“ man, we have literally no food.”

            Kim Jongin’s entire head is inside the fridge, as though he thinks that if he stuffs his face in far enough, he might find a hitherto overlooked morsel buried in its deepest recesses. 

            Oh Sehun groans from his position on their dilapidated couch. Practice has pretty much destroyed his limbs today, and the thought of going out a restaurant or to get groceries makes him want to crawl under his bed and die.

            “Can we just order pizza or something? My shins feel like someone tried to hammer nails into them.”

            Jongin extricates himself from the refrigerator to smirk at his roommate.  “Sissy. It wasn’t that bad.”

            Sehun glowers. “You didn’t have to do that ing scissor kick sixty billion times.”

            “Fine, fine” Jongin raises his hands in defeat “We’ll get pizza… whiny baby.”

            Sehun is feeling a profound urge to clock the other boy in the face, but his shins really do hurt. So he settles for an even deeper glower.

            They became friends about a year and a half ago, when, after three weeks of being the only two freshmen to have made the cut for the university hip hop team and therefore having no one else to talk to at practice, they discovered that they both watched bad medical dramas obsessively, and started doing it together.

It was about six months ago, at the start of their sophomore year, that they became roommates, sharing an apartment close to campus because, as Jongin had put it “The cost of residence halls is ing thievery.”

            It was about four months ago that Sehun had noticed with a detached, academic sort of interest, that Kim Jongin was rather an extraordinary specimen of humanity and that he, Sehun, had unexpectedly fallen mildly in love. There was something about the way the other boy had just barreled through Sehun’s pokerfaced apathy (read: debilitating shyness), the way he would always say “those pants look awful on you” when the pants looked awful, the way he smiled, so carelessly, that fascinated Sehun (the fact that his body was basically chiseled marble didn’t hurt either). About a week later, he had realized what an absolute catastrophe this was, and vowed that his ridiculous feelings would never see the light of day.

            Now, you would have been hard pressed to catch Oh Sehun having any kind of feeling at all (except maybe smugness when he beats Jongin at Call of Duty, which is all the time). Nevertheless, these days he lives in constant fear that one day, Jongin will discover the hideous truth, and proceed to laugh at him for being “the kind of sentimental bastard that actually falls in love.”

            Because that’s what Jongin would inevitably do.

            And after that, he would probably say something like “Sehun, we probably shouldn’t live together anymore. In fact, we probably shouldn’t even be friends anymore, because I don’t feel that way at all, so this is pretty ing awkward.”

            Because that’s what anyone would inevitably do.

            “Will you kill me if I get anchovies?” Jongin asks as he rummages around for a pizza menu in their pile of “might be useful one day” coupons.

            “I’ll kill you, then bring you back to life so I can kill you again. Anchovies on pizza is a crime against mankind.” Sehun responds coldly. “Just… just get something normal, please?”

            Jongin looks up at him.

            “Damn. You really must be tired. You said ‘please’…”

            Sehun’s begins to get up to smack the other boy, only to flop down again immediately as his legs wail in protest. He really can’t move, so he settles for throwing one of his shoes. Jongin dodges it easily, as irritation doesn’t improve Sehun’s aim, and he grins impishly, sticking out his tongue and doing a little dance.

            Sehun tries to ignore the fluttering feeling the sight of Jongin’s tongue produces in the pit of his stomach, and focus instead on what an annoying bastard the other boy is.

            “Jackass,” he mumbles.

            Baekhyun, who is the only other person in the world who knows the truth, likes to laugh behind his hands at the way Sehun overcompensates;

            “Being mean to him won’t make him less attractive.”

            “I know that!”

            “So why do you do it?”

            “The idiot deserves it.”

            “Riiiiight…”

            “Takes one to know one.” Jongin replies airily, going back to rummaging through the coupon pile. Sehun just lets out a long-suffering sigh and settles back on the couch to do some channel flipping.

            His life is too difficult.

            They hooked up once, during the first month of their acquaintance, when, at a particularly drunken party, Sehun had admitted in an inebriated slur he was gay and Jongin had smiled and replied in an equally inebriated slur; “I go on a case by case basis.” And then he had kissed Sehun, and Sehun had kissed back, and they had woken up in the morning with punishing headaches and clothes on the floor of Jongin’s room and not even enough memory of what they had done to know if they should do it again.

