Read to Me

Length: 13.2k
Genre: romance
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Kyungsoo is robbed on the street and Jongin is the reluctant rescuer who brings him home to treat his wounds. Kyungsoo insists on doing something for Jongin in return for his help. Jongin, who is dyslexic, eventually asks Kyungsoo to read a book to him. Somewhat inspired by Bernhard Schlink's The Reader.

Friday

Kyungsoo's ivory linen shirt feels coarse as it clings uncomfortably to his back, and listlessly, he brushes sweat dampened hair out of his eyes. It's 5.30pm and the sun is already low in the sky, but it continues to bake the world in unbearable heat. Traffic inches slowly past, trapped in a peak hour jam and hot air is undulating off the street in humid waves. Kyungsoo wipes the sweat off his brow and readjusts his backpack to let some air cool his sweat-sticky back.

He's walking along Vista Street, past the stalls that sell trinkets and replica designer t-shirts and he's so preoccupied with how oppressive the weather is and how parched his throat is that he doesn't notice the stranger following him closely till he crashes right into him. Abruptly, Kyungsoo's vision is filled with miles of harsh blue space and blinding sunlight, and there's a loud crack and excruciating pain as his head and elbows land hard on the pavement. The sky is the last thing he sees before Kyungsoo loses consciousness ...

***

Jongin's luckier than most - he's one of those people who isn't very vulnerable to heat and stays mostly dry while sweat is pouring off others around him. But even he finds today's heat overwhelming as he walks along Vista, the street that leads to his apartment building. He keeps his head down as he always does, because the less he sees the better. That's the mantra people living in this part of town cling to slavishly - it keeps you in a bubble of safety. Jongin certainly always keeps himself to himself and he wants things to stay that way. 

About six minutes' walk from his building though, Jongin sees something on the ground that he can't look away from no matter how much he wants to. It's a boy. A boy with the face of an angel - his body looking limp and broken as it lies in a crumpled heap on the dusty pavement. His pale skin is marked with a network of fresh red cuts and purpling bruises but his face is somehow untouched. 

"Wake up," Jongin's voice comes out louder than he intended but even then, there's no answer - the boy doesn't stir at all. Jongin's palm touches his forehead and to his relief, there's no temperature. He carefully feels the boy's limbs for fractures and there don't seem to be any. Working as a shift supervisor at the Mitzuwa factory means Jongin has a certificate in first aid so he can do this much at least - check for broken bones. Gingerly, his fingers feel the scalp area beneath the boy's head. He withdraws his hand to find light traces of blood and dirt on his fingertips. He turns him over carefully to have a better look and exhales in relief - it's just a surface laceration that needs cleaning and disinfecting, nothing that requires stitches. 

"Wake up," Jongin says it louder this time as pedestrians stream around them without stopping. There are a few gawkers but no one offers to help. 

"Can you hear me? Do you want me to take you to the ER?" Jongin hopes the boy says no because he doesn't want to deal with filling in hospital forms. 

"I ... What happened?" Finally, the boy shifts, lucidity gradually penetrating his features. "My head hurts ... really bad. Actually ... everything hurts."

"Someone must have mugged you because you don't have anything on you. No wallet or ID."

"Did anyone stop the ?" The boy's voice is weak but still manages to convey subdued of anger. Gingerly he stretches his limbs and twists his arms to try and assess the damage, flinching at the sight of his scrapes and bruises.

"I'm ... not sure. I found you lying here. I don't know how long you've been here. Do you want to go to the ER?"

"No! No ER. I don't have insurance. I'm fine. I just need to get home." The boy sounds adamant, but at the same time disorientated and confused.

"What's your address?"

"I ... I can't remember."

"You probably have a concussion. It will come later." Jongin sighs, "Probably, anyway. What about your name?"

"Kyungsoo. My name is Do Kyungsoo." 

"Do you have anyone you can call, Do Kyungsoo?"

"I ... can't remember any numbers. I think he took my phone too." Either way he looks at it, Kyungsoo is in a bad situation.

"I'll take you the police station - they'll know what to do. But first, I need to clean your wounds before they get infected. Can you walk?

"How do I know it wasn't you who mugged me in the first place?"

"You don't." Jongin shrugs. "We can go straight to the police if you prefer. It's ten minutes' walk from here. But it's hot and there's a lot of dirt in your wounds. I'd really rather disinfect them first."

"Police station first." Kyungsoo groans as he tries to straighten his body upright. He feels as if he's been been run over by a truck. Strong hands reach beneath his armpits and slowly and painstakingly hoist him into standing position. The tall stranger's arm curves around his tender back and lends him the strength he sorely lacks at the moment. His rescuer, who looks like he's in his mid 20s, gently helps him to move but Kyungsoo can't help making small sounds of distress at the agony as the man's arm presses against his bruised back. His legs are unsteady and he has to lean heavily against the man - which then leads to more pain.

"You sure you can walk the whole ten minutes there or do you want me to carry you? No taxi driver is going to agree to drive us three minutes to the station."

"No carrying!" Kyungsoo protested. 

"I was going to piggyback you not bridal carry you." The man snorts, "Your chest isn't injured so it won't hurt you too much to be carried that way. I can tell you now, you won't make it to the station." And Kyungsoo knows he's right. His skin burns from the scratches and his muscles are sore from the hard impact with the pavement. The hammering pain in his head has fortunately receded to a kind of vicious throbbing, but he's beginning to feel dizzy. If he doesn't lie down soon, he's most likely going to humiliate himself by puking. 

"You're right. I don't think I will. I need to lie down."

"You can lie down while I clean your wounds." The man's voice is pragmatic and emotionless and yet Kyungsoo finds it oddly soothing. He bends his knees and drops them to the dusty ground before asking Kyungsoo to climb on.

"Wait! What's your name?"

"Why the hell does it matter?" His voice bristles with impatience.

"It's just weird climbing on someone's back when I don't even know his name. Just tell me your name."

"It's Kim Jongin. Now get the on." Kim Jongin barks at him and Kyungsoo reluctantly loops his arms around his wide shoulders and links his hands over hard collarbones, and straddles his back and narrow hips. Jongin's hands grip the undersides of Kyungsoo's thighs, then he raises himself to standing position and begins walking with purpose. Waves of nausea batter at Kyungsoo and he gives up the struggle to hold himself upright as he sinks and rests against Jongin's back. It's dry in spite of the heat, and warm, so reassuringly warm, Kyungsoo thinks as his eyelids drift shut for the second time that evening. The last thing on his mind before he surrenders to sleep is that Kim Jongin smells like ... comfort.

***

Motes of dust drift down, flitting through the bars of fading sunlight spilling through the open window. There's a slight breeze that makes the beige curtains flutter prettily but regrettably brings nothing but warm air into the room. Jongin had the living room lights earlier for added illumination. Meticulously, he bathes Kyungsoo's wounds in Betadine, leaving ugly patches of reddish brown on his skin. When he's done with the scrapes, he turns him on his side and examines the scalp area where Kyungsoo had struck his head, and finds raven black strands matted with blood and serum. Brow puckering in concentration, Jongin dips a cotton ball into the antiseptic solution and gets to work. Part of him wishes he'd never seen the boy. He really doesn't need any ripples in the calm, uneventful waters of his life, really doesn't need any disturbance but here it is anyway. And try as hard as he might, Jongin finds he can't regret helping him. His lower lip caught between his teeth, he dabs bitter brown liquid on Kyungsoo's scalp.

***

There's a stinging discomfort at the back of Kyungsoo's head. It feels like he's being scratched over and over again with thorns and he needs to remove them. Struggling, his eyelids flicker open to reveal an ocean of navy blue. It looks like heavy cotton fabric and as the sticky threads of torpor dissolve and release their hold on Kyungsoo's mind, he becomes aware that he's lying on his side on what appears to be a navy blue sofa. There's the quick, gentle pressure of something wet dabbing at his scalp, and it stings and hurts and he flinches from the pain.

"Ouch!" He groans, to his shame.

"Don't move. I'm almost done." A large, warm hand grips Kyungsoo's left shoulder, holding him still and inexpicably, the tense muscles in Kyungsoo's shoulder and back begin to unclench and relax. 

