hiraeth
[a homesickness that you can’t return to, or that never was.]

---

 

jinki opens his door to find taemin, driving his sneakers into the ground and looking like he has something to say. he squeaks a small can i come in and jinki nods dumbly, not able to hide his surprise. it’s been more than a few years that the both of them haven’t spoken a word to one another. it might have something to do with the fact that they’ve both grown into something almost polar opposite, and it might also have something to do with the fact that taemin has found new friends, cooler and better than jinki, although it was harder to appraise such pride-wounding truth. he lets him in nonetheless, and keeps his fingers crossed that taemin didn’t drag bad news in tow with him, but the look on his face didn’t promise such burden. jinki raises a brow at taemin who made himself comfortable on his couch, pressing his weight in the familiarity of the dent he left all those years ago as an impression of himself.

 

“hi hyung.” he says. “i came to catch up.”

 

jinki is a little wrung, sitting besides taemin and pushing his knees together so he doesn’t have to engage in any unnecessary contact. taemin doesn’t seem to take notice, though, and continues to divulge something about how guilty he has felt for the past years, how he was proven to be such a terrible friend for forsaking jinki in loneliness as he went out to explore his potentiality as a highschooler. he doesn’t really understand, because he has never put much consideration to it as taemin makes it sound. he waves his hand anyways, suggesting his conciliation and proposing that they let bygones be bygones.

 

taemin takes his hand and deftly cradles it between his fingers, and suddenly, the conciliation seems to be a little too forgiving in jinki’s head.

 

they had been so close before, to a point where taemin spent more time with jinki’s family than his own. despite their kind and sincere brothership, taemin’s sibling was a stranger in comparison to jinki himself. they have grown up to be a part of the other’s life and jinki could say that he has once been an influential figure in taemin’s life, but that seems to be questionable now.

 

he was the hyung with that vigilant faculty in case taemin encountered any form of bullying. he was the hyung that put the most exhilarating of smiles on other children’s faces, the hyung with jaw-dropping stories to tell—although with the means of modest exaggeration that went unnoticed by young and unripe ears. he was the oldest kid in the neighborhood and the most respected in the children’s juvenile hearts. taemin was at the head of their jinki-hailing fanclub, each day dawdling by the bus stop to wait for jinki to descend from his bus, or sitting on his doorstep with a tupperware of sunflower seeds on his knees. everywhere jinki went, taemin would follow a short step behind with glitters and sparkles in his eyes that conveyed his veneration for his hyung.

 

but things changed, and even if he had once deemed it for the greater good, he can’t help but to feel this tinge of resentment for having been easily overshadowed by strangers that taemin called friends. most of their old friends have left the neighborhood; ironically, taemin was the only one who lingered but felt the most distant to jinki.

 

and now, jinki was 17 and he has a calculus exam tomorrow but he esteems it necessary to accord this privilege to taemin, some time he could spare just so he could connect the strings once more.

 

“i’ll be back more often, i promise and i’m sorry.” he says, and jinki blinks at his smile.

 

“s’okay taemin.”

 

it’s slightly appeasing that the grease still remains between them, and it’s not difficult to talk again. they don’t start off rusty and awkward but instead are immediately enthralled in the motion of their gestures that haven’t changed since the last time they conversed. the words roll off effortlessly in a fashion that has been done before within the comfort of their friendship, and it pulls jinki’s lips into a smile reminiscent of yesteryear.

 

they don’t attend the same high school and their growth has only put more distance between them, but jinki concludes that an extinguished fire has been a fire before and the likelihood of rekindling it is not beyond possibility.

 

it’s only when taemin wraps his arms around jinki’s middle as they were parting that he realizes something: no amount of fuel would be able to rekindle the flame back to its original splendor at the beginning of their friendship, because things have undeniably changed. because the arms pressed against his sides are stronger than he last remembered them to be, and the chest supporting his weight feels more muscular than what taemin used to be.

 

because taemin wasn’t the bony-legged kid and gangly limbs strapped to a slender body anymore.

 

“bye hyung.” he grins over his shoulder, moving his sturdy-looking legs to cross the road over to his own home.

 

jinki stares blankly after him, eyes scanning all the evidence of their childhood in front of taemin’s home. the grass they rolled over, the potted plants they kept destroying with taemin’s ball, the garden hose jinki saw everyday as he rung taemin’s doorbell, all the untouched signs of their long-term friendship. and then there was taemin, who displayed his broad shoulders to him and the flexing muscles as he closes the door to his home.

 

things have changed, and he mulls over all the possibilities of what would entail from this newly renovated friendship. his worries solely stemmed from the mind-blowing changes in taemin, but it wasn’t like they were a substantial obstacle to their consonance.

 

or at least, that’s what jinki, the ever so sanguine sunshine, told himself.

 

--

 

the first time they abide by their spoken promise, jinki finds himself in taemin’s room, sitting on the floor besides the boy himself with their backs against his bed.

 

he knows he should stop staring so blatantly, but it proves to be difficult when all that composed taemin just seems to have grown twice in size. he smiles at something taemin was saying, more amused by the subtle quirks of his lips as taemin relates an event that happened at school two days prior.

 

they fill the silence with words mainly produced on taemin’s behalf, but jinki isn’t any having any less fun. he’s quick to adjust to this new taemin that isn’t all too remote from the one he grew up to know. but he’s also quick to mentally point out those remarkable differences between the two selves that he can’t quite merge as one person yet.

 

nonetheless, taemin is the kind of companionship he’s thankful for, the kind to make him want to push his homework to the side in favor of spending the bare maximum of time with him. taemin voices his wishes about wanting to reserve jinki’s friday nights so they can hang out in their leisure. jinki agrees with a curt nod of a head, finding it practical as it was the end of the week but not quite, leaving him ample time to unwind and to be serious about schoolwork.

 

taemin speaks a lot, with various interesting expressions painting his face during diverse parts of his speech, but the near-constant smiles made jinki’s breath catch in his windpipe. he blinks at the folds of taemin’s lips stretched over the pearly whites and jinki’s own curl into a wide grin as he replays the joke taemin tells him over in his mind. the carpeted floor beneath his splayed palms is still as soft, and the meager scent of vanilla hovering above their heads reminds jinki of their afternoons spent hiding from jinki’s mother coming to pick him up.

 

taemin speaks about a guy named jongin, and another named sehun, the side of their thighs pressed together. jinki nods to assure him that he was listening, but he can’t help the sinking feeling of learning the names of those who have replaced him, in more aspects than one. he keeps on nodding regardless, deeming it more important to be a hyung of service, to be a strong pole for taemin to lean on even if he’s having an earful. he speaks of his school, the beautiful girls and the hot boys with their eyes to die for. he speaks of how boring kang songsaenim was, and how luhan’s was calling out for him to . jinki tries not to wince at that.

