~~~

“What was that all about?” Sehun stares at the closed door for a dramatically long time, a small smile on his lips. Even though he’s confused, he’s still awfully relieved that Junmyeon didn’t get a chance to see Jongin. He hears Yifan and Kyungsoo shouting at each other on the other side of the door and tries his best to block out their voices.

Jongin mumbles something incoherent while he presses his hands closer to his face. The detailed, godforsaken mental image of the first thing he laid his eyes on the second he walked in the door is burned into his mind and, weirdly enough, he has absolutely no idea how to feel about that. Come to think of it, he’s never actually thought about when or how (if he’d ever get to, that is) he’d get to see Sehun like this, so to speak, but he definitely didn’t expect it to be like this. Jongin figures Sehun would at least warn him beforehand.

Trying to shove the rather...suggestive thoughts to the way back of his mind, Jongin fights the blush creeping up his neck. “Put some clothes on!” he squabbles and turns to face the other way when Sehun does the complete opposite. “Sehun!”

“Don’t be like this,” Sehun chuckles, quickly putting on his boxers. Realizing Jongin isn’t turning around anytime soon, he sighs in exasperation. “Jongin, I put ‘em on, come here already.”

“If you’re lying,” Jongin murmurs, voice barely audible, “I swear I’m gonna kick you so hard you’ll be choking on your own nuts.” He peeks through his index and middle finger and doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed when he sees Sehun has, indeed, covered himself up. Despite that, he remains bolted to the floor, trying to tear his eyes off Sehun’s...region.

Sehun sighs, but he’s overly relieved that he won’t be getting his nuts kicked in anytime soon. A droplet of water travels down his neck before stopping at his collarbone, only to trail down his exposed chest, and he has to stifle a chuckle when he notices the brunet’s eyes following said drop with his eyes. “Do you uh, want me to put a shirt on, too, or what?”

“Yes.” Please. Before I die. Jongin clears his throat and tries keeping his gaze fixated on the door marked ‘SHOWERS’ right behind Sehun while the latter slides a clean shirt over his head. Jungah’s words briefly pop into his head and he clenches his jaw to get them to go away.

“No trouble finding your way this time, I presume?” Sehun hums, sliding on his jeans and buckling his belt. Stuffing his towel inside his duffel bag, not bothering to care about whether or not the contents will be ruined because of the water, he zips it shut before opening his locker. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he adds when he sees the blank look on the brunet’s face.

With an unattractive squawk, Jongin promptly snaps out of his trance and runs a hand through his hair. “Um.” He fidgets a little, fighting the urge to reach up and tug on his collar. The entire room, as he just realized, smells like a mix of sweat and men’s deodorant and he nearly gags. “Sorry.”

Putting on his jacket, one that Jongin doesn’t recognize, Sehun chuckles a little. “So cute,” he hums as his fingers work with the buttons. He grabs his bag and easily swings over his shoulder, closing his locker and clicking the padlock into place before walking to Jongin.

“How was practice?” Jongin asks, voice slightly muffled as he nuzzles his face in the crook of Sehun’s neck. “No broken bones, I hope,” he adds only half jokingly before leaning away and nearly toppling over when Sehun’s perfume hits him, and the smell briefly distracts him from the rather rancid smell of the rest of the room.

Sehun shrugs. “Yeol nearly got a concussion thanks to one of my teammates, but I’m good, thanks,” he chuckles, ruffling Jongin’s hair. “You’ve got bed head, by the way.”

“I know that,” Jongin whines, reaching up and slapping Sehun’s hand away, only to grab it and interlock their fingers two seconds later. “Anyway, I met your friend out there just now,” he mumbles, playing with Sehun’s watch. He blinks when the taller suddenly tenses.

“You did?” Sehun asks in a foreign tone, biting his lip a little. “Who was it?”

Jongin inwardly sighs. Jungah and Jessica’s words are on repeat inside his head and he takes a step back. “Yifan,” he murmurs under his breath, scratching the back of his ear. “Listen, can I-”

“What did you tell him?” Sehun runs a hand through Jongin’s hair but the latter can tell he’s still tense.

“I didn’t get a chance to say anything since some other guy started yelling something about a bus card,” Jongin replies, feeling his stomach churn as he slowly removes Sehun’s hand from his head. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he asks after a few seconds of silence, gaze fixated on the padlock on Sehun’s locker.