"I'm just going to put some antiseptic cream on it now and tape some gauze over the wound to keep the dirt out. All right?" 

"Is it bad?"

"No. Just superficial grazing. But you've got a big bump from hitting the ground. That's gonna hurt for a few days." And as soon as Jongin mentions the bump, Kyungsoo's hand instantly rises to his head to probe it. The protrusion is tender and swollen and hurts like a .

"Don't press it, damn it!" Jongin scolds him harshly.

"It's my head! I'll touch it if I ing want!" Kyungsoo manages to turn partially so he can see Jongin's face, and tries not to flinch from the pain. He had been in so much pain on the street earlier that he had no clear image in his head of his rescuer's face. Now he can actually see him properly, and even though Jongin's face is scrunched up in an intimidating frown, it doesn't detract from how darkly handsome he is with arched eyebrows, a strong (and most likely stubborn) jaw, generous lips and skin the exact shade of latte. Even with the hammers of hell crashing in his head, Kyungsoo can appreciate the beauty of the young man's long, elegant limbs and his shoulders which are straight and angular and strong. He's wearing dark slacks and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt have been folded up to his elbows to reveal slim, tanned arms.

"Whatever. Just don't make it worse. Can you remember your home number? Do you remember your address? Did the mugger get away with your house keys?" 

"I ..." Kyungsoo says unsurely then casts around his battered head for the elusive number ... and finds Jongdae 614-679-1120. "I don't think I have one. But I have a roommate, Jongdae. And my keys," he fumbles in his front jeans pocket and fishes out a set of keys, "are still with me."

"Parents?"

"Live in another town."

"You have a concussion. Someone needs to be around to check on you. You should call your roommate." Jongin says as he retrieves a hand phone from his pocket. Asking Kyungsoo to say out the numbers for him, he presses the thirteen digits in succession before handing the phone to Kyungsoo.

"Jongdae?" He raises his voice because wherever Jongdae happens to be, it's noisy.

"Waddup?" Jongdae's yelling and Kyungsoo flinches a little from how loud his voice is.

"What time are you going to be home?"

"You sound a little funny, Soo. You okay? I'm not coming home tonight! High school class reunion, remember? I'm in Springvale for the next three days. I told you that this morning."

"Crap." Jongdae had told Kyungsoo at breakfast that he was really excited about seeing his high school friends again.

"Is anything wrong?" There's a hint of concern in Jongdae's voice as the noise in the background suddenly drops dramatically. He's gone somewhere quieter.

"No, it's nothing! I'm ... out and I forgot to switch off my PC and I was gonna ask you to do it for me. I don't know why I forgot you had this thing." Kyungsoo hates lying more than anything but he doesn't want to worry Jongdae and screw up his night when there's no way he can come home soon enough anyway. It's a 14-hour drive from his hometown and Jongdae's been looking forward to this for months. He'll figure out what to do when he gets off the phone.

"I hope you're having fun, Dae." 

"I am, I am! Pre-dinner drinks now! Bit of a minefield. Some people I can recognize straight away but others? I swear some of them I just have no ing clue! It's like they've had a total face or body transplant and I'm like who the ?! Thank God we have to wear these ugly name tags so that helps."

"Sounds like fun. So that girl you liked back then, is she there?"

"Yeahhh, and she's still single and we've been talking and it's going well." Jongdae sounds so excited and Kyungsoo is happy for him.

"Good luck, dude."

"Thanks, Soo. I'll see you Sunday night, 'kay?"

"Yup, see you Sunday." Kyungsoo ends the call and solemnly hands the phone back to its owner.

"He won't be home tonight?" 

"No. He's at a high school reunion 14 hours' drive from here."

"You might as well stay here because you can't be left on your own. You might faint or vomit later. It happens." Jongin's voice is impersonal and firm. Kyungsoo wants to say no, that he'll call another friend but the fact is Jongdae's phone number is the only one he can recall in its entirety. He can call his parents but it will only freak them out and they'll probably want to drive through the night to reach him - even though they live a 19-hour road trip away. And he reasons that if Jongin had wanted to harm him, he would have already done it while he'd been unconscious instead of tending to his wounds. He's a complete stranger and yet there's something about the taciturn man and his strong, quiet demeanor that compels Kyungsoo to trust him. So he takes a leap of faith ... and says yes, he'll stay.

Jongin makes a grunt which Kyungsoo interprets as a yeah, ok, whatever before saying, "I need to look at your back. Your shirt is torn and there are blood stains. You woke up before I could examine the damage."

And Kyungsoo realizes there is a dull ache at his shoulder blades. Self consciously, he undoes the buttons of his shirt. He's still lying on the couch and it helps somehow that Jongin can't see him ing the shirt and reluctantly separating the lapels and easing them off his shoulders. As his shoulders burn from the exertion, capable hands help to lift the fabric away from his body and Kyungsoo winces, hissing in pain as the linen separates from the drying blood on his back, ripping off some nascent scabs.

"Sorry." Jongin says softly, "That couldn't be helped. If it makes you feel better, they're just scratches which should heal in a couple of days." And then the metallic odor of iodine permeates the room as Jongin begins disinfecting the wounds on Kyungsoo's back. The solution burns and bites but Jongin's hands are light and gentle as they move over raw, inflamed skin. 

When Jongin's done, he asks Kyungsoo to wait and he closes his eyes as he waits for the pain to dull and flatline. There's a low thud as something is placed carefully on the coffee table behind Kyungsoo and before he has a chance to turn around and investigate, he hears water dripping and then something warm and soothing is moving over his back, over his skin. It feels like a sponge and warm water and it brings him relief to be getting clean but at the same time he feels like he should make some kind of protest at being bathed without permission.

"I'm just sponging your back and your arms. You can do the front yourself if you want. No shower for a while because I don't want the antiseptic to be washed off. You can bathe the ... lower half of your body yourself in the shower though, if you're up to it. No cuts from what I can tell." 

"I'll see how I do with standing. The nausea ..." Kyungsoo says, then his eyelids flicker shut and he wills his body to relax as the sweat and grime of the day and the dust and dirt from the street are carefully removed. It's nowhere near as refreshing as a shower but it feels so good to just be almost clean again. He feels more human somehow. Gently, Jongin wipes down both his right arm - carefully avoiding the iodine stained patches of flesh - then he helps Kyungsoo into sitting position so he can bathe his left arm. His hands finally stop moving over Kyungsoo's pale, pale skin and Jongin asks him if he wants to wash the front of his body on his own. Kyungsoo nods and Jongin asks him to wait while he replaces the bath water. 

Once he's returned with fresh water, Jongin holds the sponge out - it's one of those butter yellow natural sea sponges riddled with gaping holes. Kyungsoo tries to lift his right arm to take the sponge and winces anew at the sharp pain in his elbow and shoulders and his arm drops uselessly at his side. The snatch thief had wrenched the knapsack from Kyungsoo's body earlier and everything hurts. Silently, Jongin dips the sponge and squeezes out the excess water before running the sponge over Kyungsoo's chest in gentle, sweeping motions. To Kyungsoo's deep embarrassment, his s harden when the sponge goes over them. He's not sure if it's the contact with the coarse sponge, or the tepid water, or Jongin's proximity that's caused it but either way, Kyungsoo is distressed. If Jongin notices, he makes no mention of it and tries to be as quick and impersonal as he can as he sponges Kyungsoo's chest and then his abdomen. His abdominal muscles contract a little at the contact and again, if Jongin is aware of Kyungsoo's reactions, he shows no sign of it. Finally, he drops the sponge into the water and dries his hands. He unfolds a plain black tee and slips it over Kyungsoo's head, helping to thread his arms through the sleeves.

Then Jongin says quietly, "Why don't you lie down? Rest." He helps to ease Kyungsoo into a reclining position on the sofa, disappears for a minute and returns with an ice pack. He places it gently on Kyungsoo's scalp before leaving the room amidst sounds of sloshing water. Turning to lie on his side so his back is to the room, Kyungsoo closes his eyes in shame as he tries to pretend that he wasn't aroused by Jongin's hands moving over his body, and tries to pretend that his isn't partially erect inside his jeans and boxers. 