 

taemin is different from what he used to be, and jinki can learn to recognize the changes. it was expected, anyways. jinki is sure that he himself must have undergone some sort of alteration that roused questions in taemin’s head, and he is sure that his uncharacteristic silence must be off-putting to some extent, but taemin has done nothing so far to indicate his bewilderment. or maybe jinki’s just kind of abnormally obsessed about these little variations.

 

jinki is struck with appalling realization when he ends up having the smaller wrist and the daintiest hands. taemin has grown up, much more than what jinki’s puberty spikes has given him, and it’s strange to be the one fitting in the space between taemin’s stronger arms.

 

the changes aren’t bad; they’re just somewhat unsettling.

 

by the time dusk drew along the stretches of the sky, taemin kindly suggested that he walked jinki home. he waves his hand in disavowal, a sheepish chuckle escaping his throat. it was just a few steps away, he reasons, but taemin guides him out of his home and across the street anyways, an unsuspecting arm draped around jinki’s shoulder.

 

“bye hyung, this was nice.” he says, a flimsy tilt in his voice and a contented bounce in his feet. “i’m sorry, for the drag. you know how much i speak, sometimes.”

 

i don’t, jinki wants to say but stops to spare himself the embarrassment, and maybe so much more. as a kid, taemin kept silent and was curled upon his personal space, only opening up to hug jinki or to take his hand. his words were nothing short of shy whispers sighed into his ears in quaking reticence, but jinki isn’t about to mention that. he opts for another nod, his neck turning quite sore from repeating the movement over the past hours.

 

“i don’t mind.” he supplies for a genuine answer. he reaches out to pat taemin on his head only to halt midway, reminded that taemin isn’t a child anymore. so he pats his arm instead, pursing his lips at how full it was underneath the pads of his fingertips. “i’ll see you next friday.” he smiles.

 

“yeah, hyung. see you.” and with that, taemin turns back to head to his own home.

 

as jinki enters his house, he fails to notice that a pair of heels was missing, and the home he stepped in was left in a cold, unattended state.

 

--

 

over the course of the next few weeks, jinki starts to feel comfortable again. this time, taemin doesn’t speak alone for the most part, and jinki chides in with a story or two at the tip of his tongue. they share laughs and brief sympathetic pats on the shoulder, they trip on their feet and on their words as one tries to sing and the other tries to dance. jinki cradles taemin’s head between his pressed thighs and cards his hands through taemin’s hair, the r&b music singing in the backdrop closing the gaps between their bodies.

 

taemin has rough days at school sometimes, he confesses, heartbreak and trivial three-way friendship problems. and jinki lets him unwind, lets the worries and troubles evaporate from his system with each revelations, lets the smile occupy his lips and the word of gratitude leave his lungs at each end of his speech. jinki smiles back each time, rubbing a spot on taemin’s forehead that he discovered was sensitive to the younger.

 

his swollen dark circles from lack of sleep pulls his eyes down to the point where it hurt to keep them open, and the yawn he keeps on stifling doesn’t stop bubbling up in his throat, but he bares his ears and his soul to listen to taemin and gives him some hyung advice. it’s worth the smile he gets in return, and he concludes that it’s enough a reason to stay awake.

 

he owes sleep a huge debt, and he owes his homework more appliance than what he has given recently, but taemin’s voice keeps him rooted on the spot. taemin’s laugh and the light in his eyes begs him to wait, to stay. and so he does, without much restraint.

 

weeks turn into months, and soon, jinki has been visiting taemin every friday night for over three months. and he likes it here, more than his own home where his mother seems to be missing as an intermittent routine these days. he misses her, but he misses taemin’s smile more when it wasn’t there.

 

jinki comes home, chest fastened with compensating joy that makes the concept of sleep elude him, as well as the papers strewn over the dining table beneath his mother’s nose as he walks over to kiss her goodnight.

 

--

 

the first time taemin tugs a bottle of alcohol out of his closet, jinki doesn’t hide his surprise.

 

“we’re gonna share… that?” he asks, leaning against the edge of taemin’s desk. it is a friday night after all, and maybe taemin’s cool friends were out bobbing their heads to an obnoxious music in a nightclub somewhere, and here he is, holding him back.

 

“yeah hyung.” taemin answers, his voice muffled from where he still has his head tucked in his closet. “i’ve been meaning to get this out, but i wasn’t sure how you’re gonna… see me.” he rubs his neck apprehensively when he drags himself out.

 

“it’s fine.” he says, even if he doesn’t know what to think of a 16 year old taemin casually pulling out two bottles of strong liquor like it was mineral water. he’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he doesn’t have much time to spare. he’s been out a few times to know how it’s like to be drunk, but this, drinking with taemin who is more underaged than he is, is a little irresponsible on his end. he doesn’t want to endorse any drinking habits especially when taemin is standing all proud and barely pubescent in front of him, but then taemin smiles and jinki drops the last slivers of good judgement, willing to submit to whatever it is that taemin wants to do.

 

and so they drink from the same bottle, swig after swig until jinki doesn’t see clear and can’t sit up straight anymore. he doesn’t find it himself to form coherent thoughts, much less coherent words to console taemin whose hair tickled jinki’s hypersensitive neck and whose breath trailed along the stretch of his collarbones. he hears taemin, but the words only register under the form of a hazy reverberation, like he was under water.

 

he’s still there, though, to ward taemin’s demons away and to rub his back when taemin is perched over the toilet bowl. he stays nonetheless, to swipe taemin’s sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead and to sing a smile back onto his lips. he himself isn’t well, but who has time to care for him?

 

jinki’s tired; his mind is close to a permanent shut down until he gathers enough energy to carry on with his existence, but he has made quelling taemin’s troubles his priority. he’s not sure he regrets it, though. jinki’s sad, sad that taemin’s sad and that his grades don’t reach his standards and that minho doesn’t really like him back and that he hardly sees his mother anymore, but he’ll tend to his problems later.

 

his heart breaks when taemin clutches his hand in his sleep, but jinki knows he has to leave. and so he does, after cleaning the rims of the toilet bowl and draping a blanket over taemin’s unmoving frame. a part of his brain is sober enough to successfully tie the laces of his shoes before swaying his heavy head from right to left, inspecting if any car was rushing by even if he knows it’s three something in the morning.

 

his mother is still watching the tv in the living room when he makes it back to his house, looking up to eye her beloved son with a smile on her face that spoke volumes about their affinities.

 

“jinki-yah.” he hears her say, voice a little hoarse but his bleary mind doesn’t detect that. he blows her a kiss, afraid to go near her while the alcohol was still flowing in his blood.

