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Jaemin is fifteen, and Donghyuck is insufferable.
No, that's not really true. And that's what's so insufferable about the whole thing. Once, EXO Suho seonbae-nim accidentally walked in on them practicing. Or more like: them slacking and Donghyuck working on his foot work. When Suho seonbae-nim praised Donghyuck, Jaemin watched in horror as Donghyuck bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor.
“You're so cute,” their senior had said. “I can't wait to see you debut.”
That was high praise; they all knew. To just be associated with Donghyuck, that kind of praise coming from someone so well established in the industry… It meant they could make it. It meant they had a future, a chance. Because of Donghyuck. Mark, from where he was standing, turned so red that Jaemin thought he might explode.
The compliment made Jaemin scoff – and he was so very glad everybody in the room was too focused on the main exchange to pay attention to him. The last thing he wanted was to offend a senior from the same company. But, ugh. And the thing is. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Donghyuck, cute? Debatable.
But that's where it got complicated. Because although right then Jaemin wanted to say fuck it to hierarchy and ask Suho seonbae-nim if he was right in the head, months later, thinking back on that exchange, he was painfully right.
In response to being complimented like that, Donghyuck beamed. But he also kept his distance. Respectful. Aware of social norms. Shy, even. That's how he is to all of his superiors, from managers to other artists. The girl trainees? Bashful. Earnest and sweet. Playful but never crossing a line. To his hyungs from the other unit? Absolute sunshine. Picking on them with fond interest, but bathing in their care and support, making each of them feel like the most important person in the room.
And then. Then there's them. Then there's Dream. And somehow, especially Jaemin.
(Maybe it's not, Jaemin thinks. Maybe he's not as targeted as he feels. But when you spend as long paying attention to someone, it's easy to think they're also paying attention to you.)
In their practice room, Donghyuck becomes a menace. He's perfectionist and bossy, picks at any wrong move like he's the choreographer himself, has mean eyes and a snicker whenever a break to practicing is as much as suggested. He's also loud. Figuratively and literally.
Once, catching Jaemin zoning out in the dorms – not in the practice room, but in the goddamned dorms – Donghyuck screamed so loudly right into Jaemin's ear that he thinks years in the future he'll still have nightmares about it. About that voice. Always playing coy, crossing lines he doesn't with anyone else.
Jaemin thinks Donghyuck is infuriating in his selectivity.
He's fifteen, and Donghyuck is supposed to be one of his best friends, but Jaemin doesn't know if he likes him very much. He knows he doesn't like it that he feels singled out in his annoying-ness.
Jaemin knows he's not the only one who feels that way. He takes some solace in that, sort of.
Until he doesn't. Until that talk.
He's fifteen, and like many fifteen-year-old boys, he's thinking about dating.
A pipe dream, really. He knows of others who have done it. Trainees who disappear together into practice rooms, or even their own dorms. Seniors and trainees, even if that's taboo. Once he heard of even in-group dating in one of the groups their senior, but he took it with a grain of salt. He's not sure living alongside someone for so many years could breed romance; from his point of view, there absolutely is such a thing as knowing someone too well.
He's curious about dating, but he doesn't have the guts to do it. He talks to Jeno about it. Jeno, with his puppy love for one of their seniors – that he absolutely does not admit to – sighs more than contributes to any conversation. He nods, agrees with everything that Jaemin says. Yes, it's wild that the managers are so strict about dating now, when a few years back it seemed like it wasn't that big of a deal. Yes, it does feel like they're wasting their teenage years. Yes, it is true that at least they don't have to worry about cram schools like everyone else in Korea. Yes, he too has a few cousins who are in so many hagwons that they don't have time for dating, even if they wished to.
The first time Jeno comes with his own argument is, “And I'd be so scared of getting caught.”
Jaemin pauses. He doesn't know why he thinks of Donghyuck then, but this is his thought process: it feels like Donghyuck would never, in a million years, get caught. Anyone who can play such a golden lovable boy for everyone else when he's so irritating to Jaemin specifically – and at times, the other Dreamies – could be secretive enough that he wouldn't have to worry about that.
The thought makes him feel bitter. Like that's yet another reason to hold a grudge against him.
Jaemin decides to end the conversation there. Because for him, it's not that he'd be afraid of getting caught. Whatever. He'd first have to meet someone, and where would that be? He's stuck between practice rooms and dorms all day, every day. It's not like he has the chance to meet anyone new.
Still. That's still not the conversation that changes things. That's the prologue to the prologue. That's the author's notes before the book starts. That's his own self warningly shaking his head, saying it'd be best if fifteen-year-olds kept to themselves when it came to dating, and kisses, and being annoyed beyond reason by people who stay too close.
