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Summary
“I just wanted to talk to you,” he offers. “About today.”
“Mm-hm?” Jaemin asks, so cavalierly that it sets Donghyuck off even more. The nerve of this fucker.
“It got really close there for a minute, didn’t it?” Donghyuck feigns innocence and steps closer, in range of Jaemin’s face if he wanted to lean down for it. “You almost...”
Jaemin dips his head slightly. His hair falls into his eyes, and his smile, his mouth, oh, god, that mouth is just begging to be kissed. The most excruciating thing about this is that there’s no way for Donghyuck to tell whether Jaemin is having the same reaction as him—if anything is actually different this time. This might just be Jaemin’s business as usual: some verbal fencing, dancing around each other, teasing themselves and their friends and their fans, getting close and then parting again. Maybe it’s not special at all. Maybe it’s only Donghyuck whose stomach is coiling like a python, wrapping around itself tighter and tighter until it feels like he’ll suffocate on his own breath. But—
“I know,” Jaemin says softly. “I did.”