Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. Where it all begins.

Highschool, in Jaemin’s opinion, is a lot like cheese.

For some, it’s mind blowing. Crucial. Like a need. For others its meh.

And for the sad third portion, it’s a lactos koe intolerance filled diarrhea day after day. “How many times do I tell you to stop going there?” Jaemin hisses, fists burning but not bloody. Thankfully, one punch man has gifted him with many techniques that don’t apply in real life but are great motivators when he needs to scare off bullies. He hates violence and all, you know. “Look. Where did your glasses go?”

“Here, somewhere,” Donghyuck blinks, a bruise on his cheek. It makes his heart twist so hard he’s tempted to pool all those dipshits together and punch them one by one again. Only problem is that the bruise is Donghyuck’s brother’s doing and the bullies had just shoved him around like a plastic doll, mocking. Jaemin fixes his jacket, dusting off the dirt from fabric, down his jeans too. Donghyuck sniffles, instinctively pushing a finger up his nose bridge only to blink when his glasses are indeed, still not there.

He sighs. “I can’t keep looking out for you,” he says, annoyed, gaze going everywhere before they land on the black thick frames, cleaning it with his t-shirt and many fogs of breath. It’s a little cracked at the corners, but that’s just life. He puts it back on Donghyuck’s face, who has to reorient to the world again. Or something.

Jaemin picks out a leaf from his hair, and pokes his nose. “Did they do anything else?”

“Other than the usual?” he scoffs, taking his bag. He’s down, lips pushed into a pout, “I just wanted the album. You know I need to get it.”

“Michael Jackson is dead; I’m sure he’d prefer you stay alive for a bit longer than to listen to his songs this very moment and join him.” Donghyuck makes a noncommittal sound, and he tugs him back to their bicycles. “And did you have to wear that?”

“I thought it was cute!” It is cute. Which is even more frustrating! A red t-shirt and denim cropped jacket with jeans. His hair’s the same cut, all uneven and poking into his eyes. Jaemin feels a bubble of affection in his chest, as he always does at the sight of his friends. “I’m not going to stop just because of them, you know.”

“Okay, okay,” he says. Donghyuck’s very serious about this. He also never listens to Jaemin and has not left his middle school phase. The same simple shoes and bag, the same tendency to hide behind comics and albums and sink in the back of the classroom, only excited during quiz. Jaemin’s always worried for him. “My place?”

“Sure,” he says, grinning at him. “But you know. I still managed to snag a Taemin photocard in the middle of all of it.” 

*

They met in elementary, two kids at the sandbox. Jaemin had been new, and warned of a kid who went around giving hugs and kisses to everyone. It didn’t really make much sense why everyone was so afraid, when that sounded fucking awesome to his six year old self.

And then Donghyuck had tackled him so hard he’s swallowed sand and landed in the ER, nearly dying. He doesn’t know how their parents reacted or settled with what, but he does remember nearly crying when he woke up to be met with an overwhelming sense of unfamiliar; white curtains, beeping machines and unknown faces.

Then another had poked into his vision, big brown eyes that held the stars and glittered so brightly. “Are you okay?” the boy had asked, and Jaemin had taken a second before nodding, the other grinning to reveal two teeth less than he should have. They’d sat together; Donghyuck swinging his legs and talking to him about all the amazing amazing sights the small town had to offer after hearing he came from the city, big ocean blobs and snowy monsters and raging summer demons amongst spring fairies.

He doesn’t know how it ended. Who left first, who waved bye first. But after a few days at home, Jaemin came to the school gates welcomed with the same boy’s bright smile of recognition, hand held out to take and pull him in to the world of chaos. Always a bit sweaty, at first a bit big before they started feeling smaller as the years passes, Donghyuck never losing the same brightness, and Jaemin his tendency to follow wherever it shined brightest.

*

“Who?”

“Jung Sua,” he says. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Do you even like her?” Donghyuck asks, confused, “what do you mean you should?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, “your pea sized brain. This is what social life is about.” He flicks the actual peas they have to peel because Jaemin’s mother still treats him like an extended helper of the house when he’s kind of highschool royalty (not his words. He’s not that delusional). “She’s the most popular girl. It just makes sense—we’ll be prom king and queen.”

“She’s not even nice,” Donghyuck says, teething his lower lip. Not even the sexy way. The poor plush flesh getting ragged red always by the end of it. “You know she stole my notes?”

“Why did you give them to her?” he asks, and he has no answer, “exactly. You brought that on yourself.” Donghyuck is a menace, and hence throws a pea in his hair. “I’m just trying to teach you the ways of highschool, dude.”

“You’re the same freaking year as me,” he mutters, “assholes just need a reason to be assholes. Sua is a colossal bitch.”

Jaemin whistles, “you can actually say those words without crying?” Donghyuck glares at him so sharply he retreats, “anyways. I was thinking of asking her out during dance? Aren’t you joining the team too?”

“Mom keeps insisting I take the guys one, because I hate all other sports club—why did they get rid of book club again?—but there’s still tryouts. And the fact of whether I’ll make the cut.” Jaemin wouldn’t worry about that. Donghyuck always manages to do everything, and he won’t be surprised if he manages to do this too.

“You’ll be fine,” he says with complete confidence, before perking up, “hey—you can always just drop out anyway if you don’t enjoy it but please go to the tryouts?”

“So you can have a chance at ogling at her legs?” Donghyuck mutters under his breath, “what is it with straight people? So predictable for no reason.”

“Shut up,” and Jaemin’s bi, thank you very much. He dated Ian for a trial last year for exactly two weeks, and then gave up when the boy turned out to be an overgrown child. Didn’t even put his laundry in the correct hamper and kissed him with morning breath. It was disgusting, but Jaemin had come out with great self-identity revelations, and hence forgave him and moved on.

Now. “You will, won’t you?”

“You’re just as bad as my mom,” Donghyuck grumbles, “ fine.”

*

Jaemin eagerly waits at the gymnasium.

He’s called Donghyuck twice already, half afraid he got tripped into a locker again. Donghyuck never listens to him when he says to remove the stupid posters he keeps in there for ‘comfort’, so honestly he won’t be surprised if it is the case. There’s a pretty big crowd for tryouts, and he sits in a corner of the bleachers, watching the rest of the team trickle in.

You see, there’s this thing about Sua—she’s absolutely magnetic. 

From her walk to her presence alone. The way she talks and the way she rolls her eyes. Stepping in, and everyone’s attention is already on her, long black hair settling on her back, clad in a pretty red t-shirt and jean shorts. Her makeup’s always minimal too, another reason why Jaemin likes her.

“You’re here for tryouts?” she asks him, and he shakes his head. Her eyes drift up and down, and she looks off to the side, muttering a quiet, “pity.”

That makes him grin. “And why’s that?”

“We might have actually gotten some more people in here, you know,” she looks over to the guys part of the girl’s cheer team who help them with their base and tricks. They snort in a can and laugh slapping each other. Her red lips pull up in a grimace, “and would…greatly improve the overall vibe.”

Before he can say something cool and suave and have her fall for him, the doors open and Donghyuck’s at the desk, scribbling his attendance down. The rest of the tryouts step in, and she meets his eyes one last time, a half wave and a smile before she takes her place at the side with the rest of the team.

It’s the girls first. Some of them are impressive, but then there’s a girl who does an ostrich dance and makes Rachel from the grade below cry so she gets disqualified. Jaemin actually nearly dozes off, only Sua’s occasional demonstrations keeping him awake (seems like the case for a lot of the others present) before it’s finally the guys’ team.

Jaemin sits a bit straighter, because the captain is none other than Choi Yeonjun, who as chill on the regular, is absolute batshit when it comes to stunts and wants his team to be capable of the same. There’s only two who get qualified from the first twelve, and suddenly he is no longer as relaxed as he was.

The girls team had seven new members. It’s a whole different competition here. Jaemin sends Donghyuck a thumbs up when he meets his eyes, for once wearing his cheap contacts that he always complains make his eyes itch, glasses tucked in the bag probably for the risk of breaking them. He’s wearing his giant jacket, reaching his thighs, zipping it down and jogging over to him.

Jaemin stares. “Since when did you have stuff like this in your closet?” He asks, taking it as Donghyuck shrugs it off, wearing a pretty hoodie underneath,  and his usual denim shorts. He laces his shoes tighter. 

“Gotta’ make a good impression somehow,” he mutters, standing up straight to look at him, his turn next. “So, do I look fine?”

Well. “You always look better without those glasses,” he says, making him scoff, but he’s not lying. Donghyuck’s features are a strange mix of sharp and soft. Round nose and cheeks and yet sharp jaw and the bridge of his nose high, eyes almost doe-like. Jaemin ruffles his hair a bit, the black strands now looking a bit more at place. “Go break a leg.”

