A Million Ways to be Cruel (3/4)
There’s a game that Sehun likes to play called Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better. He will play it with Jongin anytime, anywhere, and without warning.
Jongin should have known something was up when Sehun invited him and Luhan for a “friendly picnic” in the courtyard, while Baekhyun was away helping his dad with paperwork.
“Not even first base?” Sehun repeats, his eyes comically wide. He leans in closer to Luhan, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “Have you…practiced?”
“Practiced? On what?”
“You guy friends, duh.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Eww!”
Sehun smacks him lightly upside the head. “Oh please, everybody does it! Right, Jongin?”
Jongin can’t say anything more than a noncommittal. “mmhmm” accompanied by a half-nod, but he and Sehun have a strict “no cockblocking” rule, so he’s not allowed to object, either.
“How else do you think people learn?” Sehun says, turning back to Luhan. “When Krystal wants to kiss you, do you plan to just sit there and do nothing because you have no clue how to make out with someone?”
“I guess not,” Luhan replies,
“Okay.” Sehun gets up on his knees. “Close your eyes, and wet your lips. Don’t be afraid to use your tongue.”
Poor Luhan, so impressionable. Jongin bites his knuckles before he says something he’ll regret.
When Sehun kisses, it’s always passive, almost nonchalant. He kisses like the other person is lucky Sehun’s even giving them the time of day. This is no exception. He keeps his hands folded in his lap, while Luhan eases more and more into the kiss.
Jongin would roll his eyes if he weren’t so intrigued. The mentor strategy - he’s never used that one on a boy before.
“That was awesome.” Luhan exclaims as Sehun sits back.
In the few seconds that Luhan looks down to smooth out his shirt, Sehun scowls and drags the back of his hand across his lips, right before giving Jongin a try and beat that look.
Jongin raises his eyebrows.
Hot Chinese English Tutor’s necktie runs like water through his fingers. The guy is less receptive than Jongin is used to, but at least he makes eye contact. But none of this matters when Jongin can see the brewing storm that is Luhan out of the corner of his eye.
A few more minutes of faux-flirting and Luhan is poking his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Um, Jongin? Can we talk? In private?”
“I have to go, see you all next Thursday,” English Tutor squeaks as he makes a quick exit.
The moment English Tutor is out of earshot, Luhan backs Jongin up against the wall. Jongin leers at him, a familiar heat unfurling down his thighs.
“Don’t think I don’t know what kind of guy you are, Jongin,” Luhan hisses, grabbing fistfuls of Jongin’s shirt. “Everyone knows what you did to the school nurse last year. And half of the football team six months ago. Krystal told me all about you, so stay away from Kris, or God help you, I’ll beat you so hard.”
“Who’s Kris?”
Luhan shoves him even harder, and Jongin can’t help bucking his hips forward.
“Kidding, kidding,” Jongin grunts. “Say what you will about my morals or lack of them, but I’d never claim somebody else’s property.”
“Property?”
“You want him for yourself, right?”
Luhan’s hands unclench. “He’s a friend. I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt.”
“Right. Of course. What was I thinking, hitting on your gorgeous, irresistible English tutor like that?” He slowly rubs a hand up and down Luhan’s bicep. “I could make it up to you.”
“What?” Luhan pulls his arm away. He steps back.
“I mean, what are you gonna do in bed for your first time? Sehun’s an okay kisser, but I’m the one with all the experience. I could show you everything you need to know,” he coos, drawing out the last line.
The mentor strategy. It could very likely work on Luhan, but Jongin’s not sure Baekhyun would buy it. Well, Luhan would be a fun distraction anyway. Jongin’s got ten minutes to spare.
