Jongin had always been a little different from most other people. This had nothing to do with his uality, or maybe it had, but Jongin was not a psychologist. The number of people who liked to look deep inside other's minds and analyze them might be big, but the number of those who were good at it was probably tiny. Jongin had never wanted to be one of them - because those selected few people surely must be terribly lonely.

 

"Oh my god, look at how greasy her hair is."
"I bet the fat in her body needed another way out-"
The statement was cut off by laughter, hysterical, high-pitched, choked noises joined by the low, bellowing laughter of some guys.

What a joke, Jongin thought. What a hormonal-driven, sad, sad, joke. Girls and boys dancing around each other, desperately trying to appease to each other in such a tasteless, cheap way.

"Don't you think it's gross?!" someone called out, seeking more confirmation and nudging Jongin non-too-gently.

"I think it's way too obvious that this isn't grease. It's just hairspray," he simply said, eyes mostly trained on the homework he was currently copying from his friend. "What's there to laugh about someone attempting to look good? So what if it kinda failed. You gotta start somewhere."

This reaction obviously displeased the people around the table, who immediately went into a passive aggressive, defensive mode. Because god forbid if someone might find out that they hadn't been thinking much.

"If she wants to look good she should think about buying herself a treadmill. Or maybe a hamster wheel!"
"Or maybe stop eating so much crap, I bet she basically lives at the 24/7 chicken place."
"Why do you keep defending her, anyway?"

You are the one who's sticking out now, explain yourself!
...was what no one said, but everyone thought.

"I just said what I think about it, because you asked," Jongin replied with unhappily furrowed brows. But it was no use and the discussion began.

Is it because you wanna look good by defending her?
Have you been bullied, too? Because you're such a weirdo sometimes?
Just stop defending her, it's no use because of the following reasons-

The next time, they made fun of a teacher for having a stick-like figure. When they asked Jongin what he thought about it, he only shrugged.
It wasn't worth the effort.

 

Jongin never studied psychology, but for some reason, he couldn't help but continuously analyze himself. Maybe that was normal behavior, maybe he was taking it further than others. Either way, Jongin felt comfortable with himself. He knew very well what he was capable of, and if needed, he was mostly able to set aside his bias.

But now that he was looking at the slightly familiar entrance of a shabby apartment building... he wasn't so sure of himself anymore. Was he able to handle this situation? It was difficult to come to a conclusion when he wasn't sure what was expecting him.

Jongin touched the button labeled with Kyungsoo's name, but instead of pushing it, his fingers trailed down the long, long row of other, cheap plastic buttons. Hesitating. Calculating.
Kyungsoo didn't particularly like him, but he didn't dislike him either. He was willing to get to know him, but so far, all their encounters hadn't been playing out all that well - even though Jongin had been so nice all the time. So nice and so... compliant.

 

"Yes, but what do you want to study, Jongin? It's really time to think about it."
He looked up from his soup and into the expectant expression of his mother.

"I was thinking about dance, actually."
Her expression fell like a flame blown out.

"Dance?! Sweetie, dance is-"

"Expensive, I realize that," Jongin cut her off, trying hard not to be annoyed. "I've already prepared applications for various dance schools and talent agencies. Maybe, if they take me, I won't have to pay anything-"

"No way," his father intervened firmly, actually tearing his eyes away from the television screen, "this is all just fooling around, a temporary thing. If you don't study after school, your career will never kick off."

"But-"

"No buts. You might think this is a good idea now, but at the end of the day those people will just use you and you'll end up with absolutely nothing, meaning that-"

Jongin tuned out after that and left the speech wash over him.
So troublesome. So boring. So annoying.

A few weeks later, his parents asked him what he'd decided to study. Business, Jongin had replied. He'd still applied at dance schools. He'd always wanted to do both, anyway. But why tell them? It wouldn't lead anywhere.
 

With a heavily thumping heart, Jongin padded down the hallway, towards the slightly opened door near the end of it. Just how exactly did he have to present himself in order to appeal to the tacit guy? So far, he'd been on his best behavior at all times, but it only seemed to worsen their relationship.