The talk happens when he's alone with Mark. They never are, these days, especially with Chenle being so homesick and their group effort of making him forget about it. (And there's that other thing, making him feel a certain way he cannot describe. Donghyuck's insistence to be the adult about it, to offer Chenle earnest conversations and share his brokenheartedness over Jeju. How Chenle teared up so bad that one time, and then hugged Donghyuck so tightly that it felt like that moment their bond had gone from a simmer to unbreakable. Jaemin isn't sure what it is that plagues him when he thinks about it. Envy, that he cannot be the dependable one, maybe. A shaky sense of pride, that Donghyuck can be so grounding for someone, even if it's not him. A mix of both.) But anyway. The thing is: he and Mark are both craving triangle kimbap, so they end up at a GS25 with three 2x portions each, and they divide this calorie-filled sin in a midnight escapade.
Jaemin's not planning on bringing up Donghyuck. He's not planning on bringing up anything. He's focused on his tonkatsu kimbap and the rich convenience store flavor of something so full of conservants he's sure they rescued it one hour away from being unsellable. All he's thinking about is the pork, and how strange it is that he craves food so much. He wonders if that's what his life will be like, after debut. No more tonkatsu. No more triangle kimbap. No more anything delicious, or unhealthy, which at fifteen, are synonyms.
But suddenly, Mark says, “Can you believe Donghyuck today?” He chuckles.
It's a fond chuckle. He's rolling his eyes, but his fondness is overflowing. Jaemin watches carefully, because he's not sure how to navigate their relationship. Mark and Donghyuck exist to each other in a way that they don't exist to anyone else in either of their units. Donghyuck seems to get on Mark's nerves the most, but then there's also no one else that Mark seems to love spending time with more than Donghyuck. Jaemin finds it contradictory, and he doesn't like contradictory things.
Jaemin likes things that are easy, people who say what they mean, and act the same with everyone.
“You're going to have to be more specific than that,” Jaemin answers.
Mark doesn't miss a beat. “He couldn't stop trying to smooch Chenle!” He slaps the plastic green table outside the convenience store, his amusement and bewilderment loud. Two ajossi sharing bottles of soju glare at the teenagers. Mark, apparently not yet used to nunji even after all this time, is oblivious. Jaemin shoots them a brief apologetic bow, and turns back to Mark, in time to hear him continue. “I know it was because Chenle was a bit down today. But honestly, he wouldn't stop. What a relentless guy. Even when Chenle pushed him away so hard Donghyuck fell down! It's like he can't take a hint, he's so annoying.” Mark shakes his head. The fondness is there again, contradicting the severity of his words. “It was hilarious, though. Him falling.”
Jaemin thinks back on the scene with a blank look. Takes a final bite of his triangle kimbap. The next one is spicy tuna. “Yeah. Hilarious.”
“I don't know why he does that,” Mark adds. It's another topic, somehow. Jaemin watches him shift on his seat, uncomfortable. Mark takes a very deep breath, the way he does when he's about to say something he'll later obsess about having said, and wished he hadn't. Jaemin already knows him that well. “He just wants to kiss everyone, I guess.”
Without looking up, Jaemin stops unwrapping the kimbap.
The Chenle thing – it wasn't that deep. It never is. Donghyuck has played gay chicken with nearly all of them, because he always wins. He comes too close, making kissy noises and wrapping his arms around whoever's shoulders. He does it for laughs. He does it to diffuse tension. He does it because he's bored. He was never going to actually kiss Chenle, not for real. Maybe if Chenle wanted to shock everyone, or if he thought it would've been funnier than sending Donghyuck flying to the ground, he could let Donghyuck's mouth hit his. But that would be it: two mouths hitting each other for the benefit of the spectators. Not a kiss. Not what Jaemin understood a kiss to be.
After a beat, Jaemin looks back at Mark. “Well, you would know. He's tried to kiss you the most.”
Mark doesn't notice the bite, either. Jaemin doesn't know why there's a bite.
“And he succeeded, even.” Mark lets out, like dropping a bomb. As an after-thought, not looking at Jaemin, like that changes everything: “Once.”
Later, Jaemin understands where Mark's coming from. Or maybe he does, anyway. He needed to tell someone. It was his first kiss, after all. He needed to confess, to repent, to get absolution. He needed to share, and none of the other members would do. Nobody would keep a secret so under wraps that it would consume them for years like Jaemin would.
Mark seemed to understand something fundamental about Jaemin that not even Jaemin understood at this point: he bit his tongue. He swallowed his own truths, until they simmered inside of him and turned into a different color. The essence was the same, but not the looks of it. Jaemin would never tell on Mark, because discussing it with anyone else meant discussing how that made him feel. Jaemin would never even allow himself to think about it, because something ugly twisted in his gut when he did.
