As Jongin was following Taemin inside the building, the first time anyone invited him over (and not the friendly ‘let’s hang out and have some snacks’ type) nagged him.

He was a teen, rebellious with his friends and a harmless sheep with his parents. He was dating a girl from another school with that fake shade of blonde he loved so much, pale skin and thin – all of his guy friends were jealous. She looked like a cadaver if not for the thick make-up and bloody red lipstick. Whenever he’d hug her from behind, she smelled of vanilla and a hint of jasmine.

It was winter. The cleaner air made her perfume ten times stronger, so he took ten times more to inhale it. When she turned around, her proposal hadn’t taken him by surprise. He couldn’t quite remember her other features, like her eye color. He did remember her brazen smile.

They were young; the perfect excuse to act wild. When they were making out on her bed and when she took off his shirt, Jongin’s heartbeat flowed through his veins. If he had to describe that moment, it’d be the night a wolf slaughtered the sheep. It clawed at his body and bit at his neck until he bled into Lady Death’s arms. They didn’t even reach that point where they’d become one through penetration, but his body against hers still felt out of the world and lingered with him throughout the rest of the evening, her smell imprinted on his skin.

Jongin looked ahead. Taemin’s eyes met his right before they got in the elevator. They fell on the floor again, the image shaking slightly as they ascended and Jongin melted again in his memories.

He could almost smell the vanilla.

The following day, the girl left him. He had not known why at first. She gave him no other details. It still tortured him. Turns out, his friends weren’t all that jealous. They pitied him. They all knew one of them had been dating her while she was dating Jongin too, to see who was better, who to stay with at the end of her trick. After their confession, Jongin cut all ties and drowned in anger for a year.

When he’d see her from afar, he’d go crazy. He heard her laughter in his head echo, like that of a ghost feeding on his energy until she’d find another victim willing to fall into the same trap. Fortunately, he put all of his negative energy in his studies. His grades were higher than ever. He never meant to be the best, just to do enough to make his parents happy.

Then, when he thought the universe’s machination condemned him to the destruction of his last humane parts, Sehun glommed onto him. It was sudden, rough, loud, and Jongin had many instances when he wished to punch Sehun in the gut, so he’d have a piece of his mind back. Yet, that frenzy Sehun tossed him into, finally gave him enough stability to move on. What Jongin hadn’t expected was for the brief relationship they had as lovers to heal him and, while he hated it later for using Sehun in such a way, to allow them to flourish as friends. It was, again, more than he had asked for.

Life always rewarded him with something good to balance out the bad.

Again, looking up, staring in Taemin’s eyes, he wondered the way the two of them could be lazing, cuddled up, blankets sheltering their bodies. Jongin would touch Taemin’s cheek with his lips, a brush so soft, unreal, the little jolt he got when the elevator stopped brought him back to their current reality. He still had a lot to do if he wanted to make that dream palpable and a lot to learn if he wanted to stare into Taemin’s eyes every morning like he was doing in that moment. He felt with Taemin the same thing he felt with Sehun – a soothing, healing wave made of an emotion he could not explain with words.

“Jongin?”

“Hmmm?”

It was why he had been worrying constantly. He fell too soon, too hard, plunged into the ocean he escaped from when the girl left him and swimming back to the surface proved difficult when Taemin was the one providing oxygen. Worse, he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Sehun. They’d pity him again. He had to stand tall and carve his way through the surface. He had to look stronger than he actually felt.

“Why are you staring?”

And Jongin’s heart beat on a familiar rhythm, thumping in his ear and under his wrists.

“I like your earrings.”

Taemin’s fingers immediately shot to his head, locks lost between them as he touched the cuff.

“Thanks.”

The same fingers were next on Jongin’s wrist as he pulled them out of the elevator, out of Jongin’s past, and into the hallway, in their present and potential future.

---

Jongin was stuck on Taemin’s sofa.

He thought he was joking when he said he was rich, but from how much space he had, Jongin thought he should have taken him seriously. He hadn’t seen the other rooms or the kitchen for that matter, but the entrance hall and the living room were enough to give him an idea or who he was dealing with. In front of him were a coffee table, two armchairs on the side, a TV set and a full bookcase. The walls had photographs and other pictures he didn’t examine. He never thought that someone could earn enough from writing to live more than decent in their country. He wanted to ask Taemin about it, understand from where his fortune came – if his works really sold like rice cakes.

