i / iii

“I’m going to get a tattoo,” announces Jongin, admiring his figure in the mirror.

     Chanyeol lets out a dry, airy laugh that reverberates around the nearly empty locker room. He towels his hair, still chuckling, but he’s fuming inside. Jongin isn’t allowed to do that. It’s against the law. Chanyeol is the only one who can be badass. Chanyeol is the only one with heavy rings and dark black marks stretched over skin, and he intends to keep it that way.

     “No,” he says, throwing a scathing look at his best friend. “No way.”

     Jongin pouts and sits down next to Chanyeol, swinging a leg over his thighs. “Hey, you have tattoos, that’s not fair!”

     Chanyeol stares at him with intense incredulity. Jongin looks strangely hot; his broad chest rising and falling, half-lidded eyes, dark hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, lips parted. He’s also kind of sprawled on top of Chanyeol. And grinding on him. Very. Slightly. “You don’t even look eighteen. And get your crotch off me, ew.”

     Jongin almost growls, reluctantly retreating. “I am over eighteen,” he says.

     “Besides, wouldn’t your parents . . . dislike it?” Loathe it.

     “I’m a ing adult,” pants Jongin. “Your mom loved it. Or didn’t hate it. Either one, I can’t remember. I’m getting a tattoo.”

     “Okay,” Chanyeol says, flicking his forehead, “a) stop trying to seduce me. It’s creepy. b) my mother rarely cares what I do. c) your mother is the antonym of mine. d) only I can be badass. Got it?”

     “But,” Jongin protests. “But.”

     Chanyeol pats his cheek comfortingly. “No tattoos. But I still love you.”

Jongin doesn’t show up with a tattoo when Chanyeol next sees him (good boy, Chanyeol thinks smugly) but instead with a piercing in one ear and two piercings in the other (bad boy, Chanyeol thinks in dismay).

     “I feel like you are not going to scold me for being late to the lecture,” hisses Jongin, almost spilling his Starbucks while trying to scramble into the chair next to Chanyeol, “but for something else entirely.”

     “You will fail your exams,” mutters Chanyeol, “and your best friend. Several times over, you wad.”

     “And . . .?” Jongin smirks. His piercings glisten.

     “’Dear Chanyeol, explain physics to me for the 700^th time so I get good results,” Chanyeol sobs softly. “Also, give me all your money. I am a badass-wanna-be airhead. I’m a maniac, too. I do insist that I break your trust and your heart every day. Love, Jongin.’”

     “What are you talking about?” whispers Jongin back. “You’re the maniac, talking to yourself.” He grins crookedly, eyes dark with amusement. “Tell me you don’t want to put my piercings between your teeth. I won’t believe you, by the way.”

     (Chanyeol doesn’t blush. No.)

Jongin does try to pay attention to science, though. But when Chanyeol asks him to calculate the circumference and mass of his piercing, he suspiciously doesn’t reply. Too busy doing homework, reads the text.

     They meet up at the park one day, on the weekend. Well, they don’t meet, not really. Chanyeol’s just sitting on the park bench when Jongin straddles his thighs, catching him by surprise.

     “What the hell? Oh, , overload of PDA, overload.”

     “I’m dating someone!” says Jongin happily.

     Chanyeol cannot get him off his lap. Oh, my god. It attracts attention. “You are? Great. So interesting. Tell me more. And get off me while you’re at it.”

     “Well,” Jongin begins brightly, “his name is Kyungsoo. He has pale skin and wide, wide eyes and brown hair.”

     “I didn’t actually mean it. I don’t care about your girlfriend--”

     “He’s a boy,” corrects Jongin, legs tightening around Chanyeol in disapproval. “You weren’t listening, were you.”

     “And you haven’t moved an inch, have you,” responds Chanyeol dryly.

     They have an intense staring match for a couple of seconds. With Jongin’s miffed stare boring into him he feels very, very uncomfortable. But not in the least bit guilty. Maybe a little bit grumpy, because a) last week Jongin got piercings, and b) now he has a boyfriend named Kyungsoo (he can never win, can he?) but not guilty.

     But wait a minute, back up. Jongin is allowed to date people. Chanyeol immediately takes back all that stupid jealousy. Stupid Jongin and his stupid feminine boyfriends. Sometimes Chanyeol thinks all of stupid Jongin’s stupid gayness rubs off on him. Jongin isn’t even attractive. Well, maybe a little bit.

     “Sorry,” Jongin says, looking a little hurt as he clambers off his friend. “Now will you listen?”

     Chanyeol sighs and rubs his forehead. “Yeah.”

     Jongin perks up. “So he’s got this fair skin and he’s kinda short. But I like height differences. And, wow, he’s so squishy, like you want to cuddle him all the time. And his is delicious. I could touch it all day long . . .”

