“Jongin, help me! I have a problem.”

“I am not you off.”

I pause and let out a muted breath of a chuckle, dropping the cushion I had in my hands onto the sofa.

“Oh ha-ha. And you wonder why people think we’re gay.” I turn to the doorway of the living room to be met with the sight of Jongin; grinning like an idiot and clearly proud of himself for being so ‘witty’. It’s a grin that I should find annoying, which I do, but nothing could ever make me hate one of Jongin’s smiles. “Seriously, though. I have a problem.”

Jongin walks over to me; grin now replaced with a look of mild seriousness, and squeezes my shoulder. There’s no real reason for the contact, it’s not like this problem has me wailing like a baby meeting the shopping-centre Santa Claus for the first time, but at the same time there it is. It’s a small piece of affection, yet it means the world that he’s taken the time to give it; taken the time to do something that makes my problem seem at least a little bit less apocalyptically problematic.

I wait for the hand to be removed, like it normally is, but instead it just stays put. The metaphorical warmth of the comforting contact radiates through me, calming away the problem until it’s just an issue at the back of my mind. It’s amazing how Jongin knows how to do that; how to give me exactly what I need exactly when I need it.

That’s just Jongin; my best friend, Jongin.

“What’s wrong then? Or are you just going to stare at me like a freaking fangirl?” The grin is back, the one I hate to love, and I can feel the heat of embarrassment flooding into my cheeks. “And you wonder why people think we’re gay.” He stops as we both laugh a little, but he has yet to remove his hand; something that I like probably a little bit more than I should. “So, what is it?”

“Pororo’s missing.” And just like that, the problem’s back; the one that’s affecting me, a twenty-four-year-old grown-up man, more than it probably would a little girl who had lost her teddy. “Help me find him?”

“Of course.”

He doesn’t even stop to think about his reply, just gets straight to scouting around the living room for any sign of my beloved soft toy. The one that’s been missing since around lunchtime today, when I first noticed his lack of presence on my bed.

“You owe me fried chicken if I find him first.”

I smile to myself, secretly wondering how I managed to wind up with such an awesome and unique best friend, before resuming my earlier search for my cuddly companion.

“You’re on, Kamjong.”
 

***

“Well, we’ve looked everywhere.” I mumble, flopping dejectedly next to Jongin on the floor in front of the tv, leaning my head mindlessly on his shoulder like I always do when I need a bit of firm reassurance.

“Twice.” He adds in, sounding just as forlorn as I feel.

“At least.”

His head rests on mine and I can feel some of his hair flecking over my face, the soft featheriness of it making my heart flutter in ways that I thought hearts only could in cheesy Disney films. His breathing is placid, gentle and soothing in ways that I can’t really describe without playing down his somewhat serene beauty. Being this close to Jongin, snuggled up to him and feeling everything that is Kim Jongin, makes everything seem perfect.

Or rather it would do, if only there wasn’t a biting sense of disappointment dousing the atmosphere of the room.

You see, Jongin’s disappointed because I am. Just like he’d be happy right now if I was. Just like I would be singing a merry song and dance if he were to start one up. We’re like that; always feeling what the other feels.

I call it being best friends.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol call it ‘wanting each other’s babies’, in those precise words.

“Sorry we didn’t find him, Soo.” I can feel his voice box vibrate as he talks, the sensation of it making me smile slightly despite the situation because he’s right here, even if Pororo isn’t. “I really did try, though. And I’ll look again tomorrow. Pororo can’t have gotten far. I mean, it’s not like he can actually walk or anything.”

“I know you tried and I really appreciate it.” I sigh, knowing that I have to voice my real worry about the absence of Pororo because Jongin is Jongin and he might just be able to fix it. “But I. Jesus, this is going to sound stupid.”

He un-snuggles himself from me and looks at me with such earnest longing to understand that I know I have to tell him now. My biggest secret it’s about to unsecret itself, all because of my big mouth.

Then again, knowing that doesn’t nauseate me as much as I know it should; I want to tell Jongin.

All of a sudden, transfixed upon those bottomless brown eyes, I want to tell Kim Jongin everything about me and for him to approve of every last piece. This should feel weird, this inexplicable want to share, but it just doesn’t. If anything, it feels like the rightest thing in the world to do. It’s not the first time this has happened either, this strange emotion sweeping over me like a wave of sickly-sweet honey; just the first time that I think I might actually act on it.

It’s just something about Jongin’s eyes. No, it’s something about Jongin, as a whole. He makes me feel like it’s good to be me because it’s me who’s sat on the floor next to him.

Maybe Baekhyun and Chanyeol were right. Maybe, just maybe in the back of my head, I want them to be.

“You can tell me, Soo.” Jongin’s voice is quiet and softer than the soft toy that I’m missing, enticing me in the familiar omnipotent-ness of it. “I’m your best friend, I won’t laugh.”

I take in a deep breath, bracing myself for the humiliation that is surely about to come pouring my way like rain in the Seoul summer.

“I can’t sleep without Pororo. I just…” I trail off, looking back to my friend to make sure he’s not laughing or secretly thinking that I’m some kind of weirdo in need of various forms of medication because trust me, if Jongin was thinking that, I would know about it.

Instead he’s just staring, gazing almost, and looking very much like a girl fussing over a kitten. This time he places his head on my shoulder, slotting there like a puzzle piece and making me certain that we’re meant to be this way; together.

God, I sound soppy. No wonder Baekhyun and Chanyeol think that we’re romantically involved. I think they think it because I am.

I am romantically involved with Kim Jongin, my best friend. And he’s not romantically involved back. He’s just kind and caring and affectionate; that’s all this is. But there’s nothing wrong with tricking myself into thinking otherwise, right?

Not in my mind.

“I can’t sleep without Pororo. It’s just that feeling of having something to cuddle, y’know?” I feel him nod against me and when I look down, I see that his eyes are glazed with tiredness. Adorable. “And my little krong’s too small. Pillows don’t work, they just don’t have that lovable feeling to them.”

All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrap firmly around my waist and a head drops from my neck to my chest; Jongin’s cuddling me, actually, properly cuddling me!

I mean, of course we’ve cuddled before, but never really like this. The times we’ve cuddled before are because I’ve initiated it; like when Jongin d