However, another matter was pestering his mind. Taemin sat next to him and Jongin focused his entire attention on him.

“Why Jongmin?”

“Huh?”

“Your pseudonym. Is it Lee Jongmin?”

Taemin had the same dark grey sweater and jeans, complete with his accessories. He pulled at the hair tie, letting his hair loose. He ruffled it, gently flattened the unruly strands, until it framed his face and completely changed the way he looked. Jongin was glad he had questioned him about his penname before he had done that, else, he would have been at a loss for words.

“Yes,” Taemin cleared his throat. “My parents don’t know what I actually do. They think I write these magazine articles about travelling.” He stopped and pondered before he shook his head. “Okay, that is half true, since I’ve done it for a couple of months. I have a friend in the industry that let me try my hand at it and he liked it enough to give me a chance. I quit because I couldn’t take care of my novels and the articles at the same time.”

“Mr. Lee,” Jongin smiled softly as Taemin’s eyes were searching for something on the coffee. “You’re off the subject.”

“Yeah, Mr. Kim. This Jongmin, it’s kind of silly.”

“We established long ago that nothing’s silly about you.”

“Hah!” Taemin’s eyes left the table and were shooting darts at Jongin’s forehead. “Mr. Kim, have you not paid attention to anything I’ve said during our dates?”

“Details, Mr. Lee. Details. Now, share the origin of your other self.”

Taemin timidly avoided Jongin’s stare again. He was fidgeting with his rings while his body was against a flame, the temperature rising with each sudden burst of heat over his skin.

“It is silly.”

“C’mon,” Jongin scooted closer, taunting the other when he grabbed his hand and stopped him from moving. Taemin glanced at his face before he found another, more interesting, spot, behind Jongin. “Let’s share some secrets tonight.” He let go of his hands. Jongin’s arm leaned against the sofa, as his head rested against his palm, watching Taemin amused. The smaller Taemin got, the more he enjoyed it.

“Fine!” Taemin frowned when he saw how happy Jongin was. “I needed a pseudonym, as you’ve put it. So I used my imaginary friend’s name.”

Jongin shut up.

He didn’t laugh, smile or turn serious. The neutral expression, which dissipated all other features and made Jongin seem like a mannequin behind a clothes’ store window, had Taemin squirming even more in his seat. Mostly because those dolls always judged him more than humans with their glacial visages and stiff postures, exactly the way Jongin suddenly became at the dumb revelation.

“You had an imaginary friend?”

“If you want to mock me, do it already.”

“I don’t want to mock you.” Jongin broke the monotony with a sincere smile, void of anything that might disturb Taemin. “I want to know you.”

“Do you want to know my stupidity too?”

“Especially your stupidity. That’s when you’re most honest with yourself. It’s a quality I envy in others.”

Taemin grabbed a cushion and shoved it at Jongin’s chest.

“Now you’re really making fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Jongin pushed the cushion back, his smile widening. “Now tell me.”

“Yes, I had an imaginary friend. Yes, I used his name for my novels. Yes, you’re dating someone who still lives in a fantasy.”

“I don’t think that’s bad.”

“They all say that until they understand what it means. They regret it after.”

“Well, what does it mean?”

“It means I’ll always be with my head up high in the clouds.”

“Mr. Lee,” Jongin gravely began, “are you an angel?”

Taemin grabbed a second cushion and Jongin found himself on his back when Taemin hit him lightly on the head. Jongin laughed and grabbed both cushions, retaliating. It was Taemin’s turn to laugh, their voices mixing in the air.

Soon, they were physically and mentally closer than before, as Taemin told Jongin more about his childhood, more exactly, the imaginary friend. From the web of his consciousness, it was the first thing that came to him when he requested they did not publish under his real name. Jongin, on the other hand, told him about the book and they slowly went through the plot, characters and everything in between, to satisfy Jongin’s interest.

Tranquility bestowed them a moment to collect their thoughts and enjoy the proximity of their bodies.

Suddenly, Taemin's hand found itself on Jongin's.