“Hopefully not literally,” he says, nervous, “wish me luck!”

“ Lee Donghyuck?”

“Here!”

Jaemin–for once–keeps his gaze focused on his friend. It’s silent, before they start up the same music they gave all to practice on. 

Why is my heart beating so hard? He’s not even the one doing anything! His eyes remain glued to Donghyuck’s form, watching the way he takes a deep breath in, tensing up and—

Letting go.

Jaemin gapes.

  Donghyuck moves like he’s been practicing this for months rather than a couple of days—quick and sharp movements of the choreography down to the exact beat, even adding a bit of his own groove to the empty parts, footwork that has him in awe. His specialty of course—the cartwheels and flips from years of martial arts, before a few higher grade ones even Jaemin hasn’t seen.

When did he even learn this?

He chances a glance, to find everyone goddamn entranced. Yeonjun’s got a smile playing on his lips the moment the music’s turned off, the entire room quiet, for once even Sua leaning forward in interest. Jaemin holds his breath, the scribble against the paper the only sound as Donghyuck collects himself, heaving as he evens his breathing and stands straight, waiting.

Please.

“Lee Donghyuck,” Yeonjun finally speaks up, “you’re in.”

Donghyuck covers his face with his hands, burning red, as Jaemin screams his lungs off.

“Did you see the look on their faces?” Donghyuck asks excitedly, and all Jaemin can do is stare at the bruises on his knees from how much practice he must have done, getting changed now in the locker room. 

It makes him feel guilty, all if a sudden.

Donghyuck pulls off the hoodie, sweat turning it dark in patches. Jaemin's gaze lingers against the expanse of smooth tan skin, always hidden underneath so many layers even in summers. He looks away, Donghyuck pulling on a normal t-shirt.

He flops beside him, hair matted to his forehead, skin rosy from excitement. He’s still wearing contacts, so he’s blinking a lot as he speaks, eyes practically sparkling and smile the widest and most proud he’s seen. 

 It makes something funny stir in his chest, reaching forward with a towel to pat down his hair a bit, as he continues talking, sounding all muffled underneath.

“Now you’re going to steal my title,” Jaemin teases, and Donghyuck scoffs, but he’s so so pleased with himself it's honestly adorable (he's never admitting it), staring down at the floor. 

Jaemin places a hand on his knee to settle him, the other’s skin warm to the touch. “Borrow my knee pads next time, okay?” he says, soft. Grazing his fingers over the bruised flesh. Donghyuck hums, leaning against his shoulder.

“I did great, right?”

“Have you not had your ego boosted enough?”

‘It’s different when you say it,” he insists, and Jaemin rolls his eyes.

“Was my screaming not enough?”

“I think you scared Sua off with that one,” he giggles, and Jaemin smiles.

“That’s all part of the charm, darling,” he says,  Donghyuck now making a face at the line. Jaemin wraps an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer, “but you really did well. If you can move like that why don’t you kick those guys’ ass?”

“Because they’re taller, broader and stronger.” Point. Donghyuck still smells like his nice breezy deodorant after all that, making him take a deeper breath in. You see— this is what he didn’t get about Ian. What’s so hard about maintaining proper hygiene? Albeit, it is more on Donghyuck’s mom for emphasizing it like crazy 24/7 but still. “Did you ask Sua out?”

Oh shit. “Uh, wait for me after school?”

“Just go, you idiot.”

She says yes.

It’s very anti-climactic. They awkwardly stand there and then get along with their day, and Donghyuck laughs at him for seven minutes when he tells him. Jaemin shoves him off the bench and he accidentally topples over, making him swear as the other kids laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, used to it,” which just sucks to hear. It makes him angry again and now he wants to punch the kids who were laughing. Donghyuck just pats his hand, now contacts free and in complete nerd mode all over. It’s honestly a miracle he’s waiting to hear more considering he still has his comic book opened. “So?”

“So what?” he says, “there’s the party at Jackson’s this weekend. I’ll ask her to go together.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck’s smile dims, “then have fun.”

Jaemin shrugs. Whatever. It feels kind of dumb how he made this such a monumental thing in his head only for it to be. Not that great. He doesn’t even feel anything which is even more crazy. Like the Jung Sua said yes to him—he should be feeling elated. Maybe it’s because he’s already fulfilled with daily quota of the emotion with Donghyuck’s whole cheer team thing.

The idiot ends up falling asleep. Against him. “Hyuck,” he groans, elbowing him, “get up.”

But he makes a strange noise and snores. Jaemin huffs, practically dragging him along to his own stop instead. He texts Mrs. Lee because she gets very frazzled keeping track of all four children, and she responds with a ‘ok’ before it’s done.

Damn. 

Why isn’t Jaemin’s mom this chill? “Hyuck can you atleast walk?”

“M’so tired,” he cries, like literally. Jaemin panics, “don’t worry, I’m not actually crying.” Oh okay. That’s good. Donghyuck only cries from laughter and sad movies, and those are the only two situations he considers himself well equipped to deal with. Anything else? Jaemin short circuits and flounders. Thankfully he smiles more than he cries. “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“In summer?” He scrunches his nose.

“Not taking that from someone who eats coriander,” he says it like it’s a bad thing when it’s actually freaking fantastic. And healthy! His parents aren’t home yet, so he drags the other to his room, letting him flop on the bed as he brings them something to eat. His mom’s kept rice and a few dishes, Jaemin entering his room to see Donghyuck’s bag open and the sound of running water from the shower.

“Want me to lay out stuff?” He shouts, the other murmuring back in affirmation. He keeps a shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, handing him the towel before leaving the room for a bit. When he’s back, Donghyuck’s digging in without him making him screech.

“You are so loud ," Donghyuck scowls.

“Says you,” he promptly steals his bowl making him whine. Donghyuck’s kind of cute when he does that. Jaemin and he devour the entire thing, burping to see who can get a deeper one out, before cleaning up and flopping on the bed.

He suddenly sits up though. “Jaem?”

“Gimme’ a sec,” he rummages through his drawers, Donghyuck sitting up too, cross legged as he peeks over. Jaemin uncaps the tube, the cold cream on his finger before he’s spreading it over the other’s knees. 

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck laughs, fond, and it makes it all bloom sweeter. That odd ball in his chest. He wonders why it doesn’t happen as easily with anyone else—maybe because it’s only Donghyuck Jaemin’s ever been this close too. “You really don’t need to—what, you’ll be waiting after all my performances with your dumb cream?”

“If you keep being reckless, yeah,” he frowns, “knee pads aren’t even that expensive.”

Donghyuck hums, brushing his hair back as he’s done. Jaemin glances up, to meet Donghyuck’s eyes already waiting. There’s something different about them—something he can’t really read as easily as he reads everything else. “Hyuck?”

“Yeah?” he breaks out of it, looking down, “thanks.”

“For?” he keeps it away, pulling him back down on the bed, the space between them small and yet enough to feel like it’s safe from everything else. Jaemin’s very picky about his space—but Donghyuck’s fine. He’s his best friend, after all. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Okay,” which is odder. But they’re both drifting off, and eventually, it slips his mind too.

“…right?” A huff, “and I keep telling him to cut his hours down. Alright, thanks Jeno.”

Jeno? Jaemin blinks, rubbing his eyes, stretching his limbs only to feel ache all over. Goodness. He feels all groggy, and the terrible kind. Like his sinuses are stuffed full. Which is crazy, because he’s not even eaten ice cream in like, three weeks. “You awake?”

“Hrmpf.”

“Gonna’ take that as a yes,” Donghyuck. But there’s something different about his voice. A laugh in between the words, and his hands against his skin that make him want to hiss. Gosh, he feels so sweaty and cold strangely. Am I actually sick? “This is why I keep telling you take it slow. How’d you feel?”

“Like shit.” That gets a laugh, and he peels his eyes open wider, to see Donghyuck turned away, taking out what seems like meds. But that’s not what catches his attention. “You’re—“ his throat is so parched, “you’re broader.”

“What?” Donghyuck asks, incredulous, “sit up, sweetheart. I think you’re starting hallucinate.” Sweetheart. Donghyuck would rather barf in his own mouth than say that to anyone, but here he is. Saying it to him. Jaemin sits up with his help but really. He is.

He’s also—

Holy fuck.  “Come on,” Donghyuck hands him the glass of water, offering the tablet on a palm, “it’ll feel better in a bit.” But none of the words process.

Donghyuck is like—he’s like different. For one, the glasses are gone. Opens up all his features so nicely —and talk about features. 

Since when was Donghyuck like this. All plush lips and beautifully full cheeks with a delicateness to them without all the baby fat. 

What the hell. 

Jaemin’s mouth dries, and Donghyuck blinks at him, brown and warm, a concerned pout in place. “Jaem?”