Sehun bites the inside of his cheek, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks at Jongin. Despite keeping it cool on the outside, he feels as if his heart is about to beat out of his chest on the inside and he swallows. “Sure.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jongin presses his lips together as his eyes dart around the room. “Are you-” He pauses and clears his throat. Sehun's gaze is burning holes in his head and he coughs awkwardly. No going back now. “Are you uh, are you ashamed of me?”

For five whole minutes, nobody says anything, and Jongin has to walk over to one of the benches and sit down when the reeling in his head becomes unbearable. Sehun isn’t saying anything and the noises on the other side of the door have ceased, and the latter has a look in his eyes that Jongin doesn’t recognize. The latter feels himself sweat profusely but he chooses not to remove his jacket in fear of Sehun finding out how insanely nervous he feels, so he opts to stay bolted to the bench while avoiding Sehun’s piercing eyes.

When Sehun still doesn’t say anything, Jongin feels his eye twitch. He doesn’t know if it’s the pressure of Jungah and Jessica’s words on his shoulders or something else, but either way, he bites his lip in both irritation and confusion. “Because, you know, you’ve been acting so...weird lately. I mean, it’s like you’re avoiding introducing me to, well, just about everyone.” He swallows. “Is it...I mean, is it me? Like, am I doing something wrong? Like the thing with Jess yesterday, when you refused to tell her your name or that I was your boyfriend and all that...like, why? I met Yifan out there and- And you didn’t want me to meet your teammates, I don’t-” He pauses for a moment to pull himself together. “I don’t get it, like- If I’m doing something wrong, or if you want me to change something about myself, I’d appreciate it if you told me since I hate the thought of embarrassing you and whatnot, and do it real freaking fast because I’m getting awfully sick of it and I wanna know what I can do to fix it!”

Jongin stops and takes a much needed breath. His heart is racing and his head is spinning. He’d preferably tell Sehun what Jungah and Jessica (and Jongdae, for that matter) told him but he decides not to for some reason. He’s still avoiding Sehun’s eyes, but in all honesty, he doesn’t know if Sehun is even listening, and he shifts uncomfortably on the bench when the silence grows both awkward and suffocating.

To be frank, Jongin has no idea if he’s done anything to piss Sehun off, or anything that could lead to the latter being embarrassed or ashamed of him, but if he has, he’d give his life to know what it is because the thought of embarrassing, annoying or simply pissing Sehun off sends a shiver running down his spine. He doesn’t even bother asking if anything is bothering Sehun because he knows for a fact that it’s useless; Sehun is too confident that it would be pointless of Jongin to ask.

“You know I love you, right?”

Snapping his head up, Jongin blinks both in surprise and slight fear at the unexpected sound. He stares wide-eyed at Sehun, who is glaring at him with a look the brunet can’t decipher. Jongin doesn’t know how to feel.

Not knowing what to say, Jongin swallows and subconsciously brings his legs closer together. “Uh.” A red hot sensation travels up the back of his neck when Sehun walks towards him.

Sehun takes a seat beside Jongin, his duffel bag falling to the floor by his feet. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around the brunet’s torso, moving to sit as close to him as possible. Jongin isn’t saying anything, but Sehun knows that if he had the power to listen to the former’s thoughts, he’s pretty sure he’d go deaf in a heartbeat.

“I hope you know that,” Sehun mumbles, rubbing Jongin’s shoulder with his thumb. “I truly, truly do,” he adds when the brunet still doesn’t say anything.

Swallowing, Jongin leans away slightly. “But I mean...I don’t get it. If it’s not me, then.” He scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling extremely foolish for even worrying in the first place. He makes a mental note to scold Jungah for making his nerves act up for no good reason. “Then what is it?”

“I hate seeing you upset,” Sehun says lowly, carding his fingers through Jongin’s hair. The latter doesn’t even have a chance to bring up the fact that he dodged the question before he continues. “Please don’t be upset,” he adds, kissing Jongin’s forehead and pulling him closer.

