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Jongseob doesn’t like listening to demos. It’s stressful. Anxiety inducing. Among the thousands of samples he goes through there must be a hit. And the thought of letting a good song slip through his fingers is purely agonizing. He’s gone through too many to count tonight and they’re all starting to sound the same.
He groans, head throbbing from the headache he knows will follow him home. The only light in the room is coming from his monitor; which leaves his eyes burning from overexertion. A slow dragging of his gaze to the corner of the screen gives him the time, 2:16 AM, and his body suddenly feels horrible. Like he’s a zombie hooked up on caffeine; somehow still highly functioning despite his brain having died hours ago.
It all leaves him with a tremor in his hands, a constant buzzing in his mind, and a lingering fear in his chest. He needs to rid himself of these negative feelings; or they’ll stay with him for the rest of the week.
Jongseob doesn’t like to talk much about his feelings. He’d rather suffer in silence than rely on someone. There’s only one person he knows who won’t try to talk to him. Who’ll listen to him calmly and steady him without pushing.
Jongseob pushes the noise cancelling headphones off and hears him. In the studio next door. The walls are too thin and the company can’t afford sound proofing. So Jongseob can hear that he’s listening to demos too. Or rather, that he just has one track playing on loop. Maybe he’s fallen asleep. The thought only makes Jongseob want to check on him even more.
He shuts off his desktop. Then the monitor. The room fills with darkness. He places down his headset and puts his keyboard and mouse in a drawer under the desk so they don’t collect dust. Then he gets out of his chair and heads toward his door.
It takes two short strides to be across the room. Opening the door and stepping outside, it only takes another two short strides to be in front of his bandmate’s door. He’s lucky their studios are right next to each other. That way it only takes seconds to reach each other if they want to talk about music. Or if they want to just spend time wordlessly sympathizing with each other.
Jongseob’s eyes land on the label there; printed onto a card under a plastic holder. Choi Jiung. The name rests heavy in his chest; words on pages tend to make him feel very strong emotions. His eyes always land on the name card on his way past. And he always feels so steadied at the sight of it.
There’s a hint of urgency in the speed at which he lifts his hand to knock. Jongseob needs Jiung’s presence to ground him as much as he needs an energy drink to stimulate him. He tries not to feel too desperate as he knocks on the door.
He waits a moment, staring at the name tag, listening to the music that floats up from under the door.
No answer comes.
Jongseob doesn’t bother knocking a second time. He’s definitely asleep. In that case, he’ll wake his bandmate up and they can head back to the dorm together; nobody likes falling asleep in a studio and waking with a stiff neck the next morning. He can’t count on two hands the amount of times the older has done the same for him.
With a little apology for intruding, Jongseob twists the handle and pushes the door open.
He’s half a step into the doorway when his eyes land on Jiung. He freezes up at the sight of him; all of his late night fried senses taking in information at once.
Jiung is awake. The lights are off in his room but the younger can see his eyes are open. The smell filling the studio hits Jongseob simultaneously with the sight of a plume of smoke slipping out past Jiung’s lips. The air in here is sweet; a scent he can’t quite place.
Jongseob feels just a little shocked. He’s known for a while that Jiung vapes. But he never does it in front of the members or managers; only when he’s alone. So catching him now, seeing the small black device in his hand, has something shifting in Jongseob’s stomach and settling deep in his gut. Of course it would be black. Jiung loves his discretion; it’s one of the things Jongseob admires about him.
The older boy stays relaxed in his chair and stares at him. Quiet. Brooding. Is he high? Jongseob hopes not; he still wants Jiung to relax his nerves. Maybe not in the same way as before though. He doesn’t really want comfort anymore.
Trying to hide his eagerness, Jongseob steps into the tiny studio and closes the door behind him. He swallows dry and his mind races too fast. His chest feels tight, his heart jackhammers, and his head is pounding. He knows a hit from the thing in his bandmate’s hand will solve everything. He just has to persuade it out of the older.
