(for everyone) i’ll lose if it means you’d win
For: everyone
Title: i’ll lose if it means you’d win
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6,610 words
Summary: Superstar Kim Jongin buys a dog at Kyungsoo’s pet shop.
Author’s note: Thank you so much to my prompter! Your prompts are all devastatingly wonderful; I had tons of drafts and tried my best mish-mashing them, but then it ultimately ended into this. Sorry for that, but I hope you’ll like it! Thanks so much for P and D for the bucket loads of sarang, and to the mods for this wonderful exchange!
♫
Kyungsoo is being swallowed alive by the crowd. Wedged in between two abnormally tall fan girls (or is it just him who’s abnormally short?), he tries to wave his light stick as high as he can. The speakers are blasting at full volume; Kyungsoo finds that his ears are being blown off from the shock wave. But even through all that, he feels alive.
The star is already doing a mirage of dance movements, ranging from popping and locking to hip thrusting, and Kyungsoo grins at the fact that he’s so close to the stage. If he reaches out a little further, maybe he’d get to touch his feet.
“Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” the fans chant, pumping their light sticks, and Kyungsoo cheers along with them.
“Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” Kyungsoo yells. He knows his own voice is being drowned out by the other fifteen thousand fans inside the stadium, and his face is red and his throat is burnt raw from all the screaming. But it’s okay.
Kyungsoo raises his light stick a little higher and screams his undying devotion, “I love you, Kim Jongin! I love you ‘til the ends of the earth!”
“Yah, Kyungsoo. Wake up.”
Kyungsoo mumbles something along the lines of Kim Jongin and the glorious sight that is his body, when Grandma pokes his drool-streaked cheek with the end of a fly swatter. “Wake up, Grandson! Rise and shine! You’re going to man the fort today!”
“Just,” the boy turns himself over, his back facing her. “One more… minute…”
“You lazy bum,” Grandma swats him squarely on the butt. “Get up!”
Punching his pillow, Kyungsoo groans in irritation. He kicks off his blanket in despair. “Just when I was having a good dream.”
Grandma snorts, her nostrils flaring. From his vantage point, Kyungsoo sourly thinks it’s a horrible sight. “You can dream about that Jungkook boy downstairs while cleaning up all the dust bunnies.” She throws him a broom and a feather duster. “And remember to feed the parakeets with the new bird seed we bought from Kwangseok-ssi!”
“His name is Jongin, Grandma, how many times should I tell you?” Kyungsoo calls back, but his grandmother is already out of the door. He wonders if the old lady takes internal pleasure in always getting the love of Kyungsoo’s life’s name wrong.
He should be happy, though. One time, she dashed to Kyungsoo’s room with her arthritis creaking, carrying no less than three Tibetan cymbals and pounded on it with her walking stick. By a chilling comparison, this is considerably one of her less spontaneous wake-up calls.
After taking a shower and brushing his teeth, he slips into his black pants and plain white shirt - his work clothes - and goes downstairs. He greets all the animals with a warm smile, carefully ignoring his grandmother as she retreats inside her kitchen.
“You’re very picky with your food, huh,” Kyungsoo chides the yellow parakeet. He opens his cage and slides in the cup full of bird seed, stretching his finger to rub the crown of the parakeet’s head.
Kyungsoo wipes the dashboard with a wet cloth, and begins to sweep the tiled floor starting from the back of the counter, all the while singing along with Kim Jongin’s newest single (and hit) I Saw You Blink playing on his iPhone. He urges the goldfishes to sing along with him, the way Jongin does when he wants to sing with the audience.
He’s through sweeping the floor panels and singing the last line of the chorus when the bell chimes.
Kyungsoo spins on his heels. When he recognizes the figure on the doorway, Kyungsoo’s eyes widen comically. He fumbles for the iPhone in his pocket and pauses the track.
“You have a great voice,” a man with chocolate brown hair and tan skin says. He’s smiling broadly, revealing a full set of pearly white teeth. “It’s the first song I’ve produced myself. Though I wasn’t pretty sure what everybody thought of it, I’m happy that at least someone likes it.” His eyes are twinkling with delight.
Kyungsoo hiccups.
At that moment, another man in a suit scurries inside, a laptop bag swinging wildly on his shoulder. “Jongin,” the man whispers urgently. “We only have thirty minutes. The management isn’t exactly thrilled that you’re here shopping for pets.”
“Relax, Yixing,” Jongin says, but Kyungsoo can tell that Yixing doesn’t look the slightest bit comforted. “I think we’re in the right place.”
Gathering his bearings, Kyungsoo bows deeply. His ears are ringing with all the blood flowing out to his head, but he decides to ignore it for the meantime. “Welcome,” he greets formally. “My name is Do Kyungsoo. How can I help you?”
“Good morning, Kyungsoo-ssi,” Jongin starts, and Kyungsoo flushes beet red at this. His name sounds a thousand times nicer when Jongin is saying it instead of his grandmother. “I’m Kim Jongin, and I’m looking for a dog. A friend of mine said he bought a Siamese cat here. I’ve seen her - she’s healthy and vibrant and smart, and I was wondering if I can have one too. A dog, I mean.”
“Oh. You mean Tao-ssi and Scruffles?”
Jongin’s eyebrows jerk upward in surprise. “Tao got her here three years ago.”
“I just remember,” Kyungsoo explains. “I remember every animal we’ve sold here. We’ve taken care of them since they were little.”
“Nice,” Jongin grins at him. He nudges his manager. “See, hyung? This is going to be great!”
Yixing sighs. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
The bell chimes again as the door closes. Kyungsoo’s brain unhelpfully provides that he’s left alone with Kim Jongin, save for his broom and a dozen other animals all screeching and galloping in their cages. He looks down at his dirtied shirt and flushes again in embarrassment.
“Ah. Umm.” If it’s possible for Kyungsoo’s feet to blast him off to outer space, it would. “What kind of dog do you have in mind? We have all sorts of breeds.”
“I’m just looking for someone to cuddle with at night,” Jongin says, chuckling. “It’s pretty lonely back at the dorm. Someone who wouldn’t mind me pampering him lots.”
“Oh, so you’re looking for a male dog? We have Billy and Sam here. They’re both Jack Russells.” Kyungsoo heads over the next room and shows Jongin two hyperactive pups scratching the miniature picket fencing. “They need lots of walks and happy sunshine. Basically exercise. They have a lot of energy to burn off.”
Jongin hums in understanding. Kyungsoo gives him a sideward glance and thinks that the idol doesn’t seem satisfied.
“Well,” he starts again, clearing his throat. He points to the Maltese at the corner. “That one doesn’t shed a lot, so it’s great if you don’t like cleaning after pet hair. We only have a girl, though. Her name’s Mizu. She’s very friendly.”
“How about that one?” Jongin says.
Kyungsoo follows the direction where Jongin is pointing at and notices the small, lonesome terrier-type with a fuzzy beard on its snout, licking a tennis ball. “Oh, Dubu? He’s the newest addition to our family. He’s a Schnauzer.”
“Scct - scchauwer?”
“Schnauzer,” Kyungsoo repeats, smiling. “Ssh-naw-dser.”
Jongin’s lips make out a big ‘o’.
“He’s pretty hyper for his breed,” Kyungsoo continues. “But since he’s still kinda new, he’s a little shy. I won’t recommend -”
“I’ll take him.”
Kyungsoo gapes at him in surprise. “Are you sure? Miniature schnauzers are very popular, but they’re a little hard to pin down and they bark a lot. I still haven’t gotten to training him yet.”
“That’s fine. I can train him,” Jongin insists, studying Dubu intensely. He hands him his phone. “I can contact you about Dubu anytime, right?”
“Uhh, yeah. Sure,” Kyungsoo gulps. He takes the phone gingerly and types in his contact number.
He gives him back his phone and watches Jongin staring at little Dubu, biting his lower lip to contain his excitement. Kyungsoo surreptitiously smiles from the side.
♫
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Jongdae exclaims. “How in the world -“
“You can say it,” Kyungsoo grins smugly. “Isn’t this the best selca with Kim fricking Jongin or what?”
“With a dog,” Jongdae snorts. He taps the screen on the phone and zooms in on Kyungsoo’s face. “Your smile is so stiff! And what’s with that peace sign? That’s honest to god the cheesiest pose I’ve ever seen you make.”
Kyungsoo snatches his phone back, scowling fiercely. “Shut up if you don’t have anything nice to say, Jongdae. This picture is my most prized possession; don’t spoil it.”
Jongdae laughs loudly. He gestures for Kyungsoo to sit down. “Well, it is Kim Jongin. You can sell that on e-bay for a hundred bucks.”
The younger almost throws him his empty glass of milkshake. “I can’t believe he’s even more good-looking in person,” Kyungsoo remarks in awe. “Did you notice that he has this deep dimple when he smiles? And that his hands are like this big,” he gestures at the saucers. “And muscle-y. And get this: he likes animals, Jongdae, did you know that? How much dreamier can he get?”
