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Jinki lay on his small twin sized mattress, his hands resting on the back of his head and eyes fixed on the yellowed popcorn ceiling as he desperately tried to ignore the rising, heated whispers filtering in from the other room.

Because it wasn’t his place…After all, a lover’s quarrel was, as Jonghyun had so kindly pointed out, “not in [his] ing job description.”

Still…Jinki felt terribly responsible.

He couldn’t help it.

They were his family, each of them having grown and suffered together; each depending on him for guidance, and advice, and, probably most of all, discretion.

Not that Jinki had ever minded. In fact, Jinki was more than glad to fulfill the mandatory obligations that came attached to being the eldest. It was comforting and familiar, having others depend on him…oddly satisfying, the sensation that came with being needed.

But Kibum…Jinki didn’t know how to say it, how to phrase his feelings into a jumble of vowels and consonants or how to string those words into sentences that made even the slightest bit of sense…There was something about him and the only thing Jinki knew was that, Kibum,… he was special,…and different,… and, thus, an exception to the rule.

Kibum’s screams were stifled; his hands cupping his own mouth to keep the least amount of sound from escaping his trembling, bloodied lips…Jinki could just picture it as he laid there, the image repeating itself over and over with every muffled whimper he heard from across the hall. Burning the sick, heartbreaking, all too probable scenario into his mind and charring his heart into a blackened pile of ash.

 A jolt of anger raced through Jinki, his body reacting before he even had a chance to register what it was he was doing. His biceps flexed slightly as he dug his fingers around the edge of the mattress, his teeth clenching as he listened for another sound: a shout, a cry, a whimper or even a sniffle; finally unable to take anymore, unable to ignore, and unable to keep his promise…or Kibum’s secret.

He sat there, with his feet planted firmly on the beige carpeted floor, heart beating ferociously against his chest, concentrating, straining to hear even the smallest of noises. But they did not come. The loud high pitched buzz from the floor lamp in his room produced the only audible sound, and Jinki could feel his heart rate slowly dropping; the contractions of his lungs becoming easy and even. He collapsed on to his bed, throwing himself backwards and lifting his hands to cover his face.

Another confrontation avoided.

Another battle lost.

A soft rap on the door derailed Jinki’s train of thought, his mind instead being thrown into a chaotic mess of half formed responses that he failed to produce one at all.

Kibum entered anyway, as he always did, the heavy piece of oak opening just wide enough for him to squeeze his lithe frame into the elder’s room. He walked in as casually as he could, which wasn’t very casual at all, a limp in his step and a repressed wince hidden with a coy smile.

Jinki’s jaw tightened, his head and body rising defiantly as he moved to open the door, his intentions clear. But Kibum blocked his destination, his hand resting tentatively on his broad shoulder; a silent, desperate plea.

And there was silence. A silence filled with tension and disappointment and unspoken words that when strung together would only produce a truth that neither of them really wanted to hear.

He smiled a small, sad smile, his brown doe eyes glistening with relief and tears and just a tiny bit of disappointment as Jinki sat down at his computer desk and picked up a bulky foreign novel that Kibum knew he did not understand in the slightest.

Kibum buried himself underneath the covers, the pleasant scent of Jinki invading his senses. He took a deep breath savoring each faint individual aroma: the cherry blossom of his shampoo, coconut from his lotion, sandalwood from his cologne, all combined with the sweet smell of his sweat. He pulled the thin sheet over his head, and took another breath. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been good enough.” He paused as he listened to Jinki respond with sounds rather than sentences, “Let me finish, Jinki.” Kibum whispered his breath bouncing of the orange floral sheet and on to his flustered cheeks. “I’m a little bit rusty and I think my head is caving in.”

Kibum could feel the mattress sink from Jinki’s weight, the frame squeaking in protest as he crawled to lie beside him, their bodies so close Kibum could feel his warmth through the sheet. “And I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved by a hand that’s touched me.” Kibum felt Jinki’s arms wrap around his waist, hesitantly at first but quickly tightening. “And I feel like something’s gonna give. And I’m a little bit angry.”

Well, this ain’t over, no, not here.

Not while I still need you around.

You don’t owe me

We might change it.

Yeah, we might just feel good.

“And I don’t know why you ever would lie to me.” Jinki brushed his hand along the fabric, tracing the features of Kibum’s face softly. “It’s not ‘okay’, Kibum. Those things he does to you.,,” Jinki didn’t elaborate…he couldn’t; couldn’t bring himself to speak the words aloud because they were dripping with all of those confusing feelings Jinki hadn’t yet bring himself to comprehend.