Jongin really, really liked Kyungsoo. The moment he'd walked into the waiting room before holding the press conference with the other two, Jongin had been star-struck. It was just something in the way he held himself. In the way he'd curtly nodded towards them. And especially in the way he'd talked in front of the flashing cameras. Because Kyungsoo, too, was a little different. And unlike Jongin, he refused to adapt to other's expectations. He didn't try to confuse anyone by using big, empty words. He didn't sugar-coat, didn't cower under prodding questions. Jongin saw a little bit of himself in him. Except that he was way too lazy to expose himself to the uncomfortably invasive questions.
He'd rather just smile and get it over with.
 

"We can't go on like this, Jongin. And you know it."

He knew. But he didn't say anything, because for once, he wouldn't even know where to start, even if he was completely honest. His partner jumped out of bed and reached for his shirt.

"I'm starting to think I'm some sort of joke to you," the blond guy began, clearly agitated by his silence. "If you're not into guys, after all, maybe you should just say it! Did you start this as some kind of experiment and now you're staying with me out of pity? Cause I definitely don't need your pity!"

"It's not like that."

No, I am into you. Just not the way biology might have wanted me to, Jongin thought quite bitterly. He'd assumed that maybe it would be different with a guy, but it obviously wasn't. He knew that now.

"Then why? You're never in the mood, Jongin. Never. I don't suppose you're cheating on me, so what is it?!"

Would this guy understand it? And more importantly - would he be able to live with the explanation? Jongin looked at him for a couple seconds, thinking of the way the other constantly pawed at him, trying to get a reaction out of him. How he'd whine and complain and get actually angry the moment Jongin completely refused to sleep with him. And he came to a conclusion.
No. No, he wouldn't.

"Let's break up," he whispered.

This was the easiest way.
All the fights and tears would be a waste of time, if the result stayed the same.

 

"Hey. Come in."

Jongin's head whipped up to see Kyungsoo standing in the door way, looking a little puzzled over the fact that Jongin hadn't entered yet.
Right. This wasn't his ex. This was Kyungsoo.

"Hey..." he murmured and took him up on the offer, orderly placing his shoes aside. Kyungsoo looked homely in his simple, woolen sweater, jeans and soft, tousled hair. Nonchalant, casual, comfortable. It made his heart twitch with affection. He just felt so drawn in by him, and now he had a chance to actually act on this. It was mind-twisting.

"I'm sorry it took so long," he unsurely began, but Kyungsoo dismissed him with a wave of his hand as they moved to the living room.

"It's alright. I wasn't doing anything in particular, anyway."
As always, Kyungsoo was curt, straight to the point, but not unfriendly. Still, Jongin squirmed, unsure of what to do, how to act, what to say. He awkwardly took a seat on the sofa while Kyungsoo was already on his way to the kitchen.

"You want a coke?"
I hate coke, Jongin thought.

"Uhm. Sure," he said.
What if Kyungsoo only had coke? He wouldn't want to cause him the trouble of getting anything else. Or even worse - make him think he's picky.

A minute later, Jongin's hands were clasping an icy glass with noisily sparkling coke. Maybe the sizzling sound just appeared to be so distractingly loud in the absolute silence weighing them down.

"So..." Kyungsoo began, shooting him a neutral look, "you had a good time with Chanyeol?"
Jongin just stared at him, wide-eyed and clearly taken-aback. Catching up on the innuendo, Kyungsoo spluttered a little, a surprising crack in his composure.

"Not like that!" he defended himself, looking half-accusing, half-embarrassed. "Don't look at me like that - I thought it was clear by now that you're not into that."

You don't know exactly what I'm into. And Chanyeol did kiss me, sort of. Maybe I should tell him, see how he reacts, Jongin thought.

"I'm sorry," he said instead. "It was good."
With a barely concealed sigh, Kyungsoo shifted in his seat.

"Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I was about to make myself some food before you came. You mind me finishing it? I was thinking about pasta. Are you hungry?"
I'm still so stuffed from that casserole earlier, just thinking about food makes me sick.

"A little..." he said.

With a hum, Kyungsoo got up and went to the kitchen, saying something about how he'd be quick about it. Jongin was left behind with a heavy feeling of uneasiness. This was going so badly. Everything was just awkward between them. He surely could have brought up his meeting with Chanyeol - Kyungsoo had even asked himself. He wouldn't get angry, Jongin was fairly certain of that. He had a good feeling for what Kyungsoo was like. If he asked him, he was interested enough in the answer. If he was someone who turned jealous easily, he wouldn't have proposed the whole thing in the first place.
But still... why couldn't he say it?