 

the mattress of his bed feels much softer than he remembers, and sleep has never come this easily to him in a long time. that is until he wakes up again not even ten minutes later, staring at a spot on the moving ceiling as if willing it to cease. he’s not sure if it’s him trying to stay awake, but he’s steered to a place where the line between wakefulness and slumber is terribly blurred. he ends up not getting any pleasure from his shut-eye, which feels more like closing his eyes for five minutes before it’s morning again.

 

he properly wakes at nine am, his stomach churning uncomfortably and a hangover pounding at the back of his eyeballs. he momentarily recalls taemin’s smile and suddenly, yesterday night is worth the most mind-blowing nausea in the world.

 

--

 

there is not a night that jinki returns sober between his own sheets after that. he tries not to think about the throb in his head and the weight pressing down his lids begging him to sleep and taemin’s eyes momentarily flicking to stare at his lips.

 

instead, he tries to erase the various images of the night from his busy mind; he already has so much to think about, things unknown to him that keep him awake at night, holding him from finally finding slumber.

 

it doesn’t feel like much later when jinki drags himself out of bed to wash the foul taste of his hangover before hurrying to complete his essay for monday.

 

--

 

the first time it happens, jinki is stunned beyond belief.

 

he knows that taemin is not very sober and his own head feels both light and heavy simultaneously, and it doesn’t make it better that taemin has voiced the strange string of queries that even in jinki’s half drunk mind, sounds like a serie of gunshots.

 

“hyung, have you ever kissed before?” taemin asks, not bothering to leave him enough space to breathe.

 

“well, yeah, several times.” he replies.

 

“have you ever had before?”

 

“yikes, not yet.” jinki makes a face.

 

“do you want to try? with me?” scandalized, jinki scrambles his mind for words that just won’t materialize fast enough.

 

“what- no- taemin-“

 

“i don’t mean the , you drunk weirdo. i mean the kissing.” and jinki allows himself to relax, a little. he can feel his tense muscles loosening.

 

“i don’t know taemin.” every inch of his being is screaming at him in a colorful language for refusing something he wants, but he has half a mind that it isn’t exactly what taemin wants. and he knows better than to put his own satisfactions before taemin’s comfort.

 

“come on hyung, just one kiss.” he insists, flattening his hands on the base of jinki’s neck.

 

“one kiss is scandalous enough to make you hate me forever.”

 

“what are you talking about? you won’t even remember this!” taemin’s voice is the musky melody of the spring breeze even when drenched in alcohol, and jinki is afraid he might concede to this bait.

 

“yah, aegi, you’re drunk.” jinki finds it scary that he doesn’t lean away when taemin’s head is edging closer, lips puckered exaggeratedly.

 

and then the press of moist lips is there but barely there, a ghosting of breath warming jinki’s lips in its wake. taemin pulls back enough to look at jinki’s dazed face, the droop of his eyes very obviously describing the state of drunkenness he was in.

 

taemin grins widely, but jinki doesn’t muster enough energy to mirror it. he doesn’t even have time to breathe a word of protest when taemin dives in again, placing a wet kiss on the swell of his lips with a loud, audible smack that seems to be mocking jinki’s paralyzing shock.

 

taemin bursts out laughing, the sound of it buzzing in his ears and lacing with the rush of blood he is suddenly able to clearly hear. jinki sits back confusedly, spine propped against the headrest, nursing a whole bottle of cheap vodka.

 

they resume their silent drinking, sighing words every now and then before taemin begins his drunk-talk spree again, unleashing the tensions tangling his nerves together in a tight knot. he plays with jinki’s hair as he speaks, the occasional coil of breath ruffling his tresses. jinki stares straight ahead, a smile on his lips and frivolous words of comfort leaving his throat.

 

before his departure, taemin tugs him down again and pecks him on the lips, and he lets it be, lets taemin’s ministrations lead him to a happy place, lets the glow expand within his chest.

 

when he gets home, his mother is soundly sleeping on her bed, and jinki is courageous enough to pace into the room to pull the covers up to his mother’s chin, caressing her pajama-clad shoulder with his knuckles in a feather-light touch.

 

“i like someone, mom.” he whispers to her, eyes heavy with drowsiness and feet standing on unstable ground. “goodnight.”

 

and then he’s gone with the gush of wind that flows through her room from the opened window, cheek pressed against his own pillow and eyes searching for sleep that just doesn’t come.

 

—

 

it happened occasionally; the hot, quavering breath hovering above his lips, the firm yet gentle grasp on his ebony locks, the darkness of his eyelids that blinds the look on taemin’s face, the ugly, adulterated scent of vanilla saturating the air, and the shaky kiss on the corner of his mouth that entails.

 

it used to be a reticent, rare occurrence, until kissing on the lips became like a ritual as their parting custom. and then it happened more often, himself pinned on closed doors or between the folds of taemin’s blanket. and then it happened every friday as the weeks wore by, and jinki made it a routine to return home with damp, swollen lips.

 

they share instants of fleeting kisses on the lips and on the neck behind the walls of his room and hidden by the drawn curtains. nobody saw them; nobody could see the contentment behind jinki’s lids and the hunger manipulating taemin’s hands. the walls separating themselves and the world, the dimness encompassing them from clear sight, the alcohol veiling their senses and filtering their gestures are factors apparently crucial to taemin. unless they are intoxicated, hidden between the ripples of the night and and ducked behind walls, taemin doesn’t kiss. he doesn’t ask whether or not jinki wants to kiss, he doesn’t question his consentment or comfort—although jinki does little to nothing to resist, not that he wants to anyways.

 

the first, second, third time has been a little confusing, but maybe jinki was too drunk to actually care or comprehend—it happens that he forgets that it was taemin in front of him, and not his english notebook or his lifeless eyes staring back at him in the mirror. taemin tastes like strong liquor and a tinge of mint folded away at the back of his throat; jinki hates the aftertaste lingering on his lips when he them as he wills his obviously tired soul to sleep but ends up a constant impossibility, but he enjoys the flood of feelings left in its wake.

 

taemin is gentle and has this tendency of supporting jinki’s neck with the rough pads of his hands. taemin likes perfectly horizontal surfaces to push him down on or against, so he can tilt his head in miscellaneous angles. jinki doesn’t count the kisses, but they haven’t gone further than innocent press of lips, he knows that much.

 

it’s strange to be the eldest but to be submitting under taemin’s frame that equaled his in terms of size. it’s strange how taemin is the one leading their laced hands in a synchronized dance and how bold his gestures are in comparison to jinki’s shrinking back from the spotlight. it’s strange how taemin performs the role of the elder now.

