What once was a properly neat room had quickly become a cluttered disaster all thanks to the two boy’s petty little brawl. Textbooks and diagrams have fallen to the floor and Jongin tries his best to be mindful enough not to step on any of them, lest he tear a page or two (he specifically remembers marking his calendar with colorful thumb tacks; not exactly something he’d enjoy stepping on). They’ve been at it for minutes now.

It’s Jongin who makes the first move to break things off, he does it with a loud and resounding STOP in between his stifled groans. He struggles against the elder’s vice-like grip as he’s being pinned against the wall and held by the collar of his shirt. Jongdae may be shorter, but living with four younger brothers has definitely given him an advantage in strength, both physically and emotionally.

“Just stop!” Jongin repeats, using the elder’s split-second distraction to his advantage and freeing himself with a rough shove.

It’s obvious that the adrenaline rush is finally wearing out on him, with his chest rising and falling on labored breaths and his forehead glistening with sweat. They stare at each other, gazes so fierce and intense that Jongdae has to look away before he physically combusts out of frustration. Shaking his head in disbelief, his hoarse and scornful laugh cuts through the sudden silence.

Looking at Jongin only makes him think of how the tanned boy is right here, right in front of him picking a fight instead of being there wherever Kyungsoo is at the moment, where he’s needed the most.  

“I swear to god, I could punch you again.” He mutters under his breath, softly, but not soft enough to go unheard. Jongin’s ears go red and it’s almost as though steam were to come out.

“What is your problem? You don’t even have one ing clue why things are the way they are right now.”

“Damn right I don’t.” in terms of hiding the spite in his tone, Jongdae keeps his efforts to a minimum.

“You don’t understand-“the younger retorts, obviously quite fed up himself  ”You won’t understand. I’m telling you you won’t. I’m quite sure. I- I don’t even understand it myself.”

“Look I don’t know why you insist on carrying on with this pointless cold war that’s probably just another one of your ty episodes where your ty moodswings act up. No, I don’t most certainly do not understand. But you want to know what I do understand?” Jongdae takes one threatening step forward and it’s enough to make Jongin’s body go rigid “I understand that it would take some sort of sick idiot to hurt Kyungsoo.”

“Jongdae You’re not listening. It’s not that easy-“

“Oh you Jongin!”

The said boy flinches. Jongdae’s voice is loud, and it’s a loud that’s both familiar and foreign to Jongin. A kind of loud that reminds him of the same voice reverberating off of speakers, expertly hyping up the crowd for the next act, but what seems to be missing is the genuine excitement and just general cheerfulness of that same voice, instead he hears anger, he hears disappointment, and maybe even a touch of concern.

“If you don’t get your together there are going to be so many other people coming to take your place in his life and I’m telling you I will be the god damn first in line!”

There’s a pregnant pause filled with the sound of beating hearts before Jongdae decides to continue, calmer this time.

“You’ve always had things easy, Jongin. Your family’s wonderful, you never had to land a single part-time job, you don’t need to work your off for bail money, you’re majoring in medicine, pursuing your passion for dance, up there in the student ranks, got a handful of admirers, lots of friends… And now you’ve got Kyungsoo, who is one of the kindest people I have ever met. You easily have everything I’ve always wanted.”

At this the younger is rendered speechless,

and Jongdae takes it as his cue to continue.

“But I’ve known you for the longest time, and you’re no less important to me than my four other brothers. So it ing sickens me to watch you ruin something so carelessly when others would give anything to be in your shoes. Now tell me, give me a reasonable answer, why you would hurt Kyungsoo like this.”

It’s a simple question, really, and Jongin has a simple answer.

He never meant to hurt Kyungsoo, it was never in his plans, never an agenda.

So now he’s left asking himself the same question, why would I hurt Kyungsoo like this?

His eyes fall to the floor and in his mind he’s fishing for an answer, a sensible one at that.

