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Summary
Jisung presses closer, slings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. He puts on a voice, the one they all do when they talk to him: sweet, and gentle, like he’s still young. “Don’t you love me, maknae-yah –” kissing Jeongin’s cheek, his chin, the corners of his eyes. “Don’t you love me, Ayen-ah?”
Well. That’s kind of the problem. Jisung’s lips land a little too close to his and he pulls back like he’s been burned.
“Changbin-hyung,” he says, “does – does he look good on his knees?”
Jeongin is an adult who is perfectly capable of having sex. His hyungs, much to his chagrin, would beg to differ.