08/12/2012 LUHAN. Easily seduced. Kind of clueless for a native city dweller. Not as dumb as Sehun insists he is, but still not the brightest crayon in the box. Undeniably, gloriously, flamingly gay, though is attempting to convince himself that he’s just bi-curious. Enthusiastic in bed. Enthusiastic about my dick, but who isn’t? I’d say he’s about a 7, good for a newbie and he’s got a mouth like a Hoov GOD FUCKING DAMN IT WILL THIS KID EVER FUCKING SHUT UP
Jongin slams his pen down on an open page. “What?” he yells, despite the fact that Luhan is only a foot away from him on the bed.
“What are you writing?” Luhan repeats for the third time, voice smaller than before.
“Homework.”
“Why does your notebook look so much like a diary?”
Jongin stares at him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He takes a deep breath, and mentally counts down from ten. “Luhan, lets play a game. Its called Who Can Stay Quiet the Longest?”
“Cool! My mom loves that game!”
Naturally.
Jongin turns his attention back to his journal.
mouth like a hoover, and I’d rate him higher but yeah, the whole not being able to shut up thing gets old fast. God. I’m bored. No idea why I waste my time on these city boys. They’re all the same once you fuck them. Nothing surprises them anymore.
Luhan’s an interesting case as he appears to have a thing for his hot Chinese English tutor. Now that guy is totally doable. I’d go for him, but
But Baekhyun. Who is frustrating, and tiresome, and endearing, and stubborn as fuck. Jongin badly needs to get that over with and go back to his normal life. He needs to do something. Sehun can’t win. Ever.
But I’ve got my plate full at the moment. And Luhan is extremely
He stares blankly at Luhan’s hand on his thigh. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Yeah, I win!” Luhan cheers. “Awesome. Now can I blow you?”
“I’m busy.”
“Wimp. You just can’t get it up.” With an exaggerated sigh, Luhan rolls off the bed to find his pants. “It’s that new guy, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Always wears polka dots, very small, cute like a puppy, the one you’re always hanging out with. Bet you can’t stop thinking about him. You’re so obvious.” Says the guy who can’t stop staring at his English tutor like he’s dinner.
“Byun Baekhyun is an annoying, sanctimonious little shit and I can’t wait to get him out of my hair.” Jongin says, eyes kept firmly on his journal.
“You love him. Well, I don’t care, he probably sucks in bed and I love Kris.” Luhan pauses in the middle of shrugging on his jacket. “I mean, as a friend of course. And he’s hotter than you. Whatever, I’m going home. Good thing my mom records my dramas, or I’d be super bored tonight.”
…Dramas? If he’s not watching a drama to stare at a super hot actress, then Luhan has officially lost the battle against his own gayness.
The moment he hears Baekhyun’s sleepy “hello?” on the other end of the line, Jongin starts talking nonstop. “Let me tell you a story. One time, I got tickets so Sehun and I could go see Swan Lake, and the thing about ballet tickets is, they’re not fucking cheap. Then, on the night of the performance, the bitch bails on me because he got a last-minute invite to Chanyeol’s birthday party! Like, he only got invited because Junmyeon couldn’t make it. See the moral to this story?”
“Uh…Sehun’s an asshole and not the good kind?”
Jongin laughs out loud. Literally laughs out loud. And is glad that at least he’s managed to influence Baekhyun in some small way. “That’s a good point, but no,” he says. “The moral of the story is that you and I are seeing Don Quixote tonight, and you’d better show up if you don’t want your toothbrush to also be secretly dipped in the toilet. The dog’s toilet.”
Does befriending Baekhyun count as progress?
Jongin still can’t figure it out. He hates it when he’s friends with whoever he’s fucking, because that shit gets complicated really fast, and Jongin is only good at making messes, not cleaning them up.
It also doesn’t help that Baekhyun looks alluring tonight, under the glow of the streetlights. It’s a simple white polo, unbuttoned just the right way, and jeans that fit him much better than the ones he brought from home; it also doesn’t help that he’s wearing that eyeliner again from the night at the club. He’s comfortable and confident and even a little dreamy, which is one of Jongin’s least favorite adjectives ever, so it means something when he’s compelled to use it.