“I will be if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Jongin mumbles under his breath, playing with his fingers in his lap. “Look, I mean, I just wanna meet your teammates and get to know them and get along with them so we can have fun together, I don’t see why that’s-” His sentence abruptly ends, his breath suddenly hitching in his throat when he feels what he’s certain is a pair of soft lips on the side of his neck, and he promptly forgets what he was about to say. What the-

Leaning away ever so slightly, Sehun Jongin’s face with his thumb. “Don’t be upset, okay?” he asks, leaning away and brushing a few strands of hair out of Jongin's face. The sound of a leaking shower head is the only thing he hears and he pats the brunet's shoulder. "Okay?"

"Wait, but-" Jongin reaches up and lightly pats the side of his neck as it tingles uncontrollably. "But, is it me? Did I do something-" He jumps a little when a banging noise echoes through the halls outside the room and instantly forgets his words. "Nevermind."

Standing up, Sehun quickly pulls Jongin to his feet. “It’s getting late, c’mon,” he says, letting out a squawk of surprise when the brunet loses his balance and topples into him. “Jesus, who would’ve thought you were an ice hockey player with a ty sense of balance like that,” he adds with a snigger, barely managing to dodge being whacked upside the head when the brunet’s hand comes flying towards his face.

“Shut it,” Jongin mumbles in embarrassment, grabbing Sehun’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “Anyway, what’re you gonna do now?” He zips his jacket with his free hand and runs it through his hair in a meek attempt to fix it.

Sehun shrugs. “Mind if I stay over?”

“Not at all,” Jongin beams, squeezing Sehun’s hand and burying his face in the crook of the latter’s neck. He’s seconds away from saying something else when the sound of the door opening to his left nearly scares him half to death, and it’s almost as if an invisible force is yanking him and Sehun apart when they practically jump out of their own skin. What the fu-

“Hey Sehun!” Yifan hollers way, way too loudly, poking his head through the door. Much to Sehun’s surprise, he’s wearing clothes, which he finds weird since Yifan’s duffel bag is still sitting on the bench inside the room they’re in. “It’s confirmed! It’s gonna be held in New York!” he adds, waving his phone in the air, on which Jongin can barely make out what looks like an email. “Isn’t this goddamn great?” He blinks when he sees Sehun’s stoic expression. “What is it?”

Jongin beams. “It is great!” he squeals, practically throwing himself at Sehun and nearly causing both of them to fall to the floor. Sehun is as stiff as cardboard under his touch but he dismisses it as the latter simply processing the news. “And you’re Yifan, right?” he adds, turning his head to face Yifan, who nods enthusiastically.

“That’s right, m'friend,” Yifan says boldly before he furrows his eyebrows. “Jongin, right?” he asks and grins when Jongin smiles. “And sorry, but you are…?” 

“His boyfriend,” Jongin says happily before Yifan has time to finish his question. He swears he feels Sehun tense significantly underneath him but he doesn’t think anything of it. “Isn’t this great? You better train your off for the next couple of weeks or you have no idea how disappointed I'll be,” he chuckles, leaning in to kiss Sehun’s cheek, and he blinks when the latter flinches like he’s been burned.

Yifan blinks, too. “...Anyway, don’t tell the girls or they’ll follow our asses all the way to NYC,” he chortles, putting his phone away. “Hey, just so you know.” He swings the door open all the way and walks inside, grabbing his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Dad let me borrow his car, so I could give you both a ride home if you’d like.” He raises an eyebrow when he sees the look on Sehun’s face. “Sehun, what the hell-”

“That’d be awesome!” Jongin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down in excitement as he beams. He gives Sehun’s hand a squeeze and playfully tugs on one of the latter’s black locks. “Isn’t that nice? We’ll get a ride straight to my place!” he adds and briefly feels his thoughts come to a halt when Sehun finally speaks.

“No,” Sehun practically shouts, grabbing Jongin’s shoulders and practically shoving him away like he’s a poisonous animal before he has a chance to process what he’s doing. The spinning in his head and the millions of thoughts circulating inside his brain barely manage to numb the immense churning in his gut that hits him like a freight train when he sees, and hears, Jongin stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over the bench behind him, but his head is much too full and his nerves are trembling way too much for him to care about that right now.

Yifan blinks in confusion. “No?” he repeats, gaze briefly flickering over to Jongin and he shoots the latter a confused look before turning back to Sehun. “What do you mean, no? You don’t want a ride?”