“You look like you’re going to pee yourself,” Jongdae observes. “And no, I don’t know that. I don’t spend my weekends curling up in a blanket watching reruns of his variety show guestings, and more importantly, I don’t spend all my hard-earned money on an eight by fourteen wallpaper of Kim Jongin smiling creepily at you every morning you wake up.”
“The background was pretty,” Kyungsoo snaps. “I couldn’t pass it up.”
“Was it pastel blue or baby cerulean?”
“Pastel blue. The calendar was baby cerulean.”
“Fascinating.”
“My point is,” Kyungsoo reiterates, “Is that he’s even more perfect up close. I’m glad that Dubu got himself adopted to a nice person. I used to worry about that kid, but I’m sure Jongin and Dubu are going to get along swimmingly.”
“Dubu?” Jongdae asks. “You mean the poodle?”
“Schnauzer,” Kyungsoo corrects.
“Right. Isn’t that the dog that almost bit my fingers off when I stopped by your store?”
Kyungsoo gives him a sheepish smile. He remembers Jongdae waiting for him at the entrance when Dubu ran out of the weaning area, growling at his best friend fiercely. “Yeah, sorry about that by the way. I’m sure Jongin will be fine, though. He’s got like ten staff members catering to his every need. I’m positive taking care of Dubu will be a snap.”
“If you say so,” Jongdae says unsurely. He then pauses and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone, Kyungsoo.”
“Wait - why?”
Jongdae doesn’t respond and just wiggles his fingers. Dubious, Kyungsoo hands him his phone. He rises from his seat and peers over Jongdae’s shoulder, watching as the elder enhances the photo with a filter and saves it as a lock screen. Grinning, he hands Kyungsoo back his phone.
“Thank god for my editing skills. Now it looks like a family photo,” Jongdae quips proudly. “You, hunk muffin Kim Jongin, and your Schwatsme - “
“Schnauzer.”
“Whatever.” Jongdae waggles his eyebrows. “I could have it framed if you want. The picture actually has a pretty decent quality.”
He shakes his head before glancing back at his phone. Since Kyungsoo is not one of the most experienced selca takers of his generation (or in any other generation, if he’s being honest), Jongin was the one who’s holding the phone up, flashing his signature ‘Rock-On’ sign while sporting a big, dopey smile. Dubu was wedged in between the two of them, his furry paw on Kyungsoo’s lap.
Kyungsoo lets himself revel on the idea that it does look like a family picture. Jongdae can be annoying and frivolous at times, but Kyungsoo has to admit that Jongdae has his uses.
♫
The next two days had been utterly boring, or in Kyungsoo’s book, perfectly normal. The only gasp-inducing moment had been when a pair of cockatiels had gotten loose and sprayed dung all over the countertop of the cash register. Kyungsoo had to stencil off the excrement with a broad chisel. His nose had wrinkled itself back too hard that Kyungsoo thought he looked like Voldemort's twin for eight hours straight.
"You know, Voldemort was shockingly hot when he wasn't busy ripping his soul apart into seven pieces," Jongdae told him cheerfully, licking a popsicle clean while Kyungsoo buried his head inside a bird cage.
Kyungsoo, hearing the implication of his best friend's statement, threw him a rag squarely on the face.
But inwardly, he grudgingly agreed.
Kyungsoo’s not handsome. He knows that better more than anyone. His hair always droops down in an unflattering manner even when he tried putting hairspray and clay dough all over it. His lips are too plump, his eyebrows are too thick, his face is too round and girly. And most of all, his eyes are too big - there's too much sclera encircling his dark brown irises, giving him the impression that he's always surprised even though he's not.
He's too slender, too shy. Kyungsoo thinks his features are a bundle of excessiveness, and if there's something that's not, it's on the verge of lacking.
Kyungsoo exhales loudly. Looks like he’s going to have to look forward descending to middle age with his cheery grandmother.
"Are you daydreaming again, Kyungsoo?"
"No," Kyungsoo lies. He straightens up and continues sweeping the floor of the shop.
His grandmother looks at him disbelievingly. "Your father says he’ll be calling you next week," she says in disdain. "He wants to talk to you."
"Oh," Kyungsoo pauses from his sweeping. "Umm, okay."
"Tell him to stop drinking."
"Mhmm."
Kyungsoo waits for her to go upstairs before letting out a bereaved sigh. It looks like Grandma is still upset that his father had chosen to work abroad instead of staying with his family. Kyungsoo doesn't want to give much thought on their current living arrangements, but sometimes the palpable strain between his father and his grandmother makes it too hard to ignore.
Kyungsoo flips the sign, making the 'CLOSED' side face the glass door.
His phone vibrates inside his pockets. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Do Kyungsoo?"
"Yes." Kyungsoo scrunches his eyebrows. The voice is deep and familiar. "Speaking. Who is this?"
He hears rabid panting from the other line. The caller seems to be off on a jog. "It's me," the man says, out of breath. "Kim Jongin. You remember?"
Kyungsoo's hand clams up that he almost drops his phone. "Dubu's father?" he double-checks.
Jongin laughs. "I like that nickname very much. Say, I'm out on a run with Dubu right now."
"Oh, that's great!" Kyungsoo croaks. Maybe Jongin called to let him know he’s making progress with Dubu. "I'm glad you're having fun with him, Kim Jongin-ssi."
"Call me Jongin," the other pants. "Well, yes, it is fun and all but how do I get him to stop?"
"Huh?"
"We've been at it for more than half an hour now,” Jongin breathes out with a hint of desperation in his voice. “I think I might pass out here on the street."
Kyungsoo gets a disturbing imagery of Kim Jongin sprawled out on a random sidewalk and a cluster of bystanders hovering around him like hungry vultures. "Can't you tug on his leash a little harder?" he asks, a little perplexed. Dubu never acted like this when Kyungsoo was the one taking him for a walk.
"I've been trying," Jongin informs him, and Kyungsoo’s positive that the idol is too out of breath to respond in long, coherent sentences. "But after that he keeps on running again."
Kyungsoo mulls about it for a moment when Jongin continues, "What do I do?"
He glances at his watch. It's still okay for him to go out for a while and be back without Grandma noticing. Kyungsoo runs outside and grabs his helmet. "Where are you, Jongin-ssi?"
"Looks like Dubu is heading for Yeouido Park.”
Luckily, it's only a few kilometers away. "I'll be right there," Kyungsoo promises. He pockets his phone and steps on the pedal of his bike.
♫
Kyungsoo intercepts them at the plaza. Some of the people are already gaping at them in confusion. A few of them are already bringing out their phones, but the muted lighting can only make the camera pick up blurry movements.
He waits at the end of the curb until he sees Dubu running at top speed with his tongue flapping across the wind. Behind him, pop star Kim Jongin is being dragged around like a yoyo, his trainer shoes scratched and muddied. He stands in front of them.
"Dubu!" Kyungsoo grins. He waves a piece of jerky he bought from a convenience store earlier. "Aren't you tired? How about a snack?"
Dubu barks. His paws screech to a stop at his feet and he tears the meat into pieces. Kyungsoo kneels down and scratches Dubu's ear lovingly as Jongin nearly collapses beside him.
"Th-thank y-you," Jongin pants, clutching at his gray shirt that is damp with sweat. He pats the dog's head. "You weren't kidding when you said Dubu had," he exhales loudly. "High energy."
"You just have to show him who's boss," Kyungsoo says. "It's my fault, though. He still hasn't even passed potty training yet."
"That's a relief," Jongin groans mournfully, and Kyungsoo chuckles.
They lie together on the grass. Dubu licks the sweat dribbling on Jongin's chin, and the singer keeps on laughing because it tickles.
"He likes it when you rub his tummy," Kyungsoo instructs. "That'll make him behave."
Jongin does as he's told, and an ear-splitting grin comes across his face when Dubu sits up immediately, his right ear perking up and his tail swishing back and forth happily. "Wow," Jongin hoots. "How do you know all this stuff?"
Kyungsoo shrugs. "Every dog likes being petted. You just have to know where and then he's all yours."
"I didn't know being a father is this hard," Jongin says, elbowing him playfully. "You have to show me all your tricks one of these days."
"I've just stayed with Dubu longer. He'll get attuned to you soon enough."
Jongin nods. With his head propped up by his arms, he stares after the sky.
"You can see more stars back in my hometown."
"Huh?"
"Noise pollution." Jongin points at the lamp posts near them. "I could only see a few stars here in Seoul. Back at my house I used to spend my hours after dinner at the rooftop. Spread-eagled like this," he says, opening his legs and arms. "And then my mom would come looking for me. I have to hurry down the stairs and pretend I'm in bed, fast asleep. I don't think I've fooled her, though, all this time."