“How do I look?” Baekhyun asks, eyes bright.
Jongin opens his mouth but the words aren’t coming. Instead, he laughs weakly.
“I hope that’s a good thing.” Baekhyun scratches the back of his head. “Sehun helped. We picked out new stuff together this time, so I could tell him what I was and wasn’t okay with.”
“It’s…definitely a good thing.” Jongin blinks up at the marquee and walks inside the Theatre a few steps ahead of Baekhyun. “Anyway, I know I’m weird for bringing you to a show about a knight who says he’s defending his country but ends up doing the opposite, and I would’ve taken you to something much happier, but The Nutcracker closed last year. Plus this is the best ballet around and seriously, you can’t go through a life time without seeing it.”
The ballet goes on wonderfully and Jongin is sitting eagerly in his seat throughout each part. Every few minutes though, Jongin looks over to Baekhyun to measure his reactions, because ballets have never been everyone’s thing, and Jongin was hoping that they were Baekhyun’s.
The show ends and the two exit out of the theater with Jongin asking Baekhyun countless questions about specific parts. Asking about his opinions and such when Baekhyun looks at Jongin straight in the eye as they’re about to enter Jongin’s car, and says: “Honestly, the ballet was great and all, but I feel like it’d be much better if you were in it.”
“Baekhyun.” Jongin’s glad that the lights turned off right then, so that Baekhyun couldn’t see him blush. “It’s just a hobby.’
“Their loss,” Baekhyun says gently, before he enters the car.
The rest of the car ride is awkward as Jongin tries to find a station to listen to now that he’s able to actually use his hands while driving Baekhyun.
It’s then that Jongin gives up on the radio and puts his hand back on the steering wheel that he remembers what Baekhyun said before they entered the car. A small smile appears on his face and it isn’t until Baekhyun notices it that he goes back to his dead pan expression.
“You should really smile more often, Jongin.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t just live your life going around with this ‘I don’t give a fuck about anything expression’” Baekhyun takes Jongin’s sunglasses out of the compartment near the rear view mirror and gives his best imitation of Jongin.
Jongin does his best to hold back his laughter and to not turn his head and look at how Baekhyun is wearing his glasses that are too big for him. But its then that they reach a red light, and Jongin turns to look at Baekhyun and another smile breaks on his face.
The smile was expected though, Baekhyun being the goofball that he is, but what isn’t expected is Baekhyun leaning over the arm rest and pressing his lips to Jongin’s.
When Jongin’s mind can finally process it, it’s too late. Baekhyun is already leaning back into his seat, cheeks flushed either from the AC that’s blasted a little bit too high, or the kiss, and nothing’s in his eyes except a faint, diluted trace of shame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” Baekhyun mumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest a little too tight. “I don’t know how it…”
“It’s fine,” Jongin says, eyes back on the road and two hands on the wheel.
The first day he met Oh Sehun, Jongin new his life would never be the same. Sehun was this well-mannered kid who had the same delicate features, and milky pale skin as his mother, and he could light up a room with his smile. And at that time, Jongin was a shy, socially awkward kid who thought that he could maybe be friends with his new stepbrother. But then they all went to dinner together, Sehun and his mom and Jongin and his dad, and Sehun spent most of dinner carrying an enthusiastic conversation with Jongin’s dad while simultaneously rubbing his foot up against Jongin’s crotch under the table. Jongin stared hard at his veal that night instead of actually eating it, and made a subconscious attempt at choking the life out of his water.
Which is why today, Jongin doesn’t even blink an eye as he sits on the bathroom counter, watching Sehun shave his legs in the bathtub.
“You wear pants and socks, like, all the time,” Jongin whines, waving a hand in the direction of Sehun’s leg, which is raised in a perfect 90-degree angle from his thigh. “What’s the point?”
Sehun stops mid-shave to give Jongin a long look. Then he resumes drawing the razor up along his leg.
Of course. It’s Sehun.
