Chapter 3

 

When Sunday dawned, Jinki’s room looked as if it had been hit by a whirlwind. Various items of clothing were strewn about haphazardly, having been briefly tried before tossed aside. The man himself had finally given up on his fruitless endeavor at some point in the wee hours of the morning; he was currently curled in his blankets like a caterpillar, with only a mop of messy golden hair to account for his presence.

It was close to noon when a hungry Taemin ventured into Jinki’s room. “Hyung, do you want to make...brunch...” Taemin’s voice trailed off as his eyes took in the magnificent mess. “What the...hyung?”

The sleeping caterpillar gave a few, half-assed wiggles before Jinki exposed his face to stare blearily at Taemin with a tired groan. “What?” he croaked, voice unpleasantly raspy from sleep. “Why are you screaming at me?”

Taemin picked his way through the debris before gingerly sitting down at the edge of Jinki’s bed. “What happened? Why did your closet—,” Taemin motioned towards the clothing with an exasperated wave, “—explode.” Jinki wiggled back into his covers before giving a muffled response that Taemin could barely catch. Trying on clothes. Can’t look too formal. Must look...effortless.

Taemin raised a brow and chortled. “Effortless...what even. Anyway, can you get up now? I’m really hungry and I was hoping you’d make...something edible?” Jinki shook his head beneath the blankets. “You go make something.” Then, after a moment of silence, during which Taemin thought he had returned to the realm of Morpheus, Jinki shot up out of the covers and stared at a shocked Taemin. “What time is it?”

“Wh—what?”

“Time! What’s the time!”

“Uh...like eleven forty or something?”

“.”

And with that, Jinki hopped out of bed with an agility Taemin had never before witnessed and made a beeline to the bathroom after carelessly picking out an armful of clothing from the floor.

“What is going on?” Taemin stared after his hyung with a dumbstruck, owlish gaze.

 

 

 

 

At five minutes to noon, Jinki was sitting at the kitchen counter, clothed in a slightly crumpled long sleeve shirt and a worn pair of form-fitting jeans, staring at his cell phone. Taemin, who was bustling about making brunch, cast occasional suspicious glances at the older man. “Are you...going somewhere?” he queried.

“Do I look like I’m going somewhere,” Jinki replied, voice slightly panicked.

“Uh...I mean, not particularly...but...I mean, you are going somewhere, right?”

“Just to see a friend.”

“A friend?” Taemin eyed Jinki skeptically. The latter bristled a bit at that. “I do have friends, Taemin.”

“More like friend-zoned guys who want to sleep with you,” Taemin muttered under his breath. He had once remarked that Jinki was a little like that gay baker in Antique Bakery. Jinki had tried to scoff it off, but the effect was ruined when Joon, his friend at the time, swung his arms around Jinki’s shoulders and tried to plant a kiss on the latter’s pouting lips. Couldn’t resist, Joon had remarked amidst Taemin’s stifled laughter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. So which friend this time?”

“Uh...uh. You don’t really know him.”

Taemin squinted at Jinki. “Really. And why are you so nervous if it’s just a friend?”

“Uh...I just...I don’t know.”

“This wouldn’t happen to be a certain friend who’s just returned from American and who’s trying to take your inheritance away, would it?”

Jinki avoided Taemin’s sharp gaze with some measure of guilt. “I just...he wanted to meet.” Taemin sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you should agree.” Jinki’s lips curled into a pouty frown. “Well, I just wanted to make sure we talked things out.”

“Hyung, don’t aegyo at me. That’s weird.”

“I’m not—”

The doorbell rang, interrupting Jinki’s futile protest. Taemin sighed again at Jinki’s sudden expression of alarm and motioned for him to get the door. “Just...be careful, okay, hyung?”

“I will. Thanks, Taemin.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Thanks for agreeing to see me!” Jonghyun voice sounded extra chirpy somehow. Jinki nodded in silent acknowledgment. As they exited the apartment complex, Jinki braced himself against the nip of the cold wind by sinking into his face into his jacket. When Jonghyun turned around to look at him, all he could see were Jinki’s two not so large eyes peaking from the top of the jacket’s collar.