            They never did do it again.

            But, in these last few months, Sehun has been casually wishing they had --

            “Hey, by the way, Sehun, I accidentally spilled coffee on your math homework this morning.”

            “You WHAT?”

            “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll write it out for you again! But I don’t draw graphs as well as you do…”

            -- Except, of course, when he feels like breaking a few of Jongin’s teeth.

            Jongin finally finds the coupon he’s looking for, but the pizza winds up being so greasy they have to wipe it with paper towels before eating it. Even after this sponging treatment, Sehun is forced to eat his with a fork and knife, unable to stand the thought of getting the gunk under his fingernails.

            At this, Jongin smirks more smirks, and Sehun glowers more glowers, and many words are exchanged with regard to the difference between “clean freak” and “possessing a healthy concern for personal hygiene.” But at the least, Sehun avoids having to get off the couch, and he’s with Jongin, so it could be worse.

            It takes Sehun two days to recover the full use of his legs. But by that time, he has to go to practice again and the whole stupid cycle just repeats itself. He doesn’t know how long it’ll be before his muscles finally become accustomed to the grueling routine and stop making him feel like an invalid after every rehearsal.

            In the mean time, though, they keep going through the coupon pile. Sehun keeps throwing things because he can’t muster the energy to get off the damn couch, and Jongin keeps dodging and grinning infuriatingly. Sehun keeps experiencing inconvenient heart palpitations, and Jongin remains (mercifully) oblivious to them.

            “Hey Sehun” Jongin says around a mouthful oxtail soup, which is too salty, but still edible.

            “Hey Jongin” Sehun sips his broth gingerly. He hates salty food.

            “Can I borrow your snoopy shirt?”

            “No.”

            “Oh. Well. I wore it this morning, so sorry about that.

            “Hey Sehun” he says in between slurps of Jjajangmyun. Chinese takeout is  always good, because it’s never really good.

            “Mmph?” Sehun’s mouth is too full for him to form real words.

            “I’m gonna beat you at COD today.”

            “Yeah, right.”

            “Hey Sehun” he says over the top of his ramen cup (sometimes even takeout is too much hassle).

            “What?” Sehun’s distracted, trying to eat the too-hot noodles before they become soggy

            “I’m glad we live together.”

            “Me too.”

            After about three weeks of this, Sehun’s muscles finally decide that they’re tired of throwing tantrums and start allowing him to behave like a normal person again. As Jongin points out, the timing couldn’t have been better because “we’re totally about to run out of coupons so we need to go out and find more.”

            Of course, Sehun knows that Jongin doesn’t really give a crap about coupons,  he just likes walking around in the streets at night, because his mind works in unfathomable ways. But then again, who is Sehun to judge really because if he wasn’t so infatuated with his roommate, he’d be spending his life haunting coffee shops in search of his One True Love.

            But he is infatuated with his roommate, so he goes along with Jongin’s nomad behavior. Eating street food, trying on snapbacks, normal stuff. They talk about the studying they should be doing, but of course they never do it. Often, they meet up with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who are also chronic slackers. Occasionally, even the more responsible Kyungsoo will abandon his biology textbook to have dinner with them. It’s a pretty good life, all things considered; beer, friends, food, and the vast expanse of the world out there waiting for them.

            If only Sehun could get rid of the pesky knot that seems to inhabit his stomach whenever Jongin is within shouting distance. It’s really a problem for him, since Jongin is within shouting distance basically all the time.

            And Baekhyun’s constant

            “Sehunnie’s in loooove~! I’m gonna tell Jongin!”

            isn’t really helping.

            They’re all sitting around Sehun and Jongin’s coffee table, playing a stupid drinking game when it happens.

            Never Have I Ever is the kind of thing that is only ever Baekhyun’s idea. How he convinced the rest of them to play, none of them are quite sure, but at present, they’re all sitting with their right hands held up and shots of vodka in front of them. Jongin, Sehun and Baekhyun are down to one finger because, well, happens in life. Kyungsoo still has two fingers up.

            It’s Chanyeol’s turn, and he’s looking around with the kind of demonic thoughtfulness that can only mean he wants to destroy everyone else in one fell swoop. For all his sunny smile, drunk Chanyeol can be quite the cunning bastard.