“For once, we’re not here to talk about me,” Sehun says. “I called you here so I could properly call you a loser to your face.” The water barely ripples as Sehun lowers his now clean shaven leg and lifts the other one. “First of all, in a moment of uncharacteristic generosity, I actually drag him to a club for you. For you, bitch. And what do you do? Rush him out before he can even have one drink, and, I don’t know, not fuck him. Now I hear you took him to see the ballet. Um, because your love for dance and men in tights is totally appealing. What’s next?” Even through the thick screen of steam, Jongin can see the disgust on his face.
“S, I’m pretty sure you’ve fucked more than a couple dancers from the studio and it was Don Quixote for goodness sakes, and Baekhyun said he liked it.” Jongin’s voice echoes against the marble walls, and then it’s quiet. Sehun stares at him. Jongin stares back, holding his breath.
“This kid’s really getting to you, isn’t he,” Sehun says, more of a statement than a question.
And sometimes Sehun rants are fun, but lately they’re tedious. “You know what; I think I’m sick of you right now.” Jongin pushes himself off the bathroom counter.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I’m gonna hang out with my new friend, Baekhyun, because maybe I prefer spending time with him than with you now.”
Jongin takes a while to close the door, because he wants to take a mental photograph for posterity: Sehun in the bathtub with his jaw hanging open, one hand on his chest.
The grin on Jongin’s face as he walks down the hallway fades quickly. On one hand he’s thrilled because it’s a rare, happy occasion when he actually manages to insult Sehun. On the other hand, he’s fairly sure he meant what he said, and that’s a truth that isn’t exactly easy to swallow.
It bothers him so much that he doesn’t look where he’s going. He walks smack into: “Baekhyun! Sorry about that.”
The two just stand there.
And apparently, some part of Jongin knows that he can’t not kiss him.
So that’s how he ends up with his hands around Baekhyun’s waist, and his tongue parting Baekhyun’s lips. It’s weird and it doesn’t help the butterflies in his stomach, but maybe they’re finally getting somewhere. It still feels right. Kind of.
Until Baekhyun breaks it off, anyway.
“We shouldn’t.”
Jongin doesn’t let go of his waist. “Why not?”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Jongin.” Baekhyun says taking Jongin’s hands and peeling them away. “I don’t even think you know what you want.”
Baekhyun leaves and Jongin would follow him, if he could only think of a witty enough response. Instead, he’s left with nothing but a mental block.
But Jongin knows what he wants. Wishes, even. He wishes this were as simple as “red pill or blue pill?” and he could take the blue one and wake up in the normal world where Byun Baekhyun never happened to him. Because right now, Jongin has a huge decision to make between Baekhyun and his car, and he’s known his car a lot longer. It’s a choice that doesn’t get any easier the more he things about it.
If there’s anything that can get Jongin’s mind off of complicated issues (or people), it’s perving on Sehun’s hot English tutor.
Jongin carefully times his Thursday evenings, and today he’s planned to drop by the den to say he forgot his copy of Catcher in the Rye there. But when he casually strolls in at 6:15 sharp, Sehun’s the only person at the table, browsing through scandals on Naver.
“They’re so not real,” Sehun snickers.
“Don’t you have English today?”
Sehun whirls around, showing Jongin his best attempt at mock surprise. “Nope! Luhan’s mom fired Kris, and English teachers aren’t as fun without Luhan by my side. You know us, we’re like this,” he says, holding up his crossed index and middle fingers.
“I wouldn’t suppose you hand anything to do with it,” Jongin deadpans.
“Of course not.”
He knows Sehun’s lying, but its almost scary that Sehun is so good at it even when he doesn’t try. That he can cross his arms and look up at Jongin without a hint of doubt in his eyes.
Jongin stands there and waits for the other half of Sehun’s response.
After a while, Sehun says, “Well, it is my duty as Krystal’s best friend -“
“Ex-best friend.”
