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Seongmin studies the top half of Jongwoo’s face through the rearview mirror– the thin metal glasses framing Jongwoo’s eyes, his gaze focused diligently on the road.
It smells like new leather and stale air freshener; a small empty bottle of air freshener still clinging onto the A/C fan. Jongwoo’s hand grips around the shifter, his knuckles white, and tugs it up to park. The car comes to a standstill. For a moment, the air is uncomfortably thick, with the radio turned down low to cushion the silence. Jay looks between Seongmin next to him in the back and Jongwoo in the front, uncharacteristically quiet. No one is smiling.
Seongmin takes another big drink of lychee soju, then leans forward into the driver’s seat with purpose. He can tell when Jongwoo’s about to get out of the car, when his hand reaches for the seatbelt. He has to be the one to break the silence.
“Hyung, get us a bag of chips while you’re at it,” he breathes, cheek pressed to the leather headrest. His mouth is almost touching the shell of Jongwoo’s ear; he’s not quite drunk, but tipsy. Seongmin feels Jay staring from the side, his eyes caught on Seongmin’s lips, trying to read the words he can’t hear.
Jongwoo sighs half-heartedly, but Seongmin catches the way he twists in his seat. “Yeah, I got it.” He plays it off like nothing– Seongmin knows better. Seongmin can feel everything; Jongwoo’s breathing, Jay’s staring. It makes his ears burn.
The soju bottle in his hand gets lighter when he takes a long sip; two empty ones sit between Seongmin and Jay in the backseat. Jongwoo rolls down the windows halfway and turns off the engine. The hum of the radio fizzles into nothingness, replaced by the infrequent zoom of a car down the highway. Cool autumn air floods through the windows but Seongmin’s entire body is buzzing warm.
They were supposed to get to Seongmin’s parents’ house at six but the mixup at the car rental set them back another hour. Then on the drive home, they discovered that the car was shockingly low on gas. Navigating to the closest gas station in the middle of nowhere only led to Jongwoo and Seongmin arguing about which exit to take; Jay had kept a hand on Seongmin’s shoulder to ground him, warm and steady, sensing how close he and Jongwoo were to a fight. The tension had mostly dissolved when they pulled into the gas station, leaving residual awkwardness.
The roads are quiet in this small town by the highway. This tiny gas station is empty of cars and people this time of night; moths flutter happily around the floodlights, unbothered. Jongwoo sighs to himself, grumbling under his breath about this shitty rental, and gets out of the car. The door slams with a thud– the entire car quivers. Residual awkwardness.
Jay looks over at Seongmin with an easy smile, his hand reaching across the middle seat to give Seongmin’s knee a comforting squeeze. It used to be hard discerning how much of their conversations Jay understood because he would smile and nod enthusiastically either way, but skinship is a universal language that Jay spoke fluently. Seongmin responds by handing him the soju. Jay’s fingers wrap tight around the bottle, thumbing at the label, his eyes lingering on Seongmin with things he doesn’t say.
Seongmin watches Jongwoo circle around the car over to the gas pump, out of sight. Jay pokes his head out of the half-open window, soju swirling in the bottle, calling out for Jongwoo– Seongmin watches.
Seongmin met Jay back at the end of last semester, before the summer, when Seongmin tagged along with Kamden to one of Jongwoo’s parties for the first time. The only thing Kamden said about Jay was that he was a funny foreigner that Jongwoo had taken in under his wing– he didn’t say anything about how handsome Jay was. The day Seongmin first saw him, his hair was golden blonde; overgrown and falling into his face. He looked like an angel from a painting or a fairytale prince, standing in Jongwoo’s kitchen with broad shoulders and a beer in hand.
Seongmin trailed behind Kamden as they approached Jay. He grinned when he noticed Kamden, offering a friendly hand and pulling Kamden in to dap him up. They exchanged a few words in quick murmuring English that Seongmin couldn't understand, but he watched their mouths twist into smirks and laughs. The warm lighting in Jongwoo’s apartment made Jay’s blonde hair and his skin glow, like a fuzzy dream that Seongmin is half-remembering.
“Is that your real hair?” Seongmin said, the words falling out of his mouth before it even registered that he spoke. Kamden laughed, taking the opportunity to slip away to the other side of the kitchen for drinks. Jongwoo knew everyone; there must have been almost twenty people crammed into his small apartment, all drinking and talking and queuing music on the speaker.