Kyungsoo falls silent, not knowing what to say in that moment. Spending all of his free time with animals may have drastically impaired his communication skills. Having verbal spars with Jongdae doesn't seem to count.
"How old are you?" Jongin speaks up again suddenly.
Kyungsoo hesitates before answering, "Twenty-one."
Jongin sits up so fast that it startles Dubu. The white-haired Schnauzer barks at him, annoyed. “You’re older than me?” he asks, unable to mask the disbelief in his voice.
He nods, and Jongin flashes him an apologetic smile. “I could’ve sworn you were younger,” he says. “I’m sorry for talking so informally with you.”
“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo assures him. He gets that a lot. He’d once been held off at a theater house when he went to watch an R-rated action movie. Kyungsoo had to be wheeled off to the supervising manager and show him his ID, and when he finally got the green light the movie was already halfway through. “I’m not really much of a crusader of formal speech, anyway.”
“What should I call you then?”
“I - uh, anything’s fine, I guess.”
“Hmm,” Jongin pauses to ponder about it, then beams widely at him. Kyungsoo’s heart stutters for a moment until he realizes that it’s one of his favorite Kim Jongin eye smiles. He remembers seeing it first on a page of a photobook he bought last year, and his heart had stopped and restarted in almost the exact same way. “I’ll just settle with ‘hyung’,” he decides. “I have two older sisters, so it’d be great to have someone other than Yixing to call hyung. And I don’t get to have cute hyungs every now and then, so it’s perfect.”
Jongin says it all really fast like a bullet train, but Kyungsoo makes out enough to have him blushing to the roots of his hair.
“Oh, and call me Jongin. Just Jongin,” he says. He scratches the underside of his dog’s belly. “I can’t have you calling me Kim Jongin-ssi all the time if we’re going to be Dubu’s parents, right?”
Kyungsoo hiccups, all the while scratching his nape in awkward ascent.
♫
“I can’t seem to find that brand of shampoo I bought from your store in any mall,” Jongin confesses. His pants are half-drenched in soap water, and he’s nursing a band-aid on his arm. Kyungsoo almost asks if he’s cut his arm somewhere but thinks better of it. Idols get a lot of minor injuries on the job, anyway. “And I don’t think he likes having me as his bath buddy.”
“That’s okay, it’s only been two weeks,” Kyungsoo replies. “It’ll probably take a while. He doesn’t like my grandmother doing it either; I guess he’s just too used to me. Can you pass me that soap?”
Jongin hands him a blue bar and watches from the side, his hair soaking wet from wrestling with Dubu in the bathroom.
“You should distract him from the cold by talking to him,” Kyungsoo demonstrates. He realigns Dubu’s upper body so Jongin can get a good view. “Or you could rub his underbelly or his ear. It calms him down. And you should douse his head first before moving to his body. If he keeps on resisting, hold him here.” Kyungsoo grasps at the scruff of Dubu’s neck. “So that he won’t - hey!”
Jongin has taken a snapshot of the entire exchange with his Instax when Kyungsoo’s not looking, and laughs at the other’s indignant expression. The polaroid then comes out and Jongin laughs even louder. Kyungsoo gasps in horror; he must’ve looked hideous in that photo.
“Give me that,” Kyungsoo stands from his footstool and makes a grab for the polaroid. Jongin raises his hand a bit higher, lifting the picture beyond Kyungsoo’s reach.
“Calm down, hyung!” Jongin chuckles, obviously enjoying the moment. Kyungsoo already has him backed up on a wall, and he’s holding onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder in order to prevent himself from slipping on the wet tiled floors. “You came out alright, I promise.”
Kyungsoo grumbles, “Then why won’t you let me see it? It’s my face.”
“It’s my roll of film,” Jongin retorts, slotting the picture in his back pocket. “It’s an artiste’s prerogative. You can’t argue with that, can you?”
Kyungsoo punches him in the gut. They’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but it’s enough for Kyungsoo to realize that Jongin always goes for that extra mile just to pick on him whenever he gets a chance. “I can’t believe I’m saying this as a longtime fan, but you’re a jerk.”
“You’re just fun to mess with,” Jongin explains with a deadpan expression. He pops a bubble nestling on Kyungsoo’s hair.
He huffs in annoyance. “Is that why you’re keeping me around? For kicks?”
Jongin stops to look at him. He holds Kyungsoo’s gaze before the corners of his lips pull upward to form a lazy grin. “Maybe.”
♫
Jongin asks Kyungsoo to come down and support him for his newest recording at his studio. Although outsiders aren’t usually allowed during album production, Jongin assures Kyungsoo that he’s capable of pulling a few strings. The way Jongin asks him is light and friendly, but the way he also tells him that it’d mean a lot to him if he would be there urges Kyungsoo to start planning how to sneak out of his house on Sunday and buy a ticket to Cheongdamdong.
“I’d bring Dubu with me too if you want so that he’d keep you company,” Jongin tells him. He’s staring at the power lines above. Kyungsoo thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Jongin like that, quiet and contemplative. It’s nice.
They’re an odd pair: a short, quiet boy in baggy sweaters and a rising idol in tight, faded jeans walking around the park. Dubu is happily guiding them with his leash, sometimes barking at fellow mutts that cross their way. Even after he discovered that they don’t have anything in common besides Dubu and their passion for music, Kyungsoo cherishes these peaceful weekly walks with Jongin.
“Sure. I’ll go,” Kyungsoo says immediately. “I’ll have to pick up a delivery from Apgujeong in the morning, though, so I guess I’ll catch up,” he amends, hoping he doesn’t sound too excited.
♫
Yixing beckons him to enter the lobby, much to Kyungsoo’s surprise. He initially thought Jongin would be the one to greet him downstairs, but he trudges on and follows Yixing to the studio.
Dubu is already at the eight floor, and he barks and runs to Kyungsoo immediately even before the boy has gotten himself out of the elevator. Kyungsoo crouches down at eye-level and rubs his tummy with his fingers.
“Hey there, boy,” Kyungsoo greets, laughing as Dubu licks the side of his face cheerfully. “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s at the last room at the end of the hall,” Yixing answers for him, pointing at the right direction. He observes them with a critical eye before smiling, “Keep Jongin and Dubu out of trouble, alright?”
Kyungsoo nods meekly. Tugging at the leash, they make a move to the studio. Jongin doesn’t seem to spot the both of them through the glass and is intently listening to the beat coming out of his headphones, silently swaying to the music, sound per sound.
Kyungsoo could be reborn a thousand times but he would never understand what he did to deserve seeing his idol live recording a song. He watches in awe as the melody streams out of Jongin’s lips and comes alive.
But despite a strong start and the fierce cheers coming from both Dubu and Kyungsoo, the exhaustion seems to reflect on Jongin’s voice, and by the end of the track recording his singing gets too inconsistent and hitches at all the wrong places.
Kyungsoo can’t hear what the production manager has whispered to Jongin’s ear, but judging from the sullen man’s expression, it can’t be good. Why don’t you take a break for a moment, son?
Jongin mumbles something in return before walking off.
Kyungsoo stands up, moving to follow, but then hesitates. Offering comforting and encouraging words doesn’t fall under his department; usually he’d leave Jongdae to do that, although the older boy does it more in an irritatingly jaunty manner.
Then, the tiny voice in his head tells him that he and Jongin are close enough - after all, he did invite him over to the recording, so it makes sense for Kyungsoo to at least run after him.
“Fine,” Kyungsoo tells himself. “It’s not like I haven’t been running after him already.”
Dubu licks his fingers in silent agreement.
♫
He finds Jongin at the terrace, flicking at the leaves of a potted plant.
“Are you okay?”
Jongin whirls around. Kyungsoo thinks that Jongin must be shocked that he had followed him all the way to the top floor.
“Hyung,” he says. His laugh is weak and almost bashful, and he hides his face away again from Kyungsoo’s line of vision. “Sorry, I’m not feeling really good right now.”
Kyungsoo bites his lower lip before asking, “Should I leave?”
“Oh - no! No, hyung, it’s okay. It’s fine. Please stay. I just have to get through this slump, that’s all,” Jongin tells him honestly, his voice hitching again. He turns again to face Kyungsoo with his eyes behind his hands, covering them to show only a bright grin. Kyungsoo’s chest twinges at this.
He makes his way next to Jongin at the railings of the terrace, keeping about a few inches of distance. He waits for Jongin to say anything.
Jongin does after a minute. “I guess it’s just me putting too much pressure on myself,” he confesses with a sad voice. “I guess I got too worked up and ended up blaming myself for everything. Maybe I should stop taking things way too seriously, huh?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head even though he knows Jongin wouldn’t see it. “You’ve always been so passionate about music and dancing, Jongin. Music’s your life - it’s who you are. You were amazing when I first saw you on stage, and now you’re a thousand times better than you were when you first debuted. You’ve never given up and always did things better because you’ve always been hell-bent on improving yourself. I - I like that part about you.”
