. Closed proximity makes Jihoon queasy, he wants to reach out to warm the other’s cheeks in his hands.
That’s the thing about Soonyoung, he talks in short feverish phrases and long rambled sentences, Both of those don’t make complete sense but Jihoon understands, every time. He speaks in his own language and Jihoon, who has spent countless nights being the sole listener of his thoughts under the moon understands it completely. There's an exhibition meaning lots of wealthy snobs will be there to watch their precious walls getting vandalized and there are walls is just- there are walls to vandalize.
Jihoon doesn’t even try to make excuses, he checks the clock- a few minutes before midnight. By his calculation, he’ll be back in his room in around three hours and then he can squeeze three hours of sleep before school at 7. He doesn’t doze in school, ever. He’ll come home and sleep till evening only to wake up to do his bare minimum reading and homework and the cycle repeats. He wasn't like this before.
He picks up his cardigan as Soonyoung jumps from the window. He grabs a jacket seeing the material of Soonyoung’s t-shirt.
Soonyoung climbs on his bike and Jihoon follows. Cold metal imprinting on Jihoon’s fingers when he grips the back handle too tight. He doesn't have the right to hold Soonyoung's waist or shoulder. He was never given. Soonyoung doesn’t do helmets, Jihoon asked him many times, even offered his own, but Soonyoung refused, saying he can’t feel the wind right on his face with the helmet on. Jihoon stopped insisting and ditched the helmet himself after few rides.
Night air hits his face like water from a broken shower, cold, prickly and all at once. He grips Soonyoung’s shirt tighter, shifts his body close to him, carefully. Sometimes these restrictions that he puts on himself are the only thing that keeps him sane. The material of the shirt isn’t too thin but it’s surely not thick enough to guard against this chilly night. He twists and pulls on the fabric making the shirt to untuck from the jeans. Jihoon eyes the small reveal of skin, comparing with his own hand, Soonyoung’s skin looks alive. Unlike Soonyoung’s heart, the heat from the body; the skin on display is warm. Jihoon wonders if he will burn if he touches it.
I'm drunk in the back of the car
And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar
Said I'm fine but it wasn’t true
I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you
And I snuck in through the garden gates
Every night that summer just to seal my fate
And I screamed for whatever it's worth
“I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?
He looks up grinning like a devil
“Isn’t this place cool?” Soonyoung asks, walking upto the counter of the room. The “room” is more like a collage between basement and garage. The ceiling has a net counter on which suitcases, skateboards are placed in an ill manner. One of the brick walls is littered with road signs and transport nameplates, for some reason there's an American flag hanging in the adjacent wall right above the rusted lockers. The sofa taking up the most space is in an ugly green colour. There’s musical instruments placed in every corner of the room. Only the electric guitar is on a stand, the rest of them are lying haphazardly on the dusty rug.
Jihoon hums in response. The room looks like it hasn’t been inhabited in thirty years. A chill travels up his spine, making him shiver.
“Take this.” Soonyoung wraps his jacket on Jihoon’s frame. He remembers just fortnight ago he was the one lending his jacket to Soonyoung. Soft and heavy material settles on his shoulders before he could mutter thanks. Soonyoung’s already backed up, already at the counter observing the room with a sparkle in his eyes. Jihoon stares at the slope of his nose, at the makeshift glitters in his hair, at the grin forming on his face. Jihoon stares. He doesn’t stop when Soonyoung shifts his gaze to him, doesn’t stop when his amusement turns into nervousness.
Something changes in Soonyoung,s eyes, glinting in the pale yellow light of the room. He looks back at him, leaning at the counter. His shirt hangs loose and low, revealing the collarbones. There’s something about being together in a dilapidated room giving off eerie vibes. There’s something about a crooked smile dancing on Soonyoung’s lips. There’s something about Jihoon’s heart slamming in his ribcage urging him to GO GO GO.
Jihoon doesn’t know how he got this courage but he closes the distance between them in four steps.
One
He walks- no, he runs to Soonyoung. He runs and runs but the distance doesn’t seem to disappear between them.
Two
He fists his hands on Soonyoung’s shirt, pulling him down. Jihoon stands on his tiptoes to reach. He kisses.
Three
Soonyoung kisses back.
Four
Warm arms slither around his waist. He feels Soonyoung's deep inhale as he brings him closer, and he feels his feet leave the ground. Jihoon kisses like he’s breathing like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him alive. Moments flicker past his vision, of them, always of them.
Of Soonyoung laying on his bed counting fake stars in Jihoon’s ceiling, of Jihoon whisper-screaming as he climbs down the window for the first time, of Soonyoung watching him descend with his arms outstretched to catch if he falls. Of Jihoon jumping and Soonyoung catching him with a burst of warm bellied laughter, of Jihoon joining him gasping, out of breath, cheeks flushed from the exertion, their faces centimeters apart.
Jihoon grips tighter, not ready to let go of him, not now, not ever. He breathes in the kiss, inhaling the scent of musk.
“Jihoon.”
Every cell in his body, burning, regenerating. Don’t say it, please don’t say it.
“I’m not good for you.” Then why why why WHY?
“You- you could be,” Jihoon searches Soonyoung’s eyes for sincerity, for a promise that he’ll try. For something, for anything. nothing? Soonyoung’s looking at the floor, avoiding his eyes.
“Then why did you-” Why did you what, Jihoon? Why did you barge into my life like a missile and carved a giant hole in my heart if not to destroy me? He swallows.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Then what was supposed to happen, Soonyoung?” His mouth is turning dry, his throat hurts as if he’s swallowed sand. He looks at Soonyoung’s face, Soonyoung is still not looking at him.
“And you were never supposed to sneak into the bedroom, but you did anyways, right?”
“Yea- never supposed to happen,” Soonyoung mutters, void of any emotion.
“I was never supposed to fall in love with you,” Jihoon states, dejected.