Jongdae’s voice lingers in his head but his thoughts are blank, nothing. Nothing makes sense. So when he finally looks up again he looks lost, just as lost as anyone would look when telling someone that

“Kyungsoo can wake the dead.”

A whisper, so soft, so unconvinced.

“Jongdae” he begins again, unsure “Kyungsoo he…he can wake the dead.”

There’s a long extended silence that comes after that, nothing unexpected of course, with Jongin knowing exactly how it feels to hear it for the first time. The older of the two remains stoic, his face void of any sort of expression as he waits for the follow-up pun or the obnoxious pop of confetti. But the tanned boy only swallows and stutters a very serious sounding explanation.

“I’m…I’m not sure how either. I’m don’t know if I should believe it but he was crying and he- he said he touches things...dead things, once and then twice, and- and then-“

“and then what?”

“I don’t know he says-“

“yeah what else did he say?”

Jongdae’s sudden intrusion has the other shutting up. His tone is sharp and his head is held high, showing no signs of shock, wearing none of the expressions Jongin had worn when he had been in the same situation. It confuses the younger, how he could take this in so well with not an air of doubt in his system. But when he opens his mouth to try and squeeze out any sort of emotion from the other, he sees it.

He sees the way Jongdae is pursing his lips, the way the corner of his mouth twitches and the way he slouches with obvious disinterest. It’s suddenly clear to the younger, how he’s only going to make a fool out of himself if he continues.

“You don’t believe me.” He says after a moment’s worth of silence, “You don’t believe me do you?”

“No, no, please go on this is interesting. What else can he do?”

In the next few seconds Jongin finds himself groaning in frustration, mumbling to himself about nobody understanding something so ridiculously unbelievable. Jongdae’s dull gaze is still trained on him when he begins pacing the room, trying to figure out how to piece things together in a way that would make sense.  Sadly to the older, hurting Kyungsoo will never make sense.

“Should I rephrase my question?” He pipes in, growing tired of the younger’s antics. “Okay, let’s put it this way then…

So what Jongin?”

Said boy halts his movements, back turned towards the other, rigid and tense. He doesn’t turn around, not really sure where this conversation is going. But much to his surprise Jongdae doesn’t berate him any further, instead he hears footsteps walking away and it intrigues him enough to take a glance. He’s met by the sight of the older by the door, hand poised over the handle as they both meet each other’s gazes at the exact same time. But for some reason Jongin feels a tinge of shame and quickly averts his sight to the floor. What’s to be ashamed of? He’s not so sure himself.

“You know what,” Jongdae begins, “Kyungsoo could have a third god damn arm and I wouldn’t give a flying . It doesn’t make him any less human, and if someone’s being a monster here, It’s definitely you.”

The door doesn’t slam when Jongdae leaves, in fact it doesn’t close at all. It swings open with much force and it stays open, leaving Jongin to stand there dumbfounded in the middle of his cluttered room. Certainly a sight to see for any guy that’d come walking by.

And ‘any guy’ comes in the form of Park Chanyeol, casually texting away on his phone until someone bumps into his guitar case causing him to stumble back a few steps. Startled, he turns to find the culprit and both his eyebrows shoot up when he realizes it’s none other than “Jongdae?”

The surprise in Chanyeol’s voice isn’t anything new to the other. Jongdae admits to the sad fact that people will never get used to seeing him someplace else other than his part-time jobs.  Outside his element, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Jesus watch where you’re going!” are the first words that escape his lips and when the taller flinches slightly with a mumbled ‘sorry’ thrown in reply to his outburst, guilt immediately bubbles up in his chest and he quickly follows up with a softer, friendlier greeting.

“…Hey, Yeol.” He says after a long sigh, patting him by the shoulder a few times and bounding down the hallway before said boy could even respond.