Jongin falls quiet again. Without thinking, Kyungsoo inches closer to him and takes off the slender hands covering his eyes. Kyungsoo tries not to let the surprise show on his face; it’s the first time he’s ever seen Kim Jongin cry.
Eyes red, Jongin smiles at him softly. “Sorry if I ruined it, hyung. I wanted to impress you back there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m still your number one fan right besides Dubu,” Kyungsoo chuckles. He squeezes his hand reassuringly.
Jongin closes his eyes again, and when he opens them it’s clear. He flashes him a cheerful grin, and Kyungsoo can tell that it’s a little half-hearted. Perhaps Jongin is trying his best not to worry him anymore.
“I’ll take you home,” Jongin promises, his voice steady and slightly teasing. “I hope you hadn’t biked your way all the way here.”
Kyungsoo sticks out his tongue. “Your manager will be taking me home. You still don’t have a driver’s license.”
“I don’t remember telling you that before.”
“You said it once in an interview with People magazine.”
Jongin laughs out loud. “You really are my number one fan.”
♫
He’s already halfway loped his legs around the bicycle when a voice calls behind him, “Where are you going, Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo curses under his breath before saying, “I’m going to take Dubu out for a walk, Grandma! I’d be back before dinner!”
“Eh? Are you that boy’s servant or what?”
“I’m not his servant,” Kyungsoo explains. “Jongin just wants me to tag along in case Dubu does something stupid like, I don’t know, bite off a random guy’s hotdog or something. You saw what he did to Jongdae last time.”
Grandma huffs, but nods in understanding. “Get him to eat dinner with us then!”
“I’ll never let you two in the same room together, Grandma. Besides, your chicken soup tastes terrible.”
“Why you little-“
Kyungsoo deftly evades a wack from his grandmother’s broom, laughing and pedaling as fast as his legs are capable of. He makes a mental note to buy her favorite liniment in the drugstore later.
♫
Jongin still asks him to attend all his recordings and his concerts even after the end of the year is near. He drops by the pet shop when he has time between promotions, with or without Dubu. Sometimes he asks Kyungsoo - quiet, boring Do Kyungsoo - to regale him about his daily life, and other times, they just horse around at the park or watch late-night movie screenings. In the end, Kyungsoo lets himself be lead on, no matter how much he had resisted at first.
The bomb then drops on a Wednesday, Kyungsoo’s least favorite day of the week, and its blast seems to blow off a huge chunk of the city.
Jongin treats him to brunch on a nearby café, much to Kyungsoo’s protests (“I feel like I’m leeching on you or something”; “No, hyung, this is just me enjoying lavishing my money on someone”). They’re on the counter, ordering their meal, when Jongin opens his wallet.
Kyungsoo unintentionally gets a peek for only a brief moment, but it’s enough: slipped inside the plastic holder is the polaroid shot of Kyungsoo sitting on a stool, his mouth open as he prattles on instructions. Dubu is licking the droplets of water dripping from his fur. Kyungsoo finds his heart being ripped out of his chest and feels it beating on the person next to him.
Kyungsoo tries to shake it off, but his mind keeps on drifting back to his sudden discovery, inflating his hope like a balloon. As he stirs his coffee, Kyungsoo starts his plan of action and decides to corner Jongin when they’re almost done eating.
“You told me I looked alright.”
“What?”
“The picture on your wallet,” Kyungsoo points at Jongin’s pocket. “You said I turned out alright, but I look horrible.”
Jongin laughs, and Kyungsoo notes that his ears are getting slightly pink. “You saw that, huh?” He smiles, a bit self-conscious. “Personally I think you’re awesome in it. Ready to get wet and dirty - that’s my hyung. In fact, I think you look very handsome in that picture.”
The balloon in his chest grows irreconcilably large. Kyungsoo tries to hide a blush and shrugs it off.
“And I look stupid in your lock screen too,” Jongin continues as he sips his drink.
The balloon pops. “You saw that?” Kyungsoo questions in a small voice.
“I might have hovered over your shoulder while you were texting once. Or maybe a few times. Who’s Jongdae?”
“Oh. Er - he’s a friend of mine.”
“Ahh.” Jongin looks over the window, watching the pedestrians with a deep frown playing on his lips. “You should crop me off of the picture. It’s not like there’s a reason for me to be there, I mean. I look exceptionally ugly in there.”
Kyungsoo drinks his coffee in silence, feeling like he’s lost to him once more.
♫
It’s Jongin’s birthday. Kyungsoo rages a battle with himself. Should he simply buy Jongin chocolates or make one? Or should he give him something else other than chocolates? A cake, maybe? Jongin has a lot of fans, especially rich, female ones, and Kyungsoo’s gift would probably pale against five thousand Swiss chocolates, or a caramel-flavored cake with gold icing.
In the end, Kyungsoo decides to give Jongin a mixtape of all his favorite songs. Mixtapes are almost considered an obsolete technology, and Kyungsoo figures he could throw in the old player he’s inherited from his father. He puts them into the gift box and wraps it up with a neat bow. It’s not much, but at least it means something.
“What are you getting him?” Jongdae asks. It’s an hour before Jongin agreed to meet Kyungsoo in a milkshake store, and Jongdae takes him to a bike ride to help his friend calm his nerves.
“A mixtape,” Kyungsoo replies, and when Jongdae laughs he kicks the axel of Jongdae’s front tire. “What? You said I shouldn’t be finicky about it!”
“But a mixtape, Kyungsoo! How terribly romantic! It’s not like you’re planning on confessing to him today - ” A thought occurs to Jongdae, and he stops his pedaling. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and presses the brake. He cocks an eyebrow at the older boy.
“What?”
“You are going to confess to him!” Jongdae exclaims in horror. “Kyungsoo, I know I’ve asked you this a thousand times before but I want a serious answer now: are you nuts?”
Kyungsoo sighs. He waves for Jongdae to stop his theatrics and move his bike next to him. When Jongdae closes in the distance, Kyungsoo whispers, “It’s not like Jongin doesn’t know. I’m just going to do it properly. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Kyungsoo, hey, that’s not it,” Jongdae says conspiratorially. “I’m not a fan of the caste system, by the way, but think about it: Kim Jongin’s an idol! And you’re - you’re Do Kyungsoo! No offense, but there’s no relationship that’s going to spring out of it besides the one you’re having now.”
“I know,” Kyungsoo grumbles. Of course he knows that. He can’t sleep at night sometimes just thinking about it.
Jongdae urges him to press the brake again. They make their way to a nearby bench for a rest, dragging their bikes with them. Jongdae flashes him a questioning stare. “Then what gives? I’m not following your logic.”
Kyungsoo gives up. “I just thought it would make things easier, you know?” he admits. “To end stuff.”
Jongdae sits up immediately and throws him a sympathetic look. “Kyungsoo, that’s now how it works.”
♫
“I’m sorry.”
Jongin’s smile is taut and forced. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, waiting for Jongin to elaborate.
He turns to look at his plate, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m allowed to have someone at this point. And I - I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”
The elder nods, clearing his throat. “It’s fine,” Kyungsoo lies. It’s pathetic, but Kyungsoo would rather hear anything other than ‘I’m sorry’.
“But we can still be friends, right?”
Jongin is smiling the same way he did back at the terrace. Kyungsoo can tell Jongin’s lying to him right now, but he can’t call him out on this either, seeing how he’s being dishonest with Jongin too.
Of course. Kyungsoo knew that Jongin would never look at him that way, always told himself that his feelings are only his own. But why does it feel like, even after he had clearly gotten rejected, Jongin is admitting something to him?
“… Okay.”
♫
Jongin doesn’t avoid him.
He calls him after class, calls him when he’s cleaning the cages, calls him when it’s three am in the morning. He visits him regularly, and when he’s doing promotions, he visits him at least once a week. He still smiles at him the way that makes Kyungsoo’s heart ache, and everything that Jongin does only makes it hard for Kyungsoo to move on.
Jongdae’s hit the nail right on the head once again. Kyungsoo’s plan has ultimately, hilariously, backfired on him.
Jongin takes him to go bowling on Saturday. Jongin mentions him twice on national television. Jongin kisses him on the forehead for Valentine’s Day, soft and lingering.
Kyungsoo sighs to himself and carries on.
♫
They’re walking around Yeouido park. Dubu’s leash is on his hand, and the Schnauzer keeps on tugging on it to make Kyungsoo move faster.
“He’s gotten really bossy,” Kyungsoo sighs. “You should stop spoiling him, Jongin. Look at him - he’s getting twice as fat as he was when I last saw him.”
“You know I can’t do tough love,” Jongin reminds him. “And if I can’t tell a person how I feel, I’d just show them.”
Kyungsoo coughs. “But Dubu’s a dog.”
Jongin winks at him, laughing. “Same terms apply.” He pauses for a second, and then says, “Hey, you still like me, right?”
Kyungsoo groans. “Quit teasing me about that!”