Jaem. “Yeah,” he croaks, taking it and downing it. He finishes the glass in one go, feeling a bit better. Donghyuck tells him he’s going to go get him some food, is when he realizes this doesn’t look like his room.

Like at all. “Where are we?”

“Did you hit your head?” he asks, confused, “at home? Our room? Jaemin you fainted at work—Poor Jeno had to drop you off. And now people will think I’m the negligent husband all because you never listen to me!” 

He throws his hands in the air, when Jaemin should throw his hands in the air! Then they'd both be two incredulous people throwing their hands in the air!

(Can you tell he's losing it?)

Donghyuck's taking away an empty try. Jaemin’s brain is trying to process it all— like the white and navy walls, the spacious room, the splashes of brown wood with mostly white furniture; there’s a sofa in here, Donghyuck leaving and his attention drawn to the walls where—

There’s pictures. Jaemin squints, feeling dizzy; it’s him alright. But nothing like him at the same time. Jaemin crawls out of bed in great difficulty, sure he’s losing his mind but there they are. Donghyuck and him, looking  older and taller and broader and happy. Jaemin’s got his arms around him in one and in another they’re kissing.

What the hell what the hell what the hell—

I’m the negligent husband.

It cannot—Jaemin glances down at his hands, finding them empty only to feel something cold resting against his chest, pulling out the chain and staring because yeah, that’s a ring. A real gold ring, and there’s traces of both everywhere; there’s empty energy drink cans and ties that seemingly belong to him. There’s a gaming set up and there’s also a normal set up. A shelf stacked and neat with books ranging from freaking economics to music books and cds and dvds and an album.

Jaemin pulls one out only to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stay rooted in place.

He gapes.

This is me?!

Aside from looking two seconds from dying, Jaemin’s  hot as fuck. He pulls up his t-shirt, in awe of the defined muscles, staring down at his own body as if he’s never seen it before. He’s tall too. And broader. Even broader than Donghyuck. Jaemin feels his head spin.

“Don’t be picky—Jaemin?”

This can’t be happening.

He thinks of school. Of Donghyuck. Of freaking Sua. Feels his breathing grow ragged, glancing at the other, Donghyuck’s eyes widening as he set the tray down, hurrying over in the time it takes for him to pass out right there.

Jaemin wakes with a start, scrambling out of bed and switching on the lights.

“What the fuck Jaemin,” Donghyuck groans, throwing a pillow at him, and he stares frantically at his normal normal boring ass white walls, his bed, his cramped desk. And then pulls the covers off an already distressed Donghyuck who is ready to commit murder, scrambling on all fours all over the bed to assess him.

But—“Oh my god,” he hugs him, “Hyuck I had the craziest dream okay? Like we were—we were both older and like we—“

We were married.

“It’s just a fucking dream,” Donghyuck shoves him to the floor, and Jaemin is thankful because he’s awake and not hallucinating. 

Suffice to say, he never brings it up again.

(Jaemin does ask Sua to Jackson’s party. Donghyuck bails the night and stays late for practice, paying off in the next school match that has him practically leaping out his seats to cheer him on.

They celebrate with ice cream, and he has to say no for his date with Sua. They open his acceptance letter, and he has to make another excuse. He feels Donghyuck drifting from him, and grapples on by moving further away from someone else.

Suffice to say, Jaemin and Donghyuck ditch prom after he's dumped to go driving all over the city, the summer right before college one filled with a million memories.)

2. Denial

It's not until a couple months later, when Jaemin is knee deep in assignments and studying, does it make an unexpected reappearance.

His first semester is going shit. He spends more time staying at parties and waking up at random people's houses than his own dorms. In midst of all this it is only Donghyuck's persistence that keeps them from breaking off entirely.

He wishes they'd just ended up at the same damn college. But noooo, Donghyuck had to pursue a shiny degree in education of all things. Jaemin's stuck grinding in business because that's what seemed best. And some days even that doesn't feel great.

"You always say that," a hand on his shoulder, a painkiller pressed into his hand. There's a gentle touch against his forehead that smooths his hair back, a kiss pressed to his temple that has his eyes slipping shut.

Quiet.

"Jaemin-ah," the same voice always. It melts everything akin to magic and turns him into goo. Even Jaemin's new boyfriend Renjun doesn't have the same effect despite all their affection fir each other. He feels limitless; weightless. " Tea."

It's not a question. He rests his head against the cool table and takes deep breaths in and feels the fog clear up–

–His eyes snap wide open, blaring sunlight hitting him in all their glory. He clutches his head, groaning as he sits up, an empty packet of chips falling off him as reality hits him.

He's hungover as fuck.

And his phone won't shut up.

" What?" Jaemin hisses the moment he picks up, and there's a click of tongue. Thank god because that means it's not his mom or one of the professors. He'd be toast otherwise. 

"Load of attitude for someone who's a freaking hour late to breakfast," right, shit. Donghyuck. His voice is impatient and yet a stretched lazy drawl; the very combination that puts him in the worst of moods but simultaneously jars him awake. "Where are you?"

"Can you be quiet ?" That voice. All of it melding into one and Jaemin slapping it off because he refuses to believe they are one and the same. A fever dream.

"Is this your third party this week?" He asks, amused, "either you need to start looking for different majors or see a therapist."

"Shut up," he hangs up. 

He hates it when Donghyuck's right.

*

Donghyuck has no classes today so he's not surprised the other shows up ten minutes later after he arrives at the cafe. It's more of a brunch now, and the other offers him a pouch of rehydration solution that he gobbles down. 

"Your side chick?" Donghyuck asks, pushing up his sunglasses. He's in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. Jaemin totally is not judging the neon green slippers that clearly belong to his roommate. 

"He has a name," Donghyuck shrugs. He also wears his glasses because he can't see shit without them. There's a band aid on his finger from where he cut it while cooking last night, and Jaemin needs to stop thinking of how they look exactly the same as the ones running through his hair in his dreams.

"Honestly, he's too cute to be wasted on you," he says, scrolling through his phone. When Donghyuck will abandon his tacky phone case is beyond him, but it makes great entertainment watching the cat go through so many colours. "Once you're done, call me. Mark hyung would love him."

"Stop objectifying people," and then their orders come in, but Jaemin doesn't wait to scowl, "and set someone up with yourself."

"Cooties," he rolls his eyes, Donghyuck grinning, "come on, my treat."

(It is of course untrue, as Donghyuck pretends to act shocked when his wallet is nowhere to be seen. Jaemin grumbles but considers it a makeup for missing breakfast, all the while ignoring the way his eyes keep straying to his lips imagining the way they'd feel pressed against his skin, his voice as he uttered the same words over and over with every throb of his headache.)

They're more frequent now.

His dreams, that is. "Can you pass me that?" Renjun asks, and he hums, both of them watching a movie he set up with a bowl of popcorn shared between them. Renjun's place always smells like heavenly incense because his roomies with a senior obsessed with them, and it is the only way he can relax.

Side chick.

Donghyuck has no idea what he's talking about. "How did your art exam go?" Jaemin asks, Renjun snuggled against his side. He's wearing one of Jaemin's hoodies; pretty and cute, and yet.

Yet. There's something that he thinks should be there. More. "Fine," meaning: not good. "I hate when they test on abstract concepts. Its the topic I hate most."

Jaemin hums, listening in the beginning as they watch the scenes, before it starts mixing in with the dialogue and fading away. "Jaemin," a pinch to his side, and he grins, Renjun whining as he buries his face against his neck, ticklish and sweet. The bowl's put aside, movie forgotten, and he draws him close in his arms, watching the way his hair gets all mussed up.

Renjun's eyes meet his, and the intensity of the emotion takes his breath away. Beautiful, bright and genuine. Renjun is everything one would love in a boyfriend–he's so attentive. Good to him. Jaemin leans up to kiss him and he can feel the small swoops in his tummy as the other giggles–

Why can't it be more?

When he looks at Renjun and sees the affection on his face, when he's on the recieving end of so much love it should make his heart burst with just the same. And yet here he is, six months later, still waiting to grapple anything even close to the same intensity no matter how much he tries.

I want to make it work.

But gosh, is it so hard.

"What're you thinking about?" Renjun asks, pausing as he pulls away from the kiss. "You're distracted."

"Sorry," he truly is. He tries leaning up again but the other makes a face and places a hand against his chest. Gaze dropping down, frown on his lips, and Jaemin is all too familiar with this rodeo. "Junnie–"

"I–" he bites his lip. "Jaemin I–I've been meaning to tell you this. Do you–I think we should take a break."

He'd been expecting it, but it doesn't reduce the sting. "I'm sorry," he says, and Renjun closes his eyes, shaking his head, "Jun I–how about–"

"No," he cuts, wringing his hands together, "Jaemin this isn't working. You know it's not."