            His eyes light up as he settles on something.

            “Never have I ever… eaten five hot dogs in one sitting.”

            There are sighs and muffled curses all around as Sehun, Kyungsoo and Jongin all put down a finger.

            “I cannot believe you would bring that up.” Kyungsoo is saying mutinously, “It was one ing time, and I only did it because I was wasted and Luhan and Jongdae said they’d give me 20 bucks.”

            Chanyeol grins wickedly. “Serves you right for believing a word those two say, Soo.”

            Kyungsoo only glowers. “You better watch your back Park Chanyeol. I’ll get you when you’re least expecting it.”

            “Now now,” Chanyeol pats the shorter boy’s hair, “Don’t be a sore loser. Take your shot like a good boy.”

            Kyungsoo downs the alcohol with a look that could wither an entire forest

            Baekhyun, whose dainty eating habits have once again saved the day, smiles smugly.

            “I think that makes you two the losers” he says, gesturing vaguely at Sehun and Jongin, who are sitting next to each other. “Punishment time!”

            “I refuse” says Jongin, though the vodka he’s just downed makes his words slightly blurry “to drink dish soap this time.”

            “And I refuse” says Sehun in an equally fuzzy tone “to let anyone cut my hair.”

            Sehun and Jongin tend to lose this game, no matter who they’re playing with, because they do a lot of stupid . And they do most of it together. They have suffered a variety of punishment over time, some more gruesome than others.

            “That’s fine.” Chanyeol shrugs. “You can just…” his head swings back and forth as he looks around for a suitable punishment, but before he can settle on something, Baekhyun’s eyes light up.

            “Kiss each other!” the shorter boy squeals triumphantly.

            If drunk Chanyeol is a cunning bastard, then drunk Baekhyun is just plain mean.

            Even in his judgment-impaired state, Sehun has the presence of mind to splutter excuses, but Jongin just shrugs.

            “Beats dish soap, I guess.”

            And then he grabs Sehun, and in his intoxication, he smashes their faces together with unnecessary force and Sehun is too busy seeing stars where Jongin’s forehead crashed into his own to notice whether or not they actually kiss.

            Baekhyun laughs maniacally, but when Sehun tries to hit him, he misses.

            Damned alcohol.

            The next day, Sehun has a goose egg, and Jongin isn’t even sorry.

            “Hey Sehun,” Jongin says through a mouthful of chicken leg (the fried chicken place proves to be the best of the coupon list, so they order from there a lot now)

            “Hey Jongin,” Sehun is occupied with coating his chicken in exactly the right amount of sauce.

            “Remember that time we got really faced and probably had but couldn’t remember anything about it?”

            “Yeah…” Sehun freezes, sauce packet still in hand, his mind is sending out a raging SOS. Does he know? What if he knows? Holyohmygo--

            “We should do that again, sometime.”

            Sehun’s alarm dissipates into a snort of derision. Typical Jongin. Talking about a drunken hookup with his best friend the way you would talk about a trip to the museum, or eating at a shabu place downtown. “Seriously?” he says. one eyebrow quirked up. “You want to experience that hangover again?”

            Jongin nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, well, no. We can probably leave out the getting hammered part. I keep thinking about it every time I see that bruise on your face.” He smiles slightly “You’re pretty hot, you know.”

            Sehun looks up at this.

            “You think I’m hot?”

            Jongin just shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

            Every now and then, Sehun will find that his mind has unexpectedly shut down for a while, and then, before long, he’s being haunted by the irate ghost of his dignity, because usually the things that come out of his stupid mouth in the interim have killed it dead.

            “We could try it right now.”

            Now is one such time.

           Probably his present brain dysfunction has something to do with the words “You’re pretty hot” coming out of Kim ing Jongin’s mouth.

            “Seriously?” Jongin is raising an eyebrow and the side of his mouth is curving up--

            Thankfully, Sehun’s mind finally makes it back to his body, and he engages in some high-intensity backpedalling.

            “No, of course not seriously . We’re in the middle of dinner.”As far as panicked excuses go, it’s a pretty solid one. Any one who spends more than a few days with Sehun knows that he takes dinner very, very seriously. “Besides,” he continues, his mind scrambling to recall what the normal reaction to a statement like that would be, “that’s a pathetic way to ask someone to sleep with you. How easy do you think I am?”

