A/N: Back for the second chapter, and this time it's from Onew's point of view. Thank you for the comments and subscriptions! As always, feedback is highly appreciated. I hope you enjoy the read! If you spot any inconsistencies, do let me know and I'll try and correct it as soon as I can.

Chapter II

It would be a lie to say he isn’t jealous.

Fanservice is one thing, but this… this excessive skinship with Minho in the confines of the dorm is another matter. Kibum has never been one for unnecessary physical contact when the cameras aren’t rolling.

Jinki feels betrayed, although he’s not sure why he should be. It’s not as if either of them has confessed his love for the other, or have decided to become an official couple. Even if they had, he doesn’t think it would change anything. When they first started the thing they had agreed not to let the other members know. It would only cause confusion and complications they didn’t need, least of which would be the question of why they had started in the first place.

It was a hot, sticky night in the middle of August, and neither of them could sleep. For whatever inane reason, he and Kibum had been talking about dating and romance to pass the time. The younger teenager had wanted advice about giving off a more masculine vibe to impress the girls, but Jinki didn’t have a clue what to say. His hesitation had tipped off Kibum, whose eyes grew wide, and the whole story of his inexperience came tumbling out.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?’ Jinki remembers Kibum’s disbelief, the low whistle that escapes those pink lips, and that slender body pressing against him as he steals Jinki’s first kiss. It was supposed to be nothing more than a joke, but Kibum doesn’t refuse when he timidly requests permission for another one. He had been in such a state of shock he hadn’t been able to properly understand how kisses worked. Kibum’s lips are soft and kissable, and he lets instinct dictate his movements, one hand under his chin and the other cradling the back of his head. His body feels like it’s on fire.

He should have put a stop to it right there and then, but his younger self was drunk on Kibum’s kisses and wanted more, even if he wasn’t sure what more was. Jinki had daydreamed of Kibum occasionally, mostly when he was left idle and bored by himself. It was peculiar how much time he could waste just trying to draw Kibum’s features perfectly inside his head: the sharp, almost cat-like eyes with long lashes, high cheekbones and pouty mouth.

 Kibum was panting by the time they separated, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen. Jinki felt a strange surge of pride knowing it was because of him that the beautiful and self-assured young man was coming undone. It was an exhilarating and heady thought, that he would be the one to violate this pure and delicate beauty, stain him irrevocably with his darkness.

There are days Jinki wants to quit being Onew. Listening to fan messages of I love you, Onew-oppa and ShiNee, fighting makes him want to roar at the top of his lungs and destroy something, because it’s not him they love, not really. They love the image of Onew, angelic and mild-mannered, endearingly clumsy and boyishly handsome. On days like these, even the members’ quirks cease to be cute and instead become irritating: Jonghyun’s penchant for skinship, Minho’s competitiveness, Taemin’s acting like a spoiled child… he would add Kibum’s nagging to the list, except it is Kibum who is his tether to ShiNee. His insecurities and stress fade away when he sheathes himself inside the tight heat of Kibum’s body and Jinki’s ears are full of nothing but ragged breathing and the younger man’s wordless cries of ecstasy.  

Since the media backlash earlier this month for giving Jonghyun the middle finger during the live broadcast of a radio show, Jinki has wanted nothing more than to just give up. For him, it’s possible to have a life outside of being ShiNee’s Onew, although he’s not sure what the others would think of that. He could enter a company, perhaps start his own. Jinki hadn’t intended for the gesture to be recorded, nor had he done it out of spite, but of course he had defiled Onew’s pristine image and been attacked for it. The dating scandal had come in its wake, and the media had been like sharks catching the scent of blood in the water. After School’s Jung-ah has never been more than a friend to him, and an older sister. He’s cited her as his ideal type, certainly, but he could never have guessed at the time that his careless reply to an interview question would come back to haunt him.

Enough is enough. He is done playing Onew, catering to fans’ whims and pretending to be an innocent and awkward twenty-five year old idol when in reality he’s been regularly ing Kibum hard into the mattress for nearly five years and is probably something of a addict.

He’s avoided having a real conversation with Kibum since the middle finger incident had snowballed into a major scandal. He wants to sleep, to disappear into thin air like the heroine from The Little Mermaid, and take the scandal with him. ShiNee doesn’t need a leader that destroys the band image. If he knew how to quit, he would already have done so. Except… he keeps imagining Kibum’s crying face, eyes watery with tears, carefully-applied makeup smudged and beyond repair. They have been each other’s pillar of support for so long as the so-called father and mother of ShiNee, taking care of the other members like they would their own family. They both know what it feels like to be overlooked, to be underappreciated.

Jinki doesn’t know what to call their relationship, but the last thread of his patience snaps when he glances at Kibum chewing on Minho’s neck like it’s a juicy piece of chicken. “Why don’t I take Kibum back first,” he phrases it as a statement, not a question, and he doesn’t wait for Minho’s reaction before he loudly whispers Kibum, wake up, wakey-wakey and watches with some amusement as Kibum disengages sleepily. There is a trail of drool on the side of his mouth that the young man would normally never be caught with, and it makes him smile slightly. No sooner does Jinki take a seat on the side of the bed, his back facing the two younger members, than Kibum latches on, and he effortlessly lifts his sleeping group member up with an upsy-daisy.

Minho makes a gallant attempt to hide his snicker behind a cough. Usually he plays along, but there’s a lot on his mind and he’s not in the mood to joke around. The taller man senses the uneasy atmosphere and clears his throat. “We were chatting last night, and we fell asleep. Then when I woke up, Kibum was already biting me.” Minho’s explanation is short and succinct, and Jinki has no reason not to believe him. Out of the five of them, Kibum and Minho are the most honest, almost brutally so. Additionally, Minho would have no reason to keep the truth from him, since he has no idea about Jinki and Kibum’s thing. He shakily expels a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Why did you come here in the first place, hyung?” Minho’s eyes are probing, inquisitive. “I thought we didn’t have anything until the afternoon.”

He smiles wryly in return. “I was looking for Kibum, actually.” He has missed Kibum, though it sounds absurd to miss someone you’re with nearly twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Minho gives a little nod, satisfied with the answer, as if he can read what Jinki is thinking.

He has just finished tucking Kibum back into bed, shaking his head at the untidy pile of bags and clothes on the otherwise empty top bunk, when he hears a definite clicking noise. Jerking to his feet, he turns the knob, but to no avail.

Minho has trapped him in the room with Kibum.