He hates that he does. 

And so–Jaemin doesn't waste anyone's time. It stings more than he expected to, because Renjun felt different , but that's no way to hold on to things that were clearly not going to work.

The apartment is quiet is when he comes back home. It's also messy. Jaemin normally loves keeping it clean and pristine, and yet the mere sight of the state it's in is enough to throw him all over the place. He's twenty years old–he needs to get himself out of this.

Instead he plops on the sofa, eyes slipping shut faster than they should. 

"Brown?"

" Red," Donghyuck ignores the look of apprehension on his face. His eyes are bright and excited and the sofa is also on sale. Jaemin keeps the stern mode on for two more seconds before Donghyuck is pouting at him, using his sweet voice to plead as he grabs his arm. 

It's kind of hard to resist. Even in his dreams, Jaemin's chest balloons and does funny little things when Donghyuck gets close–even when he's so different from his own one back home. The slight tickle of his hair against skin as he glances back at the piece of furniture, the furnace that is his body heat warming him up at every point of contact. Jaemin's hands move with practiced ease, in the way they settle around him to pull him close, giving in.

It's weird, isn't it?

You shouldn't be able to tell your dreams from reality. You shouldn't even be aware you're in one.

And here he is anyway. Donghyuck and him finish up booking it and getting their addresses down, before leaving to shop for some groceries. An arm around the other's shoulders, the ring a shiny beautiful thing on Donghyuck's delicate fingers. It does something to Jaemin that's hard to explain.

Kind of breaks him apart, bit by bit. "You're zoning out," Donghyuck murmurs, choosing between mushrooms and avocados before getting both. He's in a black t-shirt and shorts, hair messy and demeanor at ease. This Donghyuck is everything his is–smart, funny, considerate, a little too mischievous and–

"Jaemin?" His eyes meet his, a honey brown in the lights of the market, lips chapped from being bitten so much in thought, and cheeks home to a dusting of red from the heat. Jaemin breathes and yet it's hard to ignore.

Donghyuck's so hard to look at, at times. A painting come to life, flawed and human. It's easier here still–where he's distant. Where he's not his even while being so.

Back home…?

Now that's a different case altogether.

"Yeah?" He says, a little airy. Get a grip, you've been married for five years at this point. He feels his ears warm, glancing back down at the cart. He can hear the slight huff of Donghyuck's laugh, seeing right through him, still ever similar in this strange future where they're older and yet Jaemin's none the wiser, a familiarity that eases him to his core as he laughs too, tension bleeding out the moment he gets closer and curls a hand around his.

"Wanna go home?" He teases, not being the slightest bit subtle in his understanding. Jaemin nods, the shopping trip cut short as they make their way out.

Jaemin wonders if he's cursed. If he's stuck. If he's insane or everyone has one these things once in a while. "Let me," he murmurs, taking the bags from Donghyuck's hands to load in the back, "start the car."

It's a gorgeous black, something he'd go absolutely crazy owning now. There's fresheners stocked because Donghyuck's  sensitive to scents, there's pillows and blankets stuffed into a corner for times they go on drives and decide to lay back and stare at the stars, maybe spend the night out.

Jaemin's nearing thirty five here. He has a job at a law firm of all places, and hates most of his clients except the civil ones. Jaemin works days and nights while Donghyuck writes music from home and teaches aspiring talents to sing at an entertainment company. 

It's unfathomable, compared to how they are now. How they're supposed to be. How Jaemin is reminded of his life falling apart even before it begins at home, while he thrives, lives and love in a distant future that doesn't even seem to belong to the same universe.

It's quiet when they're back home. Quiet is rare for others when it's with Donghyuck, and a privilege for Jaemin to indulge in when they're in the safety of their home.

Safety of each other.

God, that's kind of cheesy. "You okay?" Donghyuck's arms wound around his waist, chin against his shoulder. This, he's used to. Donghyuck's been touchy since they've been kids. Physical language the easiest of all to reach him in whatever mood; sometimes it felt a bit overbearing. Jaemin's a person who likes space, after all.

But goodness–he won't lie. The sting from the day isn't gone, the loss in his heart still palpable. Jaemin wonders what he's done to be punished with memories of both places existing so starkly, but at least there's solace in the warm breath against his skin, the graze of lips against his neck. He closes his eyes, sinks back in his hold, and for a few minutes…

Everything seems okay. 

"I'm tired." It's true and yet vague. 

Donghyuck hums. It's not a very him thing to do–these are the only slight differences, that make everything bearable. "Sorry."

And that's not a Jaemin like thing to say either.

So quick, so uselessly, so easy. "Food?"

That makes him laugh. "Is that your solution to everything?"

"It got me you," Donghyuck points out, eyes twinkling with something so genuine and intimate, it should never be directed to him. "It probably is."

Don't, it's not your place. But he can't resist it–he leans forward and kisses him, and like every single time he's done this (a small, tiny handful) there's an eruption of butterflies in his stomach, an explosion of feeling in his chest. Donghyuck's lips chapped but so easily giving in, sweet and all for him to savour.

"I love you, you know," he murmurs, which is true at its core. Jaemin loves Donghyuck–they've been friends since they were kids, they've been friends through highschool. Jaemin has seems parts of him no one ever has, and Donghyuck's done the same.

Isn't it a simple thing to admit? Platonic or something else, it all comes secondary. "I love you too," he says, quiet, "I hope you remember that, always."

It's a strange thing to add in the end. But a part of Jaemin wonders if Donghyuck can tell sometimes; that his husband is not exactly who he's supposed to be. An estranged imposter from the past that goes with whatever's going on to not wreck havoc.

But that's a thought for another day.

For now, Jaemin lets himself get comfortable in care that comes as routine, in a life that feels too studded with good to be called his own.

"Hello?"

"Your right," he turns, lips turning up at their own accord. Donghyuck grins, sitting a table away in the library. Didn't he have a club meeting? Donghyuck's in like four of them, extra credit assignments stacked to the brim, internship lined up for the summer and yet.

"Come sit here then," he says into the call. Donghyuck shakes his head, hair flopping back and forth. He never lets it grow out of the same cookie cutter style his mother's picked. It's kind of cute sometimes.

"It's nice to see you mope," he gives him a glare, and Donghyuck smiles, "what? I'm not going to tell you that I didn't tell you so. Let's be honest, Renjun deserved way better."

He can't even argue with that. Jaemin deflates, and Donghyuck cackles quietly in the phone. "Am I defective?" He laments, "why is it always the same reason?"

"Maybe that's why you should stop??" Donghyuck's line beeps, and he looks over to see him glancing at his phone with a pout. He can sense the exact moment he reads the contact name, deflating. Class? Maybe. Donghyuck's a busy bee nowadays. "Sorry, think I need to go."

"Your entire presence was unneeded in the first place," he deadpans, a part of stinging even more to be ripped of him too, " leave." 

Donghyuck flips him off, picking up and putting on his goody-two-shoes voice, quietly packing and getting up. Jaemin rests his head against his textbook and watches him, the line going dead on their end. Donghyuck waves him off, rushing out to probably sone random fucking meeting like the busybody he is, and–

Couldn't they wait like five freaking minutes?

Sometimes it's only Donghyuck's presence, that makes anything better at all.

To make his day insurmountably worse, it's when he's packing his own things that the sound of thunder crackling sounds outside the library.

Jaemin had only just begun to feel a little better; gotten two chapters worth of reading done, finished an assignment due later today itself and organized all his deadlines so he doesn't panic, but no. It's like everything just had to always go a little skewed.

He can't stay longer, because it's closing time soon. There's no buses this late, all the cabs declining his request on the app. Jaemin teeths at his lip, thinking of just running off, when his phone pings.

HYUCK

Please tell me you packed an umbrella

Or are home

You're not replying

You're hopeless Jaemin Na

Somehow, it stops the damper on his mood just in time. He doesn't even need to look up, when there's nearing footsteps a while later. "Here you go," Donghyuck grumbles, Jaemin hooking their arms together, combined protection from the rain. 

"I'll make it up to you," he promises, sneaking a fat kiss to his cheek that has him grossed out and even more annoyed.

"Leave it at the door," Donghyuck says, when they enter his place, "it'll dry."

He follows dutifully, Donghyuck's abode as always bare, cozy and cold. It also smells nice. Jaemin follows him to his room, starfishing on the bed as Donghyuck cleans his face in the bathroom, the sound of running tap water soon accompanying. "You know," he can hear him say, stepping out and stuffing his laundry from the day in a basket, "I knew it wouldn't last. It looked doomed to start actually."

Jaemin frowns at that. "That's not true."

