Read You Like a Magazine (4/6) [for shrdmdnssftw]
one | two | three | part four | five | six
It turns out, he doesn't really need to worry about that part too much. The next few weeks are a flurry of midterms that have Jackson and Mark complaining about the relevance of academic and literary English in their daily lives ("Who the hell needs to know what an Achilles' heel is in real life? Not the guy lost at the airport, that's who.") and Youngjae sinking further into his self-pitying nightmares of his bleak future as a starving busker that can't even tell the difference between a G sharp and A. The most Jinyoung sees of Jaebum is during class, and even then he's usually buried in practice exams and problem sets to do more than make small talk for a few minutes.
To Jaebum's credit as a decent human being, he doesn't bring up Jinyoung's less than stellar behavior before, nor does he seem to still be holding a grudge. If anything, he looks a little careful around Jinyoung, as if Jinyoung's the one who's gonna set off into the sunset at the first sign of gunfire. Jinyoung doesn't have the heart to admit he might be right about that.
At least he doesn't say anything about Jinyoung having a breakdown in the middle of Jaebum's studio apartment (not that he'd even witnessed it -- Jinyoung made sure to check for signs of life and Jaebum had been out cold), or whatever Jinyoung may or may not have said during the party. Jaebum is just so insufferably civil, losing some of the cockiness he'd displayed beforehand. It rankles at Jinyoung because it's like Jaebum is giving him the next move, like life is some god damned baduk game with the stakes as elusive as the potential rewards. Basically, he's back to square one minus the internal loathing and wallowing about Jaebum's existence, cup still full of stones and no strategic formation in sight.
"Are you sure about that, because I know I could be doing better things with my time than countering what's currently happening," says Yugyeom, checking his nails. Jinyoung needs a better agony aunt, one that actually offers useful advice and none of the sarcasm that Yugyeom as a rebellious teenager wears like a shield.
"I am," Jinyoung insists.
"You don't even play go," Yugyeom points out.
"You're Korean, stop calling it go."
"Semantics," Yugyeom scoffs. "The only thing I got out of the noon time drama that is your life is that you didn't really make up with him, you just swept it under a rug and prayed that ignoring the issue would give you peace of mind."
"I'm trying," Jinyoung protests. "That's got to count for something, right?"
Yugyeom doesn't really look like Jinyoung's words have instilled some faith in him, but Jinyoung's used to it by now. "I'd tell you to look him up on Naver, but what are the odds you'd find his contact details in there?" He taps the side of the table with restless fingers. "Jackson-hyung might give it to you, but more importantly, what would you even say?"
Yugyeom's right. Those stickers are pretty violent, if not nauseatingly romantic. Only two things are applicable to Jinyoung's present feelings, and he's not even sure which one is tipping the scales further.
"You're not being very helpful with plotting ways for me to befriend him," Jinyoung grumbles.
"I'm an innocent bystander that only listens to you for my own entertainment, not your life coach and personal adviser in one, hyung."
Jinyoung scowls at him.
"I've never seen you this tense since you pretended you were a clean and put-together person in front of that classmate you liked in high school," says Yugyeom. He's already gone through three boxes of Jinyoung's banana milk, but he reaches for another one, giving Jinyoung's mom a dimpled smile and a smug sneer to the actual owner of said milk. Brat. "I wish I could say that this is funny, but now it's just sad."
Jinyoung wrinkles his nose, and not just because Yugyeom makes it a point to take a loud slurp out of the milk box. "You make me sound like a socially inept person."
"Talk to me when he starts buying you brunch again," Yugyeom counters. "Then that will prove me wrong."
"Fine," Jinyoung grits out, like the pushover he is. Yugyeom just gives him an all-knowing look.
This is how Jinyoung finds himself shivering outside the Engineering building, too far away from his own department to feign an excuse about being in the area, bunched up in a cardigan and the scarf he'd stolen from a pissed off Jackson and keeping his hands cupped around a drastically cooling tumbler of coffee. In late October.
"This better be worth it," Jinyoung grumbles, kicking at a pile of leaves in irritation. It's not exactly bribery, per se, just an incentive for Jaebum - Jinyoung didn't stalk his old interviews regarding his coffee preferences for nothing, even if Yugyeom had laughed at him for a good portion of the two hours he'd spent jeering at his hyung.