 

and then they sit together, mind fogged and far from being sober, mindlessly gazing at each other. jinki watches taemin, sees as his mouth parts to form words. he blinks once, twice, before he’s awfully reminded that he’s beyond tired. he doesn’t hear taemin, he can’t hear him. but taemin speaks, still, and leans his head on jinki’s shoulder, and breathes and exists and jinki just wants to get some decent amount of sleep. he seems to be lacking the quality of it, and seeing taemin just doesn’t cut it.

 

but then taemin grabs the back of his neck and jinki sees flashes of black horizontal lines blurring his sight before his lips meet with the younger’s. his senses are sharpened, his vision black behind his lids and his hearing catching the wrinkles of breath sweeping on his cheek as taemin carries on kissing him.

 

jinki is happy, like this. he wants to stay like this until slumber finally comes to him and cradles him within its motherly embrace that jinki craves so much. he wants to believe that taemin bears the faculty to lull him to sleep, that taemin is a reason for him to sleep as much as he is to stay awake, that if time freezes and they both remain in that position for just a while longer, jinki can finally find repose where he never wants to arise from.

 

the edges of his consciousness soften, and jinki’s arms around taemin’s neck loosen; he can feel his head tilting backwards involuntarily as a sign of drowsiness. he feels it, in his vein, the weight of the exhaustion that has gathered into a lump, his already black vision turning even dimmer.

 

he removes his lips from taemin’s to take a breath that feels vital, letting the soaking dampness turn cold with the air conditioning. taemin’s arms were warm, like blankets, his shoulder is so close, and jinki just wants to dive in to pillow his forehead. his head lolls to the side, heavy and sleepy, and he presses his icy lips to taemin’s neck. taemin stiffens, his hands coming to wrap around the back of jinki’s shirt to a crumple.

 

“ah! jongin!”

 

he stops; frozen, dead.

 

a cold, cold substance replaces the last residue of sleepiness left within him. hollow, so hollow he feels inside his chest, where he just wants to fill with some acquired shut-eye. but suddenly, the idea of sleeping doesn’t sound so appealing anymore.

 

he pretends, still, that he doesn’t hear, that he can’t hear. he pretends to do the things he does usually, listens to taemin’s heartbeat through the layers of their shirts, listens to taemin’s voice with newfound difficulty. he keeps his eyes closed, using them as a barrier obscuring the harsh reality in which he lived. the realization is too sudden, too appalling for him to properly process, but he knows, now, despite being in all states of intoxication.

 

taemin laughs, jinki recoils. he detaches himself from taemin to lie down on his side, eyes wide and outlined with weariness, familiar flashes of black, horizontal lines impairing his vision. arms snake around his waist and lips fold on the sliver of skin beneath his collar. cold, cold they are and distant and foreign.

 

taemin changed, he knows, but maybe he has never really accepted it.

 

jinki’s tired.

 

beautiful, numbing slumber; maybe it hates jinki, but he knows for a fact that he would scream for it, work for it, pay for it with a part of his body. it seems as if this night isn’t the one where they’d finally meet.

 

before going home, jinki is pulled down for a kiss that doesn’t seem all too sweet anymore. it doesn’t give him butterflies, but instead intensifies the bile lodged in his stomach. taemin beams at him with no hint of guilt or awareness whatsoever, and jinki blinks, hoping that each one is a shortcut to slumber. but for taemin, tonight is just like any other.

 

he wipes the tiredness from his sore eyes before dragging himself away onto the streets, not bothering to look back to check whether or not taemin was observing him from his door like he usually does. it’s four o’clock in the morning and jinki’s mother has left a note informing her absence for the weekend, saying that she has business to tend to and that she loves her jinki.

 

jinki groans into his pillow, limbs weak and head light. he closes his eyes for no more than five minutes and suddenly, it’s day again.

 

—

 

“i’m sorry.”

 

words whispered in his ears in an almost inaudible hush, like a gentle flow of a musical wind wafting in his ears.

 

jinki doesn’t know why taemin is apologizing, but he doesn’t exactly take the words at heart.

 

taemin pushes his leg between jinki’s thighs and captures his lips again, slow and composed in his rhythm. his arms are tucked behind taemin’s neck, his chest flush against his, the disarray of legs stretching down forever and pressing the knee on his groin just a little harder.

 

“i’m sorry hyung.” he says again, trailing kisses up and down and all over. “stay.” he begs, silently confessing how much he needs jinki.

 

it only took taemin one night to realize that something was wrong. it was simple, really; jinki fails to show up, taemin takes notice of something awry and remembers, slaps his hand across his forehead in feigned horror and runs down the road to abuse jinki’s doorbell. it couldn’t have gone any differently, not by a mile anyways.

 

taemin lets himself in and rushes to jinki’s room where he was sprawled on the bed, drool slick between his supple cheek and the pillow. he doesn’t notice the vacancy in jinki’s house, doesn’t notice the black horizontal lines that seems to have been permanently carved on jinki’s eyeballs, doesn’t notice the pile of homework waiting to be completed.

 

the only thing taemin sees is jinki and his hands, which he gently takes and kisses the length of it up to his cheeks.

 

and now, as jinki has half anticipated, he’s back within the dent he has left in taemin’s bed taking the form of his back, himself seamlessly aligned with it as taemin begins to his shirt.

 

“jinki… i need you.”

 

erratic breathing, the cold air traveling down his arms, taemin’s maneuvers around the rims of his waistband, hot, hot air blowing onto the area below his belly button. quick hand , kisses here and there, wet, smoldering heat inching down his length, jinki’s hands flying out to find purchase on taemin’s hair, groans and guttural sounds that never managed to reach neighboring ears, hot hot hot. jinki is hot and shaking and bucking into taemin’s heat and he’s not tired, he’s riding on ecstasy and short-circuiting sensations running his system on overdrive and oh god taemin’s tongue is working wonders. soon he comes and sees taemin’s gag reflex quaking his entire body and sustains a shriek, closing his eyes as the tremors die down.

 

“i’m sorry.” taemin says again, pressing the words into his ears as if willing them to enter.

 

jinki makes it back home on wobbly legs and on taemin’s reluctance, wanting him near, needing him near. but jinki has shaken his head, with a smile nonetheless, and leans in to place his head on the slant of taemin’s shoulder.

 

sleep still doesn’t find him, though, and after what feels like a few seconds, the tell-tale of chirping birds and leaves rustling in the early morning wind indicates him that it’s time to wake up although he has never really slept.

 

at least, he smells fried rice and something akin to fish on his way downstairs, knees weak and his unchanged pants dirty dirty dirty.

 

his mom smiles at him and jinki thinks he sees the familiar dark circles and swollen, sleep-deprived eyes on his mother’s beautiful face. she looks so old, cooking and tired and emotionless as he is, so he kindly hugs her and sits down on the table like a good boy, gaze wandering out the window to stare at the house in the opposite direction.