What Mark needed was a confidante. What Jaemin needed was to get as far away from that conversation as he possibly could.
Because, in the end, at this point, Donghyuck had played gay fucking chicken with every single member, except for Jaemin.
Jaemin eats the remaining of his food, and listens. The rice tastes old and hard. The tuna smells expired. The spiciness doesn't stay on his tongue, but something bitter makes a home in his throat.
By the end of the night, when they're walking back to their dorms, Jaemin thinks maybe he's had enough. Mark jokes about leaving South Korea and coming back to Canada, and Jaemin finds himself wanting to punch Mark's perfect face.
He loves Mark. And he hates Mark.
And he doesn't want to ever see any of them again.
Jaemin's still fifteen, and unlike Mark, or Donghyuck, he hasn't had his first kiss.
*
They're going to debut. It's finally a certain thing, one-hundred per-cent, and it feels like heaven. And the training is arduous, and everything is too much, and sometimes he finds himself just wanting to cry for no reason. Anticipation, excitement, fear. All of it. It's so much that he forgets about the kiss, and he forgets about Donghyuck.
Not really. Not like that. But in a way.
He forgets about Donghyuck's treatment of the world, and how he was never Donghyuck's favorite, because there are more things to think about, and as his thoughts keep making him implode, Donghyuck's not as bad.
Not bad as a member, not bad as a teammate, not bad as a friend.
They start having long conversations, usually in the early mornings, when Donghyuck still has pillow lines across his face and Jaemin feels like he's not entirely awake. There's a gentleness there, in the space between them. Never touching, but gravitating more peacefully around each other.
In one of these conversations, talking more quietly than necessary for no reason, sitting on the rooftop of the SM building, Donghyuck says: “For a while there, I thought you hated me.”
Jaemin's almost sixteen. He's almost a real idol. He's almost an adult, making income and leaving a mark in the world. He feels wise beyond his years. He feels mature. He feels big in a way he cannot describe.
He feels it's all magnified by having Donghyuck sitting so close to him under the opaque spring sun.
Jaemin leans back, sitting on the floor, his legs spread, his weight resting on his hands as he stares up. It's like the sky has dimmed down for him. He wishes he could take a picture of it right now, but Jisung took his phone downstairs to charge. And he'll be back any moment.
Donghyuck, sitting cross-legged, plays with the hem of his shirt.
“For a while there, we bickered a lot,” Jaemin admits. But he cannot say that he hated Donghyuck, because that wouldn't be true. And he cannot say that he didn't, because that also wouldn't be true.
Donghyuck nods. From this angle, Jaemin can see the bob of his Adam's apple. The perfect brown of his skin. Jaemin thinks he'd also like to take a picture of Donghyuck.
“I apprec–” Donghyuck starts, then stops.
“I've never–” Jaemin starts, then stops.
The words spill out of him, and he hates the way his voice sounds. No, he doesn't think he wants to talk about this. He can't say the words out loud, not to Donghyuck. And they speak at the same time, so out of tune. It's pathetic, Jaemin thinks, being this out of synchronicity with someone with whom he can breathe in the same pauses, walk in the same steps. They're in sync, but only onstage. Even now, they're still parallel lines, going in the same direction, but never touching.
Jaemin grits his teeth, looking down.
Donghyuck chuckles quietly at them speaking at the same time.
They're quiet for another moment. It's not uncomfortable, but Jaemin's antsy.
Jisung is coming back soon. The seconds are ticking by impossibly fast, and it feels as if he'll never be alone with Donghyuck again in his entire life.
He sits up, straightening his posture. There are so many thoughts competing in his head. Donghyuck acknowledges him; turns to him entirely, so his back is to the sun. So there's a halo casting around him. So fucking picture perfect. Jaemin wants to laugh at how pathetic he feels. At how perfect it is.
Pathetically perfect. Perfectly pathetic.
Jaemin decides on what he wants to say. He'll let himself rely on Donghyuck, the way they all have in different ways. He'll confess to his insecurities and the way revealing himself to the public feels like being under fire. He'll take hints on how to be a different person to different people. He'll bounce back ideas with Donghyuck about which parts of his personality to show, and which to hide. They'll make fun of the term idolsona that Chenle often uses – and loathes, saying he'll never adhere. They'll have a good time and become closer still. They'll keep becoming closer as friends, before Jisung arrives, and after Jisung comes with all the next decade to follow too.
That's what Jaemin decides.
But that's not what happens. Not right now.
What happens is that Donghyuck glances at Jaemin's lips.
