(no subject)
clean secret | r i suppose | ~5k | yifan/joonmyun
for dani who needs something new to read that doesn't make me sad, and for this prompt on the exopromptmeme. my apologies to both my friend and the anon requesting for such a long wait
It had started as a joke a long time ago, made amongst friends, when the lights made their heads spin and the alcohol made them feel as if they were rag dolls ready to be tossed about. Jongdae had come up with it, honestly, spur-of-the-moment and with a catty expression as per usual. "You know you want to spend as much time naked as possible, now that you're living alone," he'd said, grinning and clapping his friend on the shoulder. Everyone had agreed with as much excitement as their level of sobriety could muster (except Kyungsoo, who had blushed and looked away and pretended, poorly at that, that the conversation was not in fact happening), and at the time Joonmyun had given him an odd stare and brushed it off with a laugh.
"You're ridiculous, Jongdae," he intoned cheerfully. His mind was on those perverts who ended up flashing children from living room windows on news programs in America. The thought alone was enough to make him never want to see anyone naked ever again, including himself.
But see, now that he's living alone, completely independent and relying on no man, woman or parent to take care of him, it doesn't sound so bad to Joonmyun. It definitely doesn't feel bad. A little awkward at first, but only because he's the idiot who forgets to flick the blinds closed as well as tugging the string and letting them down to the sill.
In time, it becomes habit. Joonmyun comes home from work every day, checks his apartment to make sure nothing bad has happened while he's been out, then closes the blinds and shucks off his clothing, sets to the busy work that is getting everything straightened. Laundry first -- it takes the longest -- then dinner, which cooks slowly, then vacuuming and dishes and whatever else needs doing. All of it's done as a slow, kind of sexy R&B playlist plays over his stereo system, which leads to random bouts of dancing throughout.
The only downside is that -- and it never fails, not even on his sharpest day -- every time someone comes to call, he has to catch himself before answering the door. He's completely forgotten he's naked by that point. He figures he should lose the habit, maybe at least think about putting something on when he knows there's the possibility of company showing up, but he hasn't gotten into any trouble as of yet because of it, so what's the rush to stop something, especially if he's enjoying himself?
On this particular day he notices a lot of commotion in the apartment next to his when he comes home. Moving...? he wonders, pursing his lips to hide his grin. Though shy, he's friendly, welcome to the idea of meeting new people. Especially if they look like the guy who lifts with his knees, all blond hair and big lips and one notched brow that he lifts when the other guy with him points out where something's supposed to go.
"Chanyeol," the stranger intones in the direction of his bossy friend, setting a box in the hallway as he leans against the doorframe, brushing a hand through his hair. "How are you going to tell me what I should do with my things in my apartment?"
"Our apartment!" Chanyeol grins, raising his hands and wiggling his ears. "You know I'm gonna end up living here. You have PS3. And anyway, you said you wanted all of the boxed dishes in one place until you unpacked them. I was just telling you where I'd started the stack."
This is kind of awkward, mainly because the exchange and his own listening-in had left Joonmyun standing and watching. Here he is, a stranger, thinking about getting home and taking his clothes off, and yet... he can't take his eyes off his new neighbour. Obviously awkward. So he puts on his smile, the one reserved for people who don't know him yet but clearly need to, and approaches with a slight bow.
"Hello," he greets, charming as he can possibly. "I live next door, my name's Joonmyun."
The bossy one, Chanyeol, turns on his heel, cheeks puffed out and eyebrows raised. "Joonmyun!" he declares, obvious excitement in his tone. "Hi there!" And they're friends already, even though Joonmyun doesn't mean for them to be. The other one, as yet unnamed, just watches, perhaps a bit wary, eyebrow still raised. "I'm Chanyeol, this is Yifan, he's my best friend and he's the one who's going to be living here -- "
"How many times do I have to tell you, I can speak for myself," Yifan, the handsome stranger, points out with a breathy sort of chuckle that makes the inside of Joonmyun's skull start tingling. "Hello, Joonmyun. It's nice to meet you. I suppose I'll be seeing you around."
Swallowing thickly, Joonmyun nods, eager, still grinning. "I suppose you will. It was nice to meet you both. Um, Yifan..." and he trails off a bit because damn, does that name feel good in his mouth already, "If you need anything, I'll be living over here." He waves a hand in the general direction of his own front door, then bows again and heads towards it.
When he slips inside, he presses his back to the door, and pretends that he can't overhear the conversation, thanks to Chanyeol's loud and incredibly deep voice. "He's cute," Joonmyun hears Chanyeol say, and he thinks he hears Yifan's agreement but the guy's kind of quiet, so he can't be sure.
In any case, the encounter is over, and has been decidedly entertaining at the least. So Joonmyun rewards himself by dropping his bag next to the coat closet and his clothes in the foyer and across the living room as he kicks on his speakers and gets his place clean.
Jongdae comes in unannounced whenever he comes over. It's his bad habit. The only one, as far as Joonmyun can tell. He's lucky he was about to leave, to be honest, else he'd have to fess up to the whole Jongdae-being-right-about-everything deal, and he'd never live that down. He loves his best friend, he really does, but there's no way he's about to sit through a month of the gloating that would be sure to come along with the admission.
Anyway, Jongdae is welcome because, well, he's Jongdae, but he's also brought food and beer and yeah, Joonmyun doesn't really like that weird vegetarian fare his best friend has been dining on these days, but he'll deal with it because he's hungry and doesn't actually feel like going out to buy groceries. He'd much rather, for lack of a better term, spend time with someone close to him and possibly moon over the fact that his next door neighbour is undeniably hot and hasn't had a single conversation with him since the first day when he'd moved in, now over a week ago.
They're halfway through salads with no meat and lots of raisins when Joonmyun lets out a frustrated groan at the barrage of questions he's being rained upon with. "Look, I don't know," he says at long last, shrugging his shoulders meaningfully. At the very least he takes it with some semblance of grace, despite the fact that he's equally as annoyed by his inability to provide answers as Jongdae appears to be as he half-frowns around a mouthful of what appear to be noodles.
"How do you not know everything about him already?" Jongdae asks, leaning back into the couch and giving his friend an almost accusatory glare.
