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“Jeno! Have you met Jaemin?” Renjun chirps, pulling a pink haired boy along by the wrist as he bounces over to Jeno’s side. Jeno nearly chokes on his wine as Renjun jostles into him, laughing softly. He looks over at the other boy, shaking his head. He doesn’t recognize him. “He’s my roommate! Say hi, Jaemin.” Renjun insists, pushing the pink haired boy forward.
The action causes Jaemin to trip a bit, and Jeno gasps as burgundy wine splashes onto his white shirt. He looks down in dismay at the maroon stain spreading over his clothes, a sigh leaving his lips.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” Jaemin exclaims, setting his cup down on the counter. He grabs a spare washcloth from somewhere, pressing it to Jeno’s stomach, trying to sop up some of the liquid, but to little result. Jeno shakes his head, and smiles warmly at Jaemin.
“No need to be sorry, it was Renjun’s fault and- oh he’s gone.” Jeno turns to admonish the shorter man, but Renjun is nowhere to be found, swept up somewhere in the party. Jeno hears a short laugh leave Jaemin’s lips, and he turns back to the other man. Jaemin just shrugs, and tugs lightly on Jeno’s collar.
“Here, come with me. You can borrow a shirt of mine. It’s not a big deal.” He grabs onto Jeno’s wrist and tugs him through the throng of people in their apartment, dragging him to one of the back rooms.
Across the hall from Renjun’s room with a fox emoji sign on the door is one with a cat and a rabbit, and Jaemin pushes his way into the bedroom.
The style of the room is simple, and much cleaner than Renjun’s. Jeno’s not sure why he is surprised by that fact, but he somehow is. He stands in the center of the room, watching while Jaemin crosses to the closet, throwing the doors open to assess his wardrobe.
“Here, try this. I’m broader than I look, so this will probably fit your shoulders.” He tosses Jeno a dark blue t-shirt, and Jeno takes no time in peeling off his wet shirt, pulling the new shirt over his body. Once it’s on, he sees the look on Jaemin’s face, a slight eyebrow raise, and his cheeks turn scarlet.
“What?” He says dumbly, and Jaemin just laughs, shaking his head.
“You work out a lot, don’t you, Jeno?” He teases, a lilt in his voice. Jeno flushes even deeper scarlet, if that was possible.
“N-not a lot? I like the gym, sure, but a lot of people do! I just play soccer sometimes, and I work some odd modeling jobs here and there so I go to the gym occasionally…” Jeno trails off as he realizes Jaemin is just staring at him, and he bites down on his lower lip at the heat in the other man’s eyes.
“We should get back to the party, Jeno.” Jaemin says coolly, and Jeno just nods dumbly, letting Jaemin lead him out of his bedroom back into the party.
–
"How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" Jaemin laughs, looking over at Jeno. Jeno ruffles his silver hair, a short laugh leaving his lips. Jaemin squeezes his ankle and Jeno feels a rush of heat flash up his leg.
"Renjun's cheap ass rosé, you know the one with the screw top? Do you not remember that we just sat here and drank the whole fuckin' thing?" Jeno taps Jaemin’s side with his foot lightly, and Jaemin protests loudly, dramatically, as is his usual reaction. Jeno just rolls his eyes and pushes his feet out of Jaemin's lap.
Jaemin gets to his feet, a little wobbly from the wine. Jeno watches him, watches the way he grabs onto the foot of the bed to stabilize himself. Jaemin turns to look down at him, holding out a hand. Jeno tilts his head, looking up at Jaemin with a question in his eyes. Jaemin just laughs, wriggling his fingers. Jeno heaves a sigh and grabs onto Jaemin's hand, pulling himself up mostly with his own strength.
"Dance with me, Jeno!" Jaemin chirps, tugging on Jeno's hand. The older boy startles at the sudden movement, a short laugh bursting out.
"You're drunk as hell, Jaemin." The pink haired boy shrugs, throwing back another swallow of wine from the cup on the table.
"Being drunk is fun though. You're being no fun. You should be MORE fun." Jeno can't help but smile fondly at the younger, the ruddiness of his cheeks so scarlet, it looked maroon.