Jay turned to Seongmin. Their height difference was made more obvious when his eyes sparkled at Seongmin. “No, it’s not,” he said, loudly so that Seongmin could hear him over the chatter. The party was enough for Jongwoo to get a noise complaint the next day. “I’m Jay.” He offered his hand for a shake; a gesture so American that Seongmin giggled.
“It suits you.” Seongmin shook his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against his own. “I’m Seongmin.” When Jay smiled, the room glowed brighter- Seongmin felt his insides light up like a Christmas tree. Jay looked at Seongmin like he’s the only person in the world as they talked, even as people squeezed past them, random limbs poking into Seongmin’s back and grazing against his sides. “Did you bleach it a lot?”
Jay nodded, picking up a lock of hair and feeling it between his fingers thoughtfully. The gesture should have been funny, but Seongmin found himself endeared with the open sincerity in Jay’s face. “It feels kind of, hm, crunchy?”
His Korean came out stuttery but cute– Seongmin stifled a laugh at the use of crunchy, but he started leaning in to hear Jay better. Jay took it as a sign to take a half-step closer, fully in Seongmin’s personal space. Seongmin doesn’t back up.
Jay grinned brightly and held a clump of blonde hair up to Seongmin’s face, his eyes expectant beneath his bangs like a dog with a leash in his mouth. “Here, touch it.”
The eager way Jay invited him to touch it made Seongmin want to laugh and fluster in equal parts. Seongmin reached out to touch his hair and Jay bowed his head for him, blonde strands sliding between his fingertips. The blonde hair was as dry as it was pretty, but it was still nice to run his fingers lightly through Jay’s hair no matter how brittle.
A rush of adrenaline surged through Seongmin as Jay smiled obliviously, content to let Seongmin keep going. Seongmin pulled away after a socially acceptable amount of time to be touching another man’s hair, returning the smile and ignoring the way his fingers already itch to run through Jay’s hair again. He ignored the way Jay would probably let him.
Seongmin settled on asking, “What hair treatment do you usually use?” From the dryness, he was doubtful Jay was using anything to begin with— Seongmin could smell the straight boy on Jay from a mile away, but he wore it well, like sleeveless tank tops and low slung sweatpants and deodorant layered over sweat. Seongmin’s favourite scent.
Jay tilted his head to the side curiously. “I don’t.” The impish grin on his face hit Seongmin like a punch in the stomach.
So, this was going to be a problem.
“Hey!” Kamden called out, trying to squeeze back through the crowd of people with two drinks in hand. Noticing Kamden having trouble getting through behind Seongmin, Jay pulled Seongmin in with a steady arm around his waist, his palm firm on the side of Seongmin’s shirt. It took everything for Seongmin not to yelp, not to savor how natural Jay’s arm felt around him, not to breathe in the smell of Jay’s cheap cologne. Then Jay let go, looking up at Seongmin with an angelic smile, no words needed.
Kamden settled next to Seongmin, handing him one of the drinks. The cup was heavy in his hand with a mystery concoction of alcohol and juice. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Seongmin said lightly, wishing Kamden was gone a bit longer. He met eyes with Jay over the rim of his plastic cup as Kamden drank; Jay smiled, knowing, or maybe not. Hard to tell.
The car shudders when Jongwoo thrusts a nozzle into the gas tank. Jay is still half-hanging out of the window and chattering away with Jongwoo, but he watches Jongwoo’s hand run through Jay’s hair, just once but gently, other hand on the pump.
Jongwoo and Jay met during Jay’s first semester and according to Kamden, who was in their major and Seongmin’s former roommate, they got on so well that Jongwoo had basically taken him in. Sometimes, in the corner of his eye, Seongmin would see Jongwoo give Jay a small smile or hair ruffle in a way reserved for him. He pretends not to see it.
Seongmin knew Jongwoo already through Kamden, but they didn’t get closer until the party where Seongmin and Jay first met. The three of them, along with Taegyun and Yedam, started hanging out together as a ragtag group more and more after the last semester. Seongmin didn’t know any of them that well at first, but over time, he found each of them charming in their own way. Seongmin learns that Yedam doesn’t mind being smothered and that Taegyun minds it very much, and that Jongwoo only pretends to hate it. Jongwoo pretends a lot— Seongmin can read him only on a good day.
Jay is an open book. He laughs loudly, he shares what’s on his mind, and he doesn’t lie; he gets along with everyone he meets for these exact reasons. But there’s a part of Jay that Seongmin doesn’t know what to do with and it drives him hot and crazy.