It's barely fifteen minutes later when someone touches the small of his back, and Jinyoung barely has the time to even think oh god there really are perverts on campus god DAMN IT JACKSON when Jaebum waves his other hand in front of Jinyoung's face, unaware of the heart palpitations he's given him.
"Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum. Jinyoung almost -- almost! -- drops his tumbler. "What are you doing here?"
Jaebum is considerably better dressed for the weather, bundled up in a thick pea coat that probably costs more than Jinyoung's tuition per semester. It's his hair that distracts Jinyoung the most, dyed a soft brown and definitely styled more than it has in recent years. Jinyoung tucks the thought away for future reference and attempts not to look as distracted as he feels.
"Here," Jinyoung says, shoving the bottle at him. Jaebum looks at it, as lost as ever, and Jinyoung sighs. "It's not poisoned, god, you don't have to worry about it."
Jaebum doesn't smile, but the hint of amusement in his voice is enough to make Jinyoung exhale, releasing the anxious breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Now that you mention it, you're making me even more suspicious."
"I wouldn't," Jinyoung argues, flushing. He's glad the scarf covers up the redness he's sure he's sporting around his throat. "It's. Apology coffee." He can't stop fidgeting. "Since, you know. You took care of me before."
"Thank you." Jaebum uncaps the tumbler and inhales the aroma of peaberry and hazelnut. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Jaebum's face is inscrutable, but mostly it's because Jinyoung can't look him in the eye for too long without wanting to beg the earth to swallow him up whole, pilfered scarf and all. "Ah," Jaebum breathes out. Like he's found some kind of answer, and Jinyoung can't tell if he's satisfied or not. Slow clap for Im Jaebum, man of few words, Jinyoung despairs. He'll take what he can get.
"Walk with me," Jinyoung says, tersely. Then adds, with a wince, "hyung", just so no one can get on his case about acting too much like Yugyeom.
He doesn't offer his arm because he's not - augh. He isn't going to reenact yet another one of his sisters' romantic comedy fantasies, even if Jaebum looks like the kind who'd be doing the offering instead. Whatever. Jinyoung's as tall as he is anyway, maybe taller if Jaebum actually wears insoles, and even then -
Jinyoung grimaces. He really has to stop thinking sometimes, because he can't seem to stop insulting him at every turn despite accepting the mess of other emotions Jaebum manages to bring out of him. At least Jaebum doesn't seem to sense this ugly part about him, not yet, because he wordlessly falls into step beside Jinyoung and lets Jinyoung carry most of the conversation to the library instead.
It's so worth it when Jinyoung gets a chicken saran wrap in the end. Take that, Yugyeom.
"I'm questioning a lot of your ideas of courtship," says Jackson, very judgmentally. "You do realize I'm never gonna stop making fun of your moves, don't you?"
Jinyoung swats at him. "I'm being friendly."
Jackson eyebrows don't seem to be going down any time soon. "Oh, so you're friends now?" He drawls, tapping out a message on his phone, no doubt to Bambam giving him a play by play narrative of how he's ruining Jinyoung's life and more. "Is getting you to admit that you're actively trying to sweep him off his feet gonna take longer than bullying you into being nice to hyung, or are we talking 'never' here?"
"I don’t know what you're talking about," Jinyoung sniffs.
"Oh, sorry about that, I meant stalking him, not wooing," Jackson mutters. They're both crouched behind a bench a little off the side of the pathway, close enough to the Engineering building to see anyone coming out of it but sufficiently far away to duck and run for cover if anyone manages to notice two idiots on the prowl. "As if the magazine clips and your browsing history weren't bad enough."
"That was private," Jinyoung protests, scandalized.
"You're neighbors with Yugyeom, everything you own is fair game!"
"Oh my god, please be quiet." Jinyoung shoves him to the ground, and Jackson falls, sprawled on his back like an upended turtle. The pile of dried leaves does not do him any favors. "You're giving us away!"
"One, rude. Two, your paranoia is seriously screaming code red levels, we're sending you to counseling from now on." Jackson squints and points at the direction of the entrance. "Three, pop star at ten o'clock, alert! Alert!"