“I told you to keep the scarf!” Jonghyun said with a chuckle. Jinki shook his head. “I’m okay. I don’t want to forget to return it.”

Jonghyun shrugged. “Well, suit yourself. But it might get a little cold on our ride...”

“Why, aren’t we driving...oh.” Jinki’s eyes widened as he caught sight of a familiar motorcycle parked just outside. Of course, it couldn’t be the same one—it’s been far too long—but it looked just the same. Expensive, bold, and dangerous.

Jonghyun tossed Jinki a helmet.

“I couldn’t stay in a stuffy car forever, you know. Come on, get on!”

“Uh...”

“Don’t you trust me anymore?” Atop the motorcycle, Jonghyun wore his smile with an easy boyish charm that brightened the bleak winter day. Jinki swung his leg over the backseat in silent acquiescence. “Hold on tight!”

As the motorcycle raced down the carless lanes—the streets being relatively empty on this early Sunday afternoon—Jinki could only squint against the glacial breeze as Seoul passed him by. His frozen fingers clutched gingerly at the hem of Jonghyun’s leather jacket.

Jonghyun sped faster, but Jinki refused to budge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Jinki first rode Jonghyun’s motorcycle, he hadn’t been as careful.

It was mid-December then. The Christmas décor had already flooded the shops, adding a hefty dose of holiday cheer amidst the rampant consumerism. Jinki was failing music theory.

“It’s like math, Jinki,” his teacher said with mild exasperation. “You’re good at math—why are you so bad at this?”

Jinki hung his head in dismay—he’d only taken the class because he thought it would be an easy elective. He thought all he’d have to do was sing. But here he was, unable to count the notes and the octaves in any meaningful way.

“Do you want a tutor? Kim Jonghyun, do you know him? He’s really good at theory.”

Kim Jonghyun, huh. His short, much-too-friendly hoobae who had been stalking after him the past several days and whom he had tried valiantly to avoid. But it seemed like they were fated to be, after all.

So in exchange for a higher grade, Jinki bartered away his Sunday before Christmas and agreed to spend a day with Jonghyun at the amusement park. Jonghyun showed up at his doorsteps with his too-cool-for-school motorcycle, and Jinki stared in awe.

It was Jinki’s first time on a motorcycle—they felt much too reckless for him. But Jonghyun seemed like a natural, so Jinki swallowed his fear and clambered on. He grabbed tentatively at Jonghyun’s coat, but Jonghyun had only sped up with a laugh. Yelping, Jinki flopped forward and wrapped his arms around Jonghyun’s waist. With his face buried against Jonghyun’s muscled back, Jinki felt just a little bit safer, somehow.

He didn’t see the thousand watt smile light up Jonghyun’s face.

Men are funny creatures, always eager to prove their worth, always eager to impress. At the park, Jonghyun grabbed Jinki’s hand and made a beeline to the haunted mansion, reputed to be the scariest in all of Seoul. The park was full of curious children and doting parents. They eyed the two teenage boys with suspicion, and Jinki wanted to extract his hand. But Jonghyun held on, lips stretched in a smile as he envisioned Jinki clutching at him in fear. There would be a lot of touching, he figured. And manliness.

Well, sometimes things don’t go as planned. Jinki eyed the screaming, cowering Jonghyun with undisguised judgment as they meandered through the dark twists and turns.

“Dude, it’s all fake.”

“I know,” Jonghyun stuttered. “I’m not scared. I’m not scared at al—ahhhhhh!”

Jinki sighed and wished Jonghyun would let go of his arm. His fingers were really cutting off circulation.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” They were outside now, but Jonghyun continued clutching at Jinki with woeful, puppy eyes. Small beads of sweat worked their way down Jonghyun’s forehead, suggesting his after-fear was real.

“You really weren’t scared at all?”

“What, did you think I’d hug you and scream like a girl?” Jinki rolled his eyes as Jonghyun nodded hesitantly. “Please stop projecting your boys love manhwa fantasies onto me, thanks.”

“But you were scared of the motorcycle!”

“Yes, because I might have fallen off and died.”