“No,” Sehun repeats, and this time it sounds more like he’s talking to himself than Yifan and or Jongin, and he runs a distressed hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room in blind panic. Yifan’s gaze, which is burning holes in his soul, and Jongin’s crestfallen look do nothing to help the beating of his heart, which feels like it’s being pounded with a mallet. “This- Him-” He babbles, pointing to Jongin. “We’re not together- I don’t know him- Damn it, I’m not his boyfriend- , man, what the are you talking about-” In his peripheral, he sees Yifan, which in turn makes him think of Nationals, which in turn makes him feel that much more anxious. “We’re not ing together,” he deadpans, staring Yifan square in the eye.

Jongin has never been a firm believer of the fact time can be stopped, in fact, he finds the idea rather idiotic. However, he’d happily go back and rethink everything he’s ever believed in because he’s honestly beginning to doubt himself, that reason being that he promptly feels like his entire world has stopped spinning; like Earth has stopped rotating on the correct axis, upon hearing Sehun’s words. In fact, he momentarily has to stop and ask himself if he’s dreaming but he knows he doesn’t have to when Sehun proceeds to shoot him a look so distant, so ice cold, that he feels himself shudder.

Yet somehow, despite that, Jongin’s brain comes to the conclusion that he’s simply imagining things, that it’s because of the fatigue that’s been plaguing him for a week straight, as well as the confusion, and he subconsciously swallows the bile that’s risen to the top of his throat as he takes a step forward (honestly, his legs feel like they’re moving of their own accord) and walks towards Sehun, only to feel himself hit the floor when Sehun grabs his shoulders and forcefully shoves him away. The gesture, including Sehun’s stone cold glare when he looks up, is so foreign that Jongin barely feels the pain that shoots up his spine over the way his heart constricts when his back harshly slams against the stone cold tiles beneath him.

“The hell?” Yifan mumbles, scratching the back of his head. “So...you’re not together, or what?” he asks, gaze darting between Sehun, who looks like he’s in desperate need of a breathing bag, and Jongin, whose eyes Yifan can’t see because of his bangs (and because he’s got his head lowered for obvious reasons). “I’m so in’ confused right now.”

“We’re not together,” Sehun says, voice alarmingly calm and steady, and it makes the hairs on Jongin’s neck stand right up. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point, all he knows is that he desperately needs to get away and get some fresh air. “I need to get out, go get your car,” he mumbles in a daze, fighting the urge to vomit all over the floor. Out, out, out.

“Yeah, but.” Yifan shoots Jongin a look, confusion, but mostly concern, written all over his features. He looks at Sehun and gestures at Jongin, mouthing ‘He’s crying, man,' when the brunet proceeds to cover his face with his hands. He blinks when Sehun only runs a hand through his hair in stress and quite frankly, Yifan is more worried the former will pass out any second so he, albeit reluctantly, grabs Sehun’s wrist, tugging him out the door while reaching into his pocket for his car keys.

11:59 PM

“If I hear you mention that I missed my ing bus one more time, I swear to God I’ll break into your house and chop your off while you’re sleeping, you inbred,” Junmyeon growls, fighting the urge to punch Chanyeol in the face. He’s been sitting on the bench and waiting for his bus in the pitch blackness for an entire hour after, conveniently, missing his bus again. The bench is ice cold and he shudders.

Chanyeol shrugs. “You're forgetting something, and it's that I chose to wait; I missed the bus too, you , so shut the hell up,” he mutters, alarmingly unfazed, before checking his watch and patting the sore spot on his head. “And I did warn you before you chose to be an idiot and go fetch Sehun, so,” he adds with a chuckle, pulling out his phone when he feels it buzz.

“Shut the up,” Junmyeon mumbles. The mental image of Sehun’s exposed manhood floods his brain and he fights the urge to run back to the sports hall, into the bathrooms and cleanse his eyes with water.

“Looks like we’ll be playing in New York,” Chanyeol says, shoving his phone in his pocket. “You got it, too?” he asks when he sees Junmyeon reaching for his own phone.