"It is," Donghyuck singsongs, rummaging through his closet then. Jaemin stares at the messy pile of books and files piled on his desk, the posters faded and some peeling off walls but too loved to be thrown away. He's pretty sure Donghyuck keeps his PC collection in the dorms too, his shelf home to all the mangas and comics he splurges his little paychecks on. 

It distracts him enough to reminisce; focus on something other than sadness. Highschool Jaemin would have been so distraught Donghyuck still lives this way, but now there's only appreciation and nothing else.

"Here," Donghyuck dumps the clothes on the bed. "Hope they're your size."

"These are literally my clothes you stole and never gave back."

The other shrugs. Then heads to wash up first, Jaemin going to the bathroom in the hallway instead, taking his time to zone out under the shower before finally stepping out. The water had been warm; his skin red in places, heat beating out the exhaustion from his body. He steps into Donghyuck's room again–

"Oh I–" Jaemin clears his throat, the sliver of skin covered up with a shirt in a second, Donghyuck blinking in surprise as he turns to see him. He raises a brow, the top buttons undone to let him cool down, gesturing him to come in.

"It's not a big deal," he murmurs. Steps all in his space with a teasing grin and pushes himself higher on his toes to level his gaze with him. They're s beautiful deep brown, speckled with lights, his body warm pressed near. Jaemin feels his heart do flips, when he runs a hand down his shoulder, eyes following the movement and flicking away imaginary dust. "We're not kids, anymore."

Jaemin swallows, thinking of the softness around his waist, tan skin a mile of gold. Definitely not kids.

Jaemin places a hand on his side, only to push him back. But there's a lingering intrusive thought as he steps away; would it feel as smooth as it does in dreams; wonders if he'd skim the pads of his fingers up his sides, would Donghyuck still say the same.

Still seem so nonchalant?

It's not a big deal.

It shouldn't be. They changed in front of each other all the time as kids, anyway, to feel shy and even then. "Dry your hair?"

The sound of the hairdryer snaps him out of it. "Too lazy," he drawls, and breathes in the scent of freshly applied lotion, remnants in the air of some spray he likes to splash on after a good shower. Jaemin wonders if it's a good idea to sleep here, then tries to remind himself he's supposed to be heartbroken.

Speaking of which: "Why did you say that?" He asks, "about knowing it wouldn't work?"

"Did you even see the way Renjun looked at you?" He sounds offended on Renjun's behalf, "man, sometimes it is so painfully clear who likes the other more you end up feeling bad."

Was it really that bad? He comes closer, hair pushed back in a bear band now that makes him look ridiculous, trying to make him stand so he can dry his hair for him only for Jaemin to make goose noises. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, and decides to just.

Plop on to his lap. You know. As one does.

"You're impossible," but Jaemin can't help but grin at how ridiculous it feels. He's in a unicorn tshirt and Donghyuck looks like a salon aunty trying to seduce him. He voices this out and gets smacked on the head, both of them laughing before the loud whirring starts. 

Donghyuck runs his fingers through his hair, sorting the knots and fluffing them up. His nails graze his scalp, making his eyes roll back in satisfaction.

Jaemin's eyes droop from the ministrations, instead focused on the slight freckles littering the space high on his cheeks, the blush still apparent. Donghyuck's always had more sensitive skin than him, and he reaches up to graze a finger mindlessly, unsurprised that so much skincare actually does yield softness. "Do you even get facial hair?"

"I'm a man, Jaemin," that makes him snort, and he tugs at Jaemin's hair as punishment. "Sorry we can't all grow beards at the ripe old age of twenty like you, Na."

"I know, I know," he says, "it's a talent."

Donghyuck scoffs, before he's done, switching it off and chucking the dryer to the side. He cups his jaw, thumb grazing his skin, a shiver shooting down his spine at the sensation. "You didn't shave today?"

"I got depressed," he smiles at that, gaze focused still. "Is it bad?"

"This much is nice," he murmurs, looking distracted. There's a weighted pause, before his gaze snaps up to meet his, warmth flooding his skin as he slides off of him to sit beside him instead. Legs crossed, before glancing at him expectantly. "What?"

"Aren't you supposed to mope to me?" He reminds. Right. "Gosh, Jaemin. And you're still asking why I said that. You know you don't have to go looking for love right now, right?" 

It's not about that. "I really did like Jun," he defends, quiet, and Donghyuck's expression softens for the first time today. 

"Never said you didn't," he reaches up to tuck his hair back, the gesture so soft it makes him want to dissolve right on his bed in a pile of goo. "But all this does to you is make you go like. I don't know. Worse."

A beat. "You kind of worry me sometimes."

"Half the people in my batch are like me, mom," he jokes but it falls flat. Donghyuck's smile is a small little thing that isn't really a smile at all. "I don't know, Hyuck. I–how are you so sure?"

"I'm not sure about anything," he says, confused, "I'm just like you, Jaem. I work on chance, like we all do. I just tend to be more better at it than you." It has him rolling his eyes, but the words are a comfort. "You're  worst flaw is you always think you're supposed to do something–nothing's fixed in life anyway, so I don't get why you stress over it."

He picks at his own shorts, lips in a pout. Jaemin studies him. He opens and closes his mouth as if contemplating what to say, cute in his little world of advice. " You know I'm here?" He asks, and Jaemin hums, staring at the space on the bed between them. It's small, yet feels too much. He slides a hand around his thigh, closing it. "I'm always going to be. Don't go through it alone."

You know I'm here?

He does. Maybe that's why he does stupid things like this: 

"What if I did law?" He blurts. 

A pause. "Do you…even like law?"

That's a very valid question. But…he's so happy, in his dreams. Doesn't that mean he should? "I…" how does he explain?

"How about you try this semester?" Donghyuck says, hand crossing the distance to fit into his. Always perfect, always a cute little weight to squeeze until he screams. Jaemin smiles when he squeaks, loosening his grip. "You're impossible. I hope you stay hopeless."

"Please no," but he's strangely feeling lighter.  "Help poor me. I know nothing. Goo goo ga ga."

Donghyuck is so disgusted words cannot contain it. "I'm so fucking glad Renjun dumped you."

"You wound me."

"You deserve it," he pushes him back but Jaemin pulls him closer, both landing back in a heap on the bed. It's a moment of quiet, Jaemin staring up at the other, the thump of each heartbeat more pronounced than the last.

I could tell it from a mile away. "How?"

It's like Donghyuck already knows, what he's asking about. "Trust me," he smooths his hands over the short to flatten out, the touch running up his chest and running heat in his bloodstream, under his skin. Donghyuck's lips are a subtle pink, plush and soft. They sink so easily when he teeths them absentmindedly. "There's no one who'd know faster than me, if you ever did like someone."

There's something to prod there. Prod in the way that the dream is the most distant thing in his mind now and yet. 

There's an urge–a want ; to lean up and close the distance; tilt his head and brush his nose against the other, breathe him in and wait, watch, the way Donghyuck's breathing would go ragged before he'd finally press his lips against the other's.

It's a dangerous place to tread. So Jaemin pushes him back down on the pillows, and gets a kick to his side in retaliation.

3. Acceptance

It's a harrowing realisation.

That beneath all his attempts at distance…

There might actually be something there. "Why are you here?" Jaemin has an exam in ten minutes, and he is definitely not freaking out. His hands are only shaking because he's drunk four cups of coffee and multiple energy drinks in the past 24 hours, and the lightheaded-ness is definitely because of the heat and not nerves or nausea from skipping breakfast.

Donghyuck stares at him as though he's grown an extra head. "Dude," he starts, looking ridiculous in his pink sneakers, "you look like shit."

"Thanks," he says sharply, getting back to his notes, "can you leave? It's distracting."

"Since when have I been distracting?"

"Donghyuck, being an absolute intolerable presence to me is your speciality," he tries shooing him like a cat, "I can't fucking flunk this."

"No law?" He plops next to him on the bench, and Jaemin nearly hisses at him. No, no law. Donghyuck gave him a contact of one of the seniors in his university that's in the department; one look in and he noped out that pretty fast.

Besides, the other's been taking time out of his already stuffed schedule to help him pick up the pieces. Right now though, he needs–

"--to relax ." Donghyuck places a hand on his, and Jaemin's hands still shake, heart beating a mile a minute. He takes a deep breath in, and pauses. "You can't pass an exam if you blank from nerves."

Really now, he wants to bite, but holds his tongue. Not the time. "I'm not going to do this," he admits, head in hands, "you know I won't."

"Don't put words in my mouth." Donghyuck's arms wound around him, and suddenly he's engulfed in a hug. He smells the slightest hint of sweat under his fragrance, closes his eyes and wishes he could just stay here. Donghyuck places a kiss on his cheek, and Jaemin is supposed to swat him away and be disgusted, but instead he finds his insides twisting, in a way that's light and free and suffocating all the same.