"Where?"
Jackson covers his face with one hand and points with the other. "My ten o'clock, god. Why don't you just kiss him in broad daylight so we could get this over and done with?" Jinyoung leaves his prone body still on the grass, but not without a well-timed kick to his hip.
It's a simple enough plan, when it comes down to it. He isn't stalking -- just. Conveniently appearing wherever Jaebum is. If he has food or drink in hand, it's called sharing. Jaebum is going to be so fucking grateful to have Jinyoung in his life, and Jinyoung is going to make damn sure of it. Let it not be said that Jinyoung does not take all his plans seriously.
("It's foolproof," he gushes. "He won't even expect it."
Youngjae almost chokes on his pretzel. Mark contemplates a potato chip and thinks about the meaning of life.
"I'm sure he won't, Jinyoung-ah," says Mark, though he doesn't sound reassuring at all.
"On a scale of academic dishonesty, this is honestly the most stellar performance of plagiarism I've had the honor of witnessing," is Youngjae's only input, though Jinyoung could do without the sarcasm.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Jinyoung, truthfully.
"So handsome, but so dumb," says Jackson, shaking his head despite being up for anything potentially damaging to Jinyoung's reputation or self-esteem. "Let's do it.")
In retrospect, this is probably a huge chunk of why he's friends with Jackson, both of them overboard and reckless in the most inappropriate of times. By the time Jinyoung's flagged Jaebum down, Jaebum looks torn between looking resigned, hunted, and maybe a little pleased. Jaebum has complicated facial expressions sometimes.
"This is, what, the fifth time this week?" Jaebum asks, warily. On one hand, it offends Jinyoung that his smiling face is being met with suspicion. On the other hand, Jinyoung really enjoys being intimidating for all the wrong reasons.
"Are you counting?" Jinyoung dimples at him. Be cool, Jinyoung reminds himself. Be absolutely cool even in the face of mortification.
Jaebum still looks skeptical. "Why is Jackson crawling away from us?"
"Dunno, he's weird like that," says Jinyoung, touching his arm. Jaebum makes a soft, surprised noise that Jinyoung almost misses from attempting to bore holes into Jackson's retreating back. "Must be all the testosterone in the air. Let's go, hyung, or we might not catch a table at the café."
He ignores Jaebum's splutter of "It's not even noon!" and tugs him away.
Jaebum keeps thrumming his fingers on the table when Jinyoung returns with their mugs of coffee. He's been doing it since Jinyoung forced him to sit down and stay there, so help me god, and this is not boding well for Jinyoung.
"So," says Jinyoung, pleasantly, "how did midterms go?"
"Horribly," says Jaebum, ever the optimist. He crosses his arms and furrows his brow. "What are we doing here, Jinyoung?"
Prickly and determined not to please. This is steadily rising in rank as one of Jinyoung's least favorite of Jaebum's personas. At least he's graduated from anxious foot tapping and onto abrasive confrontation via his eyebrows game. Jinyoung is already an inherently anxious person that feeds off of other people's energy, so this isn't turning out to be a Disastrous Train Wreck. Not yet.
So, swallowing down his pride, he decides to go for honesty, counting on Jaebum's bleeding heart for lost causes and all that.
"Look," says Jinyoung, tracing the rim of his mug with a finger. Jaebum's eyes follow the motion unconsciously before he narrows his eyes and looks away, flustered. "I know we got off to a horrible start, and we've been having a lot of hiccups along the way."
"That's an understatement," says Jaebum, mulishly. Jinyoung ignores him, already figuring that the only way to deal with a stubborn Jaebum is much like how he would deal with a toddler. Or Jackson. Same difference.
"But," Jinyoung goes on, raising his hand to cover Jaebum's mouth. Jaebum immediately purses his lips, more out of surprise than irritation, "for some unknown reason and against my better judgment -"
"Always a great opener," Jaebum tries to say, except it comes out as a confused "mffffghrhg".
"-- I like you way more than I should," okay, Jaebum's ears are starting to turn a worrying shade of red, they should probably wrap up before the coffee gets cold and winter decides to go batshit insane on Jaebum's complexion, "and I would really like to have you in my life at a more permanent basis."