"Because not everyone is you," Joonmyun sighs deeply, shrugging again. "I don't have the necessary means or excuses that would give me cause to find out what I want to find out."
"Well, okay, the most important questions first. Does he even play for your team? And is he fucking that other guy, the one you met when he was moving in?"
"Who, Chanyeol?" And now Joonmyun's laughing so hard he has to put his food down on the coffee table in front of them. Not at the idea of Yifan and Chanyeol having sex or being in a relationship or anything, even though they act like such a dumb married couple sometimes that it's pretty amusing to think about. "Chanyeol has a girlfriend. Emphasis on the girl."
"Good news, then!" Jongdae grins conspiratorially, stroking the point of his well-defined chin. "There's still hope for you yet. Kind of." Then he gets that little glint in his dark eyes, the little line just above his browline in the middle of his forehead, and Joonmyun knows something undesirable is about to go down.
"No. No, Kim Jongdae, don't you dare--" But Jongdae is already halfway out the door by the time Joonmyun even thinks to get up and follow after him. The younger just turns to him with a finger pressed to his own lips, a grin splay across his face, and motions for him to stay put in the doorframe. Joonmyun, feeling somewhat helpless by this point, tries his hardest to listen only and not peer around the corner as he leans, back pressed against metal, and waits for the doom to crash upon him.
Jongdae knocks at Yifan's door, bounces anxiously on the balls of his feet. It takes a minute, but there's an answer.
It is not Yifan. In fact, it is a lady. Well, wait, maybe lady is a bit of a strong term, considering she barely looks legal. "Can I help you?" she asks, with a little bit of sultry sass in her voice even as she's smiling so hard her eyes turn up into little crescents. "I didn't know Yifan and Chanyeol were expecting anyone, I'm so sorry!"
She's so endearing it makes Joonmyun feel guilty. Actually, he thinks it makes Jongdae feel the same way, considering the way he isn't in constant motion anymore. "I-I'm a sociology student," he mumbles, "and I was just looking for the tenants here to ask them a question or two..."
"Oh, yeah?" And she's still smiling in that way that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle sweetly. "I'm sure you could ask me. I've known those dweebs forever, they won't mind." Except there's something, Joonmyun doesn't know quite what to call it, but there's something almost suspicious in her voice, and Joonmyun kind of wants to call out to Jongdae that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably come back, not that it would do anything but strengthen his friend's determination to embarrass the both of them as completely as possible.
The both of them step into the apartment and Joonmyun quietly closes the door behind him as he goes back inside, attempting not to be heard. He sinks against the wall of his foyer and waits for Jongdae's return, checking his watch approximately every forty-five seconds.
It takes about ten minutes, and Jongdae comes back smelling like mint tea and maybe shame, but he returns with a grin on his face. "You're good to go," he says as he steps over Joonmyun's languid frame splayed across the floor.
"What?" Joonmyun stares up at his friend, incredulous. "How did you--"
"I will never in a million years reveal my secrets," Jongdae answers solemnly, tapping two fingers against the curve of his lips. "But you're good. Go forth and conquer whatever relatively-attractive land you wish."
And Joonmyun's about to ask another question, but he stops short, stands up, stalks after Jongdae with hands shoved into his pockets. "What do you mean, relatively attractive?"
So, as advised, Joonmyun begins to spend more time with Yifan. It doesn't take much, seeing as he lives right next door, and they end up hanging out more often than not, sometimes talking over coffee on one of their patios, sometimes talking quietly pressed into the corners of adjacent couches while Chanyeol and his girlfriend argue in the middle of playing a video game, sometimes going for takeout at shitty diners with dirty countertops. It's like dating, sort of, except neither of them seem to have the gall to call it a date.
Being around Yifan is easy, and he does this thing that never happens -- he gets Joonmyun talking about himself. His family, his friends -- embarrassing as that subject may be -- school, when it had happened, and working at a bank, and music he likes and places he's been and would like to go. It doesn't even occur to Joonmyun until after they're not together anymore that he doesn't really know anything about the guy he has a thing for, if he can even go that far with it.
Still, Joonmyun's the person who rarely speaks of his own affairs, and even though they're his day-to-day they're typically heavy on his shoulders, tugging at his insides insistently, threatening to rip him to pieces until finally he just overflows with a need to express himself. So... being with Yifan, talking about his own stuff while learning absolutely nothing, might be meaningless to him in essence, but it's something he needs. Yifan is just that kind of guy, the one to whom it's easy to speak.
A couple times he almost lets slip his dirty little secret. The only thing that stops him is the fact that he's not sure how that particular quirk might be perceived. If only Yifan were to talk more, he might get an idea.
In any case, it happens mostly by accident, due to the fact that there are, on occasion, such emergencies in the building that would cause one to suddenly have a neighbour over without any previous cause, contact or conversation. (Joonmyun blames the building manager. Yifan will, most likely, blame fate later on. The building manager will blame rats, which don't actually exist in this context.) The power's gone on their floor for reasons unknown, and Joonmyun is cleaning with the door to his patio open, the curtains streaming in amidst a welcome summer breeze. Despite the distinct lack of music, he doesn't manage to refrain from dancing. A little. Or a lot, maybe. He's an adult in the privacy of his own home, for God's sake, he can do what he wants, right?
Except for the fact that he doesn't know that Yifan and Chanyeol are on Yifan's adjacent patio. That is, until he hears Chanyeol's all-too-loud voice echo in through the door. He stops, freezing up, eyebrows bunched together so much that he almost starts to feel a tension headache forming at his temple. "...and if I can't bring my girlfriend over to have sex," Chanyeol is saying -- more groaning, really; Joonmyun can almost see the face he's making, he's that expressive, "then the least you could do is not live in a building where I can't spend all my time playing your system."
"You could always, I don't know, take your girlfriend to your apartment," Yifan offers, gruff and sounding like he's rolling his eyes. "I mean, that's basically why you have one."
"No can do, my friend!" Chanyeol counters, and there's a rustling. Chip bag. Joonmyun doesn't know either of them very well, but it seems like Chanyeol's always eating something, and nothing ever very good for him, if their limited amount of encounters tell him anything. "As you very well know! I. Have a very nosy roommate."