Jonghyun whimpered a little at Jinki’s vehemence. To distract the unamused older boy, he quickly pinpointed a crepe booth and steered the stoic Jinki forward. “Hyung, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll buy you a crepe!”

Jinki sighed as Jonghyun pressed him into a wooden park bench before prancing off for crepes. “Didn’t even ask if I liked crepes,” he muttered.

But Jinki was never one to reject food, so he politely dug in when Jonghyun returned. Jonghyun, for his part, began chattering as he always did.

“Hyung, I didn’t know you were so smart! Second in the whole school, imagine that!”

“Hmm.”

“I thought you wanted to be a singer, you know. Because you’re so good.”

Jinki crinkled his nose. “No, that’s just for fun.”

“Oh, but why? Haven’t you ever thought about just being a singer?”

“No. That’s too risky.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not really—I mean, I’m an only child, you know. I can’t just wander off and be a penniless artist with no future,” Jinki said matter-of-factly. “There’s no financial security in that. And what would my parents do?”

“So what would you be?”

“Probably a lawyer, or something. Maybe I’d go to the states and get a law degree, at Harvard, or Yale. You know?” Jinki’s lips curled into a wishful smile. “It sort of depends on my exam results in the spring, but maybe...maybe I’ll get into a good college.”

Jonghyun studied Jinki’s hopeful expression for a few moments, before stating, “I want to be a musician.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t like studying, even though my dad wants me to get an MBA and run a big company. My dad used to beat me for it, but I’ve always dreamt of becoming a singer or a composer.” Jonghyun smirked at Jinki’s widened eyes. “Didn’t stop me though. Mom was always on my side. Said life’s too short to do what other people think is best.”

“But you can’t just do whatever you want—”

“Why not? You might be penniless and futureless, but you might also be happier than that lawyer billing 2000 hours a year in a windowless cubicle.”

Jinki blinked and let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s so juvenile and idealistic. I think you watch too many movies. What about, I don’t know, like what if you got really sick? You’d have no health insurance. And what if your parents need support? What if you want to save up for your kid to go to college? What if—”

Jinki’s sentence cut off midway as Jonghyun suddenly stood up from his seat, leaned across the table, and pressed his lips against on Jinki’s. Dumbstruck, Jinki let Jonghyun’s kiss linger for a few moments. His eyed remained open, but Jonghyun was too close; he couldn’t focus. All he could catch was a mass of blonde hair. He thought he tasted the flagrant flavor of strawberry cream on Jonghyun’s lips.

It was only when Jonghyun attempted to glide his tongue in that Jinki pushed the other away. Breathless and flushed, Jinki pointed an accusing finger at the younger boy and sputtered incoherently. “You—I—you just—oh my gosh, I can’t believe you--!”

Jonghyun smirked and leaned in close to Jinki’s reddened ear.

“Sometimes, the heart wants what it wants. And you just have to go with it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s because you give terrible life advice.”

They were at KFC. They had driven to the other side of town in search of an elusive chicken shop, one they used to frequent as teenagers. When Jinki’s face was frozen to the point of numbness, Jonghyun finally let out of a despairing sigh and declared defeat. The shop must have closed down. They settled for the impersonal, modern fast food conglomerate.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re asking how I ended up as a nurse right? It’s because of your whole follow your heart shtick,” Jinki mumbled through a mouthful of flour-coated, oil-soaked drumstick. “Well, I followed it and I failed and now I’m a male nurse. I could’ve been a lawyer.”

Jonghyun tilted his head to the side ponderously as he considered Jinki’s words. “It’s because you didn’t go all the way. I’m convinced you could’ve been a singer. I mean, SM Entertainment even gave you a chance to audition! You just didn’t go.” A silent reprimand, a shifting of guilt.

“I went. I was cut.” Jinki’s voice came out flat. Jonghyun’s jaw dropped in surprise.

“What?”

“I was too embarrassed to tell you, so I just said I didn’t go,” Jinki admitted with a careless shrug.

“Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I just...I didn’t want to disappoint you, I guess. Or something. It seemed disappointing. I practiced a lot, to the point where I stopped studying and I really thought I had a chance.” A pause, then an attempt at a lighthearted joke. “Guess I should’ve gotten double eyelid surgery when I had the chance.”