***

"You'll sleep here tonight." Jongin announces in a voice that brooks no argument. Kyungsoo's tummy is sated from the simple meal Jongin had shared with him of fragrant, steamed rice and a simple beef stew with carrots and potatoes. "I live alone so it's just easier to cook one dish meals," Jongin had explained when he'd laid the table and placed a casserole dish on the centre with a small dish of julienne radish kimchi.

"But it's your bedroom," Kyungsoo protests immediately.

"Your back is bruised and cut. You'll take the bed. I'll be fine on the sofa. But I'll be in and out to check on you every couple of hours so don't be alarmed. The concussion ... I need to make sure nothing happens."

"But I'm sure you have work tomorrow,"

"It's Saturday; I don't work weekends. I've left a clean t-shirt and pajama pants in the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush on the sink and a towel on the rack you can use. I filled up the tub in case you want to bathe. But not above the waist, ok? Unless you make sure the wounds don't get wet. Don't lock the bathroom in case you need help getting in and out of the bath."

"I won't!" Kyungsoo says loudly - more loudly than he intended.

"Just leave the door unlocked. If you faint because of your concussion I would rather you not drown in my bathtub while I break down my door trying to get to you."

"I won't faint."

"Good luck telling your body it isn't allowed to faint just because YOU want to lock the damned door." Jongin says scathingly and Kyungsoo glares at him, insulted. 

But he leaves the door unlocked.

***

Submerged to the waist, Kyungsoo takes a minute to just luxuriate in the balmlike effect of the soapy water. There's no bathtub in the apartment he shares with Jongdae and in spite of the way his body still aches, sitting in a tub is an unexpected and welcome pleasure. He isn't sure what bath liquid Jongin mixed in the water but it smells a lot like vanilla and the scent wraps itself around his limbs, clinging to his senses languorously. He washes his upper body with the sponge that had been helpfully placed nearby and soon, he feels truly clean again. Pulling the plug, Kyungsoo watches the foamy white suds whirl around and drain between his feet. Sighing, he tries to raise himself up but his arms feel weak, so weak. He tries four times more but his feet just can't find any purchase on the slippery enamel and all he manages to do is slide along the base of the bathtub. Finally, face flaming, he closes his eyes and calls for help.

***

A basket full of clean laundry lies at his feet as Jongin sits on the sofa and folds clothes on the square, teak coffee table. He tries his best to ignore the fact that there is stranger, in his bathtub. At least he assumes Kyungsoo is sitting in the tub based on the amount of time he's been in there. It's been only 3 hours since he discovered the boy and already he feels like his uneventful, halcyon existence is under threat. Distractedly, he begins folding an indigo wifebeater but he has to stop, frustrated, when he realizes the shirt label is on the outside. It's starting already, he thinks, as he flips the shirt inside out so the seams are concealed once again.

As he folds the shirt a second time, Jongin sees Kyungsoo's narrow shoulders before him - he sees shoulder blades that are stained purple with large blooming bruises. He sees the butter yellow sponge moving quickly (because he doesn't trust himself to do it slowly) over the boy's back, circumnavigating the injured areas, over pale slender shoulders and arms. Then the sponge is moving over a thin, alabaster chest and fragile collarbones, erect pale pink s, a narrow waist and flat abdomen and Jongin has to take a breath as he feels an unmistakable tightening in his groin.

Trying to purge the images of Kyungsoo's body from his mind, Jongin finds himself assailed instead by images of his heart-shaped face, suspicious eyes and generous mouth. There's a slight relieving of tension in his groin but now it's his heart which is under siege. Jongin can't even remember the last time anyone had moved him this way. High school, perhaps? Back when he still lived with his parents - before a road blanketed in black ice had reduced their car to a twisted wreck and left them dead.

There's something about the young man. He seems quiet like Jongin - not a talker. But when he's asked to do something he doesn't approve of, he shows flashes of fire and temper. These sparks of soul both attract and unsettle Jongin. Perhaps he's so fascinated by Kyungsoo's passionate reactions because his own soul is such an unresponsive, lifeless thing. Then Jongin realizes it doesn't really make a difference either way since tomorrow, Kyungsoo would probably walk out of this apartment as quietly as he'd entered it, dozing on Jongin's back. He'd been lighter than Jongin had expected but still, it had been a considerable weight to have draped over his body. It had felt good though. Comforting ... carrying Kyungsoo had felt surprisingly comforting. He'd never carried anyone on his back before and he wondered if he ever would again. Most likely not. It wasn't every day you found someone lying unconscious on the street.

"HELP." Jongin hears the brief shout and stands up abruptly, an indigo wifebeater drifting from his hands to land gently on the coffee table. There is no sign of alarm in Kyungsoo's voice though, so he makes himself shorten his strides before stopping in front of the door.

"Can I come in?" 

"Yes." There is a hint of mortification in the yes and Jongin's face is grim as he turns the handle and pushes the door open.

"What happened?"

"I can't get up. My arms ... They aren't strong enough." Kyungsoo explains, red-faced. He's probably imagining it but his upper body looks a little flushed too. And it takes all of Jongin's willpower to act dispassionately - like he's completely unaware that Kyungsoo is completely in the tub. Grabbing the towel from the rail, he averts his eyes and hands it to Kyungsoo who takes it gratefully. Meanwhile, Jongin turns around and stares at the door to give him some privacy. 

"I'm ready." The words are grave and just a touch apologetic. Saying nothing, Jongin walks over and carefully hoists him up from behind. Gingerly, Kyungsoo lifts one leg after another over the side of the tub, leaning on Jongin for support. The navy blue towel is knotted low at the waist and beads of bath water cling to Kyungsoo's body and Jongin has to steel himself to be as impersonal as possible in his touch.

"Thank you." Kyungsoo says finally as Jongin removes his hands from his skin and his arms fall to his side. Jongin nods, frowning, before getting Kyungsoo another towel from the linen closet. 

"Sit." He says simply and slightly stunned by the instruction, Kyungsoo lowers himself carefully and sits on the edge of the tub. Then, fluffy terry cloth is soaking up the moisture on his chest, abdomen, shoulders, arms, legs as Jongin dries off Kyungsoo's uncovered skin. Jongin ignores the look of surprise on Kyungsoo's face and pulls a charcoal gray t-shirt over his head. He eases the collar carefully over Kyungsoo's head so it doesn't touch his wound, then he helps him get his arms in the sleeves. Finally, Jongin's gaze falls upon Kyungsoo's ethereal features. Large eyes watch him with an intriguing blend of curiosity, interest and gratitude and all of a sudden, Jongin feels like a winged insect is unfurling its wings in his chest cavity.

"The shirt's much too big but it's the smallest one I could find." He forces himself to say - trying to break the hold of Kyungsoo's stare.

"It's not too big." Kyungsoo argues.

"The sleeves extend below your elbows, of course it's too big!" Jongin can't stop the short bubble of laughter that escapes his throat. 

"It's comfortable." Kyungsoo says mulishly and Jongin nods, the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips.

"I'll just let you change then," Jongin starts walking to the door, "you might want to hold the rail for support. If you need help, just call." He shuts the door quietly behind him, managing somehow to not turn around and take one last look at his accidental houseguest. His emotions churning, Jongin lies down on the sofa and looks up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the mindlessly repetitive motion of the rotating fan blades in a desperate attempt to find some tranquility.

***

Finally dressed in the light gray cotton pajama pants Jongin had lent him, Kyungsoo breathes a sigh of relief to be fully clothed again. He lifts the hem of the shirt, presses his nose to the fabric and inhales. He knows it's irrational because it's a laundered shirt but he's still disappointed it doesn't smell of Jongin. He'd expected Jongin to smell like vanilla - like the bath liquid, but he hadn't. When Jongin had helped him out of the tub, Kyungsoo had smelt soap - not a fruity scent or a perfumed scent, just a clean, soapy scent. And then there was the other scent - the one that was male and purely Jongin's. As reluctant as he is to admit it, Kyungsoo wants to get up close enough to Jongin to experience that wonderful scent again. 

But for now, it's time to leave the temporary haven of the bathroom and Kyungsoo walks out a little nervously. He tells himself it's perfectly natural to feel nervous about seeing someone who's possibly seen him . Who knew how much Jongin had seen when he first walked into the bathroom - even though he'd been a perfect gentleman the whole time he was in there. He'd been so careful to avoid looking at Kyungsoo's body directly. A small part of Kyungsoo almost wishes he had.