Chanyeol stares at the stairwell Jongdae disappears through for a good solid minute before he reluctantly decides on minding his own business and resuming his original plans of trudging peacefully back to his room. Plans yet again interrupted by the surprising sight of Jongin’s door wide open, revealing the tanned boy crouched on the floor, picking up what appears to be scattered books and papers and, strangely, a toppled down chair.

The taller coughs, successfully drawing Jongin’s attention. He invites himself inside, taking slow and cautious steps as he looks from corner to corner at the wreck that, for once, doesn’t look like it belongs to resident OCD dorm occupant Kim Jongin. Even so, he quickly crouches down to help pick up the pens and it’s in the process of doing so that he tries his luck in getting some sort of story out of the things he’s just witnessed.

“Should I ask?” The taller inquires, and although Chanyeol can be quite nosy when he wants to be, he knows his limits. Jongin appreciates that about his lanky friend.

Jongin merely scrunches his face and shakes his head in dismissal, the previous line of events making him unable to find his own voice at the moment.

They go about picking things up and returning the room to its tidy state. Jongdae’s words keep running loops in the recedes of his mind, one phrase repeating itself a couple more times than the rest. It doesn’t make him any less human.

For some reason Jongin feels angry. He’s angry at Jongdae, but more than that he’s angry at himself. It annoys him how the older is doing a mighty fine job at being a friend to Kyungsoo, maybe even doing a better job as a boyfriend than he’s is, sans the actual entitlement to the position. Jongdae didn’t believe him, he didn’t believe a single word he said and Jongin knew that. But despite this, he couldn’t deny that the older’s certainly given a far better reaction to Kyungsoo’s ability than he had, and this frustrates him to no end.

 He jolts when a hand grips his wrist, drawing him back to his senses. “Dude, You’ll break the chair” Chanyeol says and Jongin hadn’t even been aware that he’d zoned out, his knuckles going white as he grips on the chair like a lifeline. The tanned boy runs a hand down his face and turns around to find that his room is finally as it was before the fight. He throws his friend a grateful smile and mumbled thanks for the help, taking notice of the guitar case slung over the taller’s shoulder looking very much where it belongs. Chanyeol’s always been a music junkie, so much so that it makes Jongin wonder what he’s doing in the medics department.

“Singing children’s rhymes again?”

“Oh ha-ha, Get a new joke.”

They share a few seconds of laughter before Chanyeol abruptly stops.

“Ah- hey I was meaning to ask, you coming to Junmyeon’s frat party tonight?”

Jongin scrunches his face in distaste “Junmyeon’s in a frat?”

“Well, technically- he’s in by default. He kind of owns the frat house.”

Rich bastard.

“Heard its massive. Taemin and Minho are going.”

“They’re always ‘going’”

“Right, but Minseok’s going?”

“He has a thing for Junmyeon, wouldn’t be surprised if he’d go against his wallflower principles.”

“Oh come on, You look like you could use a drink or two.”

Jongin sighs, picking the lint off his own sweater “I…I don’t know Yeol I’m not feeling very…sunny.”  

The taller eyes his friend with concern ”You know I’m pretending to be blind here, something’s not right with you these days...I’m just hoping I could get your mind off things, even just for a night.”  

The sincerity in his words has Jongin contemplating. Rarely does Chanyeol ever sound this serious, at any normal given situation he would technically be cracking some sort of bad joke right now as his way of breaking the negative energy. But he doesn’t do so and it makes Jongin think how ed up he must actually look to get even the happiest of people to worry.

So he takes a moment to look around.

He’d have to admit that he’s grown tired to death of his own room, a week of cooping himself up and preoccupying himself with books and paper works (and the occasional company of Krystal) had  made him grow weary of the place. It doesn’t help that these four walls are now embedded with memories of punches and insults, the bruise on his arm and cheek a reminder of said incident. Subconsciously his hand flies to the area where Jongdae had hit particularly hard, wincing upon the contact and earning him another worried glance from Chanyeol.

