Chapter Text
EP 12 SCENE DESCRIPTION -
The scene unfolds beside a tranquil lake just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in soft streaks of lavender, rose, and fading gold. The water is perfectly still, mirroring the sky like glass, and the only sounds are the gentle ripple of the breeze through the trees and the quiet hum of crickets in the background. Ai Wim and Jin stand a few feet apart on the grassy bank, the open space between them charged with all the things they haven’t yet said.
Ai Wim’s usual chatter falters, his voice softer now, uncertain. Jin watches him calmly, the fading light catching the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. When Ai Wim finally trails off mid-rant, eyes darting away, Jin steps forward—silent, sure—and closes the distance.
No words, just a kiss.
It’s slow, steady, and entirely intentional. When they finally part, breath mingling in the cool air, there’s no need to say it—but they do anyway. Smiles exchanged. Fingers brushing. They finally, finally become boyfriends—right there by the lake, beneath a sky that feels like it’s holding its breath just for them.
“You know what’s really annoying?”
Ai Wim kicked off his flip-flops and flopped onto the beanbag chair with the grace of a sleepy raccoon. “Basil plants. Jeff is the neediest son of a—"
“He’s literally a plant,” Jin replied, smiling from where he knelt beside said basil, watering can in hand.
“Exactly!” Ai Wim waved dramatically. “He doesn’t even do anything and still acts like he’s better than me.”
“You forgot to water him.”
“I was busy! Studying for my exam! And cleaning! And also—I had a headache!”
Jin tilted his head, amused. “You watched four hours of crime documentaries and then argued with a delivery guy over spring rolls.”
“...That was after the headache.”
Jin set down the watering can and walked over to the beanbag. Ai Wim was still mid-rant, now speculating whether Jeff the basil was in a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers relationship with the rosemary plant.
Jin sat beside him, silent.
And that’s when it hit him again:
The static.
The absolute silence where Ai Wim’s thoughts used to hum and buzz and bounce around like wild bees in a tin can.
Back when they first met, Jin had found it oddly comforting—listening to Ai Wim’s uncensored, chaotic thoughts that matched his out-loud dialogue 90% of the time. There were no surprises. No second guessing. If Ai Wim was annoyed, you’d know. If he was excited, you’d definitely know.
But now?
Now he was just guessing like a normal guy with a dumb little crush on his dumb loud boyfriend who didn't realize how much Jin relied on knowing what was going on in that beautiful, exhausting brain of his.
“Hey,” Ai Wim said, nudging him with his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Hm?” Jin blinked. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Ai Wim narrowed his eyes. “You thinking and me thinking are very different things. Your ‘thinking’ face looks like you’re planning a heist.”
“I’m not,” Jin said.
“Promise?”
Jin nodded. “Unless the heist is stealing another kiss.”
Ai Wim made a noise that sounded like a dying kettle. “You—you can’t just say things like that with your whole chest, what the hell.”
“I have to now,” Jin said coolly. “I can’t cheat anymore.”
Ai Wim blinked. “Huh?”
“No more mind-reading,” Jin murmured. “Haven’t been able to since I fell for you.”
Ai Wim went silent.
Dead silent.
Like scary silent.
Jin glanced over.
Ai Wim was staring at him with big, round eyes like a cat caught stealing shrimp.
“You mean,” Ai Wim said slowly, “all this time, you’ve been flying blind? Just... raw dogging reality with me???”
Jin choked on a laugh. “Please never say that sentence again.”
“But that’s—holy shit. No wonder you look constipated every time I start talking.”
“I do not.”
“You do! You look like you’re waiting for a jump scare!”
“I’m dating the jump scare.”
Ai Wim laughed, full and loud and beautiful.
And Jin smiled like an idiot.
Ai Wim was still cackling, head thrown back, that boyish grin plastered across his face like he didn’t just emotionally knock Jin off a cliff and leave him there flailing.
“God,” Ai Wim muttered between laughs, “you’re really out here just guessing what I mean every day now?”
“Pretty much,” Jin said. “Like surviving a video game on hard mode. No HUD. No subtitles. Just vibes.”
Ai Wim snorted. “You poor bastard.”
Jin leaned his head against Ai Wim’s shoulder, letting the laughter settle into silence. “It’s kinda fun, though.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re the one I picked.”
Ai Wim paused. His hand twitched, fingers fidgeting like his body was screaming "emotion detected, prepare evasive action!"
“…You’re saying that stuff again,” he muttered. “That romantic nonsense.”
“It’s true.”
Ai Wim’s voice dropped to a mumble. “Can’t believe I used to think you were shy.”
“I am. Just not with you.”