Jiung still hasn’t said a word. It isn’t unusual for their interactions to be completely nonverbal. There’s probably been times where they’ve gone days without talking to each other. Quiet understanding is what’s normal for them.
Tonight, Jiung’s silence feels like a guillotine hanging above them. His eyes track Jongseob like a hunter stalks prey. The space between them is like a wire pulled tight. Waiting for that perfect moment to let the blade drop. That opening to pounce. To snap.
Jongseob starts slowly, unsure how to approach Jiung when he’s like this. “Jiung-”
Honorifics are not a sore point within the group. A younger member forgetting to speak respectfully is never a big deal; in fact it happens often. The boys all feel close enough to drop the formalities. That’s why it’s so jarring when Jiung cuts him off, setting an almost dangerous tone with his correction. “Hyung.”
Jongseob pauses for a bit, subtly taken aback, before restarting a little more careful. “Hyung.”
“Jongseob,” Jiung murmurs in response. It doesn’t seem like anything’s different about him. His intonation is the same; frustratingly deep and soft. He looks completely lucid; maybe even more than usual as he watches the younger.
It has Jongseob confused. He’d assumed Jiung would be high off his mind. The guy looks perfectly fine. So the question naturally comes out of him. “Are you not like… zonked or something?”
The older breaks into a dark chuckle. He stares at Jongseob like he’s endeared by the younger’s naivety. Either that or he wants to eat him alive. “No, I’m not.”
Jongseob steps further into the room. There’s only one place to sit in this tiny studio. The office chair the older is in now. The younger boy can only lean against a wall before asking, “What does it do then?”
Jiung hums in thought. His eyes lower to examine the vape in his hand. “It helps with stress. Quiets my head.”
“Can I-“
“No,” the older cuts him off before he can even ask. His eyes snap back up to Jongseob; an assertive look there.
The younger boy almost groans in complaint. He wishes for once that Jiung would put aside his morals. Besides, he really wants a hit to calm his nerves now. “Come on, hyung. Just let me try it.”
Jiung’s jaw clenches; an action Jongseob barely catches in this dark room. He gazes at the younger in deep consideration. Once again he settles on refusing, “Go home, Jongseob. I don’t want you to pick up my habits. Not this one.”
Frustration mixing with the other negative feelings in Jongseob’s head makes him impatient. He steps away from the wall, towards the older. He puts his hands on either side of Jiung’s chair and gives the older his most sincere look. Maybe if he begs, the older will fold. “Please, hyung. Just this once?”
Jiung doesn’t seem affected at all. He just watches the younger; expression plain. His eyes rest oh so gently on Jongseob; clearly assessing him. Just when the younger starts thinking it’s a lost cause, Jiung scoffs out an, “Okay.”
A little shocked, Jongseob returns the same word. “Okay.”
Jiung reaches forward and grabs a fist full of the younger’s sweater. He lightly pulls while saying, “Sit.”
Jongseob tries not to seem to eager; but, internally, he’s screaming. He carefully drops into Jiung’s lap and nearly gasps at the feeling of firm thighs underneath him. The chair creaks with their combined weight. His heart his pounding. He’s never been this close to the older; not in this intimate way. It has blood roaring in his ears. Now more than ever he needs a hit from that vape.
Jiung holds the vape between them and starts explaining how to use it. Jongseob only gets the gist of it; he’s too distracted by how his bandmate overwhelms his senses. And when the older brings the thing up to his mouth in demonstration, Jongseob’s mind goes blank. His vision tunnels on Jiung’s face. On his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece. On his cheeks hollowing out, just a little, to suck. On the way his gaze stays locked in heavy eye contact with Jongseob as he slowly inhales. On how his lashes slightly flutter as he exhales smoke between them. Jongseob’s stomach twists so violently he’s sure Jiung can tell.
“Alright,” Jiung says. He holds out the vape for the younger to take, “Your turn.”