It was a simple gesture, that appeared several times already that day, yet Jongin felt like thousands of ants left Taemin’s fingertips and were crawling over him. Their gazes met and Jongin could swear he saw a small glint in Taemin’s sly orbs. He found himself unable to speak or avert his eyes, intoxicated with the look Taemin had given him. Jongin swallowed hard and wandered down Taemin’s face. He met his lips. Involuntarily, Jongin his own, moistening them, as the heat that spread through Taemin’s body at the beginning of the conversation had transferred to him.

Taemin didn’t miss the way Jongin’s tongue split his mouth and the way his Adam’s apple bobbled when Jongin swallowed. He reached for his forearm, sending another troop of ants through Jongin’s territories.

They cropped their view again and captured only each other’s line of sight, involuntarily mirroring their expressions.

Jongin didn’t want to escape, no matter how much his senses urged him to run away from the approaching danger. They had two other attempts, which hadn’t brought the expected results, no matter how much Jongin gloated in front of Sehun. He was still scared that, after they’d share their first proper kiss, Taemin would run into the arms of another like the vanilla girl. The closer he got to Taemin, the more he caught the fragrance of sandalwood in Taemin’s cologne – rich, warm, sweet, just like him.

At least, Taemin had been the most patient out of the two. Jongin blamed it on his experience, he certainly seemed he had more. He was grateful for his chance and he had to step up his game if he truly wanted the man. He knew that he was asking for more than he could receive, but with all the wrong that had him tormented lately, shouldn’t the good be coming his way?

Jongin decided he wasn’t as gracious with the time and utensil destiny had given him. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Taemin’s lips. He thought that would be enough. Jongin initiated the kiss and he should be proud of taking the reins of their relationship and pushing the agenda forward.

Then he felt Taemin obliterating his pride when he cupped his head and prolonged the kiss. For once, he enjoyed it, lying there motionless, as he grew accustomed to the new pace. After, he was tilting his head, lips moving gently over Taemin’s. His palm was resting on Taemin’s cheek, thumb carefully brushing over the cheekbone, as if he might break any second. His fingers itched to rest on his thighs instead, but he still had some will left in him to stop his hands from roaming too much.

He felt as if he finally got out of the water and collapsed on the beach, his savior on top of him. Taemin’s lips brought the summer breeze, the faint scent of salt and warm sand under the scorching sun. His touch on his arm comforted him.

Jongin’s fingers slipped to the back of Taemin’s neck, holding the base of his head with his palm. Slowly, he parted his lips and brushed Taemin’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Taemin pulled Jongin closer to himself. Their tongues briefly met. It woke Jongin’s other arm. He placed it on Taemin’s waist.

For a second, the tiny person in his head that made sure he would never let Jongin sleep at night brought him a crazy idea in the middle of the making out session. Maybe he should buy a book on ‘What to do and what not to do while kissing’ and devour it like Taemin’s novel. Not like he wasn’t seconds away from eating something else up, though even he knew that would only bring their kiss to a halt.

Unfortunately for Jongin, before he even had a chance at that sloppy, desperate kiss, Taemin pulled away and uttered, “I’ll get some snacks,” before he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Jongin baffled and in an embrace with the invisible man.

---

Taemin rushed to the kitchen and immediately called Wonshik.

“Dude!” A groan from the other side said he had interrupted his friend’s delightful evening with his lover. Taemin forgot he abandoned their dinner plans, so he panicked for a second as to what excuse to use, until he remembered he had an emergency and only Wonshik could solve it. “Dude, he’s here.”

“Ramen guy?”

“Jongin,” Taemin whispered onto the phone.

Suddenly, Wonshik’s voice became higher and sounded much more interested in what his friend had to say.

“Oh really now?” A paused followed, in which Taemin could hear another voice in the background and dishes clattering. He let out a sigh when he realized they hadn’t done anything yet. “Wait, what do you mean with ‘here’?”

“Home.”

“You invited him up?”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Yes.”

“Lee Taemin, what got into you?” Taemin opened his mouth to speak, only for Wonshik to add right away, “other than a , apparently.”

“You little ing , choke on kimchi!”

Taemin hung up. He was fuming and cursing Wonshik in his head. He felt something vibrating and rolled his eyes when Wonshik’s name and face flashed on the screen.

