[Unknown: In front of the station. Now. I want to see you. I won’t leave until you come.]

That mysterious message from an unknown number glared menacingly from his mobile screen. Call it coincidence, Jinki had just stepped out from the loud club music for a smoke, some fresh air, he calls it.

Well…

He has had a couple of flings before, but there was nothing too serious. This message had his blood pumping and he seriously couldn’t figure out who would sent such a “committed” text. Hey, he was a player, but he still has some sense of delicacy in him. He saved the numbers of every girl (or guy) he had been with. (It was more to avoid than to contact.) Jinki wondered if he should reply; if he should honestly tell the other person that it was a wrong number, or should he just show up and see what goes?

He flipped a coin, but before he opened his palm he had made his decision. Something in his gut just promised him it will be a night he won’t regret, and will be one that he has been searching for for a long time now.

[Jinki: Which station?]

When he finally reached the agreed location, he easily spotted a petite figure sitting on the bench. It really wasn’t hard to notice him in this time of the night, where even the trains are no longer working and not many people loitering around. He was wearing a white hoodie and his entire body was curled up on the wooden seat trying to keep warm on this cool night; his head was snug in his knees and his arms nowhere to be seen, probably tuck between his knees and his chest. There was an empty plastic bag beside him on the grass, with a couple of beer cans keeping it from floating away with the chilling breeze. Jinki’s common sense would’ve warned him about approaching that small shape, but he just felt like he needed to be with him as quickly as possible. Like…the boy needed him.

“Hey.” Jinki started, standing under the lamp post with his shadow cowering over the white ball.

“Go away.”

“What? You called me here, and you want me to shoo off?”

“I didn’t call you.” He retorted, intended to threaten but only came off as bratty, “I called Minho.” The brat didn’t even bother to look up at who he was speaking to, and that pissed the elder slightly off.

Who in the world is Minho? What is wrong with this boy? Heartbroken?

Jinki reached out to peel his shield away, pulling at his arms until the boy untangled. The boy’s gaze still didn’t meet his, but Jinki could see he was crying from the wet trails along his cheeks and the damp stains on his jeans. It pinched the elder’s heart. And as if he felt responsible for his tears, Jinki plopped down beside the boy to wrap him in a hug. So the beer cans were his. There was no reaction at first and Jinki continued to wipe his face clean with his right thumb, when suddenly the boy burst out in wails and returned the hug, scaring the hell out of him. The boy tugged desperately onto his shirt, crying out all his injustice, and synchronously, it tugged at Jinki’s heartstrings.

Before when Jinki would meet with such a circumstance, there was always two responses: one, a total turn-off and he would find excuses to leave, and two, if he found the person cute, he would pamper and cheer them up.

This… This was definitely a first. He didn’t want to spoil him, didn’t want to make him happy again. He just wanted…to be there. To be there for him until he stopped trembling in his arms and quietly accept his embrace.

“You,” Jinki spoke gently now, his voice full of honeyed tenderness, “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked when the boy had recovered slightly from the past half an hour of heart-wrenching sobs.

The boy shyly shook his head against the broad chest. Why was this stranger treating him so kindly?

He is so warm.

Jinki nodded in return above his head. In turn, he started talking about himself, “My name’s Jinki, but you can call me Onew.”

“I’m 26 years old this year. I’m a NEET and I live alone. I graduated with a music major but no one has seemed to discover my talent yet.” He laughed at his own boast, unaware of the soothing effect on the younger.

“How about I sing you a song?” Jinki suggested to prove his point, and the quivering boy nodded a ‘yes’ against the same calming warmth.

So Jinki sang for the boy, all the songs he knew he sang them for his ears. It was only until the snores started to overpower his lullabies did he stop to look down at the adorable dongsaeng. The boy was sleeping soundly, and this face of his surely looks cuter than his bawling one. He switched to humming, rocking the boy ever so lightly.

Jinki tried to imagine what would happen if he hadn’t showed up; would this idiot still be waiting for Minho under the moonlight in this cold night? Would he have slept a good night in his bed if he had ignored the message? Either way, he was glad he came. Nothing too exciting, but he found himself quite liking this serenity, with a boy in his arms.

No…

Not just a boy, not just any boy. It has to be this one in his cradle right now.

Who knows what will happen come morning? 

I first imagined this one as a ty drabble; where Jinki comes to pick up a drunken Taemin and beds him. Then some drama and fluff in the morning when they wake...blah blah blah...and they continue seeing each other...

But then... FLUFF TOOK OVER. FLUFF. INNOCENT PUPPY UNICORN FLUFFS. 

I hope you liked this :)