Jongseob is passed the vape. It’s heavier than he’d expected. He nervously brings it to his lips and lets it rest between them. His blood is rushing so fast he feels a little dizzy. He looks into Jiung’s eyes, feeling unsure. The older boy stares expectantly. His hands land on Jongseob’s thighs and slowly knead at them. If it’s meant to be reassurance, it’s not working; Jongseob only feels more flustered.
Eyes narrowing, as if knowing he’s only making it worse, Jiung lets out a whisper. “Suck.”
Jongseob is so fucked.
Now in desperate need to calm himself, he takes his first hit of a vape. He tries to, rather. Jongseob sucks like he’s breathing normally. A sickly sweet vapour starts to fill his lungs. But it doesn’t really fill his lungs at all since he only gets about a quarter of a breath in before his body fights back, his throat burns, his chest seizes up, and he’s coughing it back out. Smoke puffs up between them and Jongseob tries directing it elsewhere by turning away from the older.
“Relax,” Jiung says. His tone makes it sound more like an order than reassurance. “Go slower.”
Jongseob nods. He brings the vape back to his mouth and tries again; breathing a little slower this time. Still, he can’t get a full breath in without his lungs panicking and forcing him to cough it back out. He doubles over in shock; turning away again to expel the smoke from his lungs. How does Jiung make it looks so easy? He looks down at the older, confused and a little embarrassed. “I can’t do it.”
“That’s fine,” the older hums. For a moment he avoids Jongseob’s eyes, deep in thought. Then his lips curl up as an idea seems to come to him. His voice comes out a little malicious. “I’ll take it for you then.”
Those words don’t really make sense. Take what for him? Jongseob can barely think anymore. He can only focus on Jiung’s smirk. The dark intent in his eyes when they meet Jongseob’s.
Then Jiung’s eyes move down. Down past Jongseob’s face, past his chest, lower and lower until they land on his legs; wrapped around Jiung’s. The younger barely gets a second to register Jiung’s hands going around and under. He grabs Jongseob under his thighs and lifts. This time, the younger does gasp as his bandmate picks him up while getting off the chair. There isn’t even time for him to say anything about it because, moments later, he’s being placed on Jiung’s desk.
“Hyung?” Jongseob nervously murmurs as Jiung takes the space between his thighs. He has to look up now. That smile still hasn’t left the older’s lips. It seems almost predatory now.
“I’ll take the hit first,” he explains, taking the vape out of Jongseob’s hand. “Then you take it from me; secondhand. It’ll be easier that way.”
Jongseob merely nods. He can’t trust himself to speak anymore.
Jiung’s voice remains so steady. His smile fades away as he coaxes, “Open your mouth.”
The words settle deep in the younger’s mind. Open your mouth. A little too eagerly, Jongseob’s jaw drops.
“Fuck, okay,” the older mutters. He brings the vape up to his lips and takes a long drag. The younger is only now realizing what’s about to happen. He feels the panic and fear well up in him as Jiung leans closer. Closer and closer still until he has to tilt his head to avoid their noses touching. Close enough that Jongseob can feel the warmth coming from his lips.
Jongseob knows what to do. But, still, he can’t help but shake as Jiung gets too close and starts to exhale. Their lips bare centimetres apart, the younger completely forgets to breathe it in as Jiung blows the smoke into his mouth. All he can focus on is the older’s body so close to his own. All he can register is that with one little move their lips could collide. Jongseob looks down at Jiung’s lips. Their plush pink colour; shaped into a soft ring as smoke escapes through them. All he has to do is lean a fraction forward…
And then Jiung is pulling away. Jongseob is forced to blink his thoughts away and remind himself where he is. A disappointed frown brings down the older’s perfectly straight eyebrows. He cocks his head at the younger. There’s a hint of scorn in his tone. “You have to inhale, Jongseob.”
“Right,” Jongseob avoids his gaze. He looks down at the older’s shoes. Embarrassment pools in his stomach. Along with some sort of sick enjoyment at being scolded, “Sorry, hyung.”