Yifan scoffs, and there's a soft thump that ends up with Chanyeol yelping. "How is it my fault that Jongin can't seem to keep his nose to himself?" he grumbles.
Joonmyun is feeling pretty guilty, listening in like this, but without the guaranteed entertainment that music would provide, he's got to have something in his ears right about now. He's about to put clothes on and go out and maybe have an actual conversation with the pair of them -- maybe even try and get Yifan alone, though he doesn't know how he's supposed to swing that one -- except there's sudden silence from outside, louder than any conversation his neighbours could have possibly been having.
He sighs deeply, rubbing at his temple, finding he's able to move around like a normal human being once again. Looking around, he realises that he'd actually padded over closer to the patio door without noticing it, and he curses his naturally curious (read: secretly nosy as hell) nature when it comes to other peoples' business. He's about to go back to cleaning, when comes that rap on the door, and Chanyeol's voice is practically right there in the room with him. "Yoohoo, neighbor!" the man singsongs, and Joonmyun finds himself swearing under his breath.
"J-just a minute!" he calls out, running to his bedroom and tripping over the arm of his couch.
"What, is it messy inside or--" And the door's creaking open, and it takes quite a bit of effort to keep Joonmyun from screaming out 'no' or some equally as rude interjection that would probably lose cool points with Yifan, should he also be on the other side of the door.
"Please, just! Wait!" He's dressing as quickly as he can, so quickly in fact that he entirely forgets that underwear is a concept that should probably be applied to situations like this one. Especially situations like this one. He tries to stick his head through the armhole of his t-shirt, for God's sakes. But eventually he's (mostly) dressed, and he dashes back out into his living room, all rumpled and bright red, breathing decidedly heavy for someone who had just, by all accounts, been lounging and not frantically attempting to get decent.
Chanyeol's completely oblivious, greets Joonmyun with a half-dip of a bow and a grin, goes right to asking whether or not the power's actually out or if Yifan had forgotten in the midst of all his artistry to pay his power bill again.
Yifan, however, looks Joonmyun up and down, critical. Mayhaps inspired, Joonmyun would hope, except the blond's tongue swipes across his lower lip for a half-second, more a reflexive gesture than anything if his somewhat relaxed posture is any sort of indication.
"Artistry?" Joonmyun asks, eyebrows raised, fighting a sincerely shit-eating grin. He's going to get away with this, damnit, if it's the last thing he does.
"I'm, uh, an artist," Yifan adds, eyes darting elsewhere, though he's smiling a bit himself. "Illustrator, technically. Freelance work and then... the fun stuff."
"Wow," Joonmyun breathes, touching his own lips with the tips of his fingers, "you must be really good..." Truthfully, he doesn't know the first thing about art, but he's willing to learn. So willing. Especially if Yifan is the teaching type. (Oops, his thoughts ran away with him. He shakes his head quickly to bring them back.)
"He's great!" Chanyeol pipes in enthusiastically, coming back around and clapping his companion on the shoulder with, in fact, so much gusto that Yifan actually bows a little, wincing and shoving the other's hand away. "He doesn't like to brag about it--"
"--yes I do, are you out of your mind--"
"--but I'd be willing to go so far as to say he's the best in town," Chanyeol finishes confidently and with a grin to match. "Independent contractor, anyhow. Those guys with the illustration companies, the ones that work on the anime and stuff? They're not half as good. And they do it all the time so they get lazy really quickly. But Yifan here, he's fantastic, gets to do it basically how he wants, people trust him."
Joonmyun feels kind of silly about his own job -- it's good, the hours aren't too extensive and it pays well, but it's nothing to get so excited over. Just nice enough where he can get away with wearing the occasional suit to work without looking like a pretentious douchebag with everything to lose. But... no one talks about finances the way that Chanyeol talks about Yifan's artwork. Well, no one except the yuppies that work the stock market with an Irish coffee in one hand and a purposely-roughed-up briefcase in the other. "I'd like to see it sometime," Joonmyun adds helpfully, and he could swear he feels a glare penetrating the skin at the back of his neck. He rubs at the spot there, hoping to throw the phantom laser eyes off his trail.
"I'm sure you could," Chanyeol points out. "Anyway, we were going to go out because there's nothing to do, and I -- okay, Yifan -- was wondering if you'd like to come, too?"
Yifan...was wondering? Joonmyun shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. "I'd love to," he agrees with a smile and maybe a little too much spirit. "Where are we going?"
They don't make it home until about 1am, and they're a little drunk. Okay, a lot drunk. Chanyeol excuses himself on the way back from the restaurant and bar that they'd spent four hours inside of, pointing out that he's got about seven missed calls from his girlfriend, at least three of which were, as he says, 'straight-up booty calls'. He skitters down the street outside the establishment, opposite the direction of Yifan's and Joonmyun's apartment building, humming that damned "I Just Had Sex" song until his phone call's answered and he's definitely yelling something about 'bros before hoes, baby'.
This, much to Joonmyun's great fortune and semi-embarrassment, leaves himself and Yifan to walk back to their building alone. Well, okay, not so much walk as stumble and occasionally support each other with arms linked or around shoulders or, most appreciably, one moment when they're about to crash into each other and have to hold one another around the waist.
"You're fun," Yifan slurs, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I mean... I mean, no one's ever really...been able to keep up with me and, and Chanyeol before. Except..." His tone goes rather serious now, "his roommate, but..." And his nose wrinkles slightly, eyes narrowing, lips pulled into the beginning of a sneer.
Joonmyun pats his back with as much sympathy as his current state of sobriety will allow. "You don't like him?" he asks softly, the ghost of a frown crossing his own face.
"He's such a brat," Yifan groans, holding open the door as they make their way into their building, nearly toppling over as he attempts to follow Joonmyun inside. The movement is such that Joonmyun nearly forgets to ask about the loaded tone of Yifan's complaint; instead of letting it fall from his eager mouth, he holds it in, files it away for later. He's good at that. Now leaning against the wall for support, he stares into the deep darkness of the stairwell leading to their floor -- the elevator's been out since long before Joonmyun moved in, so that option's shot. "Do you think the p-power's back on?"