"Hi." Kyungsoo says in subdued tones as he walks over to the living room. Jongin, who's reclining, says hey before sitting up. His shoulders look even broader now that he's wearing a close fitting white tank that exposes tanned, leanly muscled arms. Kyungsoo's mind is suddenly flooded with the vivid sense memory of the bare skin of Jongin's arms pressing against his own as the man had lifted him up minutes ago, and he has to force himself to tuck those images away.

"So I just wanted to thank you ... Y'know, for helping me." Kyungsoo said awkwardly before sitting down on one of the two armchairs in the room.

"It's nothing." Jongin's voice was quiet and unconcerned.

"It's not nothing. I mean this is Vista - I live in this area too. I know most people would have walked by and pretended not to see me lying there. I mean everyone keeps their head down here and walks away. So thanks, Jongin, for not walking away."

"I couldn't just leave you there." 

"I want to compensate you for your help." Kyungsoo's words were formal and more than a little stiff.

"No! I mean no, that's not necessary. I don't expect anything. I was just helping you because you needed help. I don't want a reward. Just ... no, Kyungsoo." His voice is unyielding and he looks almost insulted.

"Not a reward. A favor for a favor. I can't not do something in return. It would be wrong and I won't have any peace of mind if I feel like I owe you something."

"You don't owe me anything!" Jongin says loudly.

"I don't care what you say. As far as I'm concerned, you helped me when you didn't have to so it's on my conscience to do something for you in return. It's a debt of honor."

"Nobody actually says things like that in real life." 

"I don't give a about nobody! Tell me what I can do for you. It won't involve money because I have none. But you have to let me do something for you - who knows how long I could have been on that sidewalk? Someone could have taken me somewhere and harvested my organs!"

"That's a bit melodramatic." Jongin looks and sounds amused.

"But perfectly plausible." Kyungsoo glared intensely at him, "I could clean your apartment for a month. I could walk your dog if you have one."

"Gambit wouldn't be impressed if I had a dog."

"Who's Gambit?"

"My overfed cat."

"You have a cat? I didn't see any cat?"

"He's probably in the laundry room. He likes sleeping in there. He'll be out soon."

"Okay no dogs. I could do your laundry for you? Your ironing? Come on, Jongin."

"Okay, fine. If you're not going to give up on this dumb idea, you can read me a book."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, I'm not. I ... words don't like me. So I have a hard time getting through even one book. And audiobooks are expensive and there's usually a long queue at the library for popular ones."

"What do you mean by words don't like you?"

"My grandmother calls it word blindness." He shrugs, "I'm dyslexic, Kyungsoo. I can read, it's just a real struggle for me. Finishing one book usually takes me months. So if you really want to do something for me, read me one book and we'll call it even." Jongin doesn't look embarrassed but he seems a little edgy - like the admission hadn't come easily for him.

"All right." Kyungsoo says thoughtfully. Of all the things he's been expecting, reading a book to Jongin hasn't been one of them. He's curious but decides not to ask Jongin about the dyslexia. For now.

"Do you have a book in mind or do you want to think about it?"

"I bought a book a few weeks ago but I haven't started on it. Maybe that one."

"What's it called?"

"It's a cyberpunk novel. Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson."

"I've ... never read a sci-fi novel before." 

"Will that be a problem?"

"No," Kyungsoo laughs and it's a short, effervescent sound, "I usually read literary novels - I'm a lit major at Ithaca College. This will be a first for me. I'm looking forward to it."

Jongin gives him a sharp look but says nothing.

"Do you want to start tonight? I could read a few pages."

"You are concussed! No, we are not starting tonight."

"There's nothing wrong with my head!" Kyungsoo protested.

"You've got an egg-shaped bump on your head. You are not reading anything tonight." Jongin says dismissively.

"I'm fine!" Kyungsoo says hotly.

"You need to sleep!" Jongin yells.

"I don't!" 

"Of course you do!"

"I. Am. Fine." Kyungsoo bites out in what he hopes is a calm voice.

"Whatever. But we are not reading Snow Crash tonight."

"But I will read it to you. The reading is non-negotiable because I could be dead in a ditch if you hadn't helped me. How about Wednesday and Friday nights? Those are the nights I can come over to read." Kyungsoo says adamantly and Jongin finally nods in assent. 

"It's non-negotiable, I get it. But you need to rest now, Kyungsoo. You look pale. Are you dizzy? Do you have a headache?"

"Headache. I do have a headache." Kyungsoo admits and Jongin makes him take paracetamol and a glass of water before forcing him to climb into bed. Jongin carefully spreads a thin blanket over his body and Kyungsoo can't help but stare at the other man's elegantly formed collarbones.

"I'll have to come in every couple of hours or so. To make sure you're okay. That you haven't vomited. And I'll probably wake you up to make sure you haven't lost consciousness or anything. I don't want you to freak out okay?"

"Okay."

"There's a glass of water on the table here if you need a drink." Jongin's large palm rests briefly on Kyungsoo's forehead and he has to resist the urge to shut his eyelids in response to his warm, gentle touch. "No fever. I'm going to leave the door open so I can hear you if you call. Sleep, okay?"

"Okay. And Jongin?" Kyungsoo calls softly and Jongin stops in the doorway and turns around. It's dark in the bedroom so the light from the living room throws Jongin into partial silhouette, and Kyungsoo can't see his face. 

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"It's nothing."

"Not to me."

"Sleep." Jongin says one last time before leaving.

***

Jongin sits down, rests his right elbow on his knee and his forehead on his open palm. Kyungsoo reading an entire novel to him. He isn't sure if he'll survive the experience. What little he's heard of his husky voice has already wreaked havoc with his senses and Jongin doesn't want havoc in his life. But Kyungsoo is like a force of nature; Jongin has only known him for several hours and already he can't resist his demands. He should just tell Kyungsoo that there will be no debt of honor and no reading sessions, but the truth is ... he wants to see Kyungsoo again. He wants to see his earnestly intense eyes again. To feel the short heated blasts of his temper. To hear that deep, bitter chocolate voice again. He doesn't want this chance encounter between them to end the next day - no matter how much he wants to deny it. 

He sets the alarm on his phone for two hours' time and tucks his spare pillow under his cheek. It's going to be a long night ...

***

His eyes squinting at the golden rectangle of light which is the bedroom doorway, Kyungsoo wonders if Jongin is sleeping or just lying down, staring at the ceiling fan like he'd done earlier. Kyungsoo prides himself on being perceptive but he's never met anyone so stoic and impossible to read. He wonders what Jongin thinks and dreams about. He wonders if there's anyone special in his life. If there is, he sees no traces of it in Jongin's tiny, one-bedroom apartment with its very masculine, spartan decor. There are no photos in the living room or bedroom and there are no plants or knick knacks or anything of a personal nature. It's not a cosy apartment and he has no inkling of what Jongin is like from examining his surroundings. Surprisingly, he has a double bed instead of a single bed as Kyungsoo had expected - a single would have been more in keeping with the minimalist approach which seems to govern the rest of Jongin's home. The sheets are a neutral shade of stone and Kyungsoo turns his cheek, and his senses are filled with the scent of soap and Jongin and his mind and body begin to relax. He wonders why Jongin has left him the pillow he sleeps on - whatever the reason may be though, Kyungsoo is glad for it as he snuggles closer and drifts into a deep sleep.

Saturday

"It's mushroom." Jongin says, fatigue clinging to his voice, as he places the cerulean blue dish in front of Kyungsoo - it's the most colorful thing he's seen in the colorless apartment. The succulent omelette smells divine as it puffs out ephemeral wisps of steam that uncurl and float upwards. Kyungsoo watches Jongin as he moves tiredly around the kitchen. There are plum-hued shadows beneath his eyes and Kyungsoo is wracked with guilt because Jongin had come into the room to wake him five times during the night. Kyungsoo's always been a light sleeper so he'd woken up almost immediately each time Jongin had sat down on the edge of the bed.