Jinyoung is almost proud at how bereft of words Jaebum seems to be, like Jinyoung's hit him with a bat from nowhere and is running around the entire campus in a state of undress. Which, augh. He's not functioning right now. He should probably do this more often. Shock is a good look on Jaebum.
He takes a celebratory sip of his coffee to hide his smug smile, only to nearly spit it out once Jaebum recovers enough to say, dryly, "Are you practicing for a role in a drama or are you proposing marriage?"
Jinyoung dabs at his chin with some tissue, his eyes swimming with unshed tears from trying not to die. When he lifts his eyes to meet Jaebum's, the jerk is grinning, like he's made some joke Jinyoung's not a part of, too pleased for no rational reason.
But whatever. If it's gotten Jaebum relaxed enough around him, he'd take whatever snipe Jaebum has at his expense. And Jinyoung realizes, with a start, that he doesn't really mind it anymore when Jaebum acts like they're closer than they really are. Because when it comes down to it, for all the years he's grown up with Jaebum at the other side of a TV screen or in the glossy pages of a magazine, the soft smile on Jaebum's face is something he's never really known until now, and it makes him feel that maybe Jaebum's not some unreachable star, like they're both just circling around in the same constellation after all.
"Hyung," he says, very seriously, "if I were, I'd prefer not to be drowning in my own espresso."
"It's okay, Jinyounggie," Jaebum says, reaching out to hold his hand from across the table. "I don't let people I like back die so easily after that kind of speech."
Jinyoung finally releases the breath he doesn't realize he's been holding for a while now, and squeezes back, relishing in the piece of melon bread Jaebum breaks off to feed him. He can probably get used to this, even if he does feel a little bit off-kilter, like something in Jaebum's gaze that he hasn't completely grasped just yet
He'll think about it next time. Jaebum's hand is too comfortable, after all.
Now that he's slowly but surely reinserted himself into Jaebum's life and endeared himself into Jaebum's good graces (he thinks), the logical way forward is to take up a significant portion of Jaebum's attention span. No, Jinyoung does not get this advice from a magazine that targets fifteen year old girls (shut up, Yugyeom), nor does he obtain this information from a disreputable variety show of questionable appeal ("I swear to god, Jackson, if you don't stop making fun of me -"). It's just. Natural. Force of habit.
As the youngest child and only son of a middle class family, Jinyoung is used to having to employ any and all kinds of strategies to ensure that his family focuses their attention and energy on him. He's had to fight for it as a grade school kid trapped in a household with an overly dramatic sister in high school, a frequently absent father devoted to work, a mother that finds Yugyeom infallibly more adorable than her own children, and an older sister in university that almost never wanted to go home. He's learned long ago that throwing tantrums and pity parties does nothing but earn a raised eyebrow or two, and his aegyo could only take him so far before his voice changed and he shot up beyond 150 centimeters. (No twenty year old should ever be caught dead doing baby talk. Just. No.)
He doesn't think that Jaebum is the type to be carried away by sudden fits of articulacy, though, and he hasn't managed to test out the theory if Jaebum prefers sexy librarian types over actual ones. From the way he still looks intensely uncomfortable whenever he catches sight of Jinyoung at the front desk, Jinyoung's scratched out study bro-dates as a viable option. His wallet is equally relieved at the resurgence of food and beverages courtesy of Jaebum's pockets, but he makes an effort to actually pay this time, lest Jaebum considers him as a hanger-on rather than as a new and improved version of himself, non-bitchy Jinyoung 2.0 and all that.
In his desperation, Jinyoung turns to advice columns on the web and self-help books. Yugyeom makes a face and shoves the package containing 5 Love Languages, translated by Jang Dong-sook to his chest on his way out, never mind that he's not in love, god, shut up Yugyeom. He manages to manhandle Yugyeom to his room and puts Bambam on speaker phone because this is exactly the kind of crisis that Bambam takes an inordinate amount of interest in. Sometimes Jinyoung wonders if this is Bambam's way of compensating for all the adorable things he'd done when he was younger. He has the mouth for it, at least.