"Should be," Joonmyun answers, indifferent. "Come on, neither of us are going to make it up these stairs alone." And it's nice even if it's a difficult task to accomplish, fuzzy and warm and a little blurred around the edges, holding each other by wrists or elbows or shoulders as they clamber up into the building and onto their own floor. They're all out of breath when they make it to the top, so they sit on the top stair for a long minute, shoulder-to-shoulder, gasping softly into an otherwise comfortable silence. Then Joonmyun finds his feet again and offers a hand to Yifan, who damn near knocks Joonmyun right back down the stairs as he pulls himself back up.
"Sorry about that," he murmurs, sounding more sincere than Joonmyun can remember him being about anything. He wishes he knew him better, that he could remember other times like this with Yifan, but -- "Hey, do me a favor."
"Y-yes?" Anything. Joonmyun prays his eyes don't say it before his mouth gets the chance.
"Go out with me tomorrow. I was going to take myself to lunch for finishing a piece, and I'd like for you to be there."
"I, ah," and his mind is yelling yes a million times over; he feels heat building in his cheeks but he can't tell if it's because of flattery or extreme mortification or the alcohol, maybe a combination of the three, but eventually he stammers out an agreement, leads Yifan to his own door, safely tucks him inside with a promise to bring coffee in the morning, and does a stuttering little skip to match the rhythm of his heart across the remaining thirty feet to his apartment.
When he's inside he turns on his stereo, except for some reason it's turned onto his self-esteem playlist, which is nothing but 80s gangster rap. He doesn't think about it too hard, though, instead focusing on the beat as he bobs his head and gets down to business, stepping out of his jeans and then his boxer briefs, pulling his shirt over his head. Ah, drunkenly cleaning one's apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Joonmyun considers this a luxury, even as his bare stomach is pressed against the cold marble of his countertop, the water from the faucet splashing little droplets unto his chest. There's a bead of sweat and water pooling into the hollow of his collarbones and then--
Thud.
Joonmyun doesn't even stop to consider, he's more concerned that maybe there's someone breaking into his apartment, that his fears have come true. He stumbles hurriedly into the living room, past his clothes lying in puddles on the floor without so much as the vaguest sense of recognition. His heart thumps wildly in his chest; he doesn't know what the hell he's going to fend off his would-be attackers with, but it doesn't matter, he'll claw their eyes out if he has to...
Except the man standing in his doorway is most definitely not some kind of thug. In fact, it is... "Yifan?" Joonmyun asks, cocking his head, wondering why the hell his extremely attractive neighbour is giving him that look as he's leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder.
"Is this a thing you do?" Yifan asks slowly, keeping intent control of his words as his eyes scan Joonmyun up and down slowly.
It is then and only then that Joonmyun remembers. "O-oh."
"Oh?" Except Yifan doesn't sound terribly amused. (Or does he? He's sometimes so oversimplified it's difficult to read him.) He takes a step forward, wobbling a bit, and Joonmyun rushes forward to help him up, suddenly uncaring as to whether or not someone might peek in the door and catch them doing... well, whatever they're doing.
Fortunately, Yifan manages to get the door closed with a flail of his foot and the edge of the door itself caught on his ankle. "Are you alright?" Joonmyun asks softly, one hand at Yifan's shoulder as he's stooped close to the ground, looking upwards.
This is not a flattering position, he must have decided, because suddenly Joonmyun finds himself pressed flat against the door to his entrance closet. The heat in his cheeks, relatively permanent throughout the course of the night, has spread all over his exposed skin; he feels little electric tingles where hems of fabric brush against him; he could swear he's burning where Yifan pins his wrist over his head.
Joonmyun swallows thickly, eyes focused on nothing but Yifan's mouth, which trembles with intensity and a distinct want for breath. "Kiss me," he murmurs, and it's probably the wrong thing to say, he wishes he could take it back immediately.
He definitely doesn't expect Yifan to oblige a silly man his silly request. Especially not a silly naked man listening to hardcore 90s gangster rap. But even so, he feels the roughness of slightly-chapped lips pressed against his own, the surprisingly gentle touch of calloused fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, the tightening of grip around his wrist, causing him to whimper. That in turn prompts the slip of the tip of Yifan's tongue just past the gates of his lips, teasing at his own, and he sighs against it, losing tension as his knees buckle together just the right amount so that he needs to be supported.
He hooks his fingers into the hem of Yifan's shirt, returning the kiss, tilting his head just the right amount so that their noses brush together -- another spark that runs through him -- and revels in the sensation of Yifan's tongue sliding against his own, lips moving on lips, fingers trailing down his bare skin -- collarbones, shoulders, ribs and, daringly enough, hipbones.
When they part, they are both equally as breathless, as flush with excitement, as half-hard and dying for more.
But Yifan appears to be a gentleman, even as he's got this painful expression painted across his face, braving one last downward glance to, ahem, inspect Joonmyun's personhood. "We are not going to fuck when we're both drunk." And Joonmyun winces a bit, wishing he hadn't played the part of keeping up with the drinking party earlier that evening. "I am not going to do that to you."
There's this weird, insistent part of Joonmyun that wants to ask why not, but romanticism is such an under-utilised trait in this generation that he thinks better than to question it. "Then... I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?" he suggests, ignoring the sad little lilt of his own eyebrows that he can't seem to help.
"Maybe in the morning," Yifan proposes in rebuttal, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Joonmyun's mouth. "Long enough for us to sober up." He's relenting completely now, retreating from the apartment, when he turns his head and gazes over his shoulder for a long moment. "You listen to really good music, by the way. That's...why I came over here."
With compliments like that, Yifan is welcome over at whatever time of day. Without warning. As the door closes behind him, Joonmyun slides to the floor, not having realised just how tightly he'd been stuck to the door behind him. The floor is cold against his heated skin. He thinks he might sit here for a while and reconsider his life decisions.