 

he’s not a good boy. if his mother is this tired, it can only be his fault for never taking the initiative to ask her to slow down, or to rest, or to just tell him what she has been up to for the past months.

 

—

 

the first time jinki drank an americano, he didn’t think his heart would make it. his hands shook and uncontrollable shudders ran up the length of his ribs and it wasn’t comfortable to live with it all day to say the least. and that was only after a couple of gulps. the taste is bitter and lingers on his tongue in the most insufferable way imaginable but he rolls with it anyway because it was the last option to fuel his short-lasting energy.

 

now, it’s the only thing he seems to be drinking every morning.

 

he lives off coffee, and his sweet, sweet mother understands him, because she does, too.

 

but coffee can only do so much.

 

on this friday, jinki thinks he has time to relax. his teacher wasn’t here and while he was tempted to spend the night at minho’s upon receiving the invitation, he knows taemin is going to be lonely without him. it’s the first time that they made it a point to stop chucking down alcohol without any reserve. it’s the first time he sees taemin’s traits glow in the radiance of the pouring sun.

 

he's not convinced for certain, but taemin seems eager to see him, always looks forward to friday nights as he has sheepishly confessed.

 

it’s reassuring, sometimes, that his company is appreciated, before he’s ruthlessly reminded by his half coffee-stimulated half sleepy mind that at the end of the day, he’s just a rebound.

 

a rebound.

 

that’s probably what taemin was apologizing for. he’s sorry that jinki has to be the one who plays the rebound.

 

but that’s okay, he reasons, because taemin kisses him like he wants to be kissed, gentle of nimble fingers and featherly caresses, melted honey tone laced to sugary words. who in their right minds wouldn’t want that?

 

he seems to be the only one who wants to kiss taemin and do things with him because he is taemin, but he solemnly recalls that the feeling is not exactly reciprocated. it’s okay, though, it never really mattered anyways.

 

for now, he likes to concentrate on raking his fingers between taemin’s black strands, watching as the tresses spring back into their place with each . taemin sleeps soundly cushioned by his thighs, his breath sweeping across his clothed legs. taemin spoke again, about bad grades and damn dishonest friends until tears pricked at his eyes, and until jinki sang him to sleep. he smiles down at the puffy eyes spent shedding tears and shedding jinki’s heart, smiles down at his split lips where he has bitten him the week prior. jinki counts every rise and fall of taemin’s chest, but leans far enough to stop himself from counting the lashes sticking out of taemin’s eyes too.

 

his calculus book was opened next to him, forgotten, utterly neglected and he knows he should do something about it. with one last look and a purse of his lips, jinki closes it and tosses it where he can’t see it. he lets his head fall back against the headboard, eyes casted upon taemin’s features interweaved with peace.

 

he wants to sleep, too.

 

and he hates coffee, so darn much.

 

it’s later into the night when a drunk taemin strips him from his clothes that jinki realizes this isn’t the night he’s going to find the pleasure of slumber, like any other night. it never hurts to hope, though. so jinki does, although in vain.

 

taemin still speaks as he s into jinki, the occasional bites on his shoulder impairing his speech and the strings of swear words slowing him down. jinki still listens to taemin over the shrill buzz ringing in his ears and over the sheen of sweat lathering his entire body, even if taemin is saying someone else’s name that isn’t his.

 

the best thing jinki can offer in his condition is a sympathetic pat on the back or letting himself be subjected to an endless series of kisses. or lending an ear to listen, a mouth to blabber useless advice that taemin surprisingly doesn’t take for granted, a shoulder to lean on and a body at his disposal. isn’t jinki just a great hyung?

 

he’s always been there, in times his dongsaengs needed him the most. but who was there for him? not even slumber wants him. who would, then?

 

taemin asks him to stay because it hurts hyung but jinki shakes his head. he wants to lean in, steal a kiss but he doesn’t. he does linger around long enough to give away his hesitation. he tucks taemin into bed before heading back to an empty home.

 

jinki seems to be handling alcohol better than he used to, a blessing born from a lousy habit, but it’s not very beneficial to him, upon further reflection. if he can drink and forget and then pass out like most people, he wouldn’t have to stare at that same spot he knew by heart on his ceiling, waiting for something that never came in its entirety.

 

it’s 5am when he fully wakes up, floor spinning and sight blurry from exhaustion, trips on thin air and walks into three doors.

 

“mom?” he even dares calling out and expecting the impossible.

 

and tired enough to forget that he’s alone, all over again.

 

—

 

the first time they met each other outside taemin’s bedroom and outside their intoxication, jinki is surprised.

 

he counted six months now since the day he opened his door to find taemin. and this is the first in a long time that taemin drags him to the family couch by his hand and pushing his shoulders down to fully lie across the couch.

 

despite everything, jinki smiles and half yawns the curse words as taemin completely straddles him. he squints past taemin’s shoulder hunched over his form to the opened curtains and the blinding sunlight swerving through the gaps, strains his hearing to catch the meekest of noise as he tries to identify another presence in the house. much to his surprise, if he tries hard enough, he could make out the lightness of taesun’s feet pacing in the room right above their heads.

 

taemin gently tugs his head back, exposing the smooth line of his neck as he slowly carves straight marks with his straight teeth into his pearly white skin. jinki’s heart skips a few beats as taemin’s eyelashes flutter against his clenched jaw, the sensation of the bristles overwhelming in the stillness of the room, the soft, meager brush disrupting the emergency of their situation.

 

yet, jinki finds that he doesn’t care, nor does taemin, that one of his parents can walk through that front door not even 10 meters away from them at any given second. he doesn’t really feel pressured that taesun might stomp down the stairs and discover them in such a compromising disposition; although familiar to them, they still had to get used to this being entirely new to the people around them.

 

taemin doesn’t stop his ministrations, running his rough palms along jinki’s arms and stripping him from his shirt, even as the uncovered windows directly gave way to detailed inspection of what they are doing. taemin doesn’t stop even when his mind is perfectly functional and rational without the effects of alcohol.

 

they hold hands and press their foreheads together, body and emotions moving in tandem, ebony locks entwined in equally black hair until jinki is at a loss of whose hair belongs to whom.

 

this is not their first time; but to jinki, it all feels like they’re discovering themselves in their unfeigned nature. they’ve done so many things he’d rather not name behind the barrier of their intoxication—a pretext, an excuse—and hidden beneath the layers of lie they have built up to conceal one another from being exposed. the way taemin moves isn’t the same as the sloppy push of hips driven by the alcohol in his system; it all feels so new to him.

 

the risk has been thrown out the window now, the pretext has been wiped out from the forefront of their minds, staying undercover has been rendered a myth. taemin isn’t afraid, and neither is jinki.

 

and so they lay there for a while even after it’s over, unbothered to properly cover themselves, jinki taemin’s skin with the tips of his finger and evenly breathing in their mingled scents.