Jonghyun frowned and opened his mouth to make a comment. Jinki interrupted him.

“Look, it’s nice of you to grab lunch and everything, but I just wanted to clear things up with you. I won’t take your dad’s property—”

“—Jinki—”

“—I’m meeting the lawyer to sort everything out tomorrow. He seems pretty legit, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. And that’s that.”

“—Jinki, I—”

“—If you text me your e-mail, I’ll let you know about the developments and we won’t have to meet anymore. Are you done eating? I can take the subway home—”

“Lee Jinki!”

Surprised by Jonghyun’s outburst, Jinki fell silent. “Jinki, I didn’t ask to meet you for the money. I just wanted to catch up. I mean, I was really happy to see you again, but you seemed really tense last time. For good reason. So I thought I’d officially invite you to lunch this time, and maybe we could...be friends again.”

Jinki stared at Jonghyun uncomprehendingly. “Friends?”

“Believe it or not, you’re the only person from high school that I managed to meet up with again,” Jonghyun said, expression forlorn. “I know we’ve had a pretty turbulent past, but hey, it’s all water on the bridge now, you know? So I was hoping we could...well, look, I even bought movie tickets!” Jonghyun whipped a pair of tickets. “The theater’s just next door too—ok I may have cheated a little by bringing us here—but it’d just be...really cool if you’d be down to watch and...”

Jonghyun’s voice trailed off, and all of a sudden, he wasn’t a man approaching thirty, wasn’t the clever businessman who signed million dollar contracts. He was just the unsure, puppy of a boy that he had once been, staring at Jinki with his big, hopeful eyes.

Jinki had never been good at saying no anyway.

 

                                                                                

 

 

 

It was an old theater than ran movies from the previous season. Jonghyun had bought tickets to the most popular horror movie released that past summer. Jinki eyed the younger man suspiciously from his seat as the opening credits began to play. In the dark room that quickly reverberated with the shrieks of frightened teenage girls, Jinki remained tense and ready for a sudden arm clutching by his erstwhile friend.

But Jonghyun sat quietly munching on his popcorn with an unwavering stare at the big screen as if suggesting that it hadn’t been him, eight years ago, who cowered behind Jinki in a kid-proof haunted house.

When they walked out, it was already dark.

“Good movie, huh?”

Jinki offered a small smile of agreement. “You don’t...you don’t get scared anymore?”

“Scared? Me? Ha. I’m a grown man now. Nothing scares me.” Jinki studied Jonghyun’s bravado with a look of nostalgia.

Under the bright Seoul street lights, he caught sight of that which he had missed in the dark theater—beads of cold sweat rolling down Jonghyun’s forehead, soaking his immaculately styled hair. Jinki wanted to make a jibe, but stifled his laughter for the sake of Jonghyun’s ego. He felt a little better. Jonghyun felt familiar once more.

“Want a ride home?”

Jinki shook his head no. Jonghyun could feel he was treading close to the line, so he shrugged nonchalantly and he swung his legs over his sleek motorcycle.

“Thanks for coming out. I’ll see you around?” Jonghyun’s tone was hesitant.

Jinki stalled for a moment. He thought of Taemin’s worried face before he left this morning. Jonghyun stared into his eyes hopefully.

“...Sure.”

Jonghyun’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. He waved and sped off. Jinki stood alone outside the theater and peered after Jonghyun until he disappeared into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minho’s brows ticked as he watched the crumbs spew onto his leather office couch. It had been a long morning, and the loud munching made his temples throb. He wanted to strangle someone.

He wanted to strangle Lee Jinki.

“You must be popular, huh?” Jinki remarked as he stared at the boxes of prettily wrapped snacks on the coffee table. “Do all the girls get you food every day?”

“No, these are just leftovers from the office party. Also, can you...not talk while you chew.” Minho regretted offering refreshments. It had only been out of politeness, and clients usually declined. But not Lee Jinki. This was a shameless one here.

“Sorry.” Jinki had the conscience to look slightly guilty as he set the cookies away.