In any case, he's decided he'd prefer things between himself and Yifan be halted until the morning at the very least. Mainly because his apartment is still the messiest of ridiculous messes and he's not entirely sure as to how much Yifan had seen just now, but... he'd like to fix it.
for dani who needs something new to read that doesn't make me sad, and for this prompt on the exopromptmeme. my apologies to both my friend and the anon requesting for such a long wait
It had started as a joke a long time ago, made amongst friends, when the lights made their heads spin and the alcohol made them feel as if they were rag dolls ready to be tossed about. Jongdae had come up with it, honestly, spur-of-the-moment and with a catty expression as per usual. "You know you want to spend as much time naked as possible, now that you're living alone," he'd said, grinning and clapping his friend on the shoulder. Everyone had agreed with as much excitement as their level of sobriety could muster (except Kyungsoo, who had blushed and looked away and pretended, poorly at that, that the conversation was not in fact happening), and at the time Joonmyun had given him an odd stare and brushed it off with a laugh.
"You're ridiculous, Jongdae," he intoned cheerfully. His mind was on those perverts who ended up flashing children from living room windows on news programs in America. The thought alone was enough to make him never want to see anyone naked ever again, including himself.
But see, now that he's living alone, completely independent and relying on no man, woman or parent to take care of him, it doesn't sound so bad to Joonmyun. It definitely doesn't feel bad. A little awkward at first, but only because he's the idiot who forgets to flick the blinds closed as well as tugging the string and letting them down to the sill.
In time, it becomes habit. Joonmyun comes home from work every day, checks his apartment to make sure nothing bad has happened while he's been out, then closes the blinds and shucks off his clothing, sets to the busy work that is getting everything straightened. Laundry first -- it takes the longest -- then dinner, which cooks slowly, then vacuuming and dishes and whatever else needs doing. All of it's done as a slow, kind of sexy R&B playlist plays over his stereo system, which leads to random bouts of dancing throughout.
The only downside is that -- and it never fails, not even on his sharpest day -- every time someone comes to call, he has to catch himself before answering the door. He's completely forgotten he's naked by that point. He figures he should lose the habit, maybe at least think about putting something on when he knows there's the possibility of company showing up, but he hasn't gotten into any trouble as of yet because of it, so what's the rush to stop something, especially if he's enjoying himself?
On this particular day he notices a lot of commotion in the apartment next to his when he comes home. Moving...? he wonders, pursing his lips to hide his grin. Though shy, he's friendly, welcome to the idea of meeting new people. Especially if they look like the guy who lifts with his knees, all blond hair and big lips and one notched brow that he lifts when the other guy with him points out where something's supposed to go.
"Chanyeol," the stranger intones in the direction of his bossy friend, setting a box in the hallway as he leans against the doorframe, brushing a hand through his hair. "How are you going to tell me what I should do with my things in my apartment?"
"Our apartment!" Chanyeol grins, raising his hands and wiggling his ears. "You know I'm gonna end up living here. You have PS3. And anyway, you said you wanted all of the boxed dishes in one place until you unpacked them. I was just telling you where I'd started the stack."
This is kind of awkward, mainly because the exchange and his own listening-in had left Joonmyun standing and watching. Here he is, a stranger, thinking about getting home and taking his clothes off, and yet... he can't take his eyes off his new neighbour. Obviously awkward. So he puts on his smile, the one reserved for people who don't know him yet but clearly need to, and approaches with a slight bow.
"Hello," he greets, charming as he can possibly. "I live next door, my name's Joonmyun."
The bossy one, Chanyeol, turns on his heel, cheeks puffed out and eyebrows raised. "Joonmyun!" he declares, obvious excitement in his tone. "Hi there!" And they're friends already, even though Joonmyun doesn't mean for them to be. The other one, as yet unnamed, just watches, perhaps a bit wary, eyebrow still raised. "I'm Chanyeol, this is Yifan, he's my best friend and he's the one who's going to be living here -- "
"How many times do I have to tell you, I can speak for myself," Yifan, the handsome stranger, points out with a breathy sort of chuckle that makes the inside of Joonmyun's skull start tingling. "Hello, Joonmyun. It's nice to meet you. I suppose I'll be seeing you around."
Swallowing thickly, Joonmyun nods, eager, still grinning. "I suppose you will. It was nice to meet you both. Um, Yifan..." and he trails off a bit because damn, does that name feel good in his mouth already, "If you need anything, I'll be living over here." He waves a hand in the general direction of his own front door, then bows again and heads towards it.
When he slips inside, he presses his back to the door, and pretends that he can't overhear the conversation, thanks to Chanyeol's loud and incredibly deep voice. "He's cute," Joonmyun hears Chanyeol say, and he thinks he hears Yifan's agreement but the guy's kind of quiet, so he can't be sure.
In any case, the encounter is over, and has been decidedly entertaining at the least. So Joonmyun rewards himself by dropping his bag next to the coat closet and his clothes in the foyer and across the living room as he kicks on his speakers and gets his place clean.
Jongdae comes in unannounced whenever he comes over. It's his bad habit. The only one, as far as Joonmyun can tell. He's lucky he was about to leave, to be honest, else he'd have to fess up to the whole Jongdae-being-right-about-everything deal, and he'd never live that down. He loves his best friend, he really does, but there's no way he's about to sit through a month of the gloating that would be sure to come along with the admission.
Anyway, Jongdae is welcome because, well, he's Jongdae, but he's also brought food and beer and yeah, Joonmyun doesn't really like that weird vegetarian fare his best friend has been dining on these days, but he'll deal with it because he's hungry and doesn't actually feel like going out to buy groceries. He'd much rather, for lack of a better term, spend time with someone close to him and possibly moon over the fact that his next door neighbour is undeniably hot and hasn't had a single conversation with him since the first day when he'd moved in, now over a week ago.
They're halfway through salads with no meat and lots of raisins when Joonmyun lets out a frustrated groan at the barrage of questions he's being rained upon with. "Look, I don't know," he says at long last, shrugging his shoulders meaningfully. At the very least he takes it with some semblance of grace, despite the fact that he's equally as annoyed by his inability to provide answers as Jongdae appears to be as he half-frowns around a mouthful of what appear to be noodles.
"How do you not know everything about him already?" Jongdae asks, leaning back into the couch and giving his friend an almost accusatory glare.