Jay loves skinship with him. It’s been obvious since they first met. He loves running his hands all over Seongmin— whether it’s grabbing him by the waist, or holding Seongmin’s hand when he isn’t looking and letting their fingers intertwine. Seongmin likes to think he has a good handle on himself, but when Jay’s palm surfs higher and higher on Seongmin’s thigh and he keeps sitting closer and closer until their legs are touching, the wall between his rational side and his feelings starts to crack. Everything starts to bleed together, jumbled and scrambled until Seongmin isn’t sure where it begins or ends.
Jongwoo finishes pumping the gas, which is Jay’s cue to tumble backwards into the car. The machine beeps, a robot voice rattling off options for payment. The bottle in Jay’s hand is empty now— he sets it down in the middle seat, adding to the pile with a loud clink.
Seongmin turns to him. “How do you feel?” Jay doesn’t get red at all when he drinks, only more giggly than usual. It only makes it harder to tell how drunk he is. It surprises people, but Seongmin can hold his drink— he’s stuck on tipsy, turning drunk.
Jay smiles at him, so wide that he’s definitely drunk. “Seongminie,” Jay whines his name; Seongmin shuts down the flutter in his chest. “I’m so happy. I had a good time with you. And your parents, and Jongwoo-hyung.” Seongmin can tell he means it; Jay doesn’t lie, even if he had misunderstood the question.
When Seongmin mentioned to his mom that Jay had nowhere to go over the Chuseok holiday, he got an immediate invite over to Seongmin’s family home in Suwon. Since Jongwoo didn’t have any Chuseok plans either and Seongmin’s brother was away in the military, Seongmin extended the invitation to him too. Jongwoo offered to drive them on their own road trip as a three. Seongmin doesn’t know if this counts as a successful outing, considering the number of times he snapped at Jongwoo on the way to this gas station.
Jay was giddy the entire ride to Suwon, nose pressed to the window glass like a curious dog. It was his first time going outside of Seoul in the three semesters he’s been studying here; Seongmin was surprised it took so long, but it was fun for both him and Jongwoo to answer all of Jay’s questions about things he sees out the window.
When it came to meeting his parents, Seongmin’s mom loved Jay and his overly polite Korean, whispering to Seongmin over and over how handsome and sweet he is. Seongmin’s dad liked Jongwoo more, who was the kind of guy he could have a quiet beer with, though Jongwoo tapped out after half a can.
Seongmin savored the sight of Jay moving through his childhood home like a bull weaving through a china shop, carefully slow, trying not to break anything. The dogs loved him, jumping at his feet. He was trying his hardest for Seongmin’s parents, speaking as politely as he could and remembering his manners, even offering to help with the dishes.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Seongmin says quietly, cracking open another bottle of soju. Going home is always nice, except when his mom drops a sharp comment about Seongmin getting a girlfriend soon.
After she brought it up, Jongwoo gave him a clap on the back when he slipped past him to the bathroom, nothing lingering but enough for Seongmin to know he’s on his side. Jongwoo picked up on these things; that’s why he’s a great friend and why he let Seongmin grab an entire six pack of soju for the way home and why he didn’t snap back at Seongmin for being a backseat driver. He’s a good friend, one who deserved an apology.
Jay didn’t seem to notice. He laughed politely, though his eyes darted between Seongmin and Jongwoo around the table when they didn't laugh along. It’s hard to tell.
Jongwoo finishes with the gas pump and starts walking away to the gas station convenience store, where a wide array of chips and a cashier falling asleep are waiting. Jay watches him; Seongmin watches Jay.
“Do you think hyung got broader in the shoulders?” Jay says, peering out the window. Jongwoo is a small figure across the lot now, the tall floodlights casting a long shadow on him, growing with every step.
Seongmin drinks. “Maybe,” he answers neutrally. Yes, probably. He nudges the bottle at Jay’s arm, the cold glass pressing against his skin.
Jay scrunches his nose at the sensation and shakes his head. “I’ve had enough,” he says. He looks at Seongmin, and he must see something in Seongmin’s expression as his face crumbles like a cookie. “Are you still mad at him?”
It’s Seongmin’s turn to shake his head. He takes another drink— Jay’s eyes are glued on the bottom of the green bottle as it drains and drains, until Seongmin finishes the bottle.
Jay shoves all the empty bottles from the middle seat to the floor with a series of loud clinks and scoots into the open space, so close to Seongmin that their legs are touching again. He looks up at Seongmin, his gentle eyes worried. “Did I do something wrong? At your house?”
“No!” Seongmin says in surprise. His parents loved Jay and even suggested Seongmin bring him and Jongwoo around more. If anything, Jay was too stiff with his parents. Seongmin’s mom would find him even more charming if he could be his jokey self around her.