“So as I was saying,” Minho continued, rubbing subconsciously at his temples. “I would advise to not hand over the inheritance. I promise my team and I can get you a really good deal and you’ll walk away richer than you’ve ever dreamed of—are you listening, Mr. Lee?”

“Yes!” No, he had been staring at a box of cupcakes. Minho watched despairingly as Jinki’s eyes darted back and forth between himself and the edibles. “Okay, you can have one, but can you just focus for a second?”

“Yes!” Jinki grabbed the one with the pink frosting and the multicolored sprinkles and took a bite. He looked up and smiled. Minho blinked in surprise, forgetting what he had intended to say. It was bizarrely endearing smile, monolids crinkled into friendly crescents, moist lips dotted with a stray dollop of fresh pink cream. Minho rashly wanted to wipe the frosting off. He restrained himself, handed Jinki a napkin, and coughed to hide his discomfiture.

“We’ll go to bat for you, is what I’m saying. So let’s not be rash. Did you read the papers I gave you? We can transfer the money to you today, and then we’ll go from there.”

Jinki looked at Minho in puzzlement. “Why do you care?”

“What?” Minho stopped short, confused.

“Why do you care if I get the money or not? You don’t even like me.”

“I don’t dislike you—”

“You do. You think I’m a good-for-nothing, not-particularly-bright lazy bum. You probably half believe that I somehow conned Mr. Kim out of his money with my bedside manner.” Jinki batted his eyes coquettishly to make his point. Minho stared with a reddening face, frowned, and shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s not, I never thought—”

Jinki snickered. “I’m just kidding. Man, you’re too easy. But let’s be real, you don’t think much of me, and you probably do think Mr. Kim made a mistake.”

Minho shook his head some more. “No, I really don’t. I mean, I don’t think Mr. Kim made a mistake. He was very certain when he consulted with me to revise his will that he wanted to devise everything to you. I wouldn’t have done it if I had suspected any foul play—it would be my license on the line at that point—but Mr. Kim was incredibly lucid. I took the necessary precautions with witnesses and health experts. There’s no way anyone could win on accusations of unsound mind or undue influence. So that’s why I’m saying we’re safe. I just didn’t think you’d want to go to court.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want the property at all.” For the first time, there was no hint of humor in Jinki’s voice. “I’m the beneficiary of Mr. Kim. He’s dead, so now you have a fiduciary duty to me, and I’m telling you to transfer everything to Kim Jonghyun.”

At Minho’s look of surprise, Jinki continued, “Didn’t think I’d be able to string that sentence together, huh?” Jinki stared into Minho’s eyes with a look of triumph. “I looked up a few legal terms this weekend. I know what’s up.”

“Well—”

“Also, you’re terrible at interpersonal interactions. You’ll never make partner if you’re just a stuffy old fart who looks down on people and can’t make them feel at ease; you’ll just be an overworked senior associate forever, until they fire you.”

Minho grimaced. Jinki had hit a sore spot; he was bad at schmoozing.  

“And also,” Jinki continued, “if you had really done your due diligence, you’d know that all of my elderly clients have found me an outstanding nurse. Obviously, some have passed away by now, but they’ve consistently turned in evaluations that speak to my excellence, which would directly contradict whatever my stupid, jealous coworkers would say about me. So not only are you terrible at interpersonal interactions, you’re also just a terrible, careless lawyer overall!”

Jinki finished his rant with a swift glare at Minho, who blinked owlishly back at him with undisguised perplexity. Was this really the same man who had stuttered nervously across the small kitchen table just a few days ago?

“So why don’t you just listen to me for once and do as I ask. It’ll make everyone happier.”

“I...I don’t...” Minho paused to gather his thoughts and form a coherent sentence. Alas, he could do little more than make juvenile observations. “Are you...throwing a tantrum at me right now?” He stared at Jinki’s subconsciously pouting lips.

“What?”

Minho massaged his temples again. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant to say. I apologize for my lack of care. I was too rash last time we spoke. But allow me to say that if a few glimpses at Wikipedia on estate law and fiduciary duties can make you some sort of expert, then my law school education would have cost far less than it did. My point still stands. You are making a very irrational decision, one that I cannot endorse without good reason, especially because as the executor of Mr. Kim’s estate, my duty is to ensure that his particular wishes are executed.