“You’re pretty when you’re drunk and giggly.” Jeno comments, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jaemin’s face. Jaemin scrunches his nose up at Jeno, setting his empty cup down on the table before moving to basically throw himself into Jeno’s arms, Jeno stumbling under his body weight.
The movement sends them both tumbling to the floor, Jeno landing on his back on the plush carpet, Jaemin sprawled on top of him. They both can’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout Jaemin’s bedroom like a symphony.
–
“What the fuck is THAT?” Haechan exclaims, peering at Jeno’s collarbone. Jeno just blinks up at him in confusion, and Haechan prods at his skin. Jeno feels a twinge of pain, and he suddenly realizes just what Haechan is talking about.
“I burnt myself… with a hair tool.” Haechan’s eyes narrow at him, and Jeno swallows deeply. He knows that Haechan can see right through him. After 3 years of working together on photoshoots and ad campaigns and even living together, the younger man knows him better than Jeno knows himself.
“That’s not what a curling iron burn looks like. I've had too many of those to count at this point. What are you hiding from me, Jeno Lee?!” He exclaims. Jeno shrinks a little bit at the accusation. He hadn’t talked to Jaemin about this, about what would happen if anyone found out. He knew that the other boy was more private about his life, and especially Jeno in particular, but Haechan was his best friend. They told each other everything, they lived together for fucks sake!
“It’s… what it looks like.” He admits, his ears turning a dark shade of red. Haechan gasps, grabbing onto Jeno’s collar to inspect the mark on his skin.
“Are you sleeping with someone?” Jeno meekly nods, not sure how else to describe the relationship.
“Kind of?” He squeaks, leaning back a little bit. Haechan is very in his space. “I dunno what it is really?” Haechan eyes him, a frown marring his features.
“You’re too nice to be in a situationship, Jeno. You deserve love, or whatever cheesy shit you like to watch late at night that comes up on the Netflix account.” Jeno’s ears burn a deep scarlet at that. “Do I know him?” Jeno shakes his head, a genuine answer. Haechan didn’t really come to the parties at Renjun and Jaemin’s place with him, so he doubts that they had crossed paths.
“It’s more… private? I dunno, we haven’t talked about it, but I’m pretty sure it’s exclusive and that he’s just the kind of person to not talk about these things….” Haechan tsks him, releasing the collar of his shirt.
“Do you want to be his boyfriend?” Jeno shrugs his shoulders. He’s really not sure at this point. He likes what he has with Jaemin, and likes the way that the other man makes him feel. He’s not sure that he wants to take the dive and risk things falling apart.
“He’s nice, I like what we have going on. It’s not a big deal to me honestly. It’s kinda fun, just having something casual without any strings…” He’s not even sure if he even believes the words coming out of his own mouth, if he is being honest.
“Jeno.” Haechan sighs, looking sternly at him. “You have never been, and I doubt that you ever WILL BE, a no strings attached kind of person. You get attached very easily. I know this, you know this, and whoever you’re seeing SHOULD know this. You love in shades of red, Jeno. Bright, passionate, fiery.”
“This is maroon, Haechan. It’s still red.” Jeno mumbles, but the other boy just sighs again, shaking his head at him.
“It’s not, and I hope that you will see that before you get yourself hurt, Jeno. I’ll always be here to pick up your pieces.”
–
When Jeno thinks back to where it all fell apart, he can place it with one single conversation. One single moment when he knew that Jaemin would never truly be his.
“Jaemin, why do you never stick around for long? I’ve never thought to ask about why you’ve never been in a relationship before. Renjun mentioned it offhand, but I didn't think anything of it…”
He can still hear Jaemin’s laugh, the boisterous nature of it, the way it bounces off the walls of the now empty room that was Jaemin’s.
“Isn’t that a real fucking legacy, Jeno? To leave?”
Now all Jeno has…
The burgundy of his shirt
From the wine that Jaemin splashed into him,
And the blood that rushed into his cheeks.
The marks that Jaemin had left on Jeno’s collarbones and his neck.
The rust that grew between their phones when Jaemin left
And the cherry red of Jaemin’s chapstick.
So scarlet, it was maroon.