Jongin grins and takes his hand.
♫
Title: i’ll lose if it means you’d win
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6,610 words
Summary: Superstar Kim Jongin buys a dog at Kyungsoo’s pet shop.
Author’s note: Thank you so much to my prompter! Your prompts are all devastatingly wonderful; I had tons of drafts and tried my best mish-mashing them, but then it ultimately ended into this. Sorry for that, but I hope you’ll like it! Thanks so much for P and D for the bucket loads of sarang, and to the mods for this wonderful exchange!
♫
Kyungsoo is being swallowed alive by the crowd. Wedged in between two abnormally tall fan girls (or is it just him who’s abnormally short?), he tries to wave his light stick as high as he can. The speakers are blasting at full volume; Kyungsoo finds that his ears are being blown off from the shock wave. But even through all that, he feels alive.
The star is already doing a mirage of dance movements, ranging from popping and locking to hip thrusting, and Kyungsoo grins at the fact that he’s so close to the stage. If he reaches out a little further, maybe he’d get to touch his feet.
“Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” the fans chant, pumping their light sticks, and Kyungsoo cheers along with them.
“Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” Kyungsoo yells. He knows his own voice is being drowned out by the other fifteen thousand fans inside the stadium, and his face is red and his throat is burnt raw from all the screaming. But it’s okay.
Kyungsoo raises his light stick a little higher and screams his undying devotion, “I love you, Kim Jongin! I love you ‘til the ends of the earth!”
“Yah, Kyungsoo. Wake up.”
Kyungsoo mumbles something along the lines of Kim Jongin and the glorious sight that is his body, when Grandma pokes his drool-streaked cheek with the end of a fly swatter. “Wake up, Grandson! Rise and shine! You’re going to man the fort today!”
“Just,” the boy turns himself over, his back facing her. “One more… minute…”
“You lazy bum,” Grandma swats him squarely on the butt. “Get up!”
Punching his pillow, Kyungsoo groans in irritation. He kicks off his blanket in despair. “Just when I was having a good dream.”
Grandma snorts, her nostrils flaring. From his vantage point, Kyungsoo sourly thinks it’s a horrible sight. “You can dream about that Jungkook boy downstairs while cleaning up all the dust bunnies.” She throws him a broom and a feather duster. “And remember to feed the parakeets with the new bird seed we bought from Kwangseok-ssi!”
“His name is Jongin, Grandma, how many times should I tell you?” Kyungsoo calls back, but his grandmother is already out of the door. He wonders if the old lady takes internal pleasure in always getting the love of Kyungsoo’s life’s name wrong.
He should be happy, though. One time, she dashed to Kyungsoo’s room with her arthritis creaking, carrying no less than three Tibetan cymbals and pounded on it with her walking stick. By a chilling comparison, this is considerably one of her less spontaneous wake-up calls.
After taking a shower and brushing his teeth, he slips into his black pants and plain white shirt - his work clothes - and goes downstairs. He greets all the animals with a warm smile, carefully ignoring his grandmother as she retreats inside her kitchen.
“You’re very picky with your food, huh,” Kyungsoo chides the yellow parakeet. He opens his cage and slides in the cup full of bird seed, stretching his finger to rub the crown of the parakeet’s head.
Kyungsoo wipes the dashboard with a wet cloth, and begins to sweep the tiled floor starting from the back of the counter, all the while singing along with Kim Jongin’s newest single (and hit) I Saw You Blink playing on his iPhone. He urges the goldfishes to sing along with him, the way Jongin does when he wants to sing with the audience.
He’s through sweeping the floor panels and singing the last line of the chorus when the bell chimes.
Kyungsoo spins on his heels. When he recognizes the figure on the doorway, Kyungsoo’s eyes widen comically. He fumbles for the iPhone in his pocket and pauses the track.
“You have a great voice,” a man with chocolate brown hair and tan skin says. He’s smiling broadly, revealing a full set of pearly white teeth. “It’s the first song I’ve produced myself. Though I wasn’t pretty sure what everybody thought of it, I’m happy that at least someone likes it.” His eyes are twinkling with delight.
Kyungsoo hiccups.
At that moment, another man in a suit scurries inside, a laptop bag swinging wildly on his shoulder. “Jongin,” the man whispers urgently. “We only have thirty minutes. The management isn’t exactly thrilled that you’re here shopping for pets.”
“Relax, Yixing,” Jongin says, but Kyungsoo can tell that Yixing doesn’t look the slightest bit comforted. “I think we’re in the right place.”
Gathering his bearings, Kyungsoo bows deeply. His ears are ringing with all the blood flowing out to his head, but he decides to ignore it for the meantime. “Welcome,” he greets formally. “My name is Do Kyungsoo. How can I help you?”
“Good morning, Kyungsoo-ssi,” Jongin starts, and Kyungsoo flushes beet red at this. His name sounds a thousand times nicer when Jongin is saying it instead of his grandmother. “I’m Kim Jongin, and I’m looking for a dog. A friend of mine said he bought a Siamese cat here. I’ve seen her - she’s healthy and vibrant and smart, and I was wondering if I can have one too. A dog, I mean.”
“Oh. You mean Tao-ssi and Scruffles?”
Jongin’s eyebrows jerk upward in surprise. “Tao got her here three years ago.”
“I just remember,” Kyungsoo explains. “I remember every animal we’ve sold here. We’ve taken care of them since they were little.”
“Nice,” Jongin grins at him. He nudges his manager. “See, hyung? This is going to be great!”
Yixing sighs. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
The bell chimes again as the door closes. Kyungsoo’s brain unhelpfully provides that he’s left alone with Kim Jongin, save for his broom and a dozen other animals all screeching and galloping in their cages. He looks down at his dirtied shirt and flushes again in embarrassment.
“Ah. Umm.” If it’s possible for Kyungsoo’s feet to blast him off to outer space, it would. “What kind of dog do you have in mind? We have all sorts of breeds.”
“I’m just looking for someone to cuddle with at night,” Jongin says, chuckling. “It’s pretty lonely back at the dorm. Someone who wouldn’t mind me pampering him lots.”
“Oh, so you’re looking for a male dog? We have Billy and Sam here. They’re both Jack Russells.” Kyungsoo heads over the next room and shows Jongin two hyperactive pups scratching the miniature picket fencing. “They need lots of walks and happy sunshine. Basically exercise. They have a lot of energy to burn off.”
Jongin hums in understanding. Kyungsoo gives him a sideward glance and thinks that the idol doesn’t seem satisfied.
“Well,” he starts again, clearing his throat. He points to the Maltese at the corner. “That one doesn’t shed a lot, so it’s great if you don’t like cleaning after pet hair. We only have a girl, though. Her name’s Mizu. She’s very friendly.”
“How about that one?” Jongin says.
Kyungsoo follows the direction where Jongin is pointing at and notices the small, lonesome terrier-type with a fuzzy beard on its snout, licking a tennis ball. “Oh, Dubu? He’s the newest addition to our family. He’s a Schnauzer.”
“Scct - scchauwer?”
“Schnauzer,” Kyungsoo repeats, smiling. “Ssh-naw-dser.”
Jongin’s lips make out a big ‘o’.
“He’s pretty hyper for his breed,” Kyungsoo continues. “But since he’s still kinda new, he’s a little shy. I won’t recommend -”
“I’ll take him.”
Kyungsoo gapes at him in surprise. “Are you sure? Miniature schnauzers are very popular, but they’re a little hard to pin down and they bark a lot. I still haven’t gotten to training him yet.”
“That’s fine. I can train him,” Jongin insists, studying Dubu intensely. He hands him his phone. “I can contact you about Dubu anytime, right?”
“Uhh, yeah. Sure,” Kyungsoo gulps. He takes the phone gingerly and types in his contact number.
He gives him back his phone and watches Jongin staring at little Dubu, biting his lower lip to contain his excitement. Kyungsoo surreptitiously smiles from the side.
♫
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Jongdae exclaims. “How in the world -“
“You can say it,” Kyungsoo grins smugly. “Isn’t this the best selca with Kim fricking Jongin or what?”
“With a dog,” Jongdae snorts. He taps the screen on the phone and zooms in on Kyungsoo’s face. “Your smile is so stiff! And what’s with that peace sign? That’s honest to god the cheesiest pose I’ve ever seen you make.”
Kyungsoo snatches his phone back, scowling fiercely. “Shut up if you don’t have anything nice to say, Jongdae. This picture is my most prized possession; don’t spoil it.”
Jongdae laughs loudly. He gestures for Kyungsoo to sit down. “Well, it is Kim Jongin. You can sell that on e-bay for a hundred bucks.”
The younger almost throws him his empty glass of milkshake. “I can’t believe he’s even more good-looking in person,” Kyungsoo remarks in awe. “Did you notice that he has this deep dimple when he smiles? And that his hands are like this big,” he gestures at the saucers. “And muscle-y. And get this: he likes animals, Jongdae, did you know that? How much dreamier can he get?”