“Now, tell me this, why are you so set on transferring the assets? Is Kim Jonghyun taking action against you? Did he threaten you with litigation or in any other manner?”

It was Jinki’s turn to stall now. He hadn’t thought up a credible excuse; he didn’t think this Choi Minho would be so difficult.

“Uh...No. No that’s not it. There’s nothing going on.”

“Then why?”

“I just think...he deserves them more. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“No, not really.” Minho stared at him expectantly, unwavering. Jinki groaned. “Ugh. Why are you like this? I’m just asking you to do one simple thing, but you’re making things so difficult, and I just want it all to be over. You’re the worst.”

With that, Jinki rose from the couch, grabbed another cookie, and stomped out of the office, all while Minho followed his movements with a look of shock.

When Minho’s secretary floated into the office moments later with some file folders, Minho was still frozen in his seat.

“Minho, what’d you do?” asked the oblivious woman as she set the folders down. “Why’d the cute little boy run out of your office like that?”

Slowly coming to, Minho muttered, “He’s not little. He’s older than me.”

But for some reason, he felt that he liked this Lee Jinki a little more now. Maybe he had underestimated him, this man who was a fiery ball of contradictions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Sent: Mon, Nov. 18, 2013 7:43 PM

Subject: TODAY’S MEETING

Sorry, that was rude of me today. Can we schedule another meeting?

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Sent: Mon, Nov. 18, 2013 10:55 PM

Subject: re: TODAY’S MEETING

Mr. Lee,

I agree that we should speak again once we have both had time to consider the matter further. Please allow me some time to investigate Mr. Kim Jonghyun. Let us tentatively agree to meet next Monday. I will e-mail you with details.

Best,

Choi Minho

 

Jinki glared at his laptop. It was at times like these that he wished he could reach through the screen and just smack the person at the other end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Tuesday, Jinki was back at work. As much as he enjoyed loitering about at home, his bank account was starting to look a little sad. Taemin had made fun of him earlier—if you’d just take the assets, you know—to no avail.

He hadn’t been assigned to a new client yet, so he sat at his desk in headquarters to sort through patient files and to finish paperwork for previous cases.

“Jinki, delivery for you.”

Bleary-eyed from the small print, Jinki looked up to find himself confronted by a fancy glass vase filled with a huge bouquet of fresh-cut roses.

Deliverer: Kim Jonghyun.

 

 

Wednesday’s delivery came at lunch. An expensive sashimi bento with a side of fried chicken. Jinki’s officemates gawked at the odd combination, then gawked some more when Jinki left everything at his desk, uneaten, until the end of the day, when he threw it in the trash with a forlorn sigh.

 

 

Thursday found Jinki with a box of cupcakes, tastier and fancier than that from Minho’s office. He passed them out to everyone else and left none for himself, even though he was on the verge of drooling. It’s to cultivate better inter-office relationships, he tried to explain to his protesting stomach.

 

 

Friday came with a text.

Let’s grab some drinks tonight?

Simple. Innocuous. Completely distressing. Jinki lay his head on his cool desk and thought longingly about a night in with his video games. Alas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bar was mid-scale, filled with young professionals. Jinki perched uncomfortably at the edge of his bar stool. Before him was a colorful cocktail. Beside him was Jonghyun, who chattered on about his week.

“Sorry, the roses were kind of overkill huh? I figured you’d like food more.”

“Did you try the cupcakes? They’re from the newest bakery in town; made my secretary line up at five in the morning to pick them up. I know how much you like sweets...”

“Working is so tiring. I kind of miss those days when I was just a total bum in New York and trying to perform on the streets...”

“I also miss high school. Do you remember when...”

Jinki felt claustrophobic as people crowded around the bar, shouting their drink orders. He really wanted to leave, but Jonghyun needed a friend, didn’t he? And he owed him that much, at least.

The anxiety seemed to settle a little each time he took a sip of the nameless cocktail; he slowly downed his drink as he nodded along to Jonghyun’s animated chatter.