"Because not everyone is you," Joonmyun sighs deeply, shrugging again. "I don't have the necessary means or excuses that would give me cause to find out what I want to find out."
"Well, okay, the most important questions first. Does he even play for your team? And is he fucking that other guy, the one you met when he was moving in?"
"Who, Chanyeol?" And now Joonmyun's laughing so hard he has to put his food down on the coffee table in front of them. Not at the idea of Yifan and Chanyeol having sex or being in a relationship or anything, even though they act like such a dumb married couple sometimes that it's pretty amusing to think about. "Chanyeol has a girlfriend. Emphasis on the girl."
"Good news, then!" Jongdae grins conspiratorially, stroking the point of his well-defined chin. "There's still hope for you yet. Kind of." Then he gets that little glint in his dark eyes, the little line just above his browline in the middle of his forehead, and Joonmyun knows something undesirable is about to go down.
"No. No, Kim Jongdae, don't you dare--" But Jongdae is already halfway out the door by the time Joonmyun even thinks to get up and follow after him. The younger just turns to him with a finger pressed to his own lips, a grin splay across his face, and motions for him to stay put in the doorframe. Joonmyun, feeling somewhat helpless by this point, tries his hardest to listen only and not peer around the corner as he leans, back pressed against metal, and waits for the doom to crash upon him.
Jongdae knocks at Yifan's door, bounces anxiously on the balls of his feet. It takes a minute, but there's an answer.
It is not Yifan. In fact, it is a lady. Well, wait, maybe lady is a bit of a strong term, considering she barely looks legal. "Can I help you?" she asks, with a little bit of sultry sass in her voice even as she's smiling so hard her eyes turn up into little crescents. "I didn't know Yifan and Chanyeol were expecting anyone, I'm so sorry!"
She's so endearing it makes Joonmyun feel guilty. Actually, he thinks it makes Jongdae feel the same way, considering the way he isn't in constant motion anymore. "I-I'm a sociology student," he mumbles, "and I was just looking for the tenants here to ask them a question or two..."
"Oh, yeah?" And she's still smiling in that way that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle sweetly. "I'm sure you could ask me. I've known those dweebs forever, they won't mind." Except there's something, Joonmyun doesn't know quite what to call it, but there's something almost suspicious in her voice, and Joonmyun kind of wants to call out to Jongdae that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably come back, not that it would do anything but strengthen his friend's determination to embarrass the both of them as completely as possible.
The both of them step into the apartment and Joonmyun quietly closes the door behind him as he goes back inside, attempting not to be heard. He sinks against the wall of his foyer and waits for Jongdae's return, checking his watch approximately every forty-five seconds.
It takes about ten minutes, and Jongdae comes back smelling like mint tea and maybe shame, but he returns with a grin on his face. "You're good to go," he says as he steps over Joonmyun's languid frame splayed across the floor.
"What?" Joonmyun stares up at his friend, incredulous. "How did you--"
"I will never in a million years reveal my secrets," Jongdae answers solemnly, tapping two fingers against the curve of his lips. "But you're good. Go forth and conquer whatever relatively-attractive land you wish."
And Joonmyun's about to ask another question, but he stops short, stands up, stalks after Jongdae with hands shoved into his pockets. "What do you mean, relatively attractive?"
So, as advised, Joonmyun begins to spend more time with Yifan. It doesn't take much, seeing as he lives right next door, and they end up hanging out more often than not, sometimes talking over coffee on one of their patios, sometimes talking quietly pressed into the corners of adjacent couches while Chanyeol and his girlfriend argue in the middle of playing a video game, sometimes going for takeout at shitty diners with dirty countertops. It's like dating, sort of, except neither of them seem to have the gall to call it a date.
Being around Yifan is easy, and he does this thing that never happens -- he gets Joonmyun talking about himself. His family, his friends -- embarrassing as that subject may be -- school, when it had happened, and working at a bank, and music he likes and places he's been and would like to go. It doesn't even occur to Joonmyun until after they're not together anymore that he doesn't really know anything about the guy he has a thing for, if he can even go that far with it.
Still, Joonmyun's the person who rarely speaks of his own affairs, and even though they're his day-to-day they're typically heavy on his shoulders, tugging at his insides insistently, threatening to rip him to pieces until finally he just overflows with a need to express himself. So... being with Yifan, talking about his own stuff while learning absolutely nothing, might be meaningless to him in essence, but it's something he needs. Yifan is just that kind of guy, the one to whom it's easy to speak.
A couple times he almost lets slip his dirty little secret. The only thing that stops him is the fact that he's not sure how that particular quirk might be perceived. If only Yifan were to talk more, he might get an idea.
In any case, it happens mostly by accident, due to the fact that there are, on occasion, such emergencies in the building that would cause one to suddenly have a neighbour over without any previous cause, contact or conversation. (Joonmyun blames the building manager. Yifan will, most likely, blame fate later on. The building manager will blame rats, which don't actually exist in this context.) The power's gone on their floor for reasons unknown, and Joonmyun is cleaning with the door to his patio open, the curtains streaming in amidst a welcome summer breeze. Despite the distinct lack of music, he doesn't manage to refrain from dancing. A little. Or a lot, maybe. He's an adult in the privacy of his own home, for God's sake, he can do what he wants, right?
Except for the fact that he doesn't know that Yifan and Chanyeol are on Yifan's adjacent patio. That is, until he hears Chanyeol's all-too-loud voice echo in through the door. He stops, freezing up, eyebrows bunched together so much that he almost starts to feel a tension headache forming at his temple. "...and if I can't bring my girlfriend over to have sex," Chanyeol is saying -- more groaning, really; Joonmyun can almost see the face he's making, he's that expressive, "then the least you could do is not live in a building where I can't spend all my time playing your system."
"You could always, I don't know, take your girlfriend to your apartment," Yifan offers, gruff and sounding like he's rolling his eyes. "I mean, that's basically why you have one."
"No can do, my friend!" Chanyeol counters, and there's a rustling. Chip bag. Joonmyun doesn't know either of them very well, but it seems like Chanyeol's always eating something, and nothing ever very good for him, if their limited amount of encounters tell him anything. "As you very well know! I. Have a very nosy roommate."
