one; prompts: hands, knives, red velvet
 

When Jongin first met his older stepbrother, the first thing he found himself looking at were his hands. 

Long, elegant fingers. Tendons that pulled barely against soft, smooth skin. Well-kept nails that were trimmed short and neat. The hands themselves were masculine, not yet quite the hands of a full-fledged man, but certainly very close — they were the hands of a boy on the precipice of adulthood. His wrists were thin in comparison to his forearms — the contrast between the two was further pronounced by the easily visible contours of the carpal bones beneath the tanned skin of his wrists. Jongin found himself stuck on the elegant balance between it all: beautiful, capable and bursting with potential.

At a table nearby, a baby began to cry. Jongin dragged his eyes upwards at the sound.

His stepbrother’s face was a beautiful face. Supple tanned skin and full, heart shaped lips. Large eyes, wide and clear, that stared out with a piercing clarity. His fuller facial features were somehow balanced by aspects that might have otherwise been domineering — his tall yet wide nose, the broadness of his jawline, and the strong, dark brows above his eyes. If it weren’t for the softness, he might have seemed graceless, but at the same time, the same could be said the other way around: the contrast between the opposing features of his face and the way they all meshed together made him appear more humane. He was not too perfect to be unreachable. 

“Jongin, this is Kyungsoo.”

His mother's voice seemed louder than necessary despite the fact she spoke softly as she motioned between them. Jongin merely bobbed his head nervously in acknowledgment as she continued introductions. 

“Kyungsoo, this is my son, Jongin.”

Kyungsoo appeared relaxed, his face expressionless other than the slight upwards quirk of his full mouth — the ghost of a smile hovering at the corner of his lips as he took in the information given to him. Although his face was attractive, there was something intrinsically difficult to place about it: the features were easy enough to describe but there was something more that remained devoid of explanation — an unfilled blank that left Jongin feeling restless the way only a child could. His stepbrothers name rebounded like an echo in his head, over and over. Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo.

“Your mother and I wanted to introduce you two to each other. Kyungsoo had his birthday yesterday and Jongin, your birthday is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo’s father said to Jongin with a flourish towards the cake they had placed on the table earlier, between the two boys who had been made to sit across from one another. “We thought it would be nice to have a little birthday celebration.”

Jongin hadn’t know what to expect when his mother had first told him that she had been proposed to and planned on introducing him to the son of the man she was to marry — up until that point, she had kept her relationship very private so as to not disrupt the life they had. Her announcement had been sprung on him quite unexpectedly and Jongin had unspokenly accepted it. Now that he found himself faced with the reality of it all, he found himself confused and unsure how to react to the situation. Out of all the things he had hypothesised could happen, birthday celebrations had not been included. Despite the two parent's attempt at pleasant introductions, the nervous energy that Jongin had first felt at his mother’s announcement had not dissipated in the slightest, rather, it had latched onto him and followed him all the way from home to the restaurant booth he currently found himself seated in. 

No, he certainly hadn’t expected this at all. Jongin could only just manage a nod at his soon-to-be stepfathers words before swallowing nervously, eyes darting between his stepbrothers hands, folded with casual elegance on top of the dark wood of the restaurant dining table they had been seated at, the pre-bought white-iced cake that the waiter had set down barely five minutes earlier, and the knife that had been provided, placed down between the cake and his stepbrothers folded hands, barely centimetres from both. His brain seemed unable to decide which to settle his eyes on. 

“Hi, Jongin.” It was Kyungsoo’s words that made Jongin’s mind up for him — his gaze snapped up to his stepbrothers face at the sound of his voice. “How old are you turning?”

Jongin struggled to formulate the words, feeling foolish and fish like in that moment. Finally, he got his answer out: “Twelve.”

“I turned fourteen yesterday, so that means I’m your older brother.” Kyungsoo answered smoothly, large, owlish eyes zeroed in on him as he spoke. His voice was nice — he seemed to be one of those rare, lucky boys who did not have to endure the unpleasantly obvious effects of puberty that so many others his age did — his skin was clear and unblemished, his features even and proportionate to his height and build, and his voice seemed to have already evened out without the awkward squeaks and cracks faced by so many others. Jongin was jealous of his stepbrother already: despite not yet even being twelve years old, Jongin’s body had already betrayed him and entered the embarrassing and undignified process that was puberty. His mother said he was an early bloomer - Jongin felt nothing but awkward discomfort at the sight of his once unblemished skin spotting and he flushed hot red at the alternating pitch of his voice when he spoke. 

From behind them, the baby continued to wail. Jongin’s gaze dropped back to the knife. So noisy, so annoying. What a stupid baby. What was so good about babies? Why bother with them, when they were so horribly loud? Jongin stared at the knife, eyes boring into its sharpened tip, facing him the way a compass arrow would to true north. It would be so easy to take that knife and — 

The baby let out a particularly loud shriek. 

Kyungsoo’s hands twitched, one hand shooting out towards the handle of the knife — 

Jongin started at the motion, his chain of thought scattering as his gaze zeroed in on Kyungsoo’s hand, grip tight on the handle of the knife. Hands were so unbearably beautiful. They held on, they let go. They gave, they took. His stepbrothers hands vibrated with a repressed energy and Jongin couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“Cake, anyone?” Kyungsoo asked abruptly. 

The oddness of his motion seemed to have been lost on everyone else present. As his soon-to-be older stepbrother carefully cut slices of cake and slid them onto the plates they had been provided, Jongin couldn’t help but question if he had simply imagined what he was sure he had seen only moments earlier. Whatever it was that Kyungsoo had temporarily lost his control over, if anything at all, he had quickly reigned it back in. 

“Oh, its red velvet.” Kyungsoo said, tone oddly pleased. He slid a plate across the table to Jongin, who stared down at the piece he had been given with a befuddled expression on his face. The white icing had hidden the dark, rich redness of the cake. Jongin swallowed thickly. It looked like blood.

“Do you not like red velvet cake, Jongin?”

Jongin’s head snapped upright at the question. Kyungsoo’s eyes were dark pools that revealed nothing. His eyes flickered down to his slice of cake then back up again to meet Kyungsoo’s gaze. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever tried it before.” The words left his cautiously. 

Kyungsoo seemed to consider him. 

“I’m sure you’ll like it. If not, I’ll get you something else.”

The overhead light that hung above their booth glinted off the knife in Kyungsoo’s hand, a sliver of reflected light cutting a slice across Jongin’s face diagonally from forehead to chin. His stepbrother seemed to see something he liked in his face, and his lips lifted into a small, enigmatic smile. 

“We’re family now, after all. I promise to take good care of you.”

...
A/N
Please feel free to hit me up with a prompt of some sort!