His eyes had been closed but he'd been fully aware each time Jongin placed his fingers lightly across his forehead. He'd been aware each time he'd woken him, "Kyungsoo, can you open your eyes?" And that was Kyungsoo's cue to slowly unshield his eyelids like he wasn't already awake. Then Jongin had asked the same questions each time, "Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt?" Kyungsoo's answer was always "my head hurts a little." Then Jongin had asked if he wanted paracetamol and Kyungsoo had refused each time - although he had taken long sips of water at Jongin's insistence. Finally, Jongin had covered Kyungsoo with a thin, summer blanket and told him to go back to sleep before leaving quietly. 

The final time Jongin had come in had deviated slightly from the other times though. Before he'd woken Kyungsoo up that fifth time, Jongin's fingers had lingered on his right temple before brushing the straight, black hair off his forehead. And Kyungsoo had had to fight the urge to place his hand over Jongin's. But the moment had passed as Jongin called him awake after that brief hesitation.

"It's delicious." Kyungsoo says as the flavors dissolve and pop on his tongue.

"It's edible." Jongin says indifferently as he sits down after serving up his own omelette.

Before Kyungsoo can protest, there's a loud meow as a large gray tabby saunters into the kitchen. Its coat looks healthy and luxuriant and it radiates a confident aura of proprietorship. Instinctively, Kyungsoo knows that this cat is the object of Jongin's affection. It looks well cared for and contented and Kyungsoo isn't at all surprised. Jongin might have been mostly gruff and uncommunicative with Kyungsoo but he has done nothing but tend to his needs for the past 16 hours. The cat gives Kyungsoo a wary but mostly imperious look before walking over to his master.

"I presume this is Gambit." Kyungsoo says speculatively as the cat rubs its body affectionately against Jongin's bare legs. An indulgent smile appears on Jongin's face as he bends down to pet Gambit, it gently under its chin and behind the ears. Gambit's head pushes against Jongin's hand like the cat wants more love from its master and Jongin pampers it with more petting.

"Gambit's an unusual name for a cat." 

"I named him after Gambit of The X-Men. I ... read a lot of comics and manga. Less words to deal with." He explains matter-of-factly. And Kyungsoo makes notes in his head that Gambit is male, and that Jongin likes comics.

"I don't know much about The X-Men."

"Gambit is a Cajun who's a former thief. He's a mutant who can create and control kinetic energy and he sometimes uses that power to blow things up. And he's a bit of a wiseass. He's kind of gray: not perfectly good like Cyclops or perfectly tortured like Wolverine. Gambit's somewhere in between - not quite white and not quite black. I like that he has flaws."

"So your cat Gambit - is he like his namesake?"

"Well, he can't blow up but he's definitely a wiseass." Jongin says before the cat some more. Then Jongin gets up and goes to wash his hands while Gambit stares at Kyungsoo. It's like he's assessing Kyungsoo and isn't quite sure what to make of him. Feeling a lot like he's not met the cat's standards, Kyungsoo gives Gambit an awkward smile while the cat stares back at him with distrust.

"Did you just smile at my cat?" There's a hint of amusement in Jongin's husky voice that does things to Kyungsoo's equilibrium.

"It's like he expects it." Kyungsoo says defensively. 

"He doesn't. He just needs time to warm up to people." 

"Just like his owner." Kyungsoo mutters under his breath as he takes a forkful of egg.

"Pardon?"

"NOTHING. I was just saying this omelette is delicious."

Jongin looks skeptical but begins eating his breakfast. They discuss how they'll get Kyungsoo home because Jongin won't hear of him making his own way home. Concussions require 48 hours of observation so when he discovers that Kyungsoo will be returning to an empty apartment, he vetoes it instantly. Kyungsoo argues that Jongdae will be back the day after and Jongin counters that he'll bring Kyungsoo back after Jongdae returns. Or Kyungsoo can get Jongdae to pick him up from here on his way home - that would work too. Jongin is unbending, however, about not allowing Kyungsoo to be home alone.

"I'm 21 years old! I'm old enough to spend the night alone for 's sake!"

"Say whatever you want, 48 hours is 48 hours so you can either stay here or I'll stay at your place but what you're definitely not doing is staying on your own."

"We barely know each other? You're not responsible for me."

"I became responsible for you the second I chose not to walk away." Jongin says quietly and with that statement, all the fight leaves Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo spends most the day lying down, resting and watching TV while Jongin does some ironing, makes lunch (pastrami on rye), and cleans the apartment. And in between, they have brief stretches of conversation where they glean small snapshots of each other's lives. Kyungsoo tells Jongin he's a final year English student while Jongin mumbles something about having worked at Mitsuwa since he was 18. When Kyungsoo asks him (insensitively) why he isn't at college, Jongin is reticent for half a minute before admitting that there hadn't been a choice - that his parents had died in an accident when he was in high school and there just hadn't been any money for college. It wasn't like he was the school valedictorian or an MVP so there had been no scholarships in the pipeline. In the end, Jongin had just settled for getting a job at the factory and slowly working his way up to shift supervisor.

"But why a factory?"

"The factory is perfect because they don't expect me to read or write much. Words stress me out. I think ... even if I'd had the chance to go to college, I wouldn't have gone."

"It's kind of ironic that I'm majoring in English and that's all about words." Kyungsoo thinks aloud and looks up at Jongin sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Jongin, I didn't mean anything by that."

"I know. You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault you don't have reading issues. You can share them with me. The words, I mean. You can share them with me." Jongin's expression is difficult to decipher but he doesn't look upset at least, and Kyungsoo takes it as a good sign. He wonders if Jongin is talking about him reading Snow Crash to him or whether he means something else entirely.

"I will." Kyungsoo says and their eyes meet across the table and for just a few moments, neither looks away. Trapped hummingbird wings flutter in Kyungsoo's chest, and he continues to stare at Jongin's handsome face and straight, dark hair long after Jongin has turned away.

***
 
Saturday is virtually as hot as Friday had been, but it's mostly balmy in Jongin's apartment as the ceiling fan moves the warm air around, and the early evening breeze teasingly enters the sitting room through open windows, leaving the curtains billowing in its wake. Kyungsoo had tried earlier to convince Jongin to let him help around the house and he had brushed him off - telling Kyungsoo he needed to rest as much as he could. But Kyungsoo's been resting all day while Jongin looks like he's wilting from fatigue. The sense of guilt at being the source of Jongin's exhaustion is eating away at Kyungsoo and it's made worse by the fact that Jongin stubbornly refuses his help and doggedly goes about his chores solo.

On a more positive note, Kyungsoo is happy that he's a lot more mobile today and he manages to shower on his own and even wash his hair. There's only a very muted throbbing in his head now where the bruise is and he's so glad to just be clean from head to toe again. He walks out of the bathroom dressed in Jongin's shorts and t-shirt. They look ridiculously large on him but for some reason, Kyungsoo likes feeling swamped in the other man's clothing. Ears growing hot, he tries not to think at all about the fact that he's also wearing borrowed cotton boxers. His eyes scan the living room in search of now familiar dusky skin and sleepy eyes and he finds Jongin lying on his belly on the sofa. Limbs sprawled untidily across the navy blue fabric, his right hand is curled up and almost in contact with the wooden floor as his right arm hangs off the edge of the sofa. Strands of fine, mocha brown hair fall softly across his forehead, and beneath the delicate skin of shuttered eyelids, lush eyelashes fan the tops of his cheeks. His mouth forms a slight pout which makes him look three parts innocent child and one part petulant adult male, and Kyungsoo's fingers ache to trace the contours of those sensual lips.

He looks like an angel. A cinnamon-dusted angel, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, then scolds himself for being fanciful even as he finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the sleeping Jongin. Unable to resist the gravitational pull of the other man, Kyungsoo moves closer until he can hear Jongin's steady, sleep breathing sounds - they make him feel safe, so unbelievably safe. Suddenly, Kyungsoo feels really tired himself and he sits on the floor and leans back against the sofa. He isn't touching Jongin at all, he doesn't dare, but just being near him gives him comfort. So even though the skin over his shoulder blades hurt a little when they press against the sofa, Kyungsoo ignores the pain and he has just enough time to ask himself what the hell he's doing before his body surrenders to slumber.