“What now?”

“The kimchi was delicious actually, thanks.”

“Bye.”

“No, wait!”

“What?”

“Are you guys going to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Taemin stated flatly. He went to the fridge next and checked whether he had any sodas left. He got out a pack of coke and swung it on the table. “Is it too early?”

“For you, yeah.” Another pause. Taemin was thinking if he had anything to munch on, maybe some chips or candy. In the end, he took out two bowls and poured a bag of popcorn into one. “Still there?”

“Aham,” he opened a bag of chocolate biscuits next and tossed them in the other bowl. “I’m just scared. It’s too fast and I don’t want to be wrong again.”

“What have I told you?”

“Let go?”

“Let go.” Taemin stared at the bowls and the soda. He wanted to throw everything. “And always prep. Never go raw.”

“Choke on !”

“Atta boy!”

Taemin hung up the second time on Wonshik. He ruffled his hair and decided that whoever searched for him that night better had a good reason because he left his phone in the kitchen. Grabbing the two bowls, he headed back to the living room. Before stepping inside, he took a deep breath. Stomping confidently, he headed to the sofa, excited about what else could happen.

“I brought some snacks!” He announced cheerfully and placed the bowls on the coffee table. When he turned to the sofa, instead of seeing an equally excited Jongin, he met a grown up man lying still, arms crossed over a cushion and deep in sleep.

Jongin hadn’t slept for a day and a half, making it almost impossible for him to keep his eyes open anymore.

Taemin didn’t think much of it. He didn’t come to any conclusion such as ‘he’s so boring, Jongin fell asleep’. Instead, he accepted that Jongin had been exhausted the moment they met, from the way he barely responded the entire evening, to the dark circles he couldn’t hide. Taemin grabbed the second cushion and gently put it under Jongin’s head, making sure he was comfortable. Taemin stared more before he made sure that nothing would wake the man up. He took the blanket from one of the armchairs and covered Jongin.

Lights off, Taemin retreated with the pack of coke in front of his laptop and wrote the entire night.

---

“What happened to you?”

Son Seungwan – twenty-four, dirty blonde curls, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, currently doing a master’s degree. Also, Kim Jongin’s trusty assistant, a job that required more than taking calls and writing down names. She was Jongin’s right hand in matters of work and him appearing like he just came from a night of drinking made her scrunch her nose.

“Long story.” Jongin went into his office before anyone else could see him. Seungwan followed and closed the doors behind them. Jongin sat at the desk and tried to fix his hair. He had no idea how he got in time at work. He looked up and saw Seungwan with her palm open. “What?”

“Keys.”

“Keys?”

“You have spare clothes in your car, don’t you?”

Jongin nodded. He completely forgot about them.

He woke up confused and in dire need to use the bathroom. He had no idea how he ended up on the sofa or for how long had it been since he dozed off. A few sunrays hit his eyes as he struggled to get up. He almost knocked over a bowl of popcorn when he got up to his feet and tottered, slightly dizzy, out of the living room. The moment he arrived into the hallway, he remembered he was at Taemin’s. Without thinking much, he stepped into the windowless corridor and found light coming from another room.

Taemin was at a desk, typing away with glasses on, fully concentrated. His fingers were flying on the keyboard and Jongin felt bad at first for interrupting him, but he really had to go. His wristwatch told him he had only half an hour to get to work and considering traffic, he had to hit the road as soon as possible.

Taemin told him he had fallen asleep and he had no heart to wake him up. Exchanging a few more words and a promise of another date, one in which Jongin wouldn’t hog Taemin’s sofa, he finally left.

Problem was, he hadn’t had a shower and his clothes looked like he had just collected them from the trash. Most of all, he hadn’t used the bathroom. He was too ashamed to go at Taemin’s.

After Seungwan went to retrieve his fresh clothes, he hit the men’s bathroom, thanked Chanyeol for always stocking up on soap and antiperspirant in his desk and refreshed for the day.

Looking into the mirror, Jongin tapped his lips and smiled.

He knew, at least, that the kiss hadn’t been a dream.

A/N

Temporarily enabled comments until the next update because it's Koemi's birthday tomorrow (October 8th) /hint hint /she has no idea about this huehuehue... or go check her story and show some love?