            Jongin shrugs and reaches out to tap Sehun’s chin playfully, still smiling.

“I dunno, Sehun-ah… I can’t tell when you’re joking because your face always looks the sa—“

            For a change Sehun is close enough that he does manage to smack the other boy, before they begin talking about TV again. But he’s not really thinking about it, because Kim Jongin thinks that he, Oh Sehun is hot, even when he’s sober.

            Which, as far as Sehun is concerned, is a pretty big deal.

            Baekhyun seems to think so too, because when Sehun tells him about it the next day, all he says is,

            “He literally asked you to jump him then and there and you just kept eating dinner?”

            And when he puts it like that, Sehun has a hard time not feeling the twinge of opportunity lost.

            But then he remembers that Jongin thinks they’re friends. And friends don’t jump friends in the middle of dinner.

            When he shares this logic with Baekhyun, the other boy just snorts and says “friends also don’t tell friends they’d like to ‘hook up again sometime.’”

            And that, too, is a fair point. One which Sehun continues to think about as he goes about his days. These consist primarily of dance, not studying, and throwing things at Jongin, who grins and dodges and sticks out his tongue.

            And Sehun is pretty sure that if he spends too much more time watching Jongin stick out his stupid, life-ruining tongue, his poor abused heart is going to give out on him.

            Which is probably why, about a week later, when Jongin is stepping out of the shower and not wearing even close to enough clothing it occurs to Sehun that it’s not just a fair point, it’s a really important point. One that may save him from premature death by heart failure.

            So he blurts out “Jongin, were you serious the other day?”

            Jongin just looks confused, “about what?”

            But Sehun finds that he can’t say it, because it’s too scary, so he stutters “The other day, when we were eating chicken...”

            Jongin rolls his eyes “Dude, we’ve eaten chicken like five times in the last week, what are you talking about?”

            Sehun’s stomach is pretending to be a trapeze artist, but this has gone on long enough and he doesn’t want to die young, so he take a deep breath and…

            “TheotherdaywhenyousaidyouthoughtIwashotandyouwantedtohookup”

            Jongin blinks. Twice.

            Sehun begins screaming curse words at himself for being so goddamned awkward. Why did he have to bring it up again? Things were going fine and Jongin was never going to find out and --

            Then Jongin says,

            “Well… yeah.”

            “Really?” Sehun is too shocked to think of anything else to say.

            Jongin shrugs. He’s looking at his feet, and Sehun might be imagining things but his cheeks do seem uncommonly red…

            “Yeah. I mean, if it’s too weird for you, that’s fine, but I was always kind of sad that we only did that the one time and I don’t even remember anything about it, because you’re exactly the kind of guy I’d want to be dating. And like, I didn’t know how to tell you without it being weird so I thought I’d just say that, which, in hind sight, was pretty stupid, but, like, there it is. Is that awkward? Because we’re best friends and we live together and stuff? I mean, of course it’s awkward but is it too –“

            “Dude, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

            Oh .

            Jongin just blinks again.

            Then he starts laughing.

            And Sehun, who was in the process of freaking the out at his stupid mouth that keeps saying stupid things, feels like dropping through the floor, right then and there.

            “Holy ” Jongin can barely get the words out, he’s laughing so hard.  Sehun, meanwhile, is beginning to wonder how difficult it would be to fit himself through their tiny 10^th story window and – “I can’t believe you’re the kind of sentimental bastard that actually falls in love!”

            Sehun knew Jongin would say that! Now back to the window –

            But then he’s distracted by lips pressed against his own.

            Lips.

            Lips?

            Lips?

            Sehun is still processing the fact that Kim Jongin is kissing him instead of running away from his declaration when the other boy pulls back to smile at him.

            “I guess it’s a good thing I’m a sentimental bastard too.”

            Life after that, to be honest, doesn’t change much. They still get coupons. Sehun still feels the need to throw things a lot, and Jongin still dodges, sticks out his stupid tongue,  and smiles his infuriating smile.

            Except that now, when he does it, Sehun gets to growl and pull Jongin down onto the couch with him, and kiss it off his face