Ai Wim made a noise that sounded like a small internal combustion. “You’re gonna kill me one day. Death by flirting.”
“You’ll die in my arms,” Jin said dramatically. “A noble end.”
“Shut up, Shakespeare.”
Jin turned his head slightly, cheek still pressed against Ai Wim’s shoulder. “Are you blushing?”
“No.”
(He was.)
“Is that why your ear is red?”
“That’s sunburn.”
“It’s 6 p.m.”
“It’s emotional sunburn.”
Jin looked up at him now, smirking. “Want me to kiss it better?”
Ai Wim froze. “Don’t you dare—”
Too late.
Jin kissed the side of his ear.
Ai Wim physically short-circuited. He recoiled like someone had zapped him with a love taser. “YOU—what the hell was that?!”
“A medical kiss.”
“You’re not a doctor!”
“Not with that attitude.”
Ai Wim shoved him half-heartedly, then immediately pulled him back in with a sigh. “Ugh. Why are you so good at this?”
“Practice,” Jin whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Ai Wim’s jaw. “You’re a very kissable subject.”
“You’re gonna make me combust.”
“Promise?”
Ai Wim flopped back onto the beanbag, dramatically draping an arm over his face. “I can’t deal with this. I need emotional AC.”
Jin lay beside him, head propped on one hand. “No thoughts in your head right now, huh?”
Ai Wim peeked from under his arm. “You’d know if you could hear me.”
“But I can’t,” Jin said softly. “I just have to trust you’ll tell me.”
Ai Wim went still. The kind of still that only happened when his heart was thudding louder than his thoughts.
Then, almost too quiet to hear, he mumbled:
“I like you. A lot. Maybe more than I’m ready to admit. And if I think about it too hard I get scared, so I just don’t think about it. But I feel it. All the time. You’re in every corner of my brain like a sticky note I can’t remove.”
Jin didn’t speak. He just leaned in and kissed him.
Not playfully this time.
It was gentle. Lingering. A quiet kind of kiss, like they had all the time in the world and nothing to prove.
Ai Wim melted into it.
When they parted, Ai Wim whispered, “Can’t believe I told you all that.”
Jin kissed the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t hear your thoughts. But I heard that.”
Ai Wim rolled over and buried his face in Jin’s chest. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“…Shut up.”
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Ai Wim claimed his natural habitat: lying directly on top of Jin like a judgmental golden retriever with opinions.
“I’m not heavy, right?” he asked for the third time while adjusting his position like a worm in a hoodie.
“You’re perfect,” Jin said, arms around him, voice like gravity.
“Okay but if I crush your lungs, don’t sue me. Or haunt me. Wait, haunting would be kinda hot. Ghost Jin, but like, sexy.”
Jin just smiled.
And that was the problem, really. Ai Wim could go on a twenty-minute tangent about snack expiration dates or why basil had bad vibes, and Jin would just lie there, serene as Buddha, smiling like the human embodiment of a smug emoji.
Which somehow made it worse.
“You’re doing it again,” Ai Wim mumbled, propping his chin up on Jin’s chest.
“Doing what?”
“The face.”
“I have a face.”
“That face. The one that looks like you know something I don’t and you’re two seconds from proving it with your mouth.”
Jin raised a brow. “My mouth?”
Ai Wim paused. “…That came out wrong.”
Jin smirked.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t.” Ai Wim’s hand flailed vaguely in the air. “Stop being hot and unbothered while I’m over here having a full internal meltdown about how pretty the stars are and how you’re prettier and how I—don’t you dare smirk again, I swear to God—”
Then Jin did exactly what he always did.
He kissed him.
Right in the middle of the rant.
Ai Wim made a startled sound against his mouth—something between a yelp and a microwave beeping—and immediately melted like a popsicle in July. His hands clenched uselessly in Jin’s hoodie, brain buffering at full speed.
When Jin finally pulled back, Ai Wim blinked up at him like a shaken soda can.
“You kissed me,” he said, sounding betrayed.
“You were spiraling.”
“You like when I spiral.”
“I do,” Jin admitted. “But I also like kissing you. So.”
Ai Wim stared for a beat.
Then flopped back down with a dramatic sigh. “I should file a complaint.”
Jin ran his fingers through Ai Wim’s hair. “With HR?”
“With the stars. Tell them it’s unfair you exist.”
Jin kissed his forehead. “They already know.”
Ai Wim groaned into Jin’s chest. “You're insufferable. Do it again.”
“The flirting?”
“No, the kiss. You have like thirty seconds before I start ranting about how constellations are fake and astrology is just space gossip.”
So Jin did.
And the stars above blinked in approval, quietly jealous of the sparkle between the two idiots below.