One cup, two cups, three...

“Jinki? I think you’ve had too much. Should we go now?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The brisk night air roused Jinki from his drunken stupor, but he still felt tipsy and lightheaded. Jonghyun chuckled indulgently and caught Jinki around the waist as the latter stumbled forward haphazardly. Jinki giggled, half-turned, and hugged Jonghyun back, wrapping his arms around Jonghyun’s neck and puffing hot air against Jonghyun’s ears.

He had always been a touchy feely sort of drunk, as Jonghyun found out in high school.

When the two finally staggered to Jonghyun’s car, Jonghyun pressed the giggling Jinki against the backseat door and kissed him.

Through the haze, Jinki still felt the familiarity behind Jonghyun’s soft press of the lips. He moaned with closed eyes and tightened his arms around Jonghyun’s neck while parting his lips invitingly. Jonghyun slipped his tongue in, and the bittersweet taste of alcohol filled both their mouths as they struggled to meld together through the kiss.

It had been so long.

Like the hormonal teens they once were, the two grown men made out in the back seat of the car as Jonghyun’s expressionless chauffeur wordlessly drove them to Jonghyun’s apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jonghyun had just tossed Jinki’s crumpled shirt aside and was nipping at his creamy collarbone, marking him as his own. They were on Jonghyun’s large bed now, and a sense of tense urgency permeated the air. Jonghyun needed Jinki. There was something about the feel Jinki’s smooth skin, the fit of Jinki’s body in his arms, the sound of Jinki his name. There was something about all of that that drove Jonghyun crazy, just as it always had.

A drop of liquid landed on Jonghyun’s nose. Surprised, Jonghyun paused what he was doing and looked up at Jinki’s face.

He was crying.

The tears dripped silently from his small but pretty eyes, mesmerizing in their sorrow. Jonghyun’s body froze and his heart constricted. He never could stand up to Jinki’s tears.

“Jonghyun,” Jinki whimpered through the tears. “Jonghyun.” He wrapped his arms around Jonghyun again and lay his head against the crook of Jonghyun’s neck before bursting into heavy sobs. “Jonghyun, I miss you. I miss you so much.” His voice was choked with tears, not entirely pleasant, but altogether heartbreaking.

Jonghyun hugged Jinki back gingerly and shifted their position so that Jinki could lay against him comfortably. His arousal had wilted at the sight of Jinki’s tears, so he lay complacently against the mahogany headboard of the bed, Jinki’s back soothingly.

“I didn’t want...you to go,” Jinki continued through muffled cries, words slurred just slightly from the alcohol. “I’m so glad...so glad you came back, and that you still want me...Don’t leave...”

It was some time later when Jinki’s cries finally subsided and he fell into an uneasy sleep in Jonghyun’s arms. Jonghyun studied Jinki’s face with an unreadable expression. Then, with a sigh, he mumbled, “What am I going to do with you?”

Tired, he pressed a light kiss to Jinki’s forehead and hugged the other closer.

Just tonight, he’d allow himself and Jinki a small reprieve. Just tonight.

 

 

 

It was close to midnight when Minho received the pictures from the private investigator he’d hired to find out more about Jonghyun. In the silence of the emptied office, Minho didn’t bother to stifle his gasp of shock when he clicked them open.

Was that Jinki with Jonghyun? Were they...?

It took him a few seconds to calm himself. Massaging his throbbing temples—they throbbed a lot these days—Minho tried to think strategically about the situation. It was getting too complicated, too dramatic. He liked things to be simple, orderly, rational, and this was anything but.

As he reflected on the pictures, he felt a pang of sadness strike him at the heart. He didn’t know why, didn’t want to knw why, but incoherently, he felt that this wasn’t what he wanted from Lee Jinki.

 

 

 

 

***TBC***

 

 

 

Happy early Thanksgiving, everyone! This is my first time writing a longer fic, and phew, it takes a lot! Your comments have been super encouraging though, and I’ve really enjoyed reading all of them =) Looking forward to more feedback from you guys ;)

 

Hope the week is wonderfully turkey-filled, and I will strive to update soon! Mwah~ <3