“He doesn’t mean it, not really. I know he doesn’t.”

Silence. Again and always silence.

The falsity of Kibum’s statement ringing in both of their ears as they lay side by side, their gazes hidden behind the thin veil of fabric.

“Is it wrong?” Kibum  continued, eyes tracing the outline of Jinki’s shadow, earnest and vulnerable and everything Kibum hated, “Is it wrong…to love someone so much, that you would do anything, be anything...Is it wrong to love someone even though you know they will never be able to love you back? To cherish the moments anyway, those painfully bittersweet moments that seem to make everything else just fade away…Is it wrong, Jinki?”

Jinki swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and bit back the urge to sob. Kibum’s words rushed over him, the wave of emotions he had been suppressing rushing over him and leaving him entirely breathless.

This was his chance. His chance to tell Kibum everything he had ever wanted to say. To free the fire that had always burned so brightly and secretly in his heart. But he stopped himself, his mouth hanging open with the words he could never speak aloud on the tip of his tongue. His hands clenched into fists and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself, to keep himself composed and calm, angry at himself for not having the courage to tell Kibum that, yes, it was wrong. It was wrong to love someone like Jonghyun.

 Because Jinki could love Kibum so much better.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” Jinki whispered after some time. “Because I’m a little untrusting when I think that the truth is gonna hurt ya.”

Kibum chuckled softly, “A lie. Always a lie.” He felt Jinki’s weight shifting, yet again, and the absence of his body against his own made him feel all the more alone. Kibum frowned slightly, the edges of his mouth pulling downwards in disappointment and an unfound sense of hurt and abandonment.

 And I don’t know why you couldn’t just stay with me,

 you couldn’t stand to be near me

when my face don’t seem to want to shine,

 ‘cause it’s a little bit dirty”

Jinki stood, pushing in his desk chair, and needlessly straightening a stack of already immaculately placed papers, to busy his mind with something other than Kibum.

Because it wasn’t his place.

Because if Jinki continued to lay so inappropriately close to Kibum, he might just tell the truth, finally revel his feelings with words that could never, ever taken back…and Jinki couldn’t do that…to himself or to Kibum. And so, Jinki continued to stack the already stacked papers, shuffling through them, suddenly absorbed in memorizing the lyrics for their new single.

“Well?” Kibum said with a grief tainted scoff through a tiny uplifted corner as he watched the elder fumble with his things. “Don’t just stand there. Say nice things to me.”

‘Cause I’ve been cheated,

I’ve been wronged.

You, you don’t know me.

Yeah, well I cannot change.

Jinki stopped, his awkward movements ceasing, the papers crumpling in his hands. He turned, although hesitantly, and flashed Kibum a small, well rehearsed smile. “No. No, it’s not wrong, Kibum.”

Well I won’t do anything at all.

Kibum peeled the orange, floral print sheet from his body, and dangled his legs over the side of the mattress, his bottoms of his feet hovering only centimeters from the beige, slightly dirtied, carpet.

 He waited, silently, but for what he was not sure.

Maybe it was for the truth.

Or for Jinki to say those sweet, soothing words only he could say.

Or, maybe, it was for both.

Kibum didn’t know.

“Liar.” Kibum scoffed, his own sad smile spreading across his lips as he continued to look at his toes.

Jinki moved fast, his long legs closing the distance between them with a few short strides.

Because he was tired.

Tired of acting responsible and discrete.

Tired of Jonghyun and tired with his own lack of courage.

He bent down, one knee supporting him, and cupped Kibum’s cheek, hoping that this small gesture was enough; that it was enough to communicate to him everything that Jinki had always kept hidden.

That this incredibly simple gesture would somehow speak louder than any words Jinki could ever say.

He pulled Kibum closer, their faces unbearably close as Jinki tried to gather every ounce of courage he could. 

And then, finally, their lips colided, both of them moving eagerly to deepen it and simaltaniously catch their breath without breaking the union. Because neither knew what would happen, if they did. It was tentitive and rough, eager and a little bit frightened.

But it was perfect.

I wanna push you around. (Well, I will.)

I wanna push you down. (Well, I will. Well, I will.)

I wanna take you for granted. (Well, I will.)

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a/n:

I don’t know why I always picture/depict Jonghyun as a complete …I rather love him.

Maybe sweet!jong for next oneshot?

Who knows.

Thanks, as always, for reading. ♥