“You look like you’re going to pee yourself,” Jongdae observes. “And no, I don’t know that. I don’t spend my weekends curling up in a blanket watching reruns of his variety show guestings, and more importantly, I don’t spend all my hard-earned money on an eight by fourteen wallpaper of Kim Jongin smiling creepily at you every morning you wake up.”
“The background was pretty,” Kyungsoo snaps. “I couldn’t pass it up.”
“Was it pastel blue or baby cerulean?”
“Pastel blue. The calendar was baby cerulean.”
“Fascinating.”
“My point is,” Kyungsoo reiterates, “Is that he’s even more perfect up close. I’m glad that Dubu got himself adopted to a nice person. I used to worry about that kid, but I’m sure Jongin and Dubu are going to get along swimmingly.”
“Dubu?” Jongdae asks. “You mean the poodle?”
“Schnauzer,” Kyungsoo corrects.
“Right. Isn’t that the dog that almost bit my fingers off when I stopped by your store?”
Kyungsoo gives him a sheepish smile. He remembers Jongdae waiting for him at the entrance when Dubu ran out of the weaning area, growling at his best friend fiercely. “Yeah, sorry about that by the way. I’m sure Jongin will be fine, though. He’s got like ten staff members catering to his every need. I’m positive taking care of Dubu will be a snap.”
“If you say so,” Jongdae says unsurely. He then pauses and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone, Kyungsoo.”
“Wait - why?”
Jongdae doesn’t respond and just wiggles his fingers. Dubious, Kyungsoo hands him his phone. He rises from his seat and peers over Jongdae’s shoulder, watching as the elder enhances the photo with a filter and saves it as a lock screen. Grinning, he hands Kyungsoo back his phone.
“Thank god for my editing skills. Now it looks like a family photo,” Jongdae quips proudly. “You, hunk muffin Kim Jongin, and your Schwatsme - “
“Schnauzer.”
“Whatever.” Jongdae waggles his eyebrows. “I could have it framed if you want. The picture actually has a pretty decent quality.”
He shakes his head before glancing back at his phone. Since Kyungsoo is not one of the most experienced selca takers of his generation (or in any other generation, if he’s being honest), Jongin was the one who’s holding the phone up, flashing his signature ‘Rock-On’ sign while sporting a big, dopey smile. Dubu was wedged in between the two of them, his furry paw on Kyungsoo’s lap.
Kyungsoo lets himself revel on the idea that it does look like a family picture. Jongdae can be annoying and frivolous at times, but Kyungsoo has to admit that Jongdae has his uses.
♫
The next two days had been utterly boring, or in Kyungsoo’s book, perfectly normal. The only gasp-inducing moment had been when a pair of cockatiels had gotten loose and sprayed dung all over the countertop of the cash register. Kyungsoo had to stencil off the excrement with a broad chisel. His nose had wrinkled itself back too hard that Kyungsoo thought he looked like Voldemort's twin for eight hours straight.
"You know, Voldemort was shockingly hot when he wasn't busy ripping his soul apart into seven pieces," Jongdae told him cheerfully, licking a popsicle clean while Kyungsoo buried his head inside a bird cage.
Kyungsoo, hearing the implication of his best friend's statement, threw him a rag squarely on the face.
But inwardly, he grudgingly agreed.
Kyungsoo’s not handsome. He knows that better more than anyone. His hair always droops down in an unflattering manner even when he tried putting hairspray and clay dough all over it. His lips are too plump, his eyebrows are too thick, his face is too round and girly. And most of all, his eyes are too big - there's too much sclera encircling his dark brown irises, giving him the impression that he's always surprised even though he's not.
He's too slender, too shy. Kyungsoo thinks his features are a bundle of excessiveness, and if there's something that's not, it's on the verge of lacking.
Kyungsoo exhales loudly. Looks like he’s going to have to look forward descending to middle age with his cheery grandmother.
"Are you daydreaming again, Kyungsoo?"
"No," Kyungsoo lies. He straightens up and continues sweeping the floor of the shop.
His grandmother looks at him disbelievingly. "Your father says he’ll be calling you next week," she says in disdain. "He wants to talk to you."
"Oh," Kyungsoo pauses from his sweeping. "Umm, okay."
"Tell him to stop drinking."
"Mhmm."
Kyungsoo waits for her to go upstairs before letting out a bereaved sigh. It looks like Grandma is still upset that his father had chosen to work abroad instead of staying with his family. Kyungsoo doesn't want to give much thought on their current living arrangements, but sometimes the palpable strain between his father and his grandmother makes it too hard to ignore.
Kyungsoo flips the sign, making the 'CLOSED' side face the glass door.
His phone vibrates inside his pockets. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Do Kyungsoo?"
"Yes." Kyungsoo scrunches his eyebrows. The voice is deep and familiar. "Speaking. Who is this?"
He hears rabid panting from the other line. The caller seems to be off on a jog. "It's me," the man says, out of breath. "Kim Jongin. You remember?"
Kyungsoo's hand clams up that he almost drops his phone. "Dubu's father?" he double-checks.
Jongin laughs. "I like that nickname very much. Say, I'm out on a run with Dubu right now."
"Oh, that's great!" Kyungsoo croaks. Maybe Jongin called to let him know he’s making progress with Dubu. "I'm glad you're having fun with him, Kim Jongin-ssi."
"Call me Jongin," the other pants. "Well, yes, it is fun and all but how do I get him to stop?"
"Huh?"
"We've been at it for more than half an hour now,” Jongin breathes out with a hint of desperation in his voice. “I think I might pass out here on the street."
Kyungsoo gets a disturbing imagery of Kim Jongin sprawled out on a random sidewalk and a cluster of bystanders hovering around him like hungry vultures. "Can't you tug on his leash a little harder?" he asks, a little perplexed. Dubu never acted like this when Kyungsoo was the one taking him for a walk.
"I've been trying," Jongin informs him, and Kyungsoo’s positive that the idol is too out of breath to respond in long, coherent sentences. "But after that he keeps on running again."
Kyungsoo mulls about it for a moment when Jongin continues, "What do I do?"
He glances at his watch. It's still okay for him to go out for a while and be back without Grandma noticing. Kyungsoo runs outside and grabs his helmet. "Where are you, Jongin-ssi?"
"Looks like Dubu is heading for Yeouido Park.”
Luckily, it's only a few kilometers away. "I'll be right there," Kyungsoo promises. He pockets his phone and steps on the pedal of his bike.
♫
Kyungsoo intercepts them at the plaza. Some of the people are already gaping at them in confusion. A few of them are already bringing out their phones, but the muted lighting can only make the camera pick up blurry movements.
He waits at the end of the curb until he sees Dubu running at top speed with his tongue flapping across the wind. Behind him, pop star Kim Jongin is being dragged around like a yoyo, his trainer shoes scratched and muddied. He stands in front of them.
"Dubu!" Kyungsoo grins. He waves a piece of jerky he bought from a convenience store earlier. "Aren't you tired? How about a snack?"
Dubu barks. His paws screech to a stop at his feet and he tears the meat into pieces. Kyungsoo kneels down and scratches Dubu's ear lovingly as Jongin nearly collapses beside him.
"Th-thank y-you," Jongin pants, clutching at his gray shirt that is damp with sweat. He pats the dog's head. "You weren't kidding when you said Dubu had," he exhales loudly. "High energy."
"You just have to show him who's boss," Kyungsoo says. "It's my fault, though. He still hasn't even passed potty training yet."
"That's a relief," Jongin groans mournfully, and Kyungsoo chuckles.
They lie together on the grass. Dubu licks the sweat dribbling on Jongin's chin, and the singer keeps on laughing because it tickles.
"He likes it when you rub his tummy," Kyungsoo instructs. "That'll make him behave."
Jongin does as he's told, and an ear-splitting grin comes across his face when Dubu sits up immediately, his right ear perking up and his tail swishing back and forth happily. "Wow," Jongin hoots. "How do you know all this stuff?"
Kyungsoo shrugs. "Every dog likes being petted. You just have to know where and then he's all yours."
"I didn't know being a father is this hard," Jongin says, elbowing him playfully. "You have to show me all your tricks one of these days."
"I've just stayed with Dubu longer. He'll get attuned to you soon enough."
Jongin nods. With his head propped up by his arms, he stares after the sky.
"You can see more stars back in my hometown."
"Huh?"
"Noise pollution." Jongin points at the lamp posts near them. "I could only see a few stars here in Seoul. Back at my house I used to spend my hours after dinner at the rooftop. Spread-eagled like this," he says, opening his legs and arms. "And then my mom would come looking for me. I have to hurry down the stairs and pretend I'm in bed, fast asleep. I don't think I've fooled her, though, all this time."
Kyungsoo falls silent, not knowing what to say in that moment. Spending all of his free time with animals may have drastically impaired his communication skills. Having verbal spars with Jongdae doesn't seem to count.