 

the same night, taemin’s parents come home to the both of them curled on the sofa in front of the black screen of the tv, the back of jinki’s head pressed into taemin’s chest. taemin pushes his finger against his lips with a frown, silently prompting his parents to maneuver quietly around the house, careful not to spoil the barely existent time jinki spent sleeping. jinki knows this because he wasn’t exactly sleeping, simply relaxing the fatigued muscles around his eyes, the swollen tissues beneath them feeling heavier than they have ever been. he persists with his performance, because he tells himself repeatedly that he has to feel this, needs to feel this to finally get enough sleep. has to at least pretend to be asleep, even if to himself. each second felt like he’s getting closer, his aching muscles and the sting in his behind working up his already exhausted body to another degree of weariness.

 

but sleep never came, even when taemin gently shakes his shoulder and he flutters his eyes open to find three other pairs of eyes eyeing him with great interest.

 

“you okay jinki-yah?” taemin’s mom’s familiar voice tells him through the bleary haze, his mind still toeing at the line into dreamscape. he almost forgets to nod, albeit confusedly, before peeling his head from where it was snuggled into taemin’s heat. a chuckle travels from taemin’s vocal chords to his arms and jinki feels the reverberation against his sensitive skin and nerves, already nursing a headache.

 

he ends up eating at their place, as taemin’s parents noticed the dimness of jinki’s house, the vacancy that logically entails from the circumstance, but they don’t come around to question it. and jinki is eternally grateful for it, though he does fear that they caught on to the shallow situation involving his mom’s absence. taemin frowns, but jinki distracts him with a smile.

 

he doesn’t really hear many things, with taesun’s voice overlapping taemin’s in a senseless argument and their parents slapping their hands over their faces in embarrassment. he’s glad that his exhaustion is written over every nooks of his face, because taemin’s parents aren’t as inquisitive as jinki has expected them to be upon taking one look at the ripples under his eyes.

 

halfway through, taesun turns his head to their dad instead and jinki is jostled from his bleary state by taemin’s toes running along his calves. when he looks over, taemin’s fist is stifling a smirk that grows beneath it and his cold, cold foot plays with his. jinki musters up the energy to pull his lips into a smile.

 

things won’t stop changing. they live in a world in which the things are in a constant state of morphosis. those things in question are intangible and jinki would have done something about it had they not been. he can’t change the abstract, something his fingers can’t touch. he can’t change taemin and his feelings for him, he can’t change his perpetual sleeping issues, he can’t change that kibum’s nagging reminds him of his mom and that he wants to cry, that jonghyun is still so nice to him and that minho still never returned those feelings even after what felt like a lifetime.

 

but well, jinki reasons that to each their own problems, and that he’s not the only one suffering the way he is, that people have it worse than him, somehow, somewhere in this world. it’s not fair to find solace in self-pity like this, it’s not fair to those who would choose to be in jinki’s place in a heartbeat.

 

taemin suffers too, after all. isn’t that what he tells jinki every friday? isn’t that what jinki and his body was for, at the end of the day?

 

taemin drags him upstairs afterwards, hands warm and smile broad. there is no sight of liquor, no lubricant on the nightstand and no lousy routine ahead of them. taemin sits him on the bed and slithers his arm around his slouched shoulders, smoothes down the hair poking out of his head to haphazard directions, and handles him like a porcelain doll.

 

“is this okay?” he asks, gazing past his window to stare at the stretch of the ebony sky, a sprinkle of stars flickering brightly against the dark. jinki glances in bewilderment at taemin, waiting for an answer to where all this strange, affectionate complexion came from all of a sudden.

 

“yes, it’s okay.” he whispers back, reading the smile on taemin’s lips against his own.

 

he favors to ignore the sudden turn of events, already instinctively guessing that it won’t last any longer than what he hopes. whatever divine light out there spoonfeeding this to him must be one hell of a devil, because jinki isn’t falling for this even for a second.

 

but he can get used to this, and make the best of it while it’s still there.

 

—

 

they eat in silence, jinki hesitant to meet her eyes. maybe he’s lost the courage to see all the tiredness screaming from her eyes, maybe he fears to not recognize her behind all that layer of fatigue aging her by a decade. whatever it is, jinki doesn’t want to face what is in front of him in the form of his mother.

 

but he’s happy, to find her back home and bites his tongue so not to vomit his series of wonders and concerns about her welfare, the matters she’s been dealing with, the flood of papers and furniture magazines sticking out of her purse and so much more he dares not even mention.

 

“how’s school, jinki-yah?” her voice is not as tired as she looks, and just then, jinki lifts his chin to appraise his mother. there’s a vivid glint in her eyes that tells him that despite everything, she’s still happy and alive, from the inside out.

 

“fine. i get better grades in english now.”

 

“that’s good. have you been over to your friends’ often these past months?” she asks, and jinki avoids her eyes. he knows she feels guilty.

 

“yeah, i’ve been catching up with… taemin.”

 

“ooh, taemin as in, lee taemin across our home?” her hair bobs around her round face as she excitedly leans in her chair. jinki doesn’t see what the commotion is about. it’s just taemin and his stupid smile and his stupid strong arms and legs. he didn’t see what there was to be so thrilled about.

 

“yeah, him.” he smiles as his mother supports her head with a palm, dreamily gazing at the ceiling. she’s always loved taemin so much.

 

“ooh, i remember when you cried because you touched a snail to prove minho and taemin that you’re brave. taemin still said you looked cool, though, so i suppose it was worth it.”

 

“mom!” he whines, laughing around the remainings of vegetables he was chewing.

 

“so, how is that boy?”

 

“what- what do you mean?” his cheeks turned warm at the many possibilities of response he could tell her. he already ruled out the ones he’d never tell his mom. like taemin’s belly button .

 

“how is he carrying himself? good boy?”

 

“definitely bad boy. i mean- he’s- his grades aren’t that good. and he argues with taesun a lot. as usual.”

 

her only answer comes in the form of a slow, half-hearted nod as she looks at jinki with heavy eyes. he hates that the exhaustion starts to show so soon, and he dreads the moment she’s going to pass out like a lifeless corpse on the sofa.

 

“and, how are you mom?” he half whispers his question, fearing that his mother’s bones would crush under the gravity it holds. she doesn’t reply immediately, pursing and unpursing her lips as she twirls her glass of water in her hand. she doesn’t look at him.

 

“i’m okay.” she says finally, more to herself than to jinki. she sighs and drops the glass on the table lightly, making a move to stand up and collect the plates. “i’ve just been working overtime, is all. i had to crash at kyungmi for a while because her place is closer to the office.” she takes her voice with her as she disappears to the kitchen, jinki following her steps silently.