Very briefly. Just a tiny second.
But it hurts, somehow. Jaemin can't explain why it does.
He holds his breath, and waits, and nothing happens.
Donghyuck doesn't come closer, and doesn't make a joke, and doesn't pull away. He sits there, looking like something sacred, and Jaemin doesn't know how come it makes him feel like the world is ending. His own hand shakes, but not enough that it stops him from reaching out.
He's almost sixteen now. That has to count for something.
What he means by reaching out is: he tries to close the distance. He tries to be brave and hold Donghyuck. But they barely touch and it's not natural. They don't fall into each other. They don't melt into one. He reaches out with a shaky hand, and touches Donghyuck's arm, and it burns so much that Jaemin thinks Donghyuck might have been marked by the light touch forever.
Donghyuck breathes out nervously, something like a sigh. And it's cute.
Jaemin laughs, nervous too. He sees it now. Donghyuck is cute.
God, he's so infuriatingly cute.
He brushes his thumb in a small, timid circle on Donghyuck's arm.
Donghyuck watches the touch, unsure. But when their eyes meet again, there's something there. Approval, acceptance, allowance. Jaemin doesn't know, but he knows it makes him feel a little less insane about the weight on his chest. About the way he can't breathe.
“Donghyuck,” he says. “I'm going to kiss you.”
It's not very smooth. His voice comes out all wrong. Donghyuck's eyes widen and for a second it feels like he's said the wrong thing, and there's no more this, and no more friendship, and no more Dream. There's nothing more because Jaemin has ruined everything. But Donghyuck's alarm must be something to do with the voices in his own head, because in the next second, he nods, eagerly.
So, so cute. Jaemin wants to tell him that.
Instead, he pulls him close by the arm, until they're so close they could be kissing, but they still aren't. He has permission, but isn't sure how to go about it. He can hear his heartbeat in his head. And Donghyuck is so close.
Then Donghyuck touches the side of his face, angling him just right, and closes his eyes.
Jaemin misses a beat before he closes his eyes too.
Donghyuck's lips on his own. Softly pressing against him, moving slowly, his hand perfectly slotted on the side of Jaemin's face. Jaemin holds Donghyuck's arm a bit too hard, afraid he'll disappear if not. Jaemin kisses him back, parting his lips slightly, but not doing anything further.
Their lips move together; uncertain, unsure, unstable.
A real kiss.
Donghyuck pulls back first, removing his hand from Jaemin's face like he'd just realized what he'd done, like the touch could burn Jaemin. Which it did, sort of, but maybe not in the same way Donghyuck thought.
Jaemin thinks if Donghyuck hadn't stopped it, maybe they would've kissed forever.
Donghyuck waits.
Jaemin blinks a few times, trying to get used to the feeling of having Donghyuck so close. Still touching his arm, he rubs it with forced familiarity, just so Donghyuck won't pull further away. He takes a deep breath, feeling awkward. It's possible he's done something wrong. It's possible Donghyuck thinks he's a bad kisser, and a worse friend.
“Do you hate me now?” Donghyuck asks.
It's so raw, so sincere, and so fucking confusing. Jaemin doesn't understand why he possibly would. But he knows that's not the right thing to say. Instead he shakes his head. And surprising them both, he pulls Donghyuck close again; not for a kiss, but for a hug, something that feels so wildly intimate, that Jaemin's hands start shaking again.
But he needs this. He needs Donghyuck to know.
They've hugged before. As a group. Even only the two of them. But not like this. Not with Jaemin holding him like this, and kissing his cheek. His mouth still close to Donghyuck's ear, he confesses, “I'm scared that I'm only going to keep liking you more and more.”
Donghyuck laughs. That same coy, shy laugh. So cute. He holds Jaemin back.
Jaemin's almost sixteen, and he almost has it all figured out.
Maybe the future isn't so scary. Maybe it's okay if it's a little complicated.
There's the heavy sound of the rooftop opening, and then the steps.
“Aw, Haechan-hyung and Jaemin-hyung are getting along so well these days,” Jisung declares with an ear-to-ear smile.
Donghyuck moves to pull away, but Jaemin doesn't let him, instead just resting his face on Donghyuck's shoulder. It's an awkward position, but he's not ready to let Donghyuck go yet. “Well, what did you expect, Jisungie? We're almost debuting. We have to play nice,” Jaemin says.
In his arms, Donghyuck snorts. Makes a show of how he's fighting to break free for a millisecond before he relaxes in Jaemin's hold. To Jisung, he says, “Don't count on me playing nice.”
It's a lie. He'll play nice. And also it's not, and he won't.
Jaemin will have to get used to it.
/end.