There he was. All tanned skin glistening with sweat. Nearly six feet of glory. Pure, chiseled, exquisitely sculpted on legs. And looking a little frenzied, flushed and wide eyed, walking so quickly towards Kyungsoo he thought they would crash. But of course Jongin stopped just short of him, pulling Kyungsoo into a tight hug, which, in theory, should’ve been gross because Jongin was sweating buckets at the moment. But it was Jongin, so Kyungsoo didn’t mind.

“Hyung, I have the best idea,” was all Kyungsoo got before Jongin whisked him off across the campus.

Once they’d settled in Kyungsoo’s room, Jongin starfished on Kyungsoo’s bean bag, Kyungsoo tried to wait, let Jongin speak first, so he sat on the edge of the bed.

“What idea?” Kyungsoo finally asked. Jongin raised his head to look at Kyungsoo, dropping it back dramatically.

“Gimme a sec, I need to breathe,” so Kyungsoo waited, watching the rise and fall of Jongin’s chest until he no longer sounded like a winded rhino. “Okay, so remember Emily? And-” Jongin prattled off a list of names, all girls from his classes. Kyungsoo had a vague idea of their faces, but he didn’t care enough to remember them well.

“Yeah, what about them? Aside from pestering you?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin looked a little annoyed, and Kyungsoo gave him a sheepish smile. Right. He was getting to that.

Jongin didn’t need to go on about the details just then. The pestering, Kyungsoo knew, was a problem a few semesters old. These girls were infatuated with Jongin, and as obnoxious about it as they could possibly be. Jongin had gently turned them down at first, but even after he told them (much to Baekhyun’s amusement) that he loved up his thank you very much they refused to leave him alone.

“I have the perfect idea for getting rid of them, but-” and now it was Jongin’s turn to look sheepish, which Kyungsoo thought very strange, “I need your help.”

“Ah?” Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what else to say. Now Jongin was squirming; Kyungsoo would’ve for it if not for the burning curiosity.

“Ineedyoutobemyfakeboyfriend,” Jongin rushed. A sharp inhalation, and now Kyungsoo was choking on air. Smooth.

“What?” He managed through tears. Jongin looked crestfallen, sweatier, now, even though the AC was hitting him directly. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“I need you to be my fake boyfriend,” he repeated. Oh. So Kyungsoo hadn’t heard him wrong. Well .

“Wh-why, exactly?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin cleared his throat.

“Well, I mean, they seem to doubt that I’m gay, so if I’m necking-”

“What’s necking?”

Jongin froze, hands in mid gesture.

“It’s- it’s making out, hyung,”

“Oh. So why don’t you just say making out?”

“Because it’s another way to say it? That’s not the point-”

“But you don’t make out with your neck,” Kyungsoo mumbled, and Jongin, pausing again, couldn’t help the giggles this time.

“Hyung-”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be quiet now. Please continue,” said Kyungsoo.

“Like I was saying, if I’m involved in heavy PDA-”

“P…DA?” 

Jongin hid his face in his hands, dissolving into laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me! What’s PDA?” Kyungsoo squeaked, throwing his sock at Jongin.

“P-public displays of affection- ah! Where are you getting s-so many socks?” Jongin sputtered, sliding off the bean bag, arms raised at the barrage of incoming socks. Kyungsoo realized, belatedly, that they were from his hamper, so he frantically scuttled to pick all of them up again. “Oh, gross.” Jongin picked one up, sniffing it before Kyungsoo could stop him.

“Why would you do that, you absolute turd-” but Kyungsoo’s insult was lost in the fit of giggles that overtook them both, his arms buckling so that he landed face first in Jongin’s chest. Jongin’s toned, muscled chest. Which Kyungsoo totally didn’t have a thing for. Right, he should probably move; but Kyungsoo’s attempt to do so actually got him trapped between Jongin’s meaty thighs. Jongin, knowing this, and knowing he had the advantage, pinned K