“I just thought, maybe,” Jay says nervously, looking away. He fidgets with his hands. “In your room— maybe I crossed a line.”
Seongmin swallows.
Seongmin’s mom is cutting up fruit in the kitchen. His dad and Jongwoo are having a beer out in the living room, and the dogs are whining at Jongwoo to play with them. Jay is in his childhood bedroom.
His mom keeps it the same way he left it when he went off to university. Jay takes slow steps into the room, his head craning around to see every detail on every wallpapered wall. For once, he’s quiet. He looks at middle school awards and high school textbooks, the BTS poster by his closet and the neatly organized desk, ready for Seongmin to sit and study for the CSAT.
Jay picks up a photo frame and turns it to Seongmin. It’s an old photo of him and his brother as kids, Seongmin standing tall with sunglasses on and his little brother crouched on the ground. “Your brother looks exactly like you,” he comments, fascinated as an only child.
“We’re very different now,” Seongmin says flatly. For one, his brother does have a girlfriend. A fact his mom brings up every so often, or every single time Seongmin comes home. Jay sets the photo frame down and wanders across the room to look at Seongmin’s BTS poster. It was a tough one to convince his mom to put up, but it managed to stay up to this day.
Seongmin sits on the edge of his bed. He hasn’t stayed the night here in a while, but this bed only gives him nightmares, too heavy with history. Many nights spent wishing he was different, tossing and turning over his mom finding out, counting down the days until he can escape. He can’t control the sad sigh that comes out.
Jay sits down next to him, their thighs brushing. Outside Seongmin’s room, the TV drones through various ads, the dogs are yipping, and his mom is keeping herself busy in the kitchen. If Seongmin closes his eyes, it sounds like every other night at home. Except inside Seongmin’s room, there’s a beautiful boy sitting on his bed, and he reaches to hug Seongmin, his arms tight around his chest. Handsome and sweet; the kind of boy Seongmin used to daydream about in this room.
Seongmin hugs him back, nose full of Jay’s scent, trying to swallow his tears. This gesture needs no translation. But Jay squeezes him tighter, making them lose balance and fall back onto the mattress. Seongmin groans from the impact, lying flat on his back, but Jay hasn’t let go of him, his arms still holding Seongmin like they’re glued together. Everywhere they’re touching is warm; their chests, the curves of their hips, their legs, all brushing against each other. Jay is warm.
Jay is also staring at him, hovering above Seongmin with an expression he has never seen on Jay before. He can see the gears in Jay’s brain spinning. They’re not talking, but Jay’s eyes darken with hot resolve, the ceiling light above him glowing like a halo, and Seongmin knows this look, knows where this is going.
Jay does weird things and he loves skinship but the way he’s leaning into Seongmin’s face, hands moving down to Seongmin’s waist, their legs brushing against each other, isn’t either of those. This is new, different, and Seongmin freezes there, watching Jay like he’s a sleep paralysis hallucination. Suddenly the air feels too serious, everything too quiet, the weight of Jay on top of him too real. This room, this bed, brings out old habits; Seongmin’s heart starts to beat impossibly fast, his cheeks flooding with shame. He wants this, so bad that he knows he has to stop. Not here.
“Wait,” Seongmin says anxiously, spurred to action, pushing Jay backwards— just as someone knocks on the door. Seongmin catches a flash of confusion and hurt on Jay’s face before they both straighten up at the knock, jumping away from each other.
“Your mom cut up some pears and oranges for us,” Jongwoo’s voice filters through the door. Seongmin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and when he turns to Jay, his face is unreadable.
If Jongwoo notices anything off with Jay and Seongmin during the rest of their time there, he doesn’t let on. The half can of beer makes Jongwoo yawn so hard that Seongmin’s dad starts hustling them out the door before Jongwoo falls asleep at the wheel.
Without Jongwoo in the car, there’s nowhere to hide or misdirect Seongmin’s feelings. There’s nowhere to look but straight into Jay’s worried face. Jay isn’t Jongwoo; they can’t push through on mutual understanding and letting time heal their disagreements.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seongmin says quietly. It’s not Jay’s fault. It's not his fault at all that Seongmin is like this.
Jay nods, the worry on his face clearing up a bit, but not entirely gone. He frowns. “But you’re upset,” he points out, closer and closer to the root of the problem, closer to Seongmin.