Yifan scoffs, and there's a soft thump that ends up with Chanyeol yelping. "How is it my fault that Jongin can't seem to keep his nose to himself?" he grumbles.
Joonmyun is feeling pretty guilty, listening in like this, but without the guaranteed entertainment that music would provide, he's got to have something in his ears right about now. He's about to put clothes on and go out and maybe have an actual conversation with the pair of them -- maybe even try and get Yifan alone, though he doesn't know how he's supposed to swing that one -- except there's sudden silence from outside, louder than any conversation his neighbours could have possibly been having.
He sighs deeply, rubbing at his temple, finding he's able to move around like a normal human being once again. Looking around, he realises that he'd actually padded over closer to the patio door without noticing it, and he curses his naturally curious (read: secretly nosy as hell) nature when it comes to other peoples' business. He's about to go back to cleaning, when comes that rap on the door, and Chanyeol's voice is practically right there in the room with him. "Yoohoo, neighbor!" the man singsongs, and Joonmyun finds himself swearing under his breath.
"J-just a minute!" he calls out, running to his bedroom and tripping over the arm of his couch.
"What, is it messy inside or--" And the door's creaking open, and it takes quite a bit of effort to keep Joonmyun from screaming out 'no' or some equally as rude interjection that would probably lose cool points with Yifan, should he also be on the other side of the door.
"Please, just! Wait!" He's dressing as quickly as he can, so quickly in fact that he entirely forgets that underwear is a concept that should probably be applied to situations like this one. Especially situations like this one. He tries to stick his head through the armhole of his t-shirt, for God's sakes. But eventually he's (mostly) dressed, and he dashes back out into his living room, all rumpled and bright red, breathing decidedly heavy for someone who had just, by all accounts, been lounging and not frantically attempting to get decent.
Chanyeol's completely oblivious, greets Joonmyun with a half-dip of a bow and a grin, goes right to asking whether or not the power's actually out or if Yifan had forgotten in the midst of all his artistry to pay his power bill again.
Yifan, however, looks Joonmyun up and down, critical. Mayhaps inspired, Joonmyun would hope, except the blond's tongue swipes across his lower lip for a half-second, more a reflexive gesture than anything if his somewhat relaxed posture is any sort of indication.
"Artistry?" Joonmyun asks, eyebrows raised, fighting a sincerely shit-eating grin. He's going to get away with this, damnit, if it's the last thing he does.
"I'm, uh, an artist," Yifan adds, eyes darting elsewhere, though he's smiling a bit himself. "Illustrator, technically. Freelance work and then... the fun stuff."
"Wow," Joonmyun breathes, touching his own lips with the tips of his fingers, "you must be really good..." Truthfully, he doesn't know the first thing about art, but he's willing to learn. So willing. Especially if Yifan is the teaching type. (Oops, his thoughts ran away with him. He shakes his head quickly to bring them back.)
"He's great!" Chanyeol pipes in enthusiastically, coming back around and clapping his companion on the shoulder with, in fact, so much gusto that Yifan actually bows a little, wincing and shoving the other's hand away. "He doesn't like to brag about it--"
"--yes I do, are you out of your mind--"
"--but I'd be willing to go so far as to say he's the best in town," Chanyeol finishes confidently and with a grin to match. "Independent contractor, anyhow. Those guys with the illustration companies, the ones that work on the anime and stuff? They're not half as good. And they do it all the time so they get lazy really quickly. But Yifan here, he's fantastic, gets to do it basically how he wants, people trust him."
Joonmyun feels kind of silly about his own job -- it's good, the hours aren't too extensive and it pays well, but it's nothing to get so excited over. Just nice enough where he can get away with wearing the occasional suit to work without looking like a pretentious douchebag with everything to lose. But... no one talks about finances the way that Chanyeol talks about Yifan's artwork. Well, no one except the yuppies that work the stock market with an Irish coffee in one hand and a purposely-roughed-up briefcase in the other. "I'd like to see it sometime," Joonmyun adds helpfully, and he could swear he feels a glare penetrating the skin at the back of his neck. He rubs at the spot there, hoping to throw the phantom laser eyes off his trail.
"I'm sure you could," Chanyeol points out. "Anyway, we were going to go out because there's nothing to do, and I -- okay, Yifan -- was wondering if you'd like to come, too?"
Yifan...was wondering? Joonmyun shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. "I'd love to," he agrees with a smile and maybe a little too much spirit. "Where are we going?"
They don't make it home until about 1am, and they're a little drunk. Okay, a lot drunk. Chanyeol excuses himself on the way back from the restaurant and bar that they'd spent four hours inside of, pointing out that he's got about seven missed calls from his girlfriend, at least three of which were, as he says, 'straight-up booty calls'. He skitters down the street outside the establishment, opposite the direction of Yifan's and Joonmyun's apartment building, humming that damned "I Just Had Sex" song until his phone call's answered and he's definitely yelling something about 'bros before hoes, baby'.
This, much to Joonmyun's great fortune and semi-embarrassment, leaves himself and Yifan to walk back to their building alone. Well, okay, not so much walk as stumble and occasionally support each other with arms linked or around shoulders or, most appreciably, one moment when they're about to crash into each other and have to hold one another around the waist.
"You're fun," Yifan slurs, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I mean... I mean, no one's ever really...been able to keep up with me and, and Chanyeol before. Except..." His tone goes rather serious now, "his roommate, but..." And his nose wrinkles slightly, eyes narrowing, lips pulled into the beginning of a sneer.
Joonmyun pats his back with as much sympathy as his current state of sobriety will allow. "You don't like him?" he asks softly, the ghost of a frown crossing his own face.
"He's such a brat," Yifan groans, holding open the door as they make their way into their building, nearly toppling over as he attempts to follow Joonmyun inside. The movement is such that Joonmyun nearly forgets to ask about the loaded tone of Yifan's complaint; instead of letting it fall from his eager mouth, he holds it in, files it away for later. He's good at that. Now leaning against the wall for support, he stares into the deep darkness of the stairwell leading to their floor -- the elevator's been out since long before Joonmyun moved in, so that option's shot. "Do you think the p-power's back on?"