It’s then that his gaze lands on something familiar, a short white coat lying above his bed, his short white coat to be exact. But that’s not what catches his attention, rather, it’s the black button sewed onto it, appearing to be so out of place amidst the average translucent ones that run down the center.

He’ll never forget how it got there, how he had run all the way back to the bakery one afternoon to pick up his forgotten coat. He’ll never forget stopping just across the street, feeling his heart do summersaults at the sight of Kyungsoo waiting out in the cold, nose buried in his scarf as he clutched Jongin’s coat close to himself. Their eyes found each other and so did their smiles.

It took him thirty minutes after having returned to the university before finally noticing that Kyungsoo had sewn in the last button of his coat, the one that he had neglected to fix for the longest time. The work was sloppy and the button was definitely not the right one, but it was still Jongin’s most favorite thing in the world.

He thought that spending some time away from the baker would somehow clear his mind, help him become a bit more open to things that neither his 500 page anatomy nor genetics book could explain.  But as far as he’s concerned, the only thing he’s been getting out of this separation is a heap load of heartache and a lot of damn questions to the world.

“I could use a break.” Is what he mutters in resignation. It earns him a victorious grin from his tall friend who then begins talking about time and meeting up and fun. And the best he could really do to feign interest is nod and nod and nod.

Yeah he thinks, maybe I do need a drink. A drink could do the trick.  

Maybe, just maybe, that would get him to man the up.

So that night, Jongin wears black when he leaves.

***

Kyungsoo wears black when he leaves.

The sun is still at the brink of the horizon when he calls it a day, stocking up the last of his masterpieces before rushing to the restroom to get changed. He covers himself up in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt, both looking like they’ve been ironed to perfection. A black blazer finishes the look off, and soon he’s moved on to fussing over his hair, running his hand through it several times over as if it would make a difference.

It takes him twenty minutes of fretting before he’s finally satisfied with the way he looks…or before he’s finally given up. Either way he wastes no time on stuffing his clothes into his backpack and rushing out to the front where both Luhan and Sehun are busying themselves over the counter.

“Leaving already?” The youngest inquires, straightening himself up.

Luhan’s eyes flicker to the wall clock behind him before he regards the baker with the same curious eyes.  

Kyungsoo only nods, walking over to his two bestfriends with a thoughtful smile. “Yeah. Seungsoo wants me home early so we could head out before it gets too late.”

“You sure you don’t want us to come with you? We could close up early.”

“It’s alright. I can manage.”

Luhan reaches forward to pull him into a warm embrace. Kyungsoo’s height only allows his nose to touch the eldest’s shoulder, so the best he could do is close his eyes and place his hands lightly over his waist. They stay like this for a while, Sehun watching them both by the side.

Luhan’s breath fans over his ears as whispers. “Tell them I said hi.” He says, before pulling back and patting him lightly by the shoulder.

It’s all Kyungsoo needs to hear before he bids them both a farewell, listening to the chime of the front door as he exits the bakeshop and makes his way down the busy sidewalks of Hongdae. He’s in no rush, in no hurry to head where he’s headed, choosing instead to bask in the beauty of the orange skies and the sounds of the city.

Before he could even get too far, however, someone calls his name. Quickly he whips his head around, eyes scanning the bustle of people and eventually landing on the sight of Sehun standing in front of the shop, hands cupped over his mouth as he shouts. 

“No more crying!” The youngest yells. A few heads turn towards the tall young man in a blue dress shirt, but before they could even stare he’s already gone, back inside the glass doors and out of the public eye.

Kyungsoo chuckles to himself because of course, of course Oh Sehun wouldn’t have let his hyung leave with a heavy heart. There’s a smile on the baker’s lips as he continues on his way, the train ride back home a quiet one, the only noise coming from a  woman’s voice through the speakers, announcing their near arrival.