There’s a flash of movement. Jiung’s gently grabs Jongseob’s jaw; his thumb on one side while his fingers press into his jaw and cheek on the other. He lifts, forcing the younger to look him in the eyes again. The shift in the older’s expression is minute but Jongseob notices it instantly. Jiung looks riveted. Like his vision has tunneled on the younger. “Sorry’s right, now open up.”
Jongseob parts his lips again. Jiung tokes and nears him again. Jongseob starts to shake again. Jiung presses his fingers into the younger’s face; forcing him still. He brings their lips close; using his hand to guide Jongseob’s head to the exact angle he wants. It’s maddening. Jiung exhales again; smoke streaming as a flowy plume into the younger’s mouth. And this time, Jongseob breathes it in. It’s definitely easier. The vapour is weaker in both intensity and flavour; the older having taken most of the kick out of it. Jongseob inhales the entire thing, straight from Jiung’s lips.
This time when they part, Jiung has a satisfied look on his face. Neither of them say anything; they just stare at each other. The realization of what just happened slowly sinks in. And then staring becomes too much and they both have to look away. Jongseob’s heart is still racing. There’s still a tremor in his fingertips and the headache is in full effect. Dazed and searching for distraction, he tries asking a question. His voice comes out a lot shakier than he wants it to. “When do I start feeling something?”
“You won’t feel anything just from that. It’ll kick in after a couple more hits.”
“So…” he trails off; asking the question without saying it aloud. Can we do it again?
Instead of answering, Jiung just hits his vape again and comes close once more. Jongseob opens his mouth and the older boy breathes the smoke into him. It feels more natural this time. Breathing in while he breathes out. Still, Jongseob can only think about the mere centimetres between their lips. He can’t stop trembling because of it. Maybe he should just risk it and lean into him.
Jiung doesn’t bother backing up this time. He brings up the vape between them, takes a drag still keeping that lethal distance, and smokes the younger out in one fell swoop. It feels rushed and intimate. Jongseob has taken three indirect hits from the older’s vape now. Still, he doesn’t really feel anything. The only feeling coursing through his body right now is a sweeping infatuation with the older.
The fourth time is when something changes. As Jiung tokes, his other hand lands on Jongseob’s waist. It lingers there for a bit before travelling to the small of his back. Then slowly he goes, right up the younger’s spine, sending shivers through him, and stopping at his nape. His fingers play with Jongseob’s hair as he shotguns the boy. And right when the younger has finished inhaling, Jiung pushes.
It’s barely a kiss. Barely even a graze. Jongseob feels a touch, featherlike, against his lips. It’s too brief for him to really feel Jiung’s lips. But enough to send sparks of shock through him.
Jiung backs away. He looks a little dazed now too. Maybe taking all these hits is finally getting to him. Either way, he looks Jongseob in the eyes and asks, “Are you feeling something now?”
The younger boy focuses on himself. He can’t say much has changed physically. His heart is still racing and his body is still trembling. But it’s not in a bad way anymore. He feels good now. Satiated. Probably because he just kissed the handsome boy in front of him.
Well it was barely a kiss.
“One more time,” Jongseob requests, clear intention in his head now. And from the look in his bandmate’s eyes, it’s clear he gets it too.
Jiung takes one more drag. He nears Jongseob one last time. When they’re in breathing distance, the younger, whose hands had been nervously gripping the table this entire time, reaches out and grabs his bandmate’s shirt. With a quick pull, the slight space between them closes and he feels Jiung’s lips firmly press into his own. Jongseob closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of his bandmate’s lips. They’re dreamily soft and warm.
The older starts to exhale. Jongseob, throwing his arms over his bandmate’s shoulders, breathes in the vapour directly from Jiung’s lips. Then their mouths start to shift. The younger trembles with every drag of their lips. He feels Jiung card his hand further into his hair. There’s a faint clack as he puts the vape down on the desk. Then he puts his arm around the younger, pulling him closer until their bodies are flush.
Jongseob’s heart is still racing. His body is still shaking. His head is still pounding. Maybe vaping just doesn’t work for him. That’s okay, though. Jiung, clutching onto him, leaning him over the desk, making out with him, is better than any drug could be.
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