     Yeah, maybe Chanyeol is jealous.

“I don’t want to major in physics,” Jongin says abruptly one day when they’re in Chanyeol’s apartment, checking homework.

     “You shouldn’t,” Sehun, Chanyeol’s roommate, says indifferently. Jongin throws him a hostile look.

     “You’re going to say something like, ‘I wanna major in buttology,’” Chanyeol drawls, stretching out on the couch. Jongin turns to frown at them both. “I want to minor in science, you jackasses. I’m going to do animation. I loved that high school class. Did it in my last two years.”

     “Do whatever you want, kkamjong.” Chanyeol throws the bag of potato chips at Sehun’s head and the latter catches it in midair. “You’ll never be successful anyway.”

     “I’m successful at being a boyfriend.” Jongin bites his lip.

     Sehun sighs, an obnoxious expression on his face. “Jongin, you must realize that no one cares--”

     Jongin gets to his feet and strides over to Sehun. As much as Chanyeol wants his roommate in one piece, he can do nothing but groan and cover his eyes just as the girly screams and painful s fill the room.

“I don’t care what you say, science is fun,” Chanyeol grumbles. “What does Kyungsoo major in?”

     “He’s a communications major,” says Jongin in an educated tone, a broad grin appearing on his face. “Sometimes he screams in English when we--”

     “Okay. Enough.” Chanyeol pushes Jongin away, absolutely horrified. “No need for you to get into the dark dirty secrets.”

     They come to a fork in the path and take the right, where it opens up to a garden. Sitting on a white stone park table is who Chanyeol assumes to be Kyungsoo. The boy has black hair with bangs swept across his forehead, and his lips look like they were sculpted by Care Bears – and kissed by Jongin many, many times. He sets his mouth in a straight line.

     Kyungsoo (he hopes) stands up, and, pulling his shirt down, walks over to meet them halfway. “You must be Chanyeol?” he says brightly.

     Chanyeol smiles as he proffers a hand, reaching out to shake it firmly. “Enchante,” he jokes.

     Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and he starts to go off in a rapid stream of French, leaving Chanyeol perplexed and with a look of astonishment stamped on his face. To be honest—

     “He doesn’t actually know French,” Jongin says for him, looking just as bewildered. “I would have known if he did.”

     Chanyeol thought Kyungsoo would blush, but he just laughs it off. “Oh. Your accent was terrible, anyway.”

     Chanyeol rolls his eyes playfully, but inside he’s buckling down and cracking his knuckles.

     His life is getting steadily worse, so what does he have to lose?

One would think that when you’re at a loss, innocuous little cafes are always the answer.

     But, of course, not if you’re Park Chanyeol. Oh, no.

     First he closes the café door on Kyungsoo. By accident, he tries to say to a dazed boyfriend. Jongin winces.

     Then he spills his caramel frappucino on Kyungsoo. (“Oops,” he says apologetically, and Jongin’s partner laughs.)

     Chanyeol’s still tense. They’re supposedly studying, but he can only stare at his textbook and watch Kyungsoo steal glances at Jongin and feel the latter’s hand sneak up his thigh. . Jongin is such a tease and goddammit Chanyeol is dark aqua with envy and it’s not even funny.

     He has to focus. And pass his exams.

     Jongin is Chanyeol’s friend.

     Stupid Jongin. Stupid Do Kyungsoo.

     (And don’t even ask how he knows Kyungsoo’s surname.)

“So, Chanyeol, what do you study?” Kyungsoo says over sandwiches.

     Chanyeol fights back the urge to grit his teeth. “Same as Jongin. Physics. We work together in a weird sort of way.”

     “You hope to do engineering?”

     How would he know? He’s only in his second year? “Dunno. I guess something that’ll get me places, like everyone wants.”

     An elbow digs into Chanyeol’s ribs and he winces.

     Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to notice his reluctant tone. He’s either a) cool with rude people, which means he’s probably in a gang, or b) really oblivious, which means he’s dumb as , calculates Chanyeol briefly. “You’re pretty smart. I wouldn’t have guessed with all those tattoos and facial piercings.” So this guy can be Satan? Ooh, Chanyeol is going to stay on his toes and totally whip Kyungsoo’s .

     “Jongin has himself a couple piercings or three,” Chanyeol remarks blandly. “He’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met, so I guess.”

     Kyungsoo’s eyes narrow for a millisecond, and time slows down. Jongin looks around wildly, fingers absently gripping the tiny metal ball in his cartilage, watching the air crackle with tension.

     But much to Chanyeol’s disappointment, who’s eager for a little argument to break out (he’s great at controverting anything anyone says), Kyungsoo brushes it off. “Jongin can be dimwitted at times,” he says lightly. Jongin whimpers softly.