 

“let me do it, mom.” he says, gesturing to the dirty dishes. she seems to be straining her eyes as her short size forced her to look up to him with round, weary eyes.

 

“thank you, jinki-yah.” she presses her hand on his cheek and jinki remains mum, instead choosing to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him. “get some sleep.” she whispers in his ears as she pulls away, before the padding of her feet tells him that she’s directly gone to her room, leaving him to limply stand there.

 

like a switch has been flipped, jinki decides he desperately wants to sleep, and he’d resort to the most extreme of cases if he had to.

 

—

 

it’s when he’s beginning to close his eyes that his phone rings. for a moment, he leaves it to ring obnoxiously against the nightstand because it’s too much of a struggle to untangle himself from his cover to reach for the device. after two missed calls, jinki starts to think it’s serious.

 

the screen of the phone lights and he squints past the momentary blindness at the number calling him. he sighs tiredly as he recognizes the number as taemin’s. he answers and was immediately met with eerie silence.

 

“taemin?” he croaks out. he was still leaning over the bundle of his blanket pooled around his waist, elbow planted on the nightstand. it’s not comfortable and his head hurts and his throat is painfully dry but it doesn’t matter. he calls out taemin’s name again, frowning when the other end of the line is dead silent.

 

“hyung?” taemin’s voice is rough and cut through the stillness so suddenly that it surprised jinki, and he lets out a breath of relief.

 

“what’s up tae, you alright?”

 

“no, no i’m not.” by the way taemin seems winded, jinki could only assume he just woke up from a nightmare.

 

“talk to me. what’s wrong?”

 

and just like that, taemin tells him stories of his dreams and nightmares that broke cold-sweat on his forehead. jinki’s eyes are raw and sore but sleep has completely evaded his senses as he nods along to taemin’s incoherent blabbers.

 

taemin’s stories are endless and turn into loops but jinki listens, and he ends up talking for a long time in the small speakers of his phone, soothing taemin with what sounded very philosophical to him but is actually very simple. he doesn’t really register what he says, but it seems to have appeased taemin’s tense nerves because the latter’s smile is screaming at him in his ears in the silence that entails and compelling him to smile as well.

 

taemin asks if jinki can stay on the line and not cut it until tomorrow morning and he nods dumbly, unaware that taemin can’t see him. and he suddenly recalls that today isn’t friday and that jinki has probably never spoken to taemin on another day that isn’t friday and the world seems to be upside down. like how taemin has woken up from his nightmare and jinki hasn’t, even though he doesn’t even get to sleep.

 

but morning comes slowly and jinki only got a little

more than an hour of sleep that makes his head throb, but it’s okay because taemin’s even breathing wafts through the receiver of his phone and it keeps jinki content.

 

he cuts the line and drags himself to the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the walls and the horizontal black lines impairing his vision.

 

with some medication, maybe jinki will get better.

 

—

 

jinki buys sleeping pills.

 

—

 

when it happens, jinki is beyond mortified.

 

the thought that things have changed has been there before, and it has found its place drilled in jinki’s mind ever since. taemin has been nothing but affectionate with him and gives him moments of pleasure. jinki is no longer reduced to an ear for taemin to talk to and a hole for him to . jinki’s become a person with signs of feelings and fatigue and sadness showing on his face, a person with more dimensions than what taemin has priorly judged otherwise. it’s not explicit, but it didn’t take a genius to know that jinki never really mattered much to him more than a punchbag to draw out the clogging frustration. and the worst part is that jinki understands, he knows how strenuous things can turn out to be and how betrayed taemin can feel, like the world has turned against him. he knows that much, he himself going through both stagnant and peaking execrable events in his life.

 

but it all feels like it’s not that way anymore.

 

jinki starts to find fragments of sleep here and there, and though these moments of repose he manages to catch were painfully ephemeral, it feels like it was going somewhere, like he has a destiny to reach.

 

and as his sleep schedule—or the lack thereof—progresses into something more tangible, taemin’s humanity seems to seep back into himself, showing jinki that he, too, cares.

 

and jinki really, truly believes in change.

 

things change, a lot, sometimes into something desirable, sometimes into hideous, disgusting realities. but jinki has to face changes either way, whether he likes it or not.

 

so as he sits opposite of taemin, keeping his knees to himself and his fingers running along the rims of his soju bottle, jinki parts his lips to say what he deems the most important revelation of the century.

 

“i like you.”

 

taemin is half drunk, blinks slowly at him and answers him with a huge swig of his drink.

 

jinki waits, until taemin finishes the whole bottle and until he sets it down, until he smiles and looks away, until jinki recognizes that he’s waiting for nothing.

 

taemin has nothing to offer him, and maybe, things don’t really change after all.

 

jinki is not drunk, and jinki feels nauseous staying in here, suffocated by the headache-inducing scent of vanilla that was paradoxically nowhere to be found and taemin’s deafening silence and the sound of rejection, as if shouted at him through a megaphone.

 

neither of them really moves for the five minutes that follow jinki’s half-assed confession and he gets up, throws the empty bottle of soju in taemin’s school bag that served as trash and ignored taemin’s footsteps behind him before he closes the front door.

 

by the time he reaches his door is only when he hears taemin calling his name over and over again, but this time, instead of exclusively straining his hearing to listen to taemin’s voice, he simply doesn’t.

 

—

 

jinki comes home, sees his mother on the couch sporting a fancy glass of wine and some expensive-looking sweets spread on the table. no papers. no trace of exhaustion. jinki holds back tears as he gazes into his mother’s eyes.

 

“jinki-yah.” she stops him before he can trudge up the stairs and chuck down the sleeping pills he bought.

 

“yes mom?” he croaks, voice hoarse and rough and painfully grating against his throat like sandpaper.

 

“we’re moving out. soon.” she smiles.

 

jinki smiles at the sight, but not at the words.

 

it’s vague, the notion of time and location is blurred, but after a short time spent reconsidering on the spot, it sounds like the sweetest lullaby jinki has ever lived to hear.

 

after how this night turned out to be, the prospect of being far and away from here isn’t too bad of an idea; a promise of happiness, a promise to end what has him stapled under a circumstance he has been struggling to get out of.

 

strangely, he ends up never touching the sleeping pills, and falls into deep slumber as effortlessly as he had before, once upon a time. he doesn’t even have enough time to reminisce in the feeling of sleep enveloping him in a soothing embrace, soothing him of the images of taemin’s crooked yet apologetic smile and his droopy eyes before the muscles of his eyes relaxed, the tenseness dissolving like fumes on a cold day.

 

—

 

jinki is tired.

 

he’s tired from having slept more than 5 hours consecutively after what felt like forever. it’s a good thing, but strangely draining for an unaccustomed body like his.