The difference in reaction isn't unnoticed; Donghyuck clears his throat and pulls away, ears tipping red, black hair curling at his nape and yet unable to hide the warmth climbing there too. After Jaemin's suggestion, he's been attempting to grow it out.

Suffice to say, it suits him very, very much. "Best of luck, then," Donghyuck says, not meeting his eyes the longer Jaemin refuses to draw back his stare, "I need to go."

"You shouldn't even be here," he reprimands. His shift at the cafe starts in an hour if he remembers correctly. Donghyuck stands and just as he makes to leave, something prompts him to grab his wrist and keep him in place.

Donghyuck blinks in confusion, and it's more adorable than he's ever found it to be. "Thanks."

"Don't be creepy," he murmurs, "shut up and stay ungrateful. It suits you better. And for the record? If you flunk this I'm unfriending you." It's a ridiculous thing to say, Jaemin huffing an amused laugh as he watches him leave. Somehow, when they call his roll number, the crushing weight on his shoulders is gone.

(Donghyuck still calls him when he gets free at night. Prods around and talks in circles before he asks and Jaemin leaves it to powers above in however things will work out now.

The plummet in energy hits all at once, Jaemin's voice dragging and words not making sense. Donghyuck giggles at his ramblings and no doubt saves them for future blackmail, but stays on line all the same until it's only him and Jaemin's even breathing.

There's a sigh, somewhere. One he doesn't get to hear–heavy, relieved and aching. Jaemin sleeps, oblivious to all, until Donghyuck finally ends the call.)

He passes the fucking exam.

"Who are you and what have you done to Na Jaemin?" Jeno, his seatmate for most of the semester asks. He's smiling so hard he can't even think of an answer. He's not topped the class like Donghyuck has or anything, but it's enough to drag up his gpa, calling his mom and sharing the news before texting.

Hyuck

I TOLD YOU SO

WERE DRINKING TONIGHT

UR PAYING

He doesn't even mind.

Donghyuck's sick.

Not his Donghyuck. His husband, is. It's kind of confusing keeping track of distinctions at times. "This is why you don't eat ice cream in December."

" You're fine," he sniffles, accusatory. The bite is lost in phlegm and he looks like a sad angry kitten instead. It's such a petulant thing to say that it makes him smile. 

Donghyuck's a mess of red-rimmed watery eyes and flushed nose and cheeks, sneezing every five minutes. Jaemin's just given him his meds, and he sits at the foot of the bed, bunching up the blankets to expose his feet. "You don't need to do–"

"We both know a cold isn't the only problem here," Donghyuck's been working nonstop here. At least that's what his faded memories from this strange world tell him. There's body ache, there's his fever, and his mood swings from the stress. Jaemin coos when he tries to fight him on it–grabbing his ankle in a grip so tight  he can barely escape it.

He deflates. Donghyuck looks unbelievably small like this; surrounded by pillows and drowning in Jaemin's hoodie. He presses his fingers against the sole of his feet, the relief palpable as his eyes flutter at the sensation. 

It's the least one should do, shouldn't they?

Donghyuck whines a little more, and Jaemin placates with useless anecdotes he remembers from his lectures. It starts to grow quieter, Jaemin messaging his calves, glancing up to see Donghyuck's eyes heavy with sleep, a bloom of warmth in his chest that grows unprecedented bounds.

Sometimes he thinks it's the accumulation of all the Jaemin of here must feel. Where his chest is so tight with love it threatens to stifle him alive; just nowhere to go to, no way to ever express. This urge to lean over and smother him with kisses, with an embrace, to tuck him near and keep him safe.

It's so strange.

(And it's only a little different, to how he feels about his own friend back home.)

Jaemin's just starting on his left leg, thinking of then tucking him in, when his voice breaks him out of his head, words stilling him to coldness.

"You're not him, are you?"

He honest to god his freezes. Act normal, and yet the second was a giveaway enough, Jaemin's gaze snapping back to him in an instant, eyes wide. Donghyuck seems curious; maybe a little amused. 

"What?" Jaemin's voice is tight despite trying to keep it normal, "I'm not who?"

"My Jaemin," he doesn't miss a beat.

The silence is loud; practically deafening. Donghyuck's face is still as open as can be, and Jaemin thinks his heart might just crawl up his throat and fall into his hands with how hard its beating. "I…" but what does he say? "I'm still Jaemin."

"But you're not mine," Donghyuck says, and he has nothing to say, "I don't love in vain, Jaemin. I can tell the difference."

Mine.

Gosh. It's–it's the confidence of it. The way he takes his name. Intimacy and memory are so beautifully intertwined that for the first time,  Jaemin feels alienated from his own name. "No," he admits, sitting up. "I–this is crazy."

"Everything about Jaemin is crazy," Donghyuck shrugs, "I'm not much on the normal side either, to complain. Just look at me–anyone would call me insane for this."

But you're not. Donghyuck watches him, careful, a smile playing on his lips. "You know how I can tell?" 

"How?" 

It's silent for a moment. Donghyuck looks close to falling asleep, the meds kicking in. But his eyes are bright still, when he tries keeping them open, fighting it. He grazes his wedding band, and tilts his head. "Jaemin doesn't keep things from me," he says, pointed,  "you do."

He winces. "I uh.."

"He doesn't hesitate," Donghyuck continues, "it's why we fight–or well, bicker so much. Jaemin makes me want to hate him at least once everyday, but then he does something so stupidly ridiculous it makes me want to forget it all and love him the next second."

"But you just don't do anything," he licks his lips, "you're clumsy, with it. You grow so quiet. I just–I had a feeling, you know? But I thought…"

I was being ridiculous. It's like it autocompletes in his brain. And that's when it clicks: "I make you want to hesitate to, don't I?"

He smiles, a small little thing. It's not the first time, Donghyuck has rendered him at a loss for how beautiful he looks, so suited to the mundane. "At times," he says, as though not wanting to hurt him, "will you leave, soon?"

"I don't know," he admits, sighing. It's like he's in the fucking matrix. Or inception. He's not sure what movie it was. "I–I'm like, twenty back at home. And Donghyuck is–mine isn't like you."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" 

"It's–" he frowns, "well I mean he's kind of a bookworm? And a perfectionist? And overachiever? He barely has time to live and he wears the dorkiest things and rants about his PC collection too much at times–I mean it kind of sucked for him at school because he got bullied you know? But I guess…"

He's grown into himself. Stunningly so. "He doesn't need you much now, huh?"

"That's not–"

"It probably is, I tend to be like that," Donghyuck cuts, making him frown, "do you know why this started?"

"No," he wishes it did, "do you know how it can end?"

"In the weird book I read, it's something about reaching a point," Jaemin is absolutely clueless, and Donghyuck can very clearly tell. He's also very sleepy. It's already strange they're having this conversation, like a 4th wall break in a dream.  

"Sleep," he says, and the other makes a non-committal noise, lovely and cute, scrunching his nose when he says that.

"Technically I'm older," Donghyuck mutters, when he makes him shift into a better position. "Especially if what you said is true."

"Okay oldie, time for naps," he huffs, but he goes so easily when Jaemin climbs in next to him, almost as if searching for warmth, grappling on to him. That's the same too. Clingy limbs wanting to get closer until there's no way to go.

Donghyuck's barely coherent now, body still running so feverishly warm. Jaemin tries to shush him, but who is he to stop the unstoppable force that is the stubborn brat's will? "You should–" he yawns before continuing, "tell him. Your one."

"Yeah no," he'll run away screaming and plead for an exorcism to be done on him. "It won't matter."

"Everything about you will," he slurs, snuggling into his chest, "everything about you's always mattered, Jaemin."

He doesn't say anything to that. "You know why I wanted to marry you?" He whispers, murmuring.

That's a question he's always been most curious about. Why. "Did we date?"

"Three years," he affirms, "I just knew, then."

"Knew?"

"Our third year," he says, words jumbled together, "our…you don't give up. And you wouldn't, as long as I didn't."

"That's it?" He expected some grand romantic reason. Donghyuck laughs, the sound going to his heart anyway. 

" Yes, Jaemin. Sometimes, that's all it is…" he nearly dozes off again, "... that's all you should think…"

Think…? But he's out for good now, soft snores that should be kind of gross but they're decidedly cute, Jaemin sighing as he sinks against the pillows too.

*

Donghyuck's running an hour late because he got a call for a last minute interview for some summer internship as an assistant teacher at some big private school. Jaemin had sent him thumbs up, shooed away the rest of his friends home early and took time to just.

Be.

Ordering a bottle of alcohol for himself, indulging in the quiet bustle of a weeknight, watching the world flitter past and realising how nonsensical it truly is.

I don't love in vain.