"Should be," Joonmyun answers, indifferent. "Come on, neither of us are going to make it up these stairs alone." And it's nice even if it's a difficult task to accomplish, fuzzy and warm and a little blurred around the edges, holding each other by wrists or elbows or shoulders as they clamber up into the building and onto their own floor. They're all out of breath when they make it to the top, so they sit on the top stair for a long minute, shoulder-to-shoulder, gasping softly into an otherwise comfortable silence. Then Joonmyun finds his feet again and offers a hand to Yifan, who damn near knocks Joonmyun right back down the stairs as he pulls himself back up.
"Sorry about that," he murmurs, sounding more sincere than Joonmyun can remember him being about anything. He wishes he knew him better, that he could remember other times like this with Yifan, but -- "Hey, do me a favor."
"Y-yes?" Anything. Joonmyun prays his eyes don't say it before his mouth gets the chance.
"Go out with me tomorrow. I was going to take myself to lunch for finishing a piece, and I'd like for you to be there."
"I, ah," and his mind is yelling yes a million times over; he feels heat building in his cheeks but he can't tell if it's because of flattery or extreme mortification or the alcohol, maybe a combination of the three, but eventually he stammers out an agreement, leads Yifan to his own door, safely tucks him inside with a promise to bring coffee in the morning, and does a stuttering little skip to match the rhythm of his heart across the remaining thirty feet to his apartment.
When he's inside he turns on his stereo, except for some reason it's turned onto his self-esteem playlist, which is nothing but 80s gangster rap. He doesn't think about it too hard, though, instead focusing on the beat as he bobs his head and gets down to business, stepping out of his jeans and then his boxer briefs, pulling his shirt over his head. Ah, drunkenly cleaning one's apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Joonmyun considers this a luxury, even as his bare stomach is pressed against the cold marble of his countertop, the water from the faucet splashing little droplets unto his chest. There's a bead of sweat and water pooling into the hollow of his collarbones and then--
Thud.
Joonmyun doesn't even stop to consider, he's more concerned that maybe there's someone breaking into his apartment, that his fears have come true. He stumbles hurriedly into the living room, past his clothes lying in puddles on the floor without so much as the vaguest sense of recognition. His heart thumps wildly in his chest; he doesn't know what the hell he's going to fend off his would-be attackers with, but it doesn't matter, he'll claw their eyes out if he has to...
Except the man standing in his doorway is most definitely not some kind of thug. In fact, it is... "Yifan?" Joonmyun asks, cocking his head, wondering why the hell his extremely attractive neighbour is giving him that look as he's leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder.
"Is this a thing you do?" Yifan asks slowly, keeping intent control of his words as his eyes scan Joonmyun up and down slowly.
It is then and only then that Joonmyun remembers. "O-oh."
"Oh?" Except Yifan doesn't sound terribly amused. (Or does he? He's sometimes so oversimplified it's difficult to read him.) He takes a step forward, wobbling a bit, and Joonmyun rushes forward to help him up, suddenly uncaring as to whether or not someone might peek in the door and catch them doing... well, whatever they're doing.
Fortunately, Yifan manages to get the door closed with a flail of his foot and the edge of the door itself caught on his ankle. "Are you alright?" Joonmyun asks softly, one hand at Yifan's shoulder as he's stooped close to the ground, looking upwards.
This is not a flattering position, he must have decided, because suddenly Joonmyun finds himself pressed flat against the door to his entrance closet. The heat in his cheeks, relatively permanent throughout the course of the night, has spread all over his exposed skin; he feels little electric tingles where hems of fabric brush against him; he could swear he's burning where Yifan pins his wrist over his head.
Joonmyun swallows thickly, eyes focused on nothing but Yifan's mouth, which trembles with intensity and a distinct want for breath. "Kiss me," he murmurs, and it's probably the wrong thing to say, he wishes he could take it back immediately.
He definitely doesn't expect Yifan to oblige a silly man his silly request. Especially not a silly naked man listening to hardcore 90s gangster rap. But even so, he feels the roughness of slightly-chapped lips pressed against his own, the surprisingly gentle touch of calloused fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, the tightening of grip around his wrist, causing him to whimper. That in turn prompts the slip of the tip of Yifan's tongue just past the gates of his lips, teasing at his own, and he sighs against it, losing tension as his knees buckle together just the right amount so that he needs to be supported.
He hooks his fingers into the hem of Yifan's shirt, returning the kiss, tilting his head just the right amount so that their noses brush together -- another spark that runs through him -- and revels in the sensation of Yifan's tongue sliding against his own, lips moving on lips, fingers trailing down his bare skin -- collarbones, shoulders, ribs and, daringly enough, hipbones.
When they part, they are both equally as breathless, as flush with excitement, as half-hard and dying for more.
But Yifan appears to be a gentleman, even as he's got this painful expression painted across his face, braving one last downward glance to, ahem, inspect Joonmyun's personhood. "We are not going to fuck when we're both drunk." And Joonmyun winces a bit, wishing he hadn't played the part of keeping up with the drinking party earlier that evening. "I am not going to do that to you."
There's this weird, insistent part of Joonmyun that wants to ask why not, but romanticism is such an under-utilised trait in this generation that he thinks better than to question it. "Then... I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?" he suggests, ignoring the sad little lilt of his own eyebrows that he can't seem to help.
"Maybe in the morning," Yifan proposes in rebuttal, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Joonmyun's mouth. "Long enough for us to sober up." He's relenting completely now, retreating from the apartment, when he turns his head and gazes over his shoulder for a long moment. "You listen to really good music, by the way. That's...why I came over here."
With compliments like that, Yifan is welcome over at whatever time of day. Without warning. As the door closes behind him, Joonmyun slides to the floor, not having realised just how tightly he'd been stuck to the door behind him. The floor is cold against his heated skin. He thinks he might sit here for a while and reconsider his life decisions.
In any case, he's decided he'd prefer things between himself and Yifan be halted until the morning at the very least. Mainly because his apartment is still the messiest of ridiculous messes and he's not entirely sure as to how much Yifan had seen just now, but... he'd like to fix it.