“Not that she knows it. And as her, ahem, ‘best friend,’ it’s my duty to tell her about things that could potentially hurt her. And oh, look who just so happened to have a file of some incriminating surveillance footage of Luhan coming dangerously close to kidding Kris and letting Kris ravish him on the study table. How convenient!”
Jongin pulls up a chair. Its going to be a while, he assumes. “No fury like a woman scorned, et cetera, et cetera, then what?”
“Apparently, my little hamster learned a thing or two from me about the art of being a vindictive bitch,” Sehun says, glowing sickly with pride. “She showed the video to Luhan’s mom. The rest is history, and not worth caring about - I’m fucking brilliant at English, okay, and you were never Kris’s type, anyway.”
When Sehun says he doesn’t care, Jongin thinks he might seriously mean it, and the gleeful nonchalance on his face is kind of chilling. Sehun truly is the prettiest monster Jongin’s ever known.
“You’re…sure this is what you want, S?”
Sehun narrows his gaze at him. For a long minute, there’s no sound but that of Sehun’s fingernails rapping on the wooden surface of the table. “What do you mean?”
Jongin’s gently closes Sehun’s laptop. “We’ve done some fuck up stuff in the past, but this - you’re actually destroying a relationship of someone who hasn’t really done anything to you.”
“Bitch stole my hamster. And nobody ditches me and gets away with it,” Sehun says, like it’s honestly that simple. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
Jongin shakes his head.
At least physically, Mrs. Han is not even half the boner-killer Sehun says she is. Jongin’s pretty sure Luhan inherited her booty.
“Nice to see you, Jongin! It’s so sweet of you to do this for my son.”
“Least I could do,” Jongin chirps in the polite, pleasant Jongin-Bot voice he uses when talking to adults. “I know Luhan’s going through a tough time right now, so I thought I’d cheer him up.”
They hear footsteps bounding down the staircase. Luhan freezes in the middle of it, one hand on the banister. “Jongin? What are you-“
“Don’t you remember?” Jongin interrupts, voice spiking in pitch. “We’re watching Sammy's Adventure 2!” He has to pause after that and take a deep breath, because mentioning a kiddy movie like that makes him want to barf in his mouth.
“Oh, awesome! Let’s go.” Luhan nearly knocks Jongin over as he rushes out the door.
Luhan frowns as he gazes out the car window. “This isn’t the movie theater, this is Olive Garden.”
“This isn’t Sammy’s Adventure, this is a dinner date.” At Olive Garden. Man, Olive Garden. Jongin has never been happier that his Beemer has tinted windows.
“Look, Jongin, I really like you as a friend, but -“
“Not with me, dumbass.” He points to a familiar figure standing by the entrance. “With him.”
“Wait, what? How did you get Kris to show up?”
Jongin shrugs. “I called him. Told him how you felt about him.”
“Jesus Christ, Jongin!” It takes Luhan a few seconds to work the car door open, then he’s stopping down the sidewalk, away from the restaurant muttering. “You don’t know how I feel! You don’t know me!”
“Luhan, wait!” Jongin slides out of the car seat and sprints after him. As he grabs hold of Luhan’s shoulder, Luhan whirls around, his glare ice-cold. “Look, “ Jongin says, “you can go home now and throw a fit about how big bad Jongin exposed your secretest heart or whatever, or you can consider the fact that your fine-ass English tutor now knows you have a thing for him, and he still showed up at Olive Garden to see you. Think really hard about what that means. And maybe also consider that I’m paying for dinner. Sort of. It’s not the fucking Four Seasons, but the manager owes me a…favor. So, yeah.”
Some of the anger ebbs away from Luhan’s eyes when he looks over to where Kris is waiting.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Luhan asks, tone hesitant.
Jongin keeps his lips pressed and looks up at the dark, bare sky. He could say something about how he feels guilty for toying with Luhan in the context of yet another contest with his stepbrother, or he could tell Luhan what he’d been telling himself all day: he’s doing this because its fun to spit Sehun. But Luhan’s still got both eyes on Kris and he looks hopeful, and maybe Jongin doesn’t want to fuck that up right now. But there’s another truth to this, one that’s much harder to cope with.