"How old are you?" Jongin speaks up again suddenly.
Kyungsoo hesitates before answering, "Twenty-one."
Jongin sits up so fast that it startles Dubu. The white-haired Schnauzer barks at him, annoyed. “You’re older than me?” he asks, unable to mask the disbelief in his voice.
He nods, and Jongin flashes him an apologetic smile. “I could’ve sworn you were younger,” he says. “I’m sorry for talking so informally with you.”
“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo assures him. He gets that a lot. He’d once been held off at a theater house when he went to watch an R-rated action movie. Kyungsoo had to be wheeled off to the supervising manager and show him his ID, and when he finally got the green light the movie was already halfway through. “I’m not really much of a crusader of formal speech, anyway.”
“What should I call you then?”
“I - uh, anything’s fine, I guess.”
“Hmm,” Jongin pauses to ponder about it, then beams widely at him. Kyungsoo’s heart stutters for a moment until he realizes that it’s one of his favorite Kim Jongin eye smiles. He remembers seeing it first on a page of a photobook he bought last year, and his heart had stopped and restarted in almost the exact same way. “I’ll just settle with ‘hyung’,” he decides. “I have two older sisters, so it’d be great to have someone other than Yixing to call hyung. And I don’t get to have cute hyungs every now and then, so it’s perfect.”
Jongin says it all really fast like a bullet train, but Kyungsoo makes out enough to have him blushing to the roots of his hair.
“Oh, and call me Jongin. Just Jongin,” he says. He scratches the underside of his dog’s belly. “I can’t have you calling me Kim Jongin-ssi all the time if we’re going to be Dubu’s parents, right?”
Kyungsoo hiccups, all the while scratching his nape in awkward ascent.
♫
“I can’t seem to find that brand of shampoo I bought from your store in any mall,” Jongin confesses. His pants are half-drenched in soap water, and he’s nursing a band-aid on his arm. Kyungsoo almost asks if he’s cut his arm somewhere but thinks better of it. Idols get a lot of minor injuries on the job, anyway. “And I don’t think he likes having me as his bath buddy.”
“That’s okay, it’s only been two weeks,” Kyungsoo replies. “It’ll probably take a while. He doesn’t like my grandmother doing it either; I guess he’s just too used to me. Can you pass me that soap?”
Jongin hands him a blue bar and watches from the side, his hair soaking wet from wrestling with Dubu in the bathroom.
“You should distract him from the cold by talking to him,” Kyungsoo demonstrates. He realigns Dubu’s upper body so Jongin can get a good view. “Or you could rub his underbelly or his ear. It calms him down. And you should douse his head first before moving to his body. If he keeps on resisting, hold him here.” Kyungsoo grasps at the scruff of Dubu’s neck. “So that he won’t - hey!”
Jongin has taken a snapshot of the entire exchange with his Instax when Kyungsoo’s not looking, and laughs at the other’s indignant expression. The polaroid then comes out and Jongin laughs even louder. Kyungsoo gasps in horror; he must’ve looked hideous in that photo.
“Give me that,” Kyungsoo stands from his footstool and makes a grab for the polaroid. Jongin raises his hand a bit higher, lifting the picture beyond Kyungsoo’s reach.
“Calm down, hyung!” Jongin chuckles, obviously enjoying the moment. Kyungsoo already has him backed up on a wall, and he’s holding onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder in order to prevent himself from slipping on the wet tiled floors. “You came out alright, I promise.”
Kyungsoo grumbles, “Then why won’t you let me see it? It’s my face.”
“It’s my roll of film,” Jongin retorts, slotting the picture in his back pocket. “It’s an artiste’s prerogative. You can’t argue with that, can you?”
Kyungsoo punches him in the gut. They’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but it’s enough for Kyungsoo to realize that Jongin always goes for that extra mile just to pick on him whenever he gets a chance. “I can’t believe I’m saying this as a longtime fan, but you’re a jerk.”
“You’re just fun to mess with,” Jongin explains with a deadpan expression. He pops a bubble nestling on Kyungsoo’s hair.
He huffs in annoyance. “Is that why you’re keeping me around? For kicks?”
Jongin stops to look at him. He holds Kyungsoo’s gaze before the corners of his lips pull upward to form a lazy grin. “Maybe.”
♫
Jongin asks Kyungsoo to come down and support him for his newest recording at his studio. Although outsiders aren’t usually allowed during album production, Jongin assures Kyungsoo that he’s capable of pulling a few strings. The way Jongin asks him is light and friendly, but the way he also tells him that it’d mean a lot to him if he would be there urges Kyungsoo to start planning how to sneak out of his house on Sunday and buy a ticket to Cheongdamdong.
“I’d bring Dubu with me too if you want so that he’d keep you company,” Jongin tells him. He’s staring at the power lines above. Kyungsoo thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Jongin like that, quiet and contemplative. It’s nice.
They’re an odd pair: a short, quiet boy in baggy sweaters and a rising idol in tight, faded jeans walking around the park. Dubu is happily guiding them with his leash, sometimes barking at fellow mutts that cross their way. Even after he discovered that they don’t have anything in common besides Dubu and their passion for music, Kyungsoo cherishes these peaceful weekly walks with Jongin.
“Sure. I’ll go,” Kyungsoo says immediately. “I’ll have to pick up a delivery from Apgujeong in the morning, though, so I guess I’ll catch up,” he amends, hoping he doesn’t sound too excited.
♫
Yixing beckons him to enter the lobby, much to Kyungsoo’s surprise. He initially thought Jongin would be the one to greet him downstairs, but he trudges on and follows Yixing to the studio.
Dubu is already at the eight floor, and he barks and runs to Kyungsoo immediately even before the boy has gotten himself out of the elevator. Kyungsoo crouches down at eye-level and rubs his tummy with his fingers.
“Hey there, boy,” Kyungsoo greets, laughing as Dubu licks the side of his face cheerfully. “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s at the last room at the end of the hall,” Yixing answers for him, pointing at the right direction. He observes them with a critical eye before smiling, “Keep Jongin and Dubu out of trouble, alright?”
Kyungsoo nods meekly. Tugging at the leash, they make a move to the studio. Jongin doesn’t seem to spot the both of them through the glass and is intently listening to the beat coming out of his headphones, silently swaying to the music, sound per sound.
Kyungsoo could be reborn a thousand times but he would never understand what he did to deserve seeing his idol live recording a song. He watches in awe as the melody streams out of Jongin’s lips and comes alive.
But despite a strong start and the fierce cheers coming from both Dubu and Kyungsoo, the exhaustion seems to reflect on Jongin’s voice, and by the end of the track recording his singing gets too inconsistent and hitches at all the wrong places.
Kyungsoo can’t hear what the production manager has whispered to Jongin’s ear, but judging from the sullen man’s expression, it can’t be good. Why don’t you take a break for a moment, son?
Jongin mumbles something in return before walking off.
Kyungsoo stands up, moving to follow, but then hesitates. Offering comforting and encouraging words doesn’t fall under his department; usually he’d leave Jongdae to do that, although the older boy does it more in an irritatingly jaunty manner.
Then, the tiny voice in his head tells him that he and Jongin are close enough - after all, he did invite him over to the recording, so it makes sense for Kyungsoo to at least run after him.
“Fine,” Kyungsoo tells himself. “It’s not like I haven’t been running after him already.”
Dubu licks his fingers in silent agreement.
♫
He finds Jongin at the terrace, flicking at the leaves of a potted plant.
“Are you okay?”
Jongin whirls around. Kyungsoo thinks that Jongin must be shocked that he had followed him all the way to the top floor.
“Hyung,” he says. His laugh is weak and almost bashful, and he hides his face away again from Kyungsoo’s line of vision. “Sorry, I’m not feeling really good right now.”
Kyungsoo bites his lower lip before asking, “Should I leave?”
“Oh - no! No, hyung, it’s okay. It’s fine. Please stay. I just have to get through this slump, that’s all,” Jongin tells him honestly, his voice hitching again. He turns again to face Kyungsoo with his eyes behind his hands, covering them to show only a bright grin. Kyungsoo’s chest twinges at this.
He makes his way next to Jongin at the railings of the terrace, keeping about a few inches of distance. He waits for Jongin to say anything.
Jongin does after a minute. “I guess it’s just me putting too much pressure on myself,” he confesses with a sad voice. “I guess I got too worked up and ended up blaming myself for everything. Maybe I should stop taking things way too seriously, huh?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head even though he knows Jongin wouldn’t see it. “You’ve always been so passionate about music and dancing, Jongin. Music’s your life - it’s who you are. You were amazing when I first saw you on stage, and now you’re a thousand times better than you were when you first debuted. You’ve never given up and always did things better because you’ve always been hell-bent on improving yourself. I - I like that part about you.”
