He’s tapping the pen mindlessly in the small square of sunshine that’s filtering through the windows, eyes on the outside world. His eyes are nearly slipping shut, the heat from the sun nearly pushing him to sleep, but the chatter around him prevents him to do so, as well as one particular person on the ground, weaving their way through the opposing team.

Their movements are fluid as they sidle through two defenders, the ball still in control and Youngjae’s lifting his head the closer they get to the goal post. 

He’s not aware that his heart is beating against his chest until a thick textbook is slammed on his desk, and he jumps involuntarily and then there’s his friend Kunpimook making a crude remark about his wandering eyes and Youngjae’s no longer looking down at Park Jinyoung running and jumping into Mark Tuan’s arms for winning the game.

But maybe that’s a good thing.

*

Kunpimook calls him creepy, and after a while, Yugyeom’s agreeing, seeing as how Youngjae continues to keep his post on the third floor of the library, the second table to the left of the staircase. There’s an excellent view of the playing field from here, and Youngjae can always see the expression on everyone’s face.

Whether it be sullen, overjoyed, blank, Youngjae can study every single facial movement instead of the books he’s supposed to. 

Though he doesn’t choose to watch everyone. Just one single person. Like usual.

Today, small water droplets are being spit from the heavy grey clouds, and a black umbrella is blocking their face. Perhaps that’s on purpose though, Youngjae muses, trailing them with his eyes and he notices that their pace is abnormally slow.

But it’s a good thing Jinyoung wasn’t showing his face today, Youngjae decides, he doesn’t want to see him with lips wobbling and eyes not wanting to betray how he really felt. 

*

He heard through the grapevine (Kunpimook) that the confession was rejected. 

Oh, so that was why, and Youngjae can’t help but perk up upon hearing that, even knowing that he has no chance. There’s a little something inside him - hopefulness? - that’s cheered up beyond belief that Jinyoung could move on. Move onto bigger, better things, and that it may take a while.

“He doesn’t even know you exist, hyung.” Yugyeom says bluntly, and Youngjae suddenly blinks, shaking his head. He must of had an expression of someone who had just heard the best news of their life - a child who was told they were receiving a puppy. 

So he mumbles something lame, and Yugyeom and Kunpimook both roll their eyes in near sync.

But then Kunpimook suddenly proposes something, and perhaps that’s also a good thing as well.

* 

Youngjae was already getting a headache. 

It hasn’t been more than ten minutes since he’s entered the crammed building, bodies against bodies and lights splattering against skin and creating shadows. 

The air’s hot, sticky, and the music is near deafening and pounding against his eardrums as he watches the dance floor mindlessly with an unholy concoction of whatever Kunpimook ordered in his hands. And even through the crowds that were much heavier than usual, Youngjae can spot Jinyoung, and he swallows harshly as he turns to the stranger he was pushing himself against and smiles.

A vixens smile, Youngjae realizes, arms being thrown around a sweat dotted tan neck, and Kunpimook had appeared beside him to try to shove him onto the dance floor. To get him to make a move, get him before he goes off with someone else.

Youngjae doesn’t.

He dips out before he can see Jinyoung brush his lips against a strangers neck.

*

“...Is he?” Youngjae hates the way his voice cracks halfway through the second word, and there’s a bit of sympathy across Kunpimook’s face even though Youngjae had done nothing to stop it from happening.

Perhaps if he had stepped in, made it seem like he was elbowed and his drink was splashed across Im Hyunsik’s body, Park Jinyoung wouldn’t of been seeing getting together with him multiple times outside of the club. Perhaps if Youngjae wasn’t a coward, he wouldn’t have Kunpimook pulling him into a side hug and Yugyeom rubbing his arm gently and mumbling that it’s okay, hyung, really...perhaps you should move on? It’ll only hurt more the longer you pine. 

Yugyeom was right, Youngjae knew that. It hurt only a bit knowing that Jinyoung was chasing after someone who wasn’t Youngjae, and that he didn’t even know of Youngjae’s existence, but the fact that he was actively with someone stung.

Later that night, when he was alone, Youngjae curled into himself and ignored his flatmates rummaging through the fridge with misplaced hopes to find something other than eggs and kimchi. 