He can’t say he wasn’t acting upset. Jay’s eyes are searching his face, trying so hard to understand despite the barriers between them, and Seongmin gives in, swallowing his pride. “Being at home is hard,” Seongmin says, eyes lowered to the floor. “They don’t know.” It has always been an unspoken fact. Ever since he was a kid, he had always known who he was and he’s been lucky enough to find friends who like him as he is. From Chowon, his best friend from high school, to university acquaintances like Hanbin, to Jongwoo. To Jay.
“I know,” Jay says, eyes soft with understanding. Now it’s out there– it feels like a weight off Seongmin’s shoulder. Jay reaches out but his hand pauses mid-air, waiting for Seongmin to give him a sign. Seongmin gives him a short nod and Jay is hugging him again, not as tight but still as sweet, and the air feels breathable again.
“Sorry,” Jay mumbles, his golden hair tickling against Seongmin’s neck. Neither of them wants to let go. Seongmin wishes Jongwoo could just keep driving on and on in this shitty car, Seongmin and Jay together in the backseat, stuck in their own world and never going home.
Seongmin hums back, hand running through Jay’s hair, once and gently. Jay goes quiet. He sinks into Seongmin’s arms, loose like something sprung free.
“Do you want to try again?” Jay says softly, his voice cautious. Suddenly the skin contact between them is charged, everywhere Jay is touching and pressing against Seongmin. But he can still hear the hesitation in Jay’s voice, leaving Seongmin space to decide.
“Yeah,” Seongmin breathes, no hesitation. Does Jay know about this too? How Seongmin has been charmed by him since their first meeting, how Seongmin has been thinking about this, wanting it, for months?
Slowly, Jay’s hands run up the sides of Seongmin’s torso with intention, never breaking contact once. A shudder rolls down Seongmin’s back— fuck. Seongmin wraps his arms around Jay’s shoulders, grabbing fistfuls of his grey hoodie, holding on for his life.
Jay’s fingers dig into Seongmin’s hair where it ends above his neck, thumbs hooking around both of Seongmin’s ears. He holds Seongmin’s face still so their eyes can meet; Jay’s brown eyes are eager, like when he first offered Seongmin a tuft of his hair. That’s what Seongmin liked so much about Jay– he goes full throttle, always bold.
“Ready?” Jay smiles the way Seongmin has been dreaming about. Seongmin nods back— he’s going to do something embarrassing if Jay doesn’t kiss him right now.
Jay pulls him in and there’s no shyness or pretense; they’re making out, Jay’s palms hot on his neck, and Seongmin surrenders himself to it. Jay is a messy kisser, spit and tongue everywhere, but Seongmin finds himself moaning into the kiss— it’s so Jay.
It only encourages Jay to slide even closer to Seongmin, until he’s almost sitting in Seongmin’s lap. Jay whines when Seongmin runs a hand through his hair again; the sound is delicious in Seongmin’s mouth. He kisses like a straight boy, sloppy and eager, just as Seongmin expected– or maybe hoped for. Kissing is a hurdle some people want to just leap over or avoid entirely; Jay isn’t rushing it, taking his time, his tongue skating all over Seongmin’s mouth. Seongmin can tell he’s enjoying it from the way he keeps trying to climb into Seongmin’s lap. He already misses the weight of Jay on top of him and his warmth, wants it back, wants more.
Unfortunately, they get interrupted by something flying at Jay’s head through the window.
Jay breaks the kiss abruptly. “Ow! What the fuck is that?” Seongmin picks up the bag of chips from the floor. Turtle chips, Seongmin’s favourite kind.
The driver’s side door opens and Jongwoo slides in, slamming the door behind him and rocking the entire car. He turns to Jay and Seongmin, still tangled up together in the backseat. For a second, Seongmin worries if Jongwoo is really upset, if he should say that this isn’t what it looks like, even if it is.
“I was gone for like five minutes,” Jongwoo says wearily, eyes narrowed and apprehensive but with no real heat behind them. “And you two…” He looks too annoyed to even finish off the sentence, trailing off into a groan.
“You feel left out?” Jay teases, in a way only Jay can. Seongmin giggles along with him; Jay’s hand finds his and their fingers lace together, warm and firm.
Jongwoo snorts and waves a hand in the air, starting the engine with his other hand. “You two can fuck later. Let’s get back to Seoul before I piss my pants.” Jay barks out a laugh as the engine comes back to life, the gas gauge pointing to full.
But Seongmin catches the way Jongwoo twists in the driver’s seat. The radio fizzles into easy listening music, the windows roll back up, the heater filling the car up with warmth, everything back to a comfortable normal. Their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.