     Kyungsoo’s eyes are lit with amusement as he tears off a strip of chicken and brings it to his lips. Jongin’s whines die almost immediately and he stares at Kyungsoo in shock.

     Chanyeol groans inwardly. He’s about to abort mission.

He grudgingly agrees to stay pleasant for the rest of their little three-way date thing (“I’ll reward you if you’re nice to Kyungsoo until two.”) but he can’t help but feel that Kyungsoo is 1) a Satanistic smartass, and 2) extremely clingy, which are very conflicting and doubly suspicious characteristic traits. But does Jongin actually like Kyungsoo? That is the question.

     I am probably just a jealous little twit, Chanyeol thinks as he pads sadly after the couple, who can’t differentiate true love from hormones. Yes, that’s it. Karma got me good.

     When Kyungsoo is finally gone, Jongin pleads for a piggyback ride. And Chanyeol is in a foul mood. So no.

     “Sehun will pick me up and we will have a good time,” Chanyeol growls morosely, “so I can forget about you for a while. And Kyungsoo.”

     Jongin looks sad. Very, very sad.

     “Fine then,” he calls after Chanyeol. “Have fun with that little brat. You’ll miss me when I’m gone, just wait and see!”

     Chanyeol waves.

     “And you know what, Chanyeol?”

     He sighs. And slowly turns around. Jongin just looks at him for a minute, tight-lipped. Oh no, here comes the smartass comment—

     “I was going to say that Kyungsoo screams in English when we play Monopoly and I always win!”

     Figures.

When Chanyeol sees the flower on Jongin’s back he freaks out. No, like, really freaks out. With the five stages of grief and all.

     The ink is branded deep into his skin and as much as Chanyeol tries to rub it out it’s futile. The petals stretch over the small of his back and seem to curl under Chanyeol’s fingers as he frantically scratches it, provoking a wince and a whimper or two from Jongin. It’s new and raw. Jongin is a disobedient little butthole.

     “This is real,” he breathes. “. .”

     Jongin turns around and smirks at him, abs flexing briefly. Chanyeol averts his eyes, because it is not nice to stare at your best friend who is currently dating someone. But he just can’t help but look back and take him in as a whole: his long legs lean and muscled, his gym shorts low on his hips, his smooth stomach and chest, prominent collarbones, accentuated jaw, and hooded eyes. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Jongin is slowly transforming into a badass. Nononono. Not without Park Chanyeol’s permission. And Kim Jongin certainly did not get permission.

     Badass Jongin is illegal.

     “Kyungsoo wouldn’t let this happen, the pure soul.”

     “He did, though,” whispers Jongin, snickering badassedly. Man, he knows well and has memorized how to get Chanyeol’s goat.

     “Back up. I wouldn’t let this happen. No. Why does it even look good on you,” Chanyeol wails helplessly, cupping his face in his hands.

     “Because it’s me, no . Oh, and did I tell you about the one on my hip? I could show you, if you’re willing--”

     “I'm not," Chanyeol moans, burying himself into his arms. He actually very much would, but , they don’t talk about that. He’d kind of like to die right now. His life has been ruined by his very own best friend. Again.

     “Go,” he says, not looking up. “Just go. And never take your shirt off. Ever. Again.”

Seeing Kyungsoo reach up and kiss Jongin is hella excruciating. Seeing Jongin pull back hastily is hella satisfying.

     But seeing Kyungsoo smirk and Jongin gulp gives Chanyeol hella mixed feelings.

     “What’s wrong with you and Soo?” he says cheerfully, after spending at least five minutes, if not more, watching their stupid reactions and making creepy faces behind their backs.

     “I don’t think he’s into me,” Jongin says gloomily.

     Chanyeol claps him on the back. “No, young sir, I think he thinks you’re not into him.”

     Jongin opens his mouth, back and shoulder tense and prepared to object, but Chanyeol plows on without sparing him a glance.

     “No, wait, I don’t think I got that quite right. He thinks he’s only slightly into you but you’re also way too cool for his and not into him at all, so he refrains to be into you because he is avoiding obvious heartbreak while breaking your heart because he thinks you are not into him and you think that he is not into you, which makes you extremely offended and not into him.”

     “But that would make him wrong,” Jongin argues bitterly, “because--”

     “College seniors are always right,” says Chanyeol quietly.

     Jongin becomes pensive after that as they walk towards their respective apartments, and Chanyeol thinks, aha, I’ve got him good.

“Sehun?”

     Sehun grunts noncommittally. “Ayy.”

     Chanyeol shifts on his bed so he’s facing his roommate, watching the younger flick his thumb over dials with superb reflexes and with eyes trained dutifully on the screen. “Do you think that Jongin is badass?”

     Sehun his lips. “He is one hunk of fine,” is what comes out.

     “Fine, yes, I get,” Chanyeol admits, crossing his ankles, “but badass. You know. The sort of people who smoke weed and inhale and are involved with several mafias and get tattoos and piercings and that kind of .”