Jongin falls quiet again. Without thinking, Kyungsoo inches closer to him and takes off the slender hands covering his eyes. Kyungsoo tries not to let the surprise show on his face; it’s the first time he’s ever seen Kim Jongin cry.
Eyes red, Jongin smiles at him softly. “Sorry if I ruined it, hyung. I wanted to impress you back there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m still your number one fan right besides Dubu,” Kyungsoo chuckles. He squeezes his hand reassuringly.
Jongin closes his eyes again, and when he opens them it’s clear. He flashes him a cheerful grin, and Kyungsoo can tell that it’s a little half-hearted. Perhaps Jongin is trying his best not to worry him anymore.
“I’ll take you home,” Jongin promises, his voice steady and slightly teasing. “I hope you hadn’t biked your way all the way here.”
Kyungsoo sticks out his tongue. “Your manager will be taking me home. You still don’t have a driver’s license.”
“I don’t remember telling you that before.”
“You said it once in an interview with People magazine.”
Jongin laughs out loud. “You really are my number one fan.”
♫
He’s already halfway loped his legs around the bicycle when a voice calls behind him, “Where are you going, Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo curses under his breath before saying, “I’m going to take Dubu out for a walk, Grandma! I’d be back before dinner!”
“Eh? Are you that boy’s servant or what?”
“I’m not his servant,” Kyungsoo explains. “Jongin just wants me to tag along in case Dubu does something stupid like, I don’t know, bite off a random guy’s hotdog or something. You saw what he did to Jongdae last time.”
Grandma huffs, but nods in understanding. “Get him to eat dinner with us then!”
“I’ll never let you two in the same room together, Grandma. Besides, your chicken soup tastes terrible.”
“Why you little-“
Kyungsoo deftly evades a wack from his grandmother’s broom, laughing and pedaling as fast as his legs are capable of. He makes a mental note to buy her favorite liniment in the drugstore later.
♫
Jongin still asks him to attend all his recordings and his concerts even after the end of the year is near. He drops by the pet shop when he has time between promotions, with or without Dubu. Sometimes he asks Kyungsoo - quiet, boring Do Kyungsoo - to regale him about his daily life, and other times, they just horse around at the park or watch late-night movie screenings. In the end, Kyungsoo lets himself be lead on, no matter how much he had resisted at first.
The bomb then drops on a Wednesday, Kyungsoo’s least favorite day of the week, and its blast seems to blow off a huge chunk of the city.
Jongin treats him to brunch on a nearby café, much to Kyungsoo’s protests (“I feel like I’m leeching on you or something”; “No, hyung, this is just me enjoying lavishing my money on someone”). They’re on the counter, ordering their meal, when Jongin opens his wallet.
Kyungsoo unintentionally gets a peek for only a brief moment, but it’s enough: slipped inside the plastic holder is the polaroid shot of Kyungsoo sitting on a stool, his mouth open as he prattles on instructions. Dubu is licking the droplets of water dripping from his fur. Kyungsoo finds his heart being ripped out of his chest and feels it beating on the person next to him.
Kyungsoo tries to shake it off, but his mind keeps on drifting back to his sudden discovery, inflating his hope like a balloon. As he stirs his coffee, Kyungsoo starts his plan of action and decides to corner Jongin when they’re almost done eating.
“You told me I looked alright.”
“What?”
“The picture on your wallet,” Kyungsoo points at Jongin’s pocket. “You said I turned out alright, but I look horrible.”
Jongin laughs, and Kyungsoo notes that his ears are getting slightly pink. “You saw that, huh?” He smiles, a bit self-conscious. “Personally I think you’re awesome in it. Ready to get wet and dirty - that’s my hyung. In fact, I think you look very handsome in that picture.”
The balloon in his chest grows irreconcilably large. Kyungsoo tries to hide a blush and shrugs it off.
“And I look stupid in your lock screen too,” Jongin continues as he sips his drink.
The balloon pops. “You saw that?” Kyungsoo questions in a small voice.
“I might have hovered over your shoulder while you were texting once. Or maybe a few times. Who’s Jongdae?”
“Oh. Er - he’s a friend of mine.”
“Ahh.” Jongin looks over the window, watching the pedestrians with a deep frown playing on his lips. “You should crop me off of the picture. It’s not like there’s a reason for me to be there, I mean. I look exceptionally ugly in there.”
Kyungsoo drinks his coffee in silence, feeling like he’s lost to him once more.
♫
It’s Jongin’s birthday. Kyungsoo rages a battle with himself. Should he simply buy Jongin chocolates or make one? Or should he give him something else other than chocolates? A cake, maybe? Jongin has a lot of fans, especially rich, female ones, and Kyungsoo’s gift would probably pale against five thousand Swiss chocolates, or a caramel-flavored cake with gold icing.
In the end, Kyungsoo decides to give Jongin a mixtape of all his favorite songs. Mixtapes are almost considered an obsolete technology, and Kyungsoo figures he could throw in the old player he’s inherited from his father. He puts them into the gift box and wraps it up with a neat bow. It’s not much, but at least it means something.
“What are you getting him?” Jongdae asks. It’s an hour before Jongin agreed to meet Kyungsoo in a milkshake store, and Jongdae takes him to a bike ride to help his friend calm his nerves.
“A mixtape,” Kyungsoo replies, and when Jongdae laughs he kicks the axel of Jongdae’s front tire. “What? You said I shouldn’t be finicky about it!”
“But a mixtape, Kyungsoo! How terribly romantic! It’s not like you’re planning on confessing to him today - ” A thought occurs to Jongdae, and he stops his pedaling. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and presses the brake. He cocks an eyebrow at the older boy.
“What?”
“You are going to confess to him!” Jongdae exclaims in horror. “Kyungsoo, I know I’ve asked you this a thousand times before but I want a serious answer now: are you nuts?”
Kyungsoo sighs. He waves for Jongdae to stop his theatrics and move his bike next to him. When Jongdae closes in the distance, Kyungsoo whispers, “It’s not like Jongin doesn’t know. I’m just going to do it properly. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Kyungsoo, hey, that’s not it,” Jongdae says conspiratorially. “I’m not a fan of the caste system, by the way, but think about it: Kim Jongin’s an idol! And you’re - you’re Do Kyungsoo! No offense, but there’s no relationship that’s going to spring out of it besides the one you’re having now.”
“I know,” Kyungsoo grumbles. Of course he knows that. He can’t sleep at night sometimes just thinking about it.
Jongdae urges him to press the brake again. They make their way to a nearby bench for a rest, dragging their bikes with them. Jongdae flashes him a questioning stare. “Then what gives? I’m not following your logic.”
Kyungsoo gives up. “I just thought it would make things easier, you know?” he admits. “To end stuff.”
Jongdae sits up immediately and throws him a sympathetic look. “Kyungsoo, that’s now how it works.”
♫
“I’m sorry.”
Jongin’s smile is taut and forced. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, waiting for Jongin to elaborate.
He turns to look at his plate, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m allowed to have someone at this point. And I - I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”
The elder nods, clearing his throat. “It’s fine,” Kyungsoo lies. It’s pathetic, but Kyungsoo would rather hear anything other than ‘I’m sorry’.
“But we can still be friends, right?”
Jongin is smiling the same way he did back at the terrace. Kyungsoo can tell Jongin’s lying to him right now, but he can’t call him out on this either, seeing how he’s being dishonest with Jongin too.
Of course. Kyungsoo knew that Jongin would never look at him that way, always told himself that his feelings are only his own. But why does it feel like, even after he had clearly gotten rejected, Jongin is admitting something to him?
“… Okay.”
♫
Jongin doesn’t avoid him.
He calls him after class, calls him when he’s cleaning the cages, calls him when it’s three am in the morning. He visits him regularly, and when he’s doing promotions, he visits him at least once a week. He still smiles at him the way that makes Kyungsoo’s heart ache, and everything that Jongin does only makes it hard for Kyungsoo to move on.
Jongdae’s hit the nail right on the head once again. Kyungsoo’s plan has ultimately, hilariously, backfired on him.
Jongin takes him to go bowling on Saturday. Jongin mentions him twice on national television. Jongin kisses him on the forehead for Valentine’s Day, soft and lingering.
Kyungsoo sighs to himself and carries on.
♫
They’re walking around Yeouido park. Dubu’s leash is on his hand, and the Schnauzer keeps on tugging on it to make Kyungsoo move faster.
“He’s gotten really bossy,” Kyungsoo sighs. “You should stop spoiling him, Jongin. Look at him - he’s getting twice as fat as he was when I last saw him.”
“You know I can’t do tough love,” Jongin reminds him. “And if I can’t tell a person how I feel, I’d just show them.”
Kyungsoo coughs. “But Dubu’s a dog.”
Jongin winks at him, laughing. “Same terms apply.” He pauses for a second, and then says, “Hey, you still like me, right?”
Kyungsoo groans. “Quit teasing me about that!”
Jongin grins and takes his hand.
♫