***

Shadows are draped all over the apartment when Jongin finally opens his eyes. He squints at the clock and the skinny black hands tell him it's 6.50pm; he'd slept for more than an hour! Jongin curses under his breath as he'd meant to get started on dinner at 6.00pm. He detects a sudden movement in his peripheral vision and that's when he sees Kyungsoo sitting on the ground in front of him, rousing slowly.

"You're awake." Kyungsoo remarks unnecessarily as he rubs the sleep from his eyes like a small child would do.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"I ... I don't know." Kyungsoo answers but what Jongin sees on his face looks more like embarrassment than confusion. Why had he fallen asleep sitting on the floor when he could have used the armchair or Jongin's far more comfortable bed?

"Do the cuts hurt? I'll put some antiseptic cream on them." Before he's aware of what he's doing, Jongin's hand is resting gently on Kyungsoo's upper back. Once he realizes though, he withdraws it quickly and hopes the other man doesn't notice.

"They only hurt a little." Kyungsoo admits, turning to look at him and Jongin nods.

"I'll be right back." 

Later, Kyungsoo sits, quiet and shirtless as Jongin squeezes some antiseptic cream onto a cotton bud. The expanse of milky smooth skin is distracting and Jongin hopes Kyungsoo doesn't notice how unsteady his hand is as he daubs the cream onto the various scratch sites on Kyungsoo's body. The urge to touch is so strong that when he's done, Jongin hastily walks away, away from Kyungsoo and away from temptation.

***

"I'll take the sofa tonight." Kyungsoo says stubbornly.

"No."

"Then I'll sleep on one of the chairs."

"No."

"I'll sleep where I want!" Kyungsoo yells.

"You will sleep on the bed!"

"No! I already deprived you of your bed for one night! I am not doing it a second night running."

"You are clearly still concussed because you're being an idiot!"

"I am not concussed!" Kyungsoo says belligerently.

"CLEARLY YOU ARE. YOU ARE SLEEPING ON THE BED." Jongin looks furious and Kyungsoo can't help thinking that he looks even more compellingly attractive now that his features are suffused with irritation.

"I AM NOT!"

"You will sleep on the bed if I have to hog tie you to the frame." His tones are menacing but all Kyungsoo does is snort.

"I will sleep on the bed if you take the other side! There's enough room for us both. I don't see why you have to sleep on an uncomfortable sofa just because I hit my head."

"The sofa is perfectly comfortable!" Frustration and fury snap in Jongin's eyes as he becomes increasingly aware that Kyungsoo is not going to relent.

"That's bull. You can yell all you ing want. I am not sleeping on that bed if you don't do the same."

"You are an ."

"I am not just an . I am a stubborn . You've never met anyone as stubborn as me and I am telling you I am not sleeping on that bed by myself."

"FINE."

"Fine I'm a stubborn or fine, you'll take the bed too?" Kyungsoo eyed Jongin suspiciously.

"BOTH!" Jongin glares.

"GOOD!" Kyungsoo shouts triumphantly.

Jongin can't even remember the last time he raised his voice at anyone. Even when he's had to deal with workers who messed up badly at the factory, he's never lost his cool. What is it about Kyungsoo that keeps stoking and kindling the dying embers of his soul? What is it about Kyungsoo that messes him up so badly?

***

It's too hot for blankets and there's no air conditioning in the apartment; Jongin only has ceiling fans. So they're both lying in bed in shorts - Kyungsoo in a short sleeved navy blue tee and Jongin in a gray tank. Three inches of space separate their bodies and their eyes look determinedly up at the ceiling because that's so much less awkward than looking at each other.

"How old are you?" Kyungsoo asks suddenly. They've been chatting in the dark for half an hour and it's just occurred to Kyungsoo that he doesn't know how old Jongin is. He looks about twenty-five years old to Kyungsoo.

"Twenty-two."

"You're only one year older than me? What?! How?" Kyungsoo does a miserable job of concealing his shock and Jongin gives a self deprecating laugh.

"Is that your really subtle and smooth way of telling me I look really old?"

"No! That's not what I meant! I mean ... I think you look older than me but you don't look old. Plus the fact that you have your own apartment and you're so mature? I just expected you to be older."

"Well, I've had to be a grown up since I was 17. I guess that ages you."

"True." Kyungsoo nods slowly, a slow wave of melancholy lapping at the edges of his heart as he thinks of Jongin fending for himself all these years. Rattled by his emotional reaction, Kyungsoo quickly changes the serious tone the conversation has taken by asking Jongin where he went to school. To his relief they begin swapping stories about they got up to in high school and they finish off with where they see themselves being ten years from now. Kyungsoo says his heart sees himself being a writer ten years from now but his head tells him he'll probably end up being a high school English teacher who has to field smart remarks from kids with attitude on a daily basis. Jongin smiles a little at this mental image then he goes very quiet.

"Jongin? It's ten years from now, what are you doing?"

"I'll probably still be at that factory." He gives a hollow laugh, "But I hope I'll get to travel from time to time."

"Which place would you like to see more than any other?"

"Tokyo."

They talk about why Tokyo is Jongin's dream destination, then they commiserate over how living in the Vista area kinda . Somewhere between not feeling safe and neighbors being ing noisy, the two men fall asleep - arms side by side and fingers almost touching ...

***

Sunday

As Jongin awakens, he feels something warm and heavy resting on his chest which isn't his spare pillow. Slightly coarse black hair tickles his jaw and he can smell the tangy sweet scent of his pear shampoo. Kyungsoo's right arm is thrown across his waist and his palm rests right over his sternum, just next to his heart. Meanwhile, his cheek is pressed snug against Jongin's chest, right over his heart, while his right leg straddles Jongin's legs. He's never shared a bed with anyone, never had anyone physically close to him in this way and Jongin knows he should untangle himself from Kyungsoo's hold, but the truth is he doesn't want to. Kyungsoo's palm isn't lying over Jongin's heart so why does it feel like his hand is curled around it? Sighing, Jongin closes his eyes and wraps his arm lightly around Kyungsoo's lower back. He doesn't want to think anymore. He just wants to feel.

***

Blearily, Kyungsoo tries to shake off the blanket of sleep enveloping him, and that's when he hears and feels it. The heartbeat. And the hard warmth beneath his cheek. It's no soft, inanimate pillow he's lying on, it's Jongin's chest. And it's Jongin's arm resting on his back. Kyungsoo is overcome by a brief moment of mortification that he's entwined himself all over Jongin but it soon passes as he realizes that this is possibly the only chance he'll ever get to be this close to Jongin. He knows he should untangle his limbs but he doesn't want to give up this warmth and security just yet. So he closes his eyes, snuggles closer and goes back to sleep.

*** 

After the initial awkwardness of waking up in each other's arms, Jongin and Kyungsoo spend the rest of Sunday companionably: watching TV, taking a 20-minute walk to Koreatown for some mul-naengmyun because cold noodles are perfect for the sultry weather, then returning to the apartment to hang out for the rest of the day. Jongin steadfastly refuses to let Kyungsoo start on the reading because I don't want you straining your concussed brain which leads to a lot of defensive protests from Kyungsoo about not being concussed. He tries to make advances to Jongin's gray tabby and gets nothing more than a look that's disinterested, bordering on disdainful even. Kyungsoo despairs of ever gaining Gambit's acceptance and Jongin chuckles, "He just needs time." And Kyungsoo feels like Jongin is referring not just to his cat, but to himself as well; and he wonders if Jongin is warming up to him already. 

At 8.30pm, Jongdae calls Jongin's phone to say he'll be in their vicinity in ten minutes' time (they'd arranged for him to pick Kyungsoo on his way home), and they both fall silent after Kyungsoo ends the call. Jongin passes him a plain paper bag with his freshly laundered jeans, underwear and torn linen shirt.

"I should change into my own clothes." Kyungsoo says numbly.

"Don't. There's no need. You can bring my clothes back on Wednesday." 

"Wednesday." Kyungsoo gives a weak smile and tries not to feel ... bereft.

Jongin walks with Kyungsoo to the front of his building and he stays with him till Jongdae's red Honda Jazz appears. Kyungsoo introduces the two men to each other and Jongdae offers an ebullient hey which Jongin replies with a reserved hello.