     “Like you.”

     “Like me, except for the drugs and mafia part.”

     “Yeah, Jongin definitely is that type of material. I see badass potential in that guy.” Sehun whistles. “Also, he’s so hot he could be flaming.”

     “Are you interested in him?” Chanyeol asks suspiciously.

     Sehun just sniggers at him. Chanyeol, nose wrinkled in frustration, observes him play his video game with his face set in concentration. His dumb video-game-playing friend is of no help, most obviously, and he can’t get the image of Jongin, half-, tattoo deep in his skin, out of his mind. Jongin’s hands, built  and calloused but also graceful and smooth, that once ran up his thighs and hips. Jongin smirking, dark eyeliner bordering his lids, Jongin pinning him to the locker. Jongin’s piercings. Jongin being badass. . Chanyeol’s lips part slightly, eyes unfocused. He can’t deal with Jongin being badass.

     Then an image of Kyungsoo pops into his mind and he almost recoils. Jongin’s boyfriend is actually condoning this with perfect composure. Letting Jongin’s innocence be further tainted. Chanyeol grits his teeth. If only Kyungsoo knew whose fingers slid under Chanyeol’s waistband in lonely locker rooms, whose lips landed on Chanyeol’s skin during first years of everything, whose body pressed up against Chanyeol’s in the late nights of winter. Jongin is Chanyeol’s, and Kyungsoo will not take him.

     He doesn’t know where this possessiveness came from, but its origin must not be his friend. Oh, no.

     Chanyeol cracks his knuckles.

     (“What the , Yeol, you’re really scaring me, oh my God you creep. Back away from the innocent roommate, back away . . .”)

ing hell.

     Chanyeol stares in shock as he watches Jongin actually light a cigarette and bring it to his lips and frick. He almost dropped his latte in surprise (but thanks to his quick reflexes he avoided it).

     He snaps out of his astounded daze and strides towards his dumb best friend, determined to stop the man from choking himself. But he’s only two centimetres away when Jongin lets out a puff of smoke – perfectly, without hacking or coughing or turning purple. He stops in his tracks, jaw hanging. “Jongin,” he stammers.

     Jongin turns, jumping slightly. “Oh, it’s just you,” he says, relaxing slightly, voice level and not at all nervous or scratchy or choked.

     Chanyeol frowns. This is not right. Jongin holds his cigarettes between middle and ring finger, just like Chanyeol does, resting against the knuckle. He swallows, but then thinks wait, don’t forget, I’m a man and promptly plucks it from Jongin’s grasp.

     “Wha--” begins Jongin, face blank, probably thinking Chanyeol is going to throw it away – but it turns into an expression of surprise when Chanyeol smirks and clamps his lips around it instead. He takes a long drag and huffs the gritty smoke in Jongin’s face. “I thought we agreed you would stay a ,” he says.

     Jongin snorts. “I’m not a and you know it--”

     Chanyeol stares him down until he shrinks away. “I assume you know what I mean, smartass. I also thought that we agreed you weren’t going to get a tattoo, but apparently our agreements don’t matter anymore.”

     “a) I never agreed to that,” Jongin says, lifting a finger, “and b) I run my life. Sorry, sport. As much as I want to take that tongue piercing of yours and it”—Chanyeol flushes slightly – “you should take a step back.”

     Chanyeol can only stare as Jongin plucks the cigarette from his mouth using his teeth and prances away. He scowls.

     How can Jongin ing skip at a time like this?

a/n:

first of all: thank you user and subscriber (awww honey <333) gellis, i did think about what you said :) but then i looked back at my entire fic and i was like dEAR LORD IF I STOP THERE IT'LL BE WAAAAAY TOO LONG and then there wouldn't be much of the fic left, so i had to cut it off here. but thanks, you are loved, friend~

i thought i proofread this pretty well??? idk, if you see any typos please tell me thank u 

ok!!! so i was really excited about this fic because i've ALWAYS wanted to have a badass fic and i hope you were excited too? there's a little conflict here between chanyeol and kyungsoo that's going to end really quickly i promise lol. perhaps jongin likes kyungsoo, perhaps he doesn't. perhaps he just wants to chEAT ON HIM!!!

no i would never do that to kaisoo lmao who do you take me for

but yea anyway, i would like to believe you've had fun with this. and as i said in the foreword, chankai doing the frick frack might have been implied (my writing is weird) but i didn't say it directly so

*whispers* let your imagination run free

i know people hate long author's notes so i'll end it about here k ily <3

p.s. please don't call me author-nim! just call me kika haha. it just makes me really uncomfortable and worSHIPPED OH MY GOD

p.s.s. maggie, if you tell me you didn't finish reading this i swear to god. kris wu.