He hadn't always been like that. When he was younger, he'd never had trouble expressing himself. Just because he refused to share his opinions with stupid people, didn't mean he couldn't. There had been so many times where his best friend Sehun had shaken his head over Jongin's distinct, and oftentimes quite harsh opinions. So why couldn't he say them now, when he was sure Kyungsoo wouldn't mind?
When had this ty act become reality?

"So what do you wanna do?" Kyungsoo asked from the doorway and Jongin jumped to his feet.

"Uhm. I don't know, uh-" he stammered unintelligently, clutching his still very much full glass.
Talk? Nothing? No, they had to do something. Think, Jongin, what does Kyungsoo like?

"We could- maybe we could watch a movie?" he asked almost cautiously, belatedly adding an unsure smile. Kyungsoo's dark eyes lingered on him for no longer than a second.

"Sure, if that's what you want," he said, disappearing into the kitchen to tend to his pasta, leaving Jongin to stand there, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet.

If that's what you want.

Movies were alright. But was it really what he wanted? He didn't know. Why didn't he know, why was he beginning to feel so trapped in his own head? It was a strange and scary feeling. Jongin was good at voluntarily putting distance between him and others - when had this distance become a solid wall? An invisible pane of glass stopping him from closing the distance? Why couldn't he even answer such a simple question like that truthfully? When had his fear of rejection even surfaced? He hadn't always been like that. Right?

Jongin just stood there, staring at the lit doorway, faintly listening to Kyungsoo bustling around the kitchen.
He wanted to be close to him. He really wanted to. But he was there, behind this invisible wall Jongin hadn't ever noticed forming, because he hadn't bothered reaching out for a long time.

So why was it so easy with Chanyeol, then? What made him so different? Maybe Chanyeol hadn't approached him from the front in the first place. He'd snuck up on him from behind, suddenly placing his hands on his shoulders. Jongin had flinched, swatted at him and complained. He'd been himself right from the start. Because Chanyeol hadn't even bothered acknowledging this wall.

And now he was standing next to him, one hand on his shoulder and the other palm on the glass. The fingers on his shoulders squeezed gently. Jongin imagined baling his hands into a fist, just slamming it into this thing that his own mind created.

If that's what you want.

The glass slipped his fingers and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Coke was splattered against his pant legs and shards of ice and glass were skidding across the floor.
Kyungsoo immediately hurried back to the living room, a look of worry on his face.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"I hate coke."

Kyungsoo cursed lowly, and Jongin couldn't gauge his reaction. He was too busy looking at the way a particular shard glittered in the artificial light, feeling dazed. When Kyungsoo appeared beside him with paper towels, the spell was broken, and Jongin knelt down in an attempt to clean up the mess he'd made. Kyungsoo only made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, gently swatting at his fingers.

"Don't fish around for glass shards with bare hands. I'll take care of it."
Jongin watched the paper towels soaking up the liquid and crumpling together. While adding more of them, Kyungsoo silently shook his head.

"You don't like coke... just say so next time," he muttered in something akin to disbelief over Jongin's antics. Still, it didn't feel like he was actually angry.
"First Chanyeol and now you. I'm getting the feeling you have it out for my kitchen interior. If you keep trashing my glasses, you'll get plastic cups next time."

Jongin just watched him half-heartedly complain with a look of wonder. Wonder at the overall situation. How had he managed to create such a big mess?
A hand came up to ruffle his hair, and Jongin felt the other's dark eyes on him. They were calm. Collected. Reassuring.

"There, it's all gone. You want some water instead? I also have tea."

Jongin looked after him from his position on the floor, one hand tracing the faint, sticky trail Kyungsoo's careless fingers had left on his temple. The sound of a cupboard closing had him snap back into it. He jumped to his feet.

"What kind of tea do you have?"


 

I won't even bother you with how many deadlines I have - let's just say there's one in 5 days I have done nothing for so far. But I was getting seriously desperate to write this chapter. Really. I couldn't think of anything else anymore, haha...

Two Jongin-centered chapters in a row, Nini keeps messing up the order of things!
I think this one finally clears up what's been going on inside Jongin's head all the time. Not regarding his uality, but just his general train of thoughts.

Also a wonderfully kind soul nominated this fic at the Asian Fanfic Awards, as I mentioned before. Now you can actually vote - it's just two clicks, really, and if you feel like supporting this story, you can do it here:

Love,
Sugar-and-Salt ♥︎