"So you've got the bribery down, and I'm ticking out acts of modern-day slavery even if Jackson-hyung tells me it's really just your path towards getting a restraining order." Bambam's voice, grainy through the line, is still as obnoxious as ever. "So we have, what, kissing ass and feeling him up left?"
"That's not what it says in the book, Bambam-ah," says Jinyoung, pained. He's almost about to ask who on earth Bambam's been learning Korean from, but thinks better of it as he watches Yugyeom idly crossing out affirmation and service and penciling in something that looks far too vulgar to be in a self-help book. No wonder.
"Isn't that the same thing?" Bambam asks, confused. Jinyoung stifles the urge to punch something.
"Can you even shower anyone with compliments that don't come out as back-handed, though?" Yugyeom snorts, looking far too pleased with himself. "I think if you started praising him, he'd think you were plotting his death."
"Molestation is the answer, then," Bambam affirms, satisfied. "Go forth and harass him, hyung."
"You two, I swear," Jinyoung despairs. Jinyoung is a tactile person with or without prompting, prone to showing affection mostly through touch. It shouldn't be any worse than what Jaebum's gotten from him yet, but Bambam's phrasing makes him leery about the idea. He's not a fucking saesang, so why does it feel like he is? "I'm not going to get myself arrested just to entertain you guys."
"But hyuuung," says Bambam, "we're only invested in your emotional well-being. Remember the last time you broke up with someone and we had to hold your hand the entire time? Do you?"
Jinyoung sighs and hides his face behind his hands. Freshman year was not a good look on him, and from the hunted expression on Yugyeom's face, he agrees. There may or may not have been a screaming match with Jackson involved. He shudders.
As if sensing his hesitation, Bambam plows on. "Come on, Yugyeom, back me up," Bambam whines, as relentless as a predator sinking its claws into poor, unsuspecting herbivores. "Tell hyung what a wuss he's being right now."
"Step up your game, hyung," says Yugyeom, looking like he deeply regrets it despite the comforting pat he gives Jinyoung. It comes out more like a smack on his shoulder than one filled with care and tenderness. Jinyoung scowls.
"I don't even have game." He pauses, and scrambles for reason. "I don't want any game at all!"
"Trust me," says Bambam, even though Yugyeom's complaining about how I don't wanna know, why do you tell me these things, hyung, "by the time the semester ends, you will."
Jinyoung is never trusting Bambam again. Ever.
He's sure he's done enough reassessing of his life choices for the past few weeks. He could be at home, buried under a comforter and speed-reading his way through next week's readings and a blog post or two, but instead he's pasting a wavering smile on his face and lying through his teeth that, yes, of course, he loves football so much he'd be so on for a quick game, isn't that right, Youngjae-ah?
Youngjae mimes projectile vomiting from somewhere behind Jaebum's shoulder. This just reeks of desperation all over, he mouths, but Jinyoung is a bit too distracted by the way relief seems to blossom across Jaebum's entire form, shoulders loosening from some imaginary weight.
"I wasn't sure you'd agree," Jaebum admits. "I mean, sometimes you're barely awake enough to notice a bicycle nearly barreling into you."
It takes a while for Jinyoung to realize that Jaebum is teasing him, and Youngjae doesn't even bother to hold back his laughter. "You are a horrible person," Jinyoung informs him, except, fuck, this is not scoring points for him at all if Jaebum is insanely dependent on compliments as a love language, is it?
Jaebum doesn't seem to mind, only reaching over to ruffle his hair from across the counter separating Jinyoung from the rest of the plebeians strolling into the library with their overdue fines and their middling grasp of the Dewey Decimal System. It's weird seeing Jaebum in the library after their not-fight, shared space and violations of privacy and all. "Just for that, I'm putting you on the other team."
"Better take your shirt off if you wanna win, oppa," Jimin butts in, not looking up from her tablet. "I'm sure some people would love that."
"Ignore her," says Jinyoung. "We haven't reined her in yet."
"That's okay," says Jaebum. "I'm sure Jackson's gonna do enough stripping for all of us."
Jimin and Youngjae chime in with noises of disgust and pain, why would you say those things, we don't wanna know, ever. Jinyoung is already simulating in his mind's eye how he'll trip on a clump of weeds, set the detonator to a hidden landmine off, and successfully eliminate half the field with his ineptitude. Rocks fall, everybody dies, the whole shebang and all.