"Thank you, Jongin. For everything." Kyungsoo shakes his hand in an oddly formal gesture. They'd never met properly in the first place so it's actually the first handshake they've exchanged. It seems strange to be shaking hands after what they've been through but it's still nice having Kyungsoo's much smaller hand in his.

"Keep your wounds dry." Jongin says. He's never been good with this sort of thing: saying hellos, goodbyes and thank yous. They're not part of his skill set, and he refuses to say goodbye to Kyungsoo because it reeks of a finality he doesn't like. "I'll see you on Wednesday," Jongin says instead and when Kyungsoo gives a beaming smile in response, his heart soars just the tiniest fraction.

"Wednesday." Kyungsoo nods, still smiling. Then he lowers himself onto the front passenger seat and Jongin pushes the door shut. Kyungsoo and Jongin stare at each other through the window, unspeaking, as the car begins moving. He stays rooted to the spot, watching as the car reaches the end of the street. As the red brake lights come on, Kyungsoo sticks his head out and waves, and then the car is gone. 

Back in the apartment, it's silent. So silent. Even with the neighbor's TV blaring next door and a baby crying one floor up, Jongin's apartment feels oppressively quiet. Jongin stands by the window and stares out into the night. Something warm and furry rubs its length against his bare legs and Jongin bends down to pick up Gambit.

"It's just us now, boy. Just us."

***

As Kyungsoo lies restlessly in his single bed that night, he can't help wondering if Jongin, too, is lying in bed. He turns on his side so his cheek is resting on his pillow. He inhales ... and doesn't smell Jongin or hear him breathe, and there's the tiniest pang in his chest cavity that won't go away.

***

There's so much more room on Jongin's bed now that he has it all to himself. There's so much more room and he should be relieved to have his personal space back but all he feels is a sense of something (or someone) missing. Gambit is dozing in his basket by the window so it's not like he has no company. As much as he hates to admit it, Jongin wishes he didn't have all this space again. He wishes his body were crammed within one narrow half of the double bed. He wishes he were confined if it meant that Kyungsoo would be lying just inches away. He doesn't want or need any complications in his life but his heart had stopped listening to him the moment he lifted Kyungsoo onto his back along Vista Street. 

He turns on his side so his cheek is resting on his pillow. He inhales ... and smells Kyungsoo but he can't hear him breathe, and there's the tiniest pang in his chest cavity that won't go away.

***

Over the next few days, Kyungsoo manages to limit himself to texting Jongin only once - when he gives him his phone number after buying a new phone to replace his stolen one. Jongin replies about ten minutes later, asking if his wounds are healing okay and reminding him that dinner is at 7.30pm on Wednesday.

He could call Jongin now but what would he say? That he's calling because he wants to hear his voice?  He'll see Jongin on Wednesday night, he tells himself. Surely he can last two days? He wonders what Jongin will cook for dinner because that had been one of his conditions - that Kyungsoo would have dinner at his place on reading nights and Kyungsoo had agreed. He hadn't even bothered to argue with Jongin that he was perfectly capable of feeding himself. Kyungsoo hadn't made any fuss because eating with Jongin meant spending extra time with Jongin.

***

Jongin stares at the words and he has to reread them a couple of times before he's absolutely sure what they all mean: Hi Jongin! It's Kyungsoo. This is my phone number - just in case. Tell Gambit I miss his glare. I guess I'll see you on Wednesday night. And Jongin has a moment where he's thoroughly disgusted with himself because he's actually jealous of his cat - because Kyungsoo misses his cat's glare but says nothing of missing Jongin. And this upsets Jongin because he's missed Kyungsoo. Irrationally. There's absolutely no reason to feel this way because Kyungsoo was only here for two days and two nights. Jongin's always led a quiet life and he's used to living alone and being alone so it doesn't make any sense at all that Kyungsoo's departure has left such a void in his life. It doesn't make any sense at all and yet, the void exists anyway.

He could call Kyungsoo now that he has his phone number but what would he say? That he's calling because he wants to hear his voice? No, he'll just have to wait till Wednesday night and Jongin tells himself that he will make it through the next two days.

Wednesday

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. The uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest...

Jongin settles back against the sofa cushions, closes his eyes and lets Kyungsoo's voice wash over him. It's incredibly low and husky and it picks and weaves its way through Jongin's mind, building images with words, recreating the lightning fast, surreal world of the Metaverse. It's so good to just have the story unfold and flow, to just listen to the words and sentences without trying to figure out whether he's seeing the letters b or d or p or q because sometimes these alphabets all look the same to him. But more than the words and the story, it is Kyungsoo's voice that makes the difference - Kyungsoo's pacing and enunciation and the fact that he takes the trouble to emote and give the dialogue life, the fact that he gives each character a different voice and vibe.

And more than the words and the story and the voice, Jongin reluctantly admits that it's just Kyungsoo that makes the difference.

***

Over the next two weeks, the two men dance around their intense attraction for each other - irresistibly drawn to each other but incredibly wary of making any move that might jeopardize the reading sessions and the time they spend together. They enjoy their meals together and Kyungsoo reads to Jongin for one and a half hours each time with short breaks in between to drink water and rest his voice. And afterwards, Jongin walks Kyungsoo home. There had been a token protest on the first Wednesday and Jongin had countered sarcastically that Kyungsoo's stubborn brain couldn't take another knock to the head. Kyungsoo had punched him in the arm really hard but he'd suffered being escorted home. On their walks back to Kyungsoo's place, they talk about the mundane things in their lives and they talk about Snow Crash and how it's both innovative and confusing. They talk about Gambit and how he's slowly thawing towards Kyungsoo. What they never do is touch each other. But the physical attraction simmers under the surface and both men constantly feel the threads of tension pulling at them even if they won't allow themselves to act on it.

The day after the first reading, Kyungsoo walks past a quaint little flower shop and there are tiny pots of cacti arranged on racks outside the store, in front of the display window. Kyungsoo can't help grinning as he thinks of Jongin being a lot like a cactus - all prickly on the outside, keeping the world at bay. He doesn't even hesitate as he walks into the store and informs the shopgirl that he wants to buy a potted cactus. When he shows up on Jongin's doorstep with his "gift", Jongin eyes it warily and asks him if he's implying he's a cactus.

"See? I knew it'd be the perfect present for you. You are the very definition of prickly." 

"I don't need any presents." Jongin says stubbornly. 

"You're getting one, anyway. You only have to water it once a week so it's really low maintenance."

"Fine." Jongin says gruffly and takes the plant from Kyungsoo and places it near the living room window. 

Then it's time to eat and Kyungsoo tells himself not to get excited that there's fried japchae on the dining table. Surely Jongin hadn't cooked the sweet potato noodles because Kyungsoo had mentioned on Wednesday night that fried japchae was one of his favorite dishes? But he could pretend that Jongin had cooked it especially for him, Kyungsoo told himself as he picked up some of the transparent noodles with his chopsticks. He could pretend.

Friday

It's their sixth reading session and three weeks since Jongin rescued Kyungsoo from a dusty pavement. The rain is coming down in sheets outside the open window and both reader and listener are mesmerized by the hard rhythm of the falling drops of liquid. Compared to the wet symphony outside, Jongin's apartment is a dry, safe cocoon of perfectly enunciated words. Kyungsoo sits on the armchair next to the sofa like he always does, while Jongin reclines on the sofa with his eyes closed. 

All of a sudden, the rain gets heavier and Kyungsoo's voice can barely be heard over the roaring of raindrops ricocheting off the steel fire escape.

"We should stop." Jongin says.

"No." Kyungsoo gets up and settles himself on the ground beside the sofa. As he'd done that first weekend he'd stayed with Jongin, Kyungsoo leans back against the side of the sofa so his head is almost touching Jongin's arms; but the scabs and bruises on his back are long gone and there's no pain this time. He begins to read:

It's hard to see anything clearly, because Sushi K is jumping around down below them on the stage, the brilliant orange rays of his sunburst hairdo are sweeping back and forth across the embankment at a speed that seems to be supersonic, washing grainy, gritty light over the weeds and the rocks and throwing everything into weird, discolored, high-contrast freeze frames.