*

Move on, Yugyeom suggested, and Kunpimook’s jaw dropped when Youngjae brought up that they should go back to the club. But he was all for it, and now Youngjae was taking one too many shots before pushing himself away from the bar. 

His body was warm, throat burning, and his head felt more pleasantly lighter than it usually was. And it was nice, Youngjae was finding, as he brushed through crowds of people, not to be the one observing. He was quite enjoying letting his body take control, instead of his mind, mind currently taking a nap.

He catches Kunpimook call from somewhere on the other side, “Jackson!” and Youngjae doesn’t know exactly who that is but then there’s someone who’s sliding up to him. Sliding their hands up and down his body before settling on his hips and Youngjae isn’t quite used to being this close to someone, smelling their breath which was laced with alcohol. 

But he enjoys it. He’s enjoying the way they move, their earrings swaying to and fro, their sharp eyes on him and only him.

*

It’s not until the first sign of light is peeking through the window and a breeze is coming in through the screen door, that Youngjae feels a leg wedged in between his and someone’s breath tickling his nose. 

It’s one of the few times in his life where Youngjae leaps out of bed after untangling himself, heart racing and shaking. He’s staring wide eyed down at the guy who had barely made a grunt when Youngjae detached himself, mouth dry, head starting to ache and a throbbing pain in his lower backside. 

And then he quickly goes to fling his clothes back on, mentally preparing himself to dodge all questions Kunpimook may hurl at him. He’s already revising lies if Kunpimook does manage to catch him, because he knows that Im Jaebum is one of Jinyoung’s closest friends and flatmates. Everyone knows, it’s hard not to. 

Youngjae can already hear the question of so since you can’t get with Jinyoung you go after one of his friends? and then he’s shoving the bedroom door open. 

And the questions in his mind dissipate as he’s greeted with Jinyoung bent over a couch, fingers under the cushions and seemingly running along the bottom in hopes to finding something. Money, perhaps?

 If it were any other time, Youngjae would be thrilled to be greeted with a sight so heavenly, the shorts Jinyoung was wearing blessing views of his thighs and accentuating what Youngjae already knew was quite the nice . But since he had just stumbled out of Jaebum’s room, hair no doubt a mess from Jaebum running his fingers through and clutching, clothes a wrinkled mess against his body, it’s not good timing.

“Hey, Jaebum-” Jinyoung’s starting, having heard the door open, and he’s straightening and turning, but he cuts himself off, finding Youngjae standing there and eyes lower than they really should be. “-Oh.” He then says, blinking, and Youngjae’s quick to snap his eyes up and meet Jinyoung’s.

He hopes hopes hopes and prays that his face is not showing any signs of pink despite it heating up. 

“Who are you?” 

Youngjae had often, too often in his friends opinion, daydreamed of actually talking to Jinyoung. He had always thought it would go smoothly, unlike now where his own name was getting caught in his throat the longer Jinyoung stared him down. 

It took a few moments before Youngjae finally managed to choke out, “Choi Youngjae.” without stammering. A small victory, in the grand scheme of things.

Jinyoung nods, says his name, and Youngjae politely smiles as if he doesn’t know who Jinyoung is or what his name was and what his looks like in soccer shorts. He doesn’t make it known that Jinyoung is the target of his affections, voice surprisingly calm and controlled as the two make small talk and he doesn’t scream (he does internally) when Jinyoung asks to borrow his phone.

I lost mine, Jinyoung’s saying as Youngjae’s prying out his phone that has a few missed calls and text icons on the lock screen. He hands it to Jinyoung, doing his best to not brush their fingers together, and Youngjae stops himself from taking a deep breath to control himself when Jinyoung smiles gratefully towards him.

He always knew that Jinyoung’s smile was dazzling, but that was from afar, and now seeing it with mere inches between them was a whole new world. His eyes would light up, small wrinkles would appear near his eyes and Youngjae stuffed the jealousy creeping up his throat as he called Hyunsik. 

Youngjae wishes so badly he didn’t dawdle and then bail that night at the club, watching Jinyoung’s lips curl up in an affectionate smile as he talked and listened. 

He doesn’t know if he mumbles something to excuse himself or not before he slips into the bathroom to vomit everything inside him up.