Junmyeon nods and quickly looks up when a car zooms past the stop. “Jesus goddamn Christ, that’s definitely above the speed limit,” he murmurs, putting his phone away. “, I swear my legs are gonna turn into icicles if I sit here any longer-”

“Wasn’t that Yifan’s car?” Chanyeol asks, eyebrows furrowed. “He has a silver one, doesn’t he? The one with the giant dent in the bumper? It was him.” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

Junmyeon blinks. “It was,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “Trust that fool to text while he’s driving. ing , he’ll end up getting himself killed before Coach has a chance to kick him off the goddamn team,” he adds with a huff before reaching into his pocket for his lighter. He figures if he’s going to sit here for another half hour, he’ll need a smoke.

“First of all, you’re just pissed ‘cause Coach praised the outta him last week,” Chanyeol starts, chuckling a little. “And second of all, stop ing smoking so much, or you’ll end up getting yourself killed before Coach has a chance to kick you off the team, jackass,” he tuts and squawks when Junmyeon only slaps him in the arm. “I’m serious, don’t kill off your stamina before Nationals, you fool.”

Ignoring Chanyeol’s (true) remark, and fighting the urge to shove the latter onto the road, Junmyeon mumbles a barely coherent ‘you ’ before successfully locating his lighter in his pocket along with his cigarette box. However, he doesn’t get a chance to grab them when he hears footsteps slowly approaching the bus stop and he stills. “Hey, did Kyungsoo choose to stay behind?” he asks, grabbing Chanyeol’s arm not so gently.

“No, he left before Yifan,” Chanyeol mumbles, whacking Junmyeon’s hand away. “How so?”

“Don’t you hear that, you dolt?” Junmyeon mouths. “If Kyungsoo and Yifan went home, that’s obviously Sehun.”

Chanyeol nods slowly. “...So?”

“We’ll have a chance to talk some sense into him, you incompetent fool,” Junmyeon hisses before standing up and brushing some dust off his shoulder. It’s so dark he can barely see his own hand in front of his face and he struggles to walk around the bus stop without colliding with the glass, but he manages, after a considerable amount of time, and he opens his mouth to speak when the footsteps grow louder and louder. “Hey, I didn’t mean to ogle your...thing earlier, it’s just that- Well yeah. Anyway, me and Yeol need to talk to your dumb - Oh.”

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow when silence fills the air. He can’t see Junmyeon anywhere but he can hear him, and he listens as Junmyeon slowly sits back down again. In the darkness, he can barely make out the worried look on Junmyeon’s face, which he finds weird since Junmyeon is never worried. “So…?”

Junmyeon is silent for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat and presses his lips together. “It’s Jongin.”

About to mutter a quiet ‘are you serious?’, Chanyeol closes his mouth when a figure appears next to him, and he can’t see much of it other than that it’s wearing a black jacket and that its hair is awfully messy, almost like it’s just gotten out of bed. That, and that its head is lowered, almost like it’s doing its best to hide its face from view. Despite the fact that it’s below zero degrees out, Chanyeol finds himself shuddering for another reason, that reason being that as soon as he sees Jongin, the temperature seems to drop by fifty degrees and Chanyeol suddenly feels a wave of coldness and sadness wash over him for reasons he can’t explain.

Chanyeol and Junmyeon subtly look to their right and both shiver when they lay their eyes on the brunet; his hair, despite being messy, is covering his eyes, his head is lowered but despite that, both Chanyeol and Junmyeon notice a certain shininess to his face. Jongin has got both his hands shoved deep inside his pockets and he just looks extremely sullen overall, and Junmyeon and Chanyeol force themselves to look away when the feeling of agony that arrives with Jongin’s presence becomes too much.

“, man,” Chanyeol mutters, discreetly running a hand through his hair. Checking his watch, he notices there’s at least fifteen minutes left until the last bus arrives and he inwardly screams because he doesn’t know what to do. He looks to his right, at Junmyeon, who looks equally distressed and downright awkward. Jesus flipping Christ.

Not knowing what to do, Junmyeon shoves a hand in his pocket and retrieves his lighter and cigarettes and proceeds to light one, and this time Chanyeol doesn’t even try to stop him. “,” he mumbles, voice muffled as he puts the stick between his lips, and he takes a long drag before exhaling, the gray cloud of smoke somewhat illuminating the pitch blackness surrounding them.