Jongin sighs. “Falling in love…it doesn’t happen everyday, and it doesn’t happen with just anybody. I see the way you look at Kris, like right now or when I pass by the den and you two are going over a grammar lesson, and, you know, you shouldn’t waste that.”
He could use a cigarette right now. Sincerity could be so exhausting.
Luhan finally smiles, and claps Jongin on the shoulder. “Okay. I won’t.”
He walks in the right direction this time, while Jongin retreats to the safety of his tinted car windows.
At two in the morning, Jongin’s sleep is rudely interrupted by the buzz of his iPhone. There’s one text message, from Luhan: Thanks man :)
Smiley faces are so gay.
The first time Baekhyun undresses himself in front of Jongin, Jongin thinks, Oh, no.
The situation starts with ten minutes ago: Jongin’s standing outside a bedroom door, mentally preparing himself for what he’s about to do. This is his last shot, his Hail Mary pass, and if this doesn’t work then he’s all out of options and his baby that cost his father almost half a million.
He turns the doorknob and barges into the bedroom, yelling, “This is ridiculous!”
It’s hardly the first time he’s ever said that, but the interesting part about this is that he’s not yelling at Sehun, but at Baekhyun.
“I’m sick of you toying with me.” Jongin’s not shouting anymore, but his voice is still uneven.
Baekhyun sets his book down beside him on the bed. “What do you mean, toying with you?”
“Oh, please. One second you’re kissing me, the next you’re pushing me away. And if you try to tell me that you and I are ‘just friends,’ you’re only fooling yourself. You’re a hypocrite, and while I may have a lot of douchebag friends with questionable morals, I am never friends with hypocrites.”
“How am I a hypocrite?” Baekhyun asks. He stands up, looking squarely at Jongin.
“You tell me I don’t know what I want, when you’re the most fickle, indecisive person I know. Do you know what you want? Do you even want me at all?”
Baekhyun takes a deep breath, staring at a fixed point behind Jongin, outside the doorway. “I do want you, Jongin. You have no idea.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Marriage?” Jongin scoffs.
Baekhyun flinches. He doesn’t say anything.
“Whatever. I need a break from this shit. I think I’ll spend the rest of the summer in my Dad’s beach house,” Jongin says as he turns towards the door. “I am definitely not stupid enough to stick around and wait for something that’s never going to happen.”
He’s one foot out the door when he senses the light touch of fingertips on the crook of his arm.
“Wait,” Baekhyun says. When Jongin turns around, Baekhyun kisses him, soft and yielding.
So it’s working. It’s about to happen. This should be good.
Baekhyun’s hands find and unzip Jongin’s jeans. He steps back and looks up at Jongin, and sure, there’s some longing there, but weirdly, Jongin can also see a hind of one other emotion: defeat. Baekhyun pulls off his own shirt.
And this is where Jongin, despite his glee at finally solving the puzzle that is Byun Baekhyun, thinks, Oh, no.
Baekhyun takes Jongin’s hand and brings it to his bare chest, slowly dragging it further down. Jongin studies it, observes the smooth pale plane of Baekhyun’s torso, the lean muscle where Sehun’s grossly elegant ribs would be, and a scar he’d never seen before. Then his hand is achingly close to the waistband of Baekhyun’s pajama pants.
Jongin yanks it out of Baekhyun’s grasp.
“I’m sorry, I can’t”
Jongin likes control, but not this much control.
He flees the bedroom, bolting towards the staircase. Shit, no one’s actually ever made Jongin run before. He glances back at the open doorway. All he sees is the line of Baekhyun’s back, and Baekhyun could be doing anything - playing his keyboard, crying, packing a suitcase, texting someone, staring at nothing. Jongin doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.
part four