He wonders, how that could be one day. Wonders about the bloom of feelings and all the nectarine sweetness people associate with love, the slices and stings you need to keep forgetting over and over to make it stay and work.

You don't give up.

You wouldn't, as long as I did.

"Are you a bottle in already?"

Jaemin glances back, the sound of his voice alone washing him with relief. He'd obviously decked up before going there–all clothes his mom's picks for these things. A black shirt and jeans, white jacket to match, his black hair framing his features, the mere glance at them a reminder to Jaemin's fingers of how soft they feel.

He plops in front of him, taking off his jacket. He looks happier than Jaemin is about this, looks prouder too. "Someone's tense," he says, grinning, "don't tell me you actually flunked and lied. We can still stay friends, don't worry."

"No what?" Jaemin scowls, "I did perfectly fine it was just–" he gulps, "that umm. Dream."

You should tell him. Your one.

He's mentioned a recurring dream to him. Never divulged what it was, what about it messed him in the head all the time. Donghyuck has stopped asking when he saw he was serious, but that doesn't mean he doesn't play around with it.

“What?” Donghyuck laughs. At his misery. Jaemin drinks another shot, officially drunk, “that scary dream?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he’s never told him what it’s about though. Donghyuck doesn’t prod, always just amused to listen. Even now, with his hair still perfect and not looking ruffled crazy like Jaemin’s, jacket on the back of his chair and face propped on his hand to listen. He’s wearing the prettier ones today—the thin wire framed glasses, gold of which complements his skin.

Jaemin picked it out for him.

Took his time imagining each one, before this felt so right, and even more when he tried on. Jaemin gazes at him for a bit longer, savouring the attention he only gets so little of now, when they’re both apart instead of always together like they were at school. He misses those days, misses him. All the time.

You can’t find people like Donghyuck again. He’s a—a one in a million or something. “And like, it’s terrible.”

“Umhm,” Donghyuck hums, patronizing. Jaemin scoffs, arms folded and pillowing his head on top of them, looking up at him petulantly under his lashes. Maybe he takes pity on his state, because he plays with his strands, the gentle scrape of his nails against his scalp so relaxing.

Almost like—like dream Donghyuck. Husband Donghyuck. All domestic and beautiful and caring. Maybe it was the culmination of stress and heartache and homesickness. But it had been too much, to feel so at peace with him at a dinner with all their family that wasn’t his family, in the name of an anniversary dinner, coming home giggling and falling into the warmth of each other only to wake up alone and the side of his bed cold.

His reality so too.

Why him? 

Jaemin hates the fact that it’s Donghyuck. “Hey.”

“Still here,” he blinks his eyes open, and there they are. Different. Maybe to no one else, but to Jaemin they are. The way his eyes look. His Donghyuck’s are more vibrant—they spark with life, the colours of the world and more dancing in brown irises that want to drown him whole sometimes. “It—you know it’s confusing me.”

“ Confusing you?” he asks, amused, taking to brushing the back of his knuckles against his cheek instead, Jaemin wanting to purr as loud as he can and inform everyone in the restaurant how awesome his friend is in taking care of him. Making him calm even in the strangest situations. “Why?”

Because I don’t know what I feel anymore.

Jaemin wants to break away from it—he tried dating and fucking around and nothing sticks even if it works. Because every single time he thinks he might be able to get over it he dreams of waking next to his best friend and sharing kisses stolen against skin, breakfast made in a rush and evenings filled with bickering and love. He dreams of Donghyuck’s hands in his hair and his voice all around him, dreams of pulling him close and taking him around the world on breaks from work.

And then Jaemin sees Donghyuck, every weekend without fail, and realizes that even if the dreams didn’t—

His nerdy best friend alone would be enough. Donghyuck is just so—he clicks, you know. He gets him. He doesn’t question it. He takes it all in stride and pours him a drink and even when they're so busy he calls and texts and gives Jaemin all this love that is perh aps different but means worlds more.

If a friend treats him this well, shouldn’t a lover too?

Jaemin searches for traces of Donghyuck, in every interest. Searches for signs of similar mornings and hopes of similar nights. Of similar love. And when they don’t deliver he breaks and the cycles repeats.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I don’t understand, if what I feel is true or if it’s you know, because of that .” Donghyuck blinks, trying to get it, and Jaemin’s heart warms so much as he glances down and breathes in and ignores the sting behind his eyes as the words echo from just days ago—

You’re impossible to love, you know? You’re too much to get.

Is he?

Maybe. Maybe that’s why he’s going crazy, and fate is spurring him one even more. “You know,” Donghyuck retreats his hand and he feels the loss like an aching hole, “people say dreams are just our subconscious’ deepest wants, sometimes. Like sure, a burger chasing you down is probably not what you envision your ideal Wednesday, but maybe it’s beacause you’re stressing of calories instead of enjoying your meals, you know?” He shrugs, glancing off to the side, where there’s people and more.

Where there’s the entire world for him to get up to and leave for. Just like his college must be. His cool seniors. His classmates. His trips and camps and shiny ceremonies doning him with accolades. And yet.

Donghyuck glances back, and meets his gaze, a smile only then quirking at the edges of his lips. Jaemin’s chest is full and tight and so is his throat, and he hopes the other attributes the blur to his eyes to the sheen of intoxication. “Maybe it’s something you want, or you’re afraid of losing,” he reasons, “you said it’s always about when we’re older. Are you afraid of something happening then, when we are?”

It’s so easily put, when he says it, like Jaemin doesn’t live and breathe the actual days in their entirely like some sort of time traveller. 

But.

You’re afraid of losing.

“I am,” he whispers, quiet enough he’s not sure the other hears, “you.”

Donghyuck stares, and he lets him. 

But Jaemin is.

He’s always scared of losing the one person he can be himself with. And not care, not worry. Not think twice, whether they’ll stay. Jaemin is not one to go back on principle, but that has cost him a lot even if on the surface it all seems fine. Pristine. The perfect son, the perfect student, the ideal citizen or what not.

Jaemin’s still just a boy in his twenties, not a single hint of the world beyond their bubbles of safety. “Do you dream of me then?” Donghyuck asks, smiling, and he thinks it a joke, when Jaemin’s heart is doing that thing it’s always done since they were kids for the other—stirring and causing a mess he never learnt to clean up, because Donghyuck never lets him. 

Jaemin searches his eyes. Yes, he wants to say,  I dream of a future that I have with you and no one else. Isn’t that crazy? But instead he scoffs and shakes his head and sits up, pushing back his hair and a hand down his face to try and sober up even a bit.

He can feel faded bits, come to life. It's never happened before; but he's so over it all he doesn't even care. A flash of a wedding alter, of matching rings, of a smile so radiant it could rival the sun. Jaemin's eyes are seared when he closes them, and when he opens them, there's Donghyuck, even brighter.

Yet.

This heat doesn't burn.

It's softer. It's kinder. "Can we go home?"

Donghyuck's expression flits with something delicate. It makes him feel so small, when he's long outgrown the other. "Do you want to?" He asks. Leans forward, hands warm against his cold skin, grabbing his face and squishing him so he's all fishy, smiling. "You're supposed to be happy today, Jaemin," he reminds, and Jaemin stares back, eyes a honeyed warmth in the light he wishes would drown him.

Go out with me, Jaemin. That's all I want. We could give it a try, right?

Stop, but it doesn't. Donghyuck helps him pack his stuff, both hailing a taxi before they're reaching his dorm, Jaemin barely exerting any effort as Donghyuck huffs and all but drags him upstairs, unlocking the door and stepping in. 

Oh.

"We're at yours," he points out, truly out of it to have not noticed. The other hums, and the air is infused with the scent of something earthy and fresh, and a deep wave of calm washing over him. Donghyuck has his curtains drawn shut like always, a night owl since school to keep up with his interests and his studies, home a bit messy but perfectly clean. 

They take off their shoes at the door. Jaemin laughs when Donghyuck's get grazed with his, the white streaked with dirt now, the other whining as he helps him out his jacket. Jaemin thinks of days and days and months and years all spent like this–coming home.

With each other. To each other. He stares at the Donghyuck in front of him and–

God.

What if I did tell him?

Would he think him crazy? Would he care? He's left staring as the other hurries away once they step in, Jaemin confused and unable to move from his spot at the doorway to the living room.

The apartment is quiet, and yet it doesn't feel so. The air is still, with anticipation but not hesitation. The lights are barely open, and in midst of all of them, he steps out.

"Oh my god," he can't help but grin, incredulous, "you're so dumb."

"It's almost midnight!" Donghyuck insists. There's a birthday cake in his hands, and a candle on top. The flames cast dancing shadows across his face. Jaemin rests his head against the wooden frame of the door, feeling his vision cloud and haze and–

There's so much I want to say, Jaemin-ah.