Kyungsoo pauses and turns to look at Jongin - he hasn't had a chance to look at him this closely since the weekend he'd stayed over. Jongin's eyes are closed as they always are when Kyungsoo reads to him and Jongin is so beautiful that Kyungsoo's chest hurts a little. Three weeks of pent-up longing finally prove too much for Kyungsoo's self control and he reaches his hand out to caress Jongin's chiseled cheek, just before he leans forwards and drops a kiss on the strong, sensual curve of Jongin's jawline. At the unexpected contact, Jongin's eyelids flicker open and he stares at Kyungsoo.

"Kyungsoo?" He asks and as the enormity of what he shouldn't have done sinks in, Kyungsoo's immediate instinct is to flee. Dropping the book on the floor, Kyungsoo stands up abruptly and runs to the front door of the apartment and runs out, leaving the door open.

"Kyungsoo, wait!" Jongin shouts but Kyungsoo doesn't heed his pleas. All he hears is the fevered pounding of his own feet on first the corridor, and then the stairs.

He bursts out the front entrance and onto the street and begins hurtling through the darkness as the rain knives through the night air and stains his clothes. Soaked through in minutes, the fabric clings suffocatingly to Kyungsoo's body.  He's so busy berating himself for kissing Jongin and wrecking everything that he doesn't even notice the footsteps coming up from behind until strong arms grab him from behind and Kyungsoo thrashes, trying to break out of his assailant's hold.

"Let me go! I don't have anything on me! I have no money!" 

"Kyungsoo, stop, please. It's just me."

"I ... Jongin? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to -" Both shocked and relieved, Kyungsoo turns and is suddenly aware of the fact that Jongin hasn't released his arms from Kyungsoo's waist and that their faces are close, so close. Too close, Kyungsoo thinks as he shuts his eyes because Jongin's beauty is too much for him to bear. So he isn't looking when Jongin moves closer still and Kyungsoo isn't expecting it when Jongin's lips slide over his, and his tongue traces the plush edges of his rain-slick lips. Kyungsoo's lips part, and he moans softly as Jongin's tongue enters and glides against his tongue. He's wanted this for so long that it's almost too much. His skin is alive with sensation as Jongin's hands move over his face and neck, as his mouth nibbles hungrily on his earlobe and beads of rain water off his collarbones. Jongin says, "Don't go," and just embraces him tightly, and for a few tense seconds, all they do is cling to each other while needles of rain fall on their faces and bodies and bounce off the sidewalk.

"Jongin, I-"

"Shhh ..." Jongin says as his palms cup Kyungsoo's jaw and he bends his head to kiss Kyungsoo again. Their kiss deepens as the rain falls down hard on their shoulders and arms, and flattens their hair to their scalps. Jongin's hand curls around Kyungsoo's nape as their tongues tangle and their breaths stutter in loud gasps of pleasure. Heat pools and uncoils low in Kyungsoo's stomach as Jongin's tongue explores his mouth and his teeth tug gently on Kyungsoo's bottom lip. Then his lips are traveling across the rain-wet skin of his cheeks, eyelids and finally Kyungsoo's forehead. Their hips and chests are pressed close through layers of dripping wet clothing and Kyungsoo feels like he's going to drown from all the sensations besieging his body right now.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo finally recovers enough to say something but before he has a chance to finish his sentence, two large circles of brilliantly flashing lights streak past and bicycle wheels cut through the puddles and splash cool rainwater on their legs. Shocked, they laugh as they move out of the way. Jongin grabs Kyungsoo's hand, "Let's go inside." He doesn't let go of Kyungsoo's hand all the way to the apartment and when they're finally back inside, he shuts and locks the door and gathers Kyungsoo into his arms and pulls him close. Jongin's rain-cool lips touch his forehead gently, but Kyungsoo's waited long enough and a breathy moan escapes his lips before he reaches up and they're kissing again. Jongin's tongue is hot and demanding as it explores the inside of Kyungsoo's mouth and it's sweet ... Jongin tastes so sweet. 

Their foreheads touch for a moment as they stop to catch a breath.

"We should shower and change into dry clothes." Jongin says in between kisses he's scattering across Kyungsoo's collarbones and neck.

"Soon, Jongin. But not now," he says as his hands slip under Jongin's drenched shirt and traverse the smooth expanse of his back.

"But we could catch a chill," Jongin reasons.

"Shhh." Now it's Kyungsoo's turn to shut him up with a kiss and an urgent hand to the crotch. Jongin tries to stifle his moan by burying his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's shoulder - his teeth marking that sensitive place where neck meets shoulder. Fingers moving shakily, Kyungsoo pulls at the elasticated waistband of his shorts with one hand while the other slips inside Jongin's boxers and slides over the smooth bare skin of his already erect . Jongin moans, hips bucking as he presses closer to Kyungsoo's hand, and nearer to his hips. Hurriedly, his hands peel Kyungsoo's t-shirt off, and then his own - dropping both in a sodden pile on the floor beside them. 

Their bare chests touch, dusky and pale pink s brushing against cool skin and the sensations shoot straight to Kyungsoo's groin at the contact. The tightening intensifies when Jongin fits his mouth over a pale pink and gently, his tongue circling the ally. Kyungsoo moans in ecstasy as Jongin the other and palms his crotch at the same time, and he knows it won't take very much now to push him over the edge. 

"Bed," Kyungsoo gasps and they somehow make their way to Jongin's room, leaving a trail of wet clothing behind them. It's Jongin who ends up on his back as Kyungsoo takes him in his mouth and him off, while Jongin moans and rocks his hips in time to the pace Kyungsoo sets. He reaches for Kyungsoo's and wraps his hand around it, and pulls and pulls and pulls again while Kyungsoo's lips and tongue continue to work over him. Their bodies move back and forth faster and faster and Jongin's hand pumps quicker and quicker, and it's not long before the room is filled with the sounds of the two men coming, and Kyungsoo is thankful for the rain because it's almost louder than they are.

It takes a few minutes but their heartbeats eventually calm, and Jongin kisses him and holds him close. Kyungsoo settles himself comfortably against the contours of Jongin's long, lean body, and sighs contentedly as he nuzzles Jongin's neck. The rhythmic falling of the rain eventually lulls them to sleep, as they lie happily ensconced in each other's arms.

***

"Do you remember that time you asked me what I saw myself doing in ten years?" 

"Sure. You said you'd still be working at the factory and you'd travel when you could and you'd visit Tokyo." Kyungsoo says as he rests his chin on Jongin's chest. 

"Well, I didn't exactly tell you everything." Jongin says enigmatically.

"What didn't you tell me?"

"I saw us visiting Tokyo together."

"Is that all?" Kyungsoo tries to sound calm but the hummingbird wings in his chest are whirring so fast it's near impossible.

"We were holding hands." Jongin says simply as he takes Kyungsoo's hand in his and laces their fingers together.

"Is that all?" Kyungsoo asks again, his heart on tenterhooks.

"We were still in love." He's staring at their interlocked hands and avoiding Kyungsoo's eyes.

"Still in love? Are we in love now?" Kyungsoo inches closer so their noses are almost touching.

"You know I'm not good with words, Kyungsoo," 

"That's ok because I'm pretty good with words. I love you too, Jongin." Kyungsoo says just before he kisses him tenderly, and Jongin pulls him close and whispers the words I love you against his hair. As he relaxes into Jongin's embrace, Kyungsoo's fingers trace the flat planes of Jongin's stomach, and he loves the way his skin dips and his muscles ripple as they contract and move beneath Kyungsoo's fingertips.

"Stay," Jongin says suddenly.

"Do you mean stay the night?"

"No, I mean really stay, as in my apartment is too quiet when you're not around and my bed is too big for just me. Even Gambit gets cranky when you're not around." Jongin's fingers play with Kyungsoo's midnight dark hair.

"Are you asking me to move in?" Kyungsoo watches him, eyes burning with curiosity, excitement, hope.

"Yes, I'm asking you to move in."

"I'll have to think about it. We've only known each other for three weeks."

"If you need to think about it, I'm withdrawing the offer," Jongin snorts.

"Yes then. My answer is yes." Kyungsoo laughs, pressing his nose against Jongin's shoulder and breathing in that soapy male scent he's craved for weeks, and for the next long while, all they do is kiss and touch each other, and whisper not-words of love to each other.

Outside, the rain continues to pour but inside Jongin's apartment, it's a dry, warm cocoon ...