 

minho invited him to watch a basketball match featuring jonghyun whom jinki never even knew practiced the sport, but he’s there nonetheless and trying not to lean into minho.

 

he does, anyway, halfway through the game when his lids bore weights too heavy for him to carry. his frame slightly slants to the side from where he’s seated on the bleachers and as his shoulders graze minho’s sweater, he blinks and bolts upright alarmingly.

 

he hears minho chuckle softly and presses jinki’s head against his shoulder, moving that same hand down his back and around his waist as he held him closely.

 

jinki is too tired to really care what they looked like in the eyes of others or whether or not jonghyun would complain about him missing out on his amazing goal; he just wants to stay here, and feel the most of minho as he can while he’s allowed to.

 

maybe he’s already beginning to wake up, as he goes to sleep.

 

“you okay hyung?” minho asks him, and jinki doesn’t need to see him to feel his eyes on him.

 

“mhm.”

 

“you sleep well at night?” he asks, and jinki considers briefly before mentally shrugging, as if to say it.

 

“not really.”

 

“is everything okay hyung?”

 

“not really.”

 

“can you tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“of course… maybe. i don’t know.” he sighs, wincing lightly as people around him stomped for a cheer, the chants of a familiar name telling him that jonghyun has scored. minho, though, doesn’t even bat an eyelash.

 

“i’m worried about you, hyung.”

 

“i miss my mom. and i like taemin. and i’m tired, minho. i’m really tired. i don’t think the history teacher likes me, and i don’t really like him either. and taemin doesn’t really like me back. and my mom isn’t home on weekdays and i don’t really see her. i can’t sleep at night, even less when taemin drags me out at night to drink with him. i mean, it’s not like he forces me or anything. also i’m- i’m moving out of the neighborhood. i’ll still be here but i won’t be here anymore. i mean- nothing is the same anymore but minho, i’m just-

 

i just really want to sleep.”

 

what he hears isn’t a snicker or a snort or a scowl. minho folds his arms around him and pinches the back of his neck gently, both of them heedless of what may be around them and watching. jinki’s tired, and minho’s here to make it better.

 

“it’s okay, hyung, everything is going to be okay.”

 

and jinki tears up because subconsciously, those were the words he craved to hear since a long, long time ago.

 

—

 

taemin calls again and jinki goes back, despite himself. he gets better sleep, though, so it’s okay. it’s all he does once he arrives at taemin’s, blocking out the hands on his body and the words in his ears. instead, his soul cries out for the words minho has told him and sings them in his mind as a lullaby to sleep; everything is going to be okay everything is going to be okay everything is going to be okay. taemin doesn’t seem to notice, though, and tells him about the time sehun almost kicked him for having kissed jongin and jinki doesn’t really listen because…

 

...because he can’t bring himself to care anymore.

 

he sets off into a place where he didn’t have to worry about someone else’s worry, spares his ears some heavy work and plugs into dreamscape.

 

an escape from reality.

 

—

 

three months later, he spends his last friday with taemin.

 

he’s not sure anymore but the preparations has been rough on his mother, having to travel back and forth and ink in her signature in documents and files and financial compromises. he has lived his life in a dizzying blur, the nights at taemin hazy and the days at school hasty.

 

he’s happy and smiles and cheeky laughters at school with jonghyun’s pats on the back and kibum’s pinch on his cheek and minho’s arms draped around his shoulders. they are his childhood friends who spent as much time venerating him as taemin did. and they all grew up together and fell apart with time; they were drawn back together with a sharp pull of a string that felt all too much like fate, leaving out one drifting, unfortunate entity that was taemin.

 

but he’s also happy and smiles and cheeky laughters back at home beside taemin despite everything that is plaguing him, but he knows that it’s for different reasons.

 

the news, the announcement is perched behind his teeth, but they never make it through. no amount of courage can push those words out, even though he knows taemin has the right to know about this, at least as an old friend.

 

he feels dumb for staying in this strained relationship that he can’t even begin to put a name to, but taemin’s always been someone jinki has had difficulty letting go.

 

he will though, because everything’s gonna be okay.

 

taemin hugs him tight until all his breath leaves his lungs, and in turn, jinki loses his grasp around his waist.

 

“see you.” taemin says, and tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear only for it to drop back to bristle against his eyelashes.

 

“see you.” jinki whispers back, swallowing the truth into his throat.

 

when he goes home, he ignores all the packagings and cardboard boxes storing things he is going to take away with him tomorrow morning. he goes up the stairs and faceplants into his pillows, and slips off to sleep in an effortless grace.

 

the next day, he moves out, not breathing a word to taemin, and not leaving anything behind in his wake.

 

he leaves, finally, not oce looking back.

 

even the kindest of souls don’t stay forever.

 

—

 

taemin’s voicemails to jinki.

 

hi, hyung. you didn’t pick up and i called three times. i’m just… i’m lonely, hyung. i’d like to see you again.

 

hello? i hope you’re okay, at home. too much homework? tell me if i should come over.

 

hyung, please tell me you’re not avoiding me? i waited at the bus stop today, but i didn’t see you. can you answer the phone?

 

did you lose your phone? or are you avoiding me? should i come over…? i… i won’t. i’ll respect your privacy but, days have been… hard without you. i hope you’re doing well, eating well and sleeping well.

 

hi jinki hyung. are you mad at me? please tell me if i did something wrong, i’d like to fix it. let me fix it. alright? everything is going to be okay, right? i’ll see you, hyung.

 

jinki hyung, i miss you. and i think… i think i need you more than anything, right now. please, tell me what i can do to make it up to you? come over today, please, if you receive this.

 

jinki hyung, i just- i’m confused. people are coming out of your house and they’re not- are they robbers? oh my god let me just- oh my god jinki hyung… i don’t see your shoes… the curtains are opened and- what the hell, your house is empty? wait, hyung, is your house on sale?? what’s the meaning of this?

 

From: Taemin

what the hell hyung where are you? don’t tell me you moved out?

 

From: Taemin

hyung?? answer me

 

From: Taemin

why didn’t you tell me?

 

From: Taemin

don’t leave me hanging like this, why aren’t you answering

 

From: Taemin

why didn’t you tell me anything… srsly…

 

From: Taemin

for ’s sakes hyung, answer please

 

From: Taemin

where did you move out to? is it far away? can i still come over? tell me something!

 

From: Taemin

where are you hyung? i asked everyone in the neighborhood, how come nobody even knows??

 

From: Taemin

hyung… i miss you. and i love you. please come back.

 

From: Taemin

please.

 

---

a/n: i think i have my head so far up my to be writing bad endings like this. this story is not supposed to be this bloated with angst but it happened either way. it will not have a sequel, because it’s too complicated to find closure in such a toxic relationship.

 

hope you enjoyed! i’ll write a cooler taemin in my future fics!