It didn't need to always be you. But I'm so glad it is. 

"Donghyuck," he croaks, heart beating so hard. But he doesn't hear, too focused as he comes to stand in front of him. His Donghyuck.

Stop it. He pleads. A thousand flashes at the back of his mind–of laughter, of crying , of fights , of shaking hands and trembling lips and yet.

Yet there's nothing but love tainting it all.

"Make a wish," Donghyuck whispers, and he does. Wishes for it to stop and end and to stop playing with him, blowing the candles–

Because he doesn't want memories if another life to tell him.

Because Jaemin has history and more with the boy in front. He has years and years more to figure it all out.

Always stuck on what you're supposed to do.

"Happy birthday," Donghyuck whispers, grinning, and there's no more reminders. There's no echoing sound or memory or flashes from dreams he's seen and.

Jaemin's mind is the clearest it has been in a long long while. "You're finally twenty one," he says, and it's a wonky chocolate cake with mismatched frosting, Jaemin realizing he must have made it himself. "Do you know how lonely it is to be the older, wiser one for two months? Should have been born a few days after me."

"I'm sorry," he says, unthinking, and it makes him laugh, loud and bodied like he always does.

This time, the memories that surface, are his own. 

This time, Jaemin's the one dredging them up himself, the missing teeth in their smiles and the bruises on their knees from playing out. Donghyuck's collection of stickers from doing well in class and Jaemin's streaks of crosses for timeout. Donghyuck's first school bag and Jaemin the only one allowed to doodle on it. Donghyuck running over to his place to show him his new comics and explain them one by one. Donghyuck's voice, thin and small to something so beauty and lovely.

His Donghyuck.

Who is worlds better than any other version of him that could exist. "Jaemin?"

He sets the cake aside, letting him whine and feed him a bite and streak his face with cream. He lets Donghyuck do more and giggle at his own mischief because maybe once, Jaemin was all Donghyuck had to show his full self too.

He doesn't need you anymore, does he?

Maybe.

He doesn't fucking care.

I just work on chance, like we all do.

There's no one who'd know faster than me, if you ever did like someone.

"Hyuck," he says, just as he licks his own fingers clean. He hums, turning to face him, and Jaemin takes a step closer, just like he had that day. It makes his eyes widen, and there it in.

The pink he always wants to hide away, tinting his cheeks. "I want something more, this year," he says. His heart's beating so hard he can barely hear himself over the deafening roar of it. Jaemin places a hand on his sides, let's it rest there. Donghyuck bleeds warmth everywhere he can touch, be near. Jaemin leans down, noses against the side of his beck, breathes him in.

"What is it?" It's an attempt alright. At nonchalance like he always does. But Jaemin remembers sweaty hands held tight in his at camping trips and sleepless night tucked so close there was barely room to breathe. Jaemin's puked over his shoes once and Donghyuck's gotten snot all over his shirt from crying plenty more.

He can't fear this.

He can't find it in himself to. "Tell me to stop," he pleads, almost. When he draws himself higher and meets his dark gaze, pools of such warmth and burning anticipation they make his mouth dry. Jaemin's eyes drop lower, the richness of his lips, the hesitance, the way his tongue darts out to wet them, nerves getting to him the more he stalls.

Jaemin drags his hands up and down. Languid and slow. Say it, and yet he never does. Donghyck tilts his head and waits with bated breath just like he'd imagined he would; stays still as his eyes hood over the closer he crosses the distance.

Donghyuck's not one to give up easily, after all. They're both kind of stubborn as fuck in that regard.

"Hyuck–"

"Jaemin," he whispers, breath fanning across skin, barely above a whisper and hoarse without doing anything. His hands curl against Jaemin's shirt, right over his chest. Jaemin brushes his nose against his and it's a breath of life breathed into him. "You know I won't."

Gosh. The words snap something in him–he crashes their lips together, and savours the hitch of breath, the gasp low in his throat of surprise. Everything of Donghyuck is pretty–the taste of him, his little sounds, his scrambling touch before they settle round his shoulders and pull him closer. 

"Jaemin," he breathes. Just for the sake of it, as if it's a reminder, a comfort. It makes his chest swell with warmth and he's drawing him flush against him, licking into his mouth and nearly groaning at how lovely it is.

How right it is.

Like a thousand year thirst, quenched after so long. All Jaemin can think of is Donghyuck Donghyuck Donghyuck. His pretty lovely Donghyuck. Only and only his.

Their breathing is ragged when they pull apart; chests rising and falling rapidly, heartbeats rapid. For a second, all they do is breathe each other in. Jaemin doesn't let go, and Donghyuck doesn't pull away.

He's in a daze.

Afraid of something.

Of losing him.

Of missing out. Of being caught up in the world and others and a future devoid of the one person who's seen it all.  

Jaemin thinks of Donghyuck somehow always having time when he calls, thinks of him always managing to show up despite all his schedules. There's a slight mark on his hand that must have been from baking, from doing this for him–

"Do you want–"

"It is you," he blurts, before he can stop himself. Donghyuck stares, confused. Jaemin draws a deep breath in and feels his insides churn from nerves. But then he's pulling the slightest bit back to get a look of his face. It's the most serious he's seen him and it must be because it shows on Jaemin's face.

How terrified he is.

"What is?" He asks. He reaches a hand up, letting it rest  against his cheek. 

"The dream," Jaemin breathes out, and then he can't stop, grip tight on his waist, needing a tether to hold on or else he'll lose it. "It's–Hyuck it's you, you know? And it–its from some strange future where we're married or something but god Hyuck you're right. I'm–" he swallows, "I don't want to lose you."

It takes him a minute. Donghyuck's eyes are wide, looking half confused and half worried. "We're…what?"

Jaemin feels his skin burn, not looking away. "Married. It's not important. Anyway I uh," gosh. Where was he going with this? Donghyuck pinks and it's so ridiculous he wants to laugh. 

A minute of silence, then, Donghyuck pecks him, contemplating his words before speaking. 

"Well whatever it is," he pushes himself higher on his toes, pushing back his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lingering there and making Jaemin's blood hum in irrevocable comfort. "You won't. You're never losing me, you idiot. Why'd you even think that?"

"But we're supposed–"

"We're not supposed to anything," he frowns, "is that what's stressing you? Stop it. You're you. You're here. With me, in the present and not some weird future or dream. Do you want to get married right now?"

"I don't think I'm ready for that type of commitment," he admits.

"Then? What the fuck were you even thinking," he tugs at his ear, "this is why you tell me everything. You need to quit this dating nonsense, focus on getting your shit together and actually making your mom proud. Then,  we can see what works." He huffs and glances at the cake, "you didn't even compliment me."

"How're you sure it's good?"

"You licked your fingers clean," he points out. Right.

Donghyuck runs his fingers through his hair, and tugs him, Donghyuck ending up right in his arms. He's warm and sleepy from the little alcohol, from the relief and exhaustion and explosion of so much at once. Jaemin hugs him tight, because he just can, because his Donghyuck is just different, better. It makes something protective curl under his chest, when he breathes out a sigh. Makes him want to cherish and keep whatever this is for eternity and more.

 Donghyuck's fingers graze the soft skin of his nape. "Here I was thinking you're getting nightmares," he murmurs, "was I that terrifying?"

"Yeah," he says. No, he means to, quite the opposite. "I am shitting my pants as we speak."

"Gross," but he's laughing, and this time Jaemin drops a kiss to his head, making his chest balloon with warmth, "I wonder what made you fall."

"Not the other way around?" He asks. But Jaemin's tensing up, wondering about the answer. 

"No," he admits, soft. Quiet. His touch is gentle, when he smooths back his hair. "I already know why I would."

That… it can't be– but. "Why?" He tries to keep his voice light, and yet it's still barely above a whisper. "Is it–because of this?" And now he's worried, "I should have asked, right? I just kissed you and–"

"Umm…?" Donghyuck pulls back, so amused with him as if he's a funny little joke. "Excuse me? I love you."

Jaemin's brain fucking short circuits.

"Since…" he croaks.

"I'll tell you another day," he concedes, "so don't worry. Though a confession would have been nice."

"Of course I love you," he says, pouting, "I–well I'm always going to love you. It's just… this is…" He doesn't know what to say. He needs to be more sober. He's also blushing like crazy' because Donghyuck just said that. It's making his heart do crazy gymnastics in his chest, making his stomach swoop and hope flutter and all the cheesy stuff.

God.

"It's new," Donghyuck settles. He nods, embarrassed, the other's laugh sweet. He slips his fingers in between his, hands held tight. "We'll learn," he closes his eyes, resting his head against Jaemin's chest, "as long as you don't give up, I won't either."

You don't give up. You wouldn't unless I did.

"That's a promise, then."