It’s been a while since they’ve last talked. He has a lot of stories to tell, stories of how he’s grown tired and lonely without them. He wants to talk about how he hears Chanyeol’s voice through the back kitchen sometimes, or how he sees Baekhyun pass by their store windows in the morning. How Junmyeon has waved at him more than once, and how he’s pretended not to have seen half the time. How Jongdae’s last visit had been quite the emotional stir.

He wants to talk about Krystal and how beautiful she is, how her black hair suits her as much as her red one did, how Jongin brings out her most radiant smile.

But most of all he wants to talk about Jongin. He wants to talk about how much he misses him. How much he’s dreamed of what could have happened if he had not said as much as he did that night. He wants to apologize for being him and for being able to do what he could do.

Thoughts like these flood his mind as he proceeds to enter his home. Inside it’s peculiarly quiet, there’s no Seungsoo running around, getting dinner ready or printing documents or talking on the phone. However unusual, this doesn’t surprise Kyungsoo, instead he routinely takes off his shoes and sets them aside, padding his way down the hallway and up the stairs to his brother’s room. The door is closed so he has to knock, he does it softly and not too soon after the elder’s voice is heard from the other side saying It’s open.

Kyungsoo does just that and he’s met by the sight of Seungsoo seated on the bed, crouched over as he pulls on a pair of white socks. “You’re all dressed up.” The older says, eyeing him from head to toe before standing up to get dressed himself.

The younger doesn’t comment on that, closing the door behind him. “They…they might not want to see me.”

“Nonsense. Of course they would.” Seungsoo begins fixing his hair up in the mirror and its crazy how much the siblings resemble each other’s actions, “I’ll be with you. No more secrets. We’ll have the time of our life.” He chuckles, slinging a bag over his shoulder. “Shall we then?”

Kyungsoo bites his lip nervously.

***

Well if it isn’t Kim! Bro have a drink!

Jongin-ah! We need a player for beer pong!

Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

Jongin had said he needed a drink, although he had never said he needed this much.

It confuses him how he’s managed to get into this position, chugging down 10 out of 15 shots of some obnoxious drink that probably has a ridiculous name. Across him another man is doing the same, and around him people are cheering. Prior to the situation he had already been slightly tipsy, so this doesn’t really help stop the room from spinning.

It’s no secret that he’s well known around campus, with his eye-catching looks, charming personality, and all ace performance; he’s hard not to talk about. And so unsurprisingly, the minute he enters into the scene of the party he’s been pulled into nearly every group he had run into. People love his company and despite feeling a bit under the weather, he does his best to keep up with the hype. He talks about sports, about that one test, about who’s dating who and who broke up with who. Everyone seems to be buying the façade, the way he smiles and the way he laughs like he’s not clouded with thoughts of someone else.

Each time he’s offered a drink.

The first few he accepts, it’s what he came for after all, but when he begins to feel lightheaded he takes it as a sign for him to start declining. He tried his best to remain sober, or at at least half sober, though this is college and people can get quite persistent especially if they’re drunk and turnt.

Many times a drink is randomly shoved into his hands, often it’s by some drunk senior who claims to be a close friend of his, even if he’s only seen them once or twice in a few classes. Sometimes he chugs it down just to get them to shut up, other times he subtly tries to abandon the cup over some table or counter. But it’s the games that he finds no escape from, he has no idea how to run away from the people pulling him into a game of beer pong, Roxanne, Fuzzy duck, or as he’s currently faced with, drinking contests.

He feels that he’s losing himself with each cup he downs, along with his resolve to stay level-headed.

The man across from him wins, raising his one hand in the air and spilling his drink everywhere in the process. Jongin couldn’t care less, taking his chance to slip away from the spotlight and stagger to the least crowded corridor he could find. He doesn’t make it however, nearly dropping to his knees on the way there if it weren’t for the owner of the house himself appearing by his side, catching him before he could smash his pretty face against the floor.

“Didn’t expect you to get hammered.”