"Seriously, though," Jaebum says, pushing a smuggled tumbler of coffee into Jinyoung's hands - clearly a bribe but still raising all sorts of alarm bells in Jinyoung's head, "thanks for saying yes."
Fuck, Jinyoung thinks, smile still plastered to his face. He's gonna die.
Jinyoung's not an extremely athletic person by nature - sure, he can kick around a few balls here and there, enough to screw around with Jackson when they're both high-strung and beating each other down with Super Smash Brothers isn't an option, but Jinyoung would rather curl up in the corner of his room with a trashy magazine pilfered from his sister and a tall glass of honey lemon tea in hand than willingly suffer through a few rounds of football at ass o'clock in the morning.
The only consolation, he thinks, bent over and dry-heaving into the grass come Saturday morning, is that no one is crowding around Jaebum for not having a shirt on, already discarding it an hour into the makeshift game with his engineering friends and Jinyoung's relatively smaller circle. It may have been the reason for half of Jinyoung's distraction the entire time, mostly because he's still stuck on having hot flashes of Jaebum's biggest mistake of his underage career. Really. That's it. No one is comparing his pectorals from now and then, okay?
"Are you having heart palpitations now or is this something else?" Jackson asks, warily watching him as Youngjae runs back to the game, abandoning Jinyoung to the mercy of the cool ground. "I have to remind you that if you throw up on me, I'm contractually obligated to punch you for vomiting on an injured person."
Jackson is benched by virtue of a sprained ankle from a match last week (or so he claims - Jinyoung's pretty sure it's because he tried skateboarding down the stairs while drunk), and from the way he keeps shooting baleful glares at everyone on the field, Mark included, Jinyoung has half the mind to kick at him and send him away. Instead, Jinyoung groans and tucks his face into Jackson's hip, shielding himself from seeing the sweat roll off Jaebum's s-line. It should be disgusting but it just makes Jinyoung's insides churn some more. He wrinkles his nose at the itchy fabric of Jackson's jeans.
"Don't talk," Jinyoung begs. "Just let me die."
It's too hot to feel anything like November, but it's likely the last of their days to run around in track shorts without having to tug on leg warmers in the process. Today feels like a really bad case of July, and Jackson isn't helping at all.
"Whatever, drama queen," Jackson scoffs, pressing his tumbler to Jinyoung's forehead. "You can't die yet, you haven't even scored with JB."
Jinyoung lifts his head long enough to scowl at him. "Stop talking to Bambam, you two are the absolute worst."
"You shouldn't talk to me like that," Jackson complains. "Who knows what kind of damage you can do to my already fragile state?"
"Fragile?" Jinyoung scoffs. "You just wanted to sit in the sidelines and make fun of me."
"Why, yes, I willingly let myself almost get stabbed by a very pointy sword, thanks for asking," says Jackson, scathingly. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it."
"The bandage is a lie," Jinyoung says, picking at the cloth wrapped around Jackson's foot. Jackson squawks and shoves him away without mercy. "Oof."
From the way Mark is narrowing his eyes at him, Jinyoung isn't even gonna try anything else, but it's much more entertaining to let Jackson believe what he wants. Jinyoung holds up his hands, waggling his fingers threateningly, and Jackson lets out a sound of frustration.
"Fuck off," Jackson shrieks, bending to shield his ankle from Jinyoung's touch. "I swear, you're the most immature person ever."
"Uh huh," says Jinyoung, loftily. "Keep watching your back, tough guy."
"Whatever," Jackson grumbles, but he's not really pissed, if the way he paws at Jinyoung and impatiently pats his thigh is a sign. Jinyoung would barely give in on a normal day, but right now he's too worn out to resist the opportunity of resting his head on Jackson's lap. Jackson doesn't boast about his lower body for nothing, but Jinyoung would rather choke on something than admit that.
Jackson goes back to trash talking everyone on the field, devoting most of his zingers to Youngjae, self-proclaimed VIP from Mokpo. The shouting and the muggy heat should be anything but comforting, but the sound of Jaebum's incoherent instructions to his ragtag band of players seems to placate something inside Jinyoung. As empty as his gut feels, there's so much that coalesces in his mind: the smell of fabric softener from Jackson's shorts, the trill of a whistle, jarring and sharp, the earthy taste of sweat from the back of Youngjae's arm. And then, in the distance, Jinyoung can make out, with startlingly clarity, Jaebum's voice.
