a/n: some of this was so fluffy i wanted to vomit while writing

originally i was going to make a part 5 as well but in the end i decided to scrap some scenes. 

it ends here!! ive been having trouble writing these days.. oop

i hope you guys had fun reading this story because ill miss this universe

greetings

*

It’s already late in the evening when Jongdae is rustled out of the slumber he had so calmly fallen into. Head bent over the English textbook on his desk, eyes closed, he’s rudely snatched out of the comfort of his dreamscape by a loud knock on his door. It’s been a long day for Jongdae: twelve hours at the store and two more hours of English vocabulary have made him tired and a little disgruntled. He is in no mood to have his nap interrupted.

‘’What is it, Hyukjae?’’ he calls, irritation clear in his voice.

There’s a creak before the door opens, and the face that pokes out behind definitely doesn’t belong to Hyukjae. Jongdae jumps slightly in his seat at the sight of the other man, rubbing his eyes and trying to look like he wasn’t sleeping just a moment ago. Joonmyun smiles sheepishly at him as he shuffles into the room, closing the door behind him, a plastic bag in his hands.

‘’Hyukjae let me in.’’ He explains.

‘’Oh,’’ Jongdae answers dumbly, suddenly feeling a little guilty for his mental berating of the man earlier. Perhaps Hyukjae is nicer than he lets on. His mind is still adjusting to being awake, everything bright and loud, as Joonmyun plops himself down on his bed and places the plastic bag on the desk by Jongdae’s textbook.

‘’Have you eaten?’’ He asks, even as he’s already sliding the plastic container towards Jongdae. It’s not really a question. They both know how horrible Jongdae is at taking care of himself. Leaning back against the wall, Joonmyun tucks in easily, slurping down the black mess of jajangmyeon and Jongdae notices how he’s still in his office get-up; black pants and white shirt that Joonmyun better not spill any soybean paste on, for Soonjae will have his head if she ever has to do their laundry again. He picks up the plastic chopsticks by the side of his container.

‘’It’s late.’’ He points out.

‘’I know. There were some things I had to finish.’’ Joonmyun answers easily, swaying his legs up and into Jongdae’s lap. Jongdae simply lifts his container of jajangmyeon a little higher. There is something that echoes through Joonmyun’s answer, a dislike he won’t admit to but can’t hide nevertheless, peeping through at the slight furrow of his eyebrows. Jongdae has grown very familiar with that tone in the last couple of weeks.

‘’Things will get better.’’ He offers, hoping Joonmyun catches the sincerity in his voice.

After finding out that Joonmyun’s ‘predilection’ wasn’t going to be cured after all, his father had decided to ‘let him go’ (there that wonderful term was again). Finding a job had proved nearly impossible for Joonmyun since then. After one particularly sketchy job interview he had found out that some snotty 20-year-old boy with far less experience and academic success had gotten the job instead, and Joonmyun had concluded that there was more at play than his lacking expertise. He had jumped at the first (and, if he was fair, only) offer that had been presented to him: a desk job at a small firm owned by father and son who previously had been in business as carpenters. His task there consisted mainly of paperwork, but Joonmyun wasn’t in a position to complain. He had seized the chance, yet it was easy to see Joonmyun missed his old job and the prestige that came with it. Sorting out files and picking up the phone: it’s not what he went to university for.

The comment makes Joonmyun look up from his Chinese food, black bean paste spread all over his mouth like a child eating chocolate for the first time, and the smile on his face doesn’t feel forced to Jongdae.

‘’Why? Things are fine!’’ Joonmyun objects, toes wiggling around in Jongdae’s lap, ‘’After all, what could be better than to be here with you?’’

Jongdae barks out a laugh at the cheesy comment, jajangmyeon getting stuck in his throat and nearly choking him for a moment. He leans forward and wipes away the black mess around Joonmyun’s mouth with his shirt.

‘’You’re horrible.’’ He jokes.

‘’Yes,’’ Joonmyun agrees, grin growing wider, ‘’but I’m yours.’’

Jongdae pretends to gag.

*

When the idea had first been put to him, of course Jongdae had been worried. Having dinner with Joonmyun’s parents didn’t exactly top his list of priorities. He would probably have refused, if it weren’t for the fact that he cared too much for the other man. Joonmyun had wanted this, and so he couldn’t refuse. There had been an anxious feeling in his stomach, stepping into this Gangnam restaurant where he didn’t even know how to hold his fork right, in his too-large hired suit (wearing one of Joonmyun’s would be too weird, he had decided) and with no idea where this was going. He didn’t like Joonmyun’s parents very much, and many would say he had plenty of reason not to, but for all of his distaste, he did not think them capable of this.

‘’You want to pay me to do what, exactly?’’ He cries, uncaring about the loudness of his voice. Opposite of him Joonmyun’s mother shifts in her seat, eyes darting to each side of the room in order to see whether anyone has heard. When she’s satisfied with this investigation she leans forward in order to make her voice softer, undoubtedly hoping he will follow her example. He stays where he is, crosses his arms over his chest.