Junmyeon. Jongin wants to say, though in the current state he’s in he couldn’t really open his mouth without feeling the need to vomit so he deems it best to keep it shut, arms reaching out for the closest wall to lean on and keep him stable as he pulls away from Junmyeon’s hold. The other looks extremely out of place with his thick rimmed glasses, blue sweater, and fancy wine glass, a stark contrast to the wasted bodies of teenagers who are slowly knocking out on his carpeted floors.  

 “You look like you’ll need a place to crash, there’s a spare room at the end of the hallway upstairs if you want. It has its own bathroom and everything…I offered the room to Minseok but I think he has no plans of sleeping over.”  Junmyeon makes sure to keep his voice at a low volume, lest a swarm of drunken frat boys crowd the upstairs sanctuary. Jongin on the other hand is squinting his eyes, trying his best to piece together the elder’s words amidst all the fuzz in his brain.

Sensing that he’s already too smashed to function, Junmyeon could only sigh in resignation and pat his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll bring you there. But first, you need water.” 

It's all he says before weaving through the crowd, beginning his quest to find clean drinking water amidst tables full of booze. 

Most people would think that being the host of a party would entail you to go bald with worry as to how things are going or how things are not supposed to be going. But on the contrary, Junmyeon couldn’t care less at what’s happening downstairs. He had spent the greater half of his time seated on the balcony, immersing himself in a book. Occasionally someone would stumble up the stairs and ask him where the bathroom is and of course it’s the downstairs bathroom he directs them to, but only after he reminds them that the second floor is strictly off limits.

He’s really classy like that, Jongin thinks as he watches the elder disappear into the crowd to fetch him a drink that’s not alcoholic for once. His back is leaning against the wall and the beat of the music booming through the speakers is gradually synchronizing with the pounding in his head. Finding it hard to keep himself upright any longer, he slides down to the floor till he’s seated, closing his eyes for a second or two to hopefully rid of the nausea.

The sound of the party becomes a blur in the background, a mixture of laughter, cheering, music, and chatter that he pays no mind to. Instead, stuck in his own little (spinning) world, he hums a tune, the first one that comes to mind, and finds himself smiling at the familiarity of it.

It brings him back to warm winter afternoons at the bakery, where the sun is up and the streets look beautiful with snow. He’s holding a hand that’s equally as warm and comforting as the laughter he hears, the one that comes from lips that are perfectly heart shaped. He can see no more than lips however, because the boy’s eyes are covered with what appears to be flowers, crowning his head with colors of all kinds. They’re blooming, beautiful, almost painfully so.

Jongin? He hears the boy call and it sound so real he nearly reaches out to embrace him.

Jongin. He hears him again. It’s so vivid it sends a pang of longing straight to his heart.

“Jongin!”

A hand over his shoulder shakes him awake. 

Blearily he tries to make sense of his surroundings, looking around nearly cross-eyed as the hallway seems even dimmer than it already was.

The party sounds slowly fade back and he no longer sees any traces of bright winter mornings, instead he sees bodies grinding against each other and strobe lights blinking enough times to make his head hurt.

“I didn’t know you were here.” Someone tries to shout through the music, finally catching his attention. He feels a hand wipe over his cheek, which is surprisingly damp, and traces the arm up until his gaze settles on a familiar face that has him holding his breath.

“K-“ he tries, but again his insides stir and he’s not able to say any more for fear of throwing up.

The person in front of him swipes a gentle hand over his sweaty forehead and begins mumbling things he couldn’t hear, partly because alcohol is pumping through his veins, partly because he’s in too much of a shock to comprehend.

Wide eyes, clean-cut hair, rosy cheeks, and plump lips…how could he not recognize?

“What- what are you-“ This time it’s jongin’s hand that reaches out to caress the other’s cheek. The baker looks shocked at the sudden intimacy, however he shows no signs of pulling away either. Instead he tenderly places his hand over Jongin’s, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You’re so drunk.” Is all he says. Jongin doesn’t get to see much of his expression because his vision is instantly watering.