It's deep and lingering, not at all lilted like the tail end of Jinyoung's sentences and as smooth and sure as a well-aimed kick at the goal; there's a buzzing echo in Jinyoung's ears, ringing of Jaebum's full-bodied laughter. He closes his eyes.
He's not sure how long he dozes off after that, but he's jolted out of sleep by Jackson's fidgeting. And possibly the pinching at his side. He rolls off of Jackson and onto the grass, batting Jackson's hands away.
"Great, you're awake. Your head is super heavy, you know that?" Jackson grumbles, but the back of his hand is plucking at Jinyoung's bangs, clearing his hair away from his eyes. "Are you gonna be fine on your own or do we have to send you to the student clinic just in case?"
"Mfrghsh," Jinyoung retorts, very intelligently.
"Perfect, you're useless," Jackson concludes. It takes a moment for him to come to a stand, and he winces the entire time. "Hey, Jaebum-hyung," Jackson calls out, cupping his hand around his mouth, "can you watch over this weakling while I hobble off to class?"
"You don't even go to class, Jackson-ah," Jaebum yells back, amused, but jogs over to them anyway.
Jackson peels off Jinyoung's fingers from where Jinyoung is trying to claw at his hipbone, sending signals of distress and loathing because god, as if he needed another reason to add to his list of lame moments in front of Im Jaebum. "Chill out," Jackson hisses, eyeing him, "I'm just psyching him up for how disgusting you'd look like in bed, all gross and sweaty."
"I'm gonna kill you."
"You've been threatening to kill me since we met," says Jackson. "You do realize I've stopped listening to you after the first five seconds, right?"
Jinyoung groans and press the back of his fisted hands against his face. If he waits long enough, maybe Jackson will go away. A shadow covers him from the sunlight, and Jinyoung has 3.5 seconds to contemplate how far away the person is before he can kick out and make them regret getting in between his plans of burying Jackson into the ground.
"Wow," Jaebum snorts, not at all impressed, "you look more like roadkill than a sick bay."
Jinyoung attempts to sit up, but the ground is suddenly a lot closer to his face than he'd realized; it's only after he registers the hand bracing him from behind that he realizes just how dizzying the heat is, and Jaebum's fingers splayed across his elbow is doing nothing to stifle the motion sickness in his stomach from going on overdrive.
"Hey," says Jaebum, "slow down. Remind me to keep you hydrated every ten minutes next time."
Jinyoung's still stuck at next time to process the way Jackson leers at the two of them, taking the water bottle from Jaebum and nodding dumbly in thanks. He's so distracted by guzzling its contents that he misses the first few words out of Jackson's mouth - no doubt useless, incriminating, or a mixture of both, and catches only "- in broad daylight, hyung, no one wants to know."
Jaebum's skin flushes red from his ears to his nape, but that could just be his body coming down from the adrenaline. Jinyoung doesn't know. He's not a biology major, but there's just no way Jaebum would be easily fazed by Jackson's innuendos. Absolutely none. Jinyoung's life doesn't work out smoothly enough for that to happen.
He tightens his grip on the bottle and looks away.
"Go to class, Jackson," Jaebum commands tersely, snapping a towel at Jackson's side.
Their group breaks off bit by bit after that, a trickle of goodbyes and consoling sounds directed at Jinyoung as he uses Jaebum as his substitute bolster. When the sun creeps up to their side of the field, Jaebum gently prods him to make sure he's still alive and functioning enough to move.
"We can go to a café, if you want," Jaebum offers, knowing the power of the promise of coffee. He even carries Jinyoung's bag for him, which is always a plus when you're about to keel over and die in the middle of campus grounds. Looking at Jaebum with a gym bag on each shoulder, Jinyoung wonders how effortless he makes it seem. "Or hit the showers first, if you really need to cool off."
"We have showers?" Jinyoung says, aghast. "I've been a student here for two years and I've never seen it."