ing Sehun, Chanyeol thinks to himself, squirming a little. Even though it’s pitch black outside, the image of Jongin’s tear streaked face from a few moments ago haunts his mind and he swallows. God damn you, Sehun, you bastard. He’s stressed, not only because he feels awfully bad for Jongin, but also because of what Junmyeon said a couple of hours ago; Chanyeol prays to God that...whatever this is, won’t end up affecting Sehun’s performance both on the 10th and, most importantly, next month, for the worst. But, knowing Sehun, Chanyeol has a feeling there’s no use in praying and he clenches his jaw before pulling out his phone.

To: Myeon AKA asswipe

dude should we say something??????????

Sending the message, Chanyeol holds on to his phone and hears Junmyeon’s pocket buzz next to him less than two seconds later. He bites his lip when Junmyeon places his cigarette so it’s hanging in the corner of his lips before he proceeds to pulling out his phone.

Junmyeon, after lowering the brightness on his phone, in order for it not to melt his eyeballs and in order for Jongin not to see, stares at the message for a considerable amount of time before finally, two minutes later, proceeding to type out a reply. He presses ‘Send’ and quickly shoves his phone back in his pocket before tending to his cigarette again.

Chanyeol decides to wait until he checks his phone as to not make Jongin suspcious, and it’s not until five minutes pass that he presses the Home button, reading the words on the screen as discreetly as humanly possible.

iMessage

From: Myeon AKA asswipe

No. Not a good time. We’ll wait until tomorrow to try to talk to him about it.

Biting his lip, Chanyeol puts his phone away and leans back, resting his head against the cool glass. It’s probably a good idea to wait, anyway, we barely even know the kid. He seriously wishes Jongin would disappear or at least take a few steps back because having him stand less than seven feet away is doing nothing to calm his buzzing nerves. It suddenly hits him that Jongin is going to take the same bus as him (and Junmyeon) and Chanyeol inwardly screeches.

We should’ve talked to Sehun sooner, Junmyeon thinks sourly, tapping his foot anxiously whilst taking a drag. He desperately wants to stand up and walk up to Jongin and tell him the entire story - (what he thinks is) the truth, but he quickly decides against it because not only is it an extremely bad time to do so, but neither he nor Chanyeol know what happened (although the look on Jongin’s face speaks volumes), so Junmyeon decides it’s probably best not to jump to conclusions quiet yet and thus end up screwing things up even more.

“Is it alright if I sit here?”

Nearly falling off the bench in surprise (and fear), both Junmyeon and Chanyeol jump five feet in the air upon hearing Jongin’s voice. What scares them, though, isn’t the fact that the brunet’s voice came out of nowhere, it’s how weak and downright broken it is, and it’s so cracked Junmyeon hardly picks up what Jongin is trying to say at first.

“Uh, sure, go ahead,” Junmyeon stammers, scrambling to grab and remove his duffel bag from beside him, and he mentally smacks himself when he realizes how nervous he sounds (not that he isn’t nervous, though, which he definitely is). He watches (or rather, listens) as Jongin gingerly sits down next to him and the smell of Sehun’s fragrance quickly fills the air. ing damn you, Sehun.

All three of them sit in silence for a long, long time. It’s absolutely silent save for Chanyeol’s occasional awkward coughs every now and then, and the sound of Junmyeon exhaling after the latter takes a drag of his cigarette. Junmyeon doesn’t know if Jongin knows it’s them given the darkness, but, regardless, the brunet isn’t saying a word and it makes Junmyeon all that more anxious because if he’s going to trust his gut feeling, something tells him something is very, very wrong.

To his left, Chanyeol hears the faint sound of an engine pulling up in the distance and he nearly screams in joy, nearly breaking both of his legs when he stands up and retrieves his bus card at lightning speed. When the bus pulls up right in front of them, he’s about to take a step forward when he suddenly halts.

Sensing Chanyeol’s discomfort, Junmyeon bites his lip and shoots Jongin, who, thank God, isn’t looking in their direction, a glance. Chanyeol thinks Jongin looks like a ghost and Junmyeon stands glued to the ground and waits for an entire minute, putting his cigarette out in the process, before the brunet finally moves to get on the bus. Jongin’s posture, and aura in general, as he trudges towards the open doors leads Junmyeon to suspect the absolute worst and the latter quickly squashes the thought before dragging Chanyeol towards the bus.

~~~