‘’Not pay you, dear boy.’’ she laughs lightly, ‘’we want to make an arrangement with you. It doesn’t have to be money if you oppose to that.’’

By now, her husband has followed her example in seating and is nodding enthusiastically at his wife’s proposal. He’s clad in a decent pin-stripe suit, red pocket square matching the colour of his wife’s dress. The pearls around her neck must cost a fortune, and Jongdae does wonder how much money they would be able to give him, though his curiosity does not go so far as to ask. The pair of them look so proper; so clean. If only people knew.

Joonmyun’s father goes on explaining.

‘’If you care as much about Joonmyun as we do, you should understand that all we want for him is to take some time off, well, everything. His job, this city, your… relationship with him. So he can think with a clear mind and figure out what he truly wants for himself and his future.’’ He continues.

Jongdae snorts.

‘’And you think what he wants is to get married to Dasom and pop out some grandchildren, so you can pretend you have a normal son.’’

The comment apparently strikes a painful snare, for mother Kim’s kind smile falls from her face and Joonmyun’s father looks at him with a stern stare Jongdae imagines he gives his juniors whenever they’ve lost a big case. Had Jongdae been a man sooner frightened, it would almost have been intimidating.

‘’If you think for one second – ‘’ Joonmyun’s father begins, voice a deep hiss, then in the middle of the sentence lets his mouth drop closed. When Jongdae follows his line of vision his gaze finds Joonmyun on his way back to their table, fixing his cufflinks in the process. The man leans back in his chair, eyes on Jongdae once more.

‘’Let’s talk about this some other time.’’ He orders around his glass of wine. Jongdae huffs loudly. If Joonmyun’s father thinks he can order him around, he’s mistaken. Unlike the people slaving away at his company, Jongdae hasn’t got anything to lose.

Joonmyun, completely oblivious to the situation, happily plops down into his chair. He slides one arm over the armrest of Jongdae’s chair, almost but not quite touching his shoulders, and Jongdae had to resist the urge to snuggle into his hold.

‘’So what were we talking about?’’ Joonmyun beams, popping open the buttons on his suit jacket.

Joonmyun’s mother has taken a sudden interest in the seam of her dress, hands fidgeting in her lap, while mister Kim is still leaning over the table, shoulders wide and palms spread on the white of the table cloth. He looks assertive, and he must realize this. Jongdae isn’t impressed. He downs the remainder of his wine, then fills up the glass again. It tastes like but it’s expensive as hell and Joonmyun’s parents are paying. He doesn’t bother asking them if they want a refill.

‘’Well?’’ Joonmyun laughs, ‘’Isn’t anyone going to tell me what we were talking about?’’

‘’I would, only it was mostly your father’s idea.’’ Jongdae jumps in. An angry look is send his way by said father. Jongdae flashes him an innocent smile over his glass of wine. Joonmyun’s gaze shifts between the two of them, puzzlement evident on his face. The arm draped over Jongdae’s chair drops ever so slightly, one hand grazing the fabric of Jongdae’s dress shirt. Jongdae shivers at the touch.

It’s at this moment that Jongdae can see something crack in mister Kim’s mind.

‘’Alright,’’ he begins, irritation prominent in his voice. When his wife curls her hands around his arm in a warning, he slams his fist down on the table. ‘’Damn it, I’ll come out and say it! No, Eunji – I have the right to speak my mind! Your mother and I wanted you to have some time to think about everything that’s happened lately – to sort out your mind. Your friend is a nuisance to this, so yes, we may have offered him some money, but seeing as he is strongly refusing our offer I think we might as well leave.’’

After his speech, he throws his napkin on the table, cheeks huffed out in annoyance. He seems satisfied with his words, showing his back to the table as he calls over a waiter. Jongdae finds he looks like an overgrown child throwing a tantrum. Joonmyun’s mother is handling the situation with more grace. Still fidgeting with the napkin in her lap, she’s strongly avoiding her son’s hurt gaze. There is shame in the arch of her shoulders. Jongdae’s not sure what that shame is exactly: having a gay son or pretending to have no son at all.

Beside him, Joonmyun has fallen awfully silent. His arm has fallen off the armrest of Jongdae’s chair, coming to rest on his thigh. When Jongdae reaches over to squeeze his hand, uncaring if Joonmyun’s mother can see from the position in which they’re sitting, he manages a weak smile and a swiftly mouthed ‘thank you’.

‘’Joonmyun,’’ his mother whispers, leaning over the table and trying to catch his gaze, ‘’you know your father and I care deeply for you. Please understand that is the reason for our doing this.’’

It almost rings like a plea. There is sincerity in her words, as if she truly believes them, too. Jongdae thinks that makes it worse.

Joonmyun flinches when she leans in. The grip on Jongdae’s hand tightens and before he knows it Joonmyun is pulling the both of them up, chairs shoved backwards, their scraping echoing loudly in the restaurant. He’s about to open his mouth and ask what this is about when one of Joonmyun’s hand grips the back of his head and he smashes their mouths together. It lasts only a couple of seconds, not even long enough for Jongdae to kiss back, but when they pull apart Joonmyun’s mother’s mouth is open in shock, a horrified expression on her fa