“Wimp. Stop being emotional.” Arms wrap around his torso as he’s suddenly being helped up, his limbs failing to cooperate and causing a bit of struggle for the smaller “God you’re heavy Jong,”

He’s not exactly sure what’s happening as of the moment, he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it either.

Because before he even knew it here Kyungsoo was, finding him in the middle of a hallway in a freaking frat party, just when he was on the brink of drifting away into his alcohol induced dream. In all honesty he feels like he’s still dreaming, the thought that the baker is here with him right now just doesn’t settle well with him.

In fact he feels that there’s something different. It could be the way Kyungsoo’s shoulder bone is sharp against his arm while the smaller walks him up the stairs, the way his hair is black and longer, obscuring the most part of his face, or the way his voice sounds softer, lighter even. Jongin’s brows furrow in confusion, and he could only stare in bewilderment as the said boy lets him go, leaning against the wall and catching his breath once they’ve arrived at the end of the second floor hallway.

There aren’t any people here and the music is a little less loud. Jongin’s vision is doubling and he could feel his consciousness gradually slipping away. But the thing is he doesn’t want it to, maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago it would have been different but not anymore, not when his dream is right there in front of him.

So before he could even think, before he could even process the yays and the nays of his actions he finds himself leaning forward. His eyes shut closed even before their lips come in contact and he could feel the smaller’s sharp intake of breath. Jongin practically drapes himself over the other, probably more than he intends to judging by the way Kyungsoo staggers back a bit, hands gripping onto his arms to keep him from completely falling over.

It’s sloppy and far from being chaste, made of hungry bites and wet tongues meeting in the middle. A hand fists the back of Jongin’s hair to press their lips even closer and it makes every inch of his body feel warm, almost as warm as the other’s breath panting hotly against his ear now that he’s moved down to scatter love bites all over the expanse of white milky skin. A choked out noise comes out from the body beneath him once his hands find purchase on the other’s , squeezing it and loving the gasps and whimpers that come as a result.

They kiss and feel each other up some more until Kyungsoo’s body begins shivering with want, his hands haphazardly reaching behind for a doorknob and successfully causing them both to stumble into a dark room. They knock a lot of things over in their desperate search for a bed (or anything to lay on for that matter) and soon enough Jongin lets out a pained yelp once the back of his knee hits a bed post. He’s barely given any time to move before the other is already crawling on top of him, slotting their lips back together in another intimate kiss.

Hands roam up his chest and if he weren’t too distracted by the kisses he would have noticed his shirt slowly being ed. Before he even realizes Kyungsoo spreads his clothes open, sitting up and promptly grinding his against the tanned boy’s crotch without fair warning, causing him to instinctively buck his hips along with the motion. Hands roam over his chest and Jongin, almost completely driven by the alcohol in his veins, finally opens his eyes and looks at the person above him.

It’s dim, the only source of light in the room being the moon, filtering through the translucent curtains and faintly outlining their figures.

Something’s not right. Something’s not right and he couldn’t pinpoint what it is exactly.

He watches as Kyungsoo lifts his arms up to shed away the red sweater he wears. Things happen in slow motion for Jongin, the way the act slowly exposes more and more of smooth white skin, of something else around the chest area that’s also red and bright and somewhat out of place.

Each time he blinks it gets harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and perhaps the last thing he registers is long black hair falling over thin shoulders, before someone leans down and kisses him once more, blocking out his sight and taking away his consciousness for good.

***

“Hi mom. Hi dad.”

It’s evening by the time they arrive, terribly dark and terribly quiet, Kyungsoo relies on the stars to keep him from feeling lonely.

The grass is still damp after the drizzle that had poured on their way out of the city, though neither of the siblings seem to mind as they kneel down and pay their respects. In front of them are a few offerings and some flowers, beautiful and blooming. Seungsoo dusts the grave marker clean and soon they fall into silence.

Prayers are said amidst the sound of crickets and bullfrogs from a distance. When they’re both finished they lie on the patch of grass and watch the stars together.

It’s been a while since Kyungsoo’s last visited his parents. While Seungsoo’s gone regularly each year, the younger’s kept his visits to a minimum, his guilt often overpowering his yearning. Always included in his message to the heavens is an apology, one for mom and one for dad. This time he thinks a third one is necessary.

“I’m sorry.” He says, turning to face his brother who is languidly chewing on a piece of grass. “You know. Because…well because of me you grew up without parents.”

“So did you. Don’t feel special.” Seungsoo responds, eyes still closed, expression serene. Kyungsoo says nothing further and just turns to lie on his stomach, cheek pressed against the muddy ground, uncaring of the filth he’d probably muster up on his white polo. He listens to the ground, wondering if somewhere down there are his parent’s heartbeats.

“Mom, Dad, Kyungsoo’s being a sap again.” The older of the two comments off-handedly.

Am not Kyungsoo wants to retort, but he’s too busy wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. 

***

Jongin wakes up to the feeling of his head splitting in half, being ripped open, stabbed repeatedly and sewn back into place only to ripped in half once more.

In other words, morning comes in the form of an agonizing headache for the miserably hungover Jongin.

The lights streaming in from the window don’t help lessen the throbbing in his head and neither does the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the rooftop. He lets the world know the pain he’s currently suffering through a croaked out groan, the rustle of the sheets underneath him already too loud for him to take. Burying his face deeper into the pillows that smell of sweat and liquor, he does his best to makes sense of his surroundings.

The breezy feeling he gets over his shoulder, back, and leg confirms that he is, indeed, stark . When he moves his hand carefully, feeling his surroundings, the first thing he registers is the soft duvet covering his lower regions. When he peeks an eye open he sees that it’s white, very different from his own teal sheets.  

Closing his eyes again his hand continues to explore the world around him, and it isn’t until the tip of his fingers graze over something smooth that he halts his movements. Carefully he traces upwards, soon coming to the realization that it’s skin, a long expanse of someone’s back turned to him. Curiosity gets the better of him and he opens his eyes to find a crown of long black hair pooling over thin shoulders, a stark contrast to the white pillow where she lays on.

She.

It takes Jongin a full minute to buffer.

Memories of last night come flashing back in lightning speed and the more he remembers, the faster his heart beats, the harder his hand shakes, and the wider his eyes get.

He’s awake now, more than awake.

Slowly he lifts himself up, inching closer to the unknown body in front of him, praying praying it isn’t who he thinks it is. Shaky fingers pull back locks of hair, and in the snap of a finger, Jongin’s dream-like evening turns into a nightmare.

His heart sinks at the sight of his bestfriend, hugging a pillow to her chest as she sleeps peacefully.

.

Shi .

A/N: It's been a while..

Okay so let's not pretend here, there are two reasons to my absence. (1) The usual i'm busy af with college excuse (2) Jongin's dating issue. So before anyone goes haywire on me, yes it did affect me greatly, yes i was sad for quite a number of days, but NO I do not hate Krystal, no i do not hate jongin, and no this will not affect my storyline or this fic or whatever. Even though she's a in this fic I appreciate Krystal as an individual and i do understand why Jongin would fall for her. What's not to like? But still, i am a kaisoo stan, and i am a kaisoo stan with feelings, and i will not pretend to be la di da about the entire ordeal because finding out did hurt in some way. Right now i'm fine, and i hope You all are too.    

 If you guys are wondering why Krystal's hair is black well- i've mentioned it in a chapter before, but i literally just mentioned it. Just in case you're confused.

Jongin:Where df ma water Suhoe?

Ks comin to whoop jongin's

Krystal: 

Hope to update again soon! Sorry to keep you guys waiting, and as usual, sorry if this update is faulty in terms of pacing, grammar, typo-s or flow. ;3; I lov u oll. I hope you have a wonderful day!