"What physical education classes have you been taking?" Jaebum asks, laughing.
"Clearly not ones that require breaking a sweat enough to warrant having to bathe at school," Jinyoung grumbles. "How are you not a varsity player?"
Jaebum looks embarrassed but pleased all the same, ducking his head and switching the football tucked against his side to his other hand. Jinyoung sometimes wonders about that, how Jaebum's less cocky and shyer than he looks, unable to handle praise with grace, like he doesn't get enough compliments as it is. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's had more closed doors than Jinyoung thinks he does. "I'm not that good."
"You should have been a football player instead," Jinyoung mutters, stifling the irrational urge to kick something, anything. He doesn't get it. "National team and all that."
"Don't you hate jocks?"
"I hate Jackson."
Jaebum laughs again and takes a small step towards him. He must have lost his footing because he's bent slightly, angled towards his face, and Jinyoung has to remind himself that Jaebum is only regaining his balance, god, don't be so weird about this, Jinyoung. Jinyoung jolts back at Jaebum's palm touching his jaw, and Jaebum drops his searching look as quickly as he drops his arm to rest on Jinyoung's shoulder.
"Sorry," says Jaebum. He pulls away.
"It's okay," Jinyoung mutters, awkwardly, stamping down the feeling of disappointment. Jaebum's touch still burns at his skin.
Chill out, he berates himself. It might just be the post-game adrenaline and jitters talking, simmering under his skin. What could have been -- what a tiny part of Jinyoung wants it to be -- could wait for later. Right now, he has to focus on making that stiff line across Jaebum's back disappear.
He is well and truly fucked.
The thing is - Jinyoung's never been one for humor. His jokes fall a little too flat and icy at the edges, sarcasm the only thing he can fall back on with confidence. He's always been more comfortable being the straight man to Jackson's antics, but when he's the one looking like an ass, Jinyoung just clams up.
Foregoing the showers in the face of quelling tension, they take a seat outside the nearest coffee shop; Jinyoung makes a face at the look of disgust a freshman throws at them, tipping her seat away, and misses the rest of Jaebum's words completely.
"Sorry, I was too busy defending our manliness in the face of judgment," says Jinyoung, the words sticking like acid to his tongue. "What did you say?"
"I said," Jaebum repeats, voice tight but even, "you've been acting really strange since we left the field."
"You're imagining things," says Jinyoung. "This is me, like, all the time."
"With everyone?" Jaebum asks, still with that careful tone. He's staring at something on Jinyoung's face, probably a smudge of dirt on his jaw, and Jinyoung licks his lower lip, nervously.
"No, just with you."
Jaebum's eyes snap away from his jaw and back up to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, we're friends now, right?" Jinyoung says, trying not to bristle from the embarrassment. "Like, this is how I am with friends."
"Friends," Jaebum intones.
"Yes," Jinyoung insists. "Friendly. Because we're friends."
Jinyoung doesn't notice that Jaebum's not keeping up with his pace anymore until Jaebum's voice brings him back.
"Jinyoung," Jaebum calls out. His eyes are hooded. "I just…"
"What?" Jinyoung asks. Something is thudding in his ears, and it's the same feeling he had when he was younger and crying to be sent back to land after five minutes on a cruise ship. He's never seen Jaebum look so hesitant, and Jinyoung is regretting whatever he's said to rock the unsteady raft they're on right now.
"Are you making fun of me?"
Forget the boat, they've completely capsized and drifted apart, a circle of piranhas surrounding Jinyoung. "What?"
"Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean?" Jinyoung cocks his head to the side. He's been told it's a good look on him, feigning innocence, but from Jaebum's frown, he's failing. Crap. He should probably text Jackson for backup.
"The whole walking me to classes, and buying me stuff, and doing stuff I like even if you clearly hate it, and -" Jaebum runs a hand over his bangs, and it's only now that Jinyoung notices he's trembling. "You know."
And Jinyoung realizes that, fuck, he's been ripping off Im Jaebum's moves all along.
Plagiarist, Youngjae's voice comes, unbidden. "Oh," says Jinyoung, voice small.
"If you hated me this much," Jaebum says, "you didn't really have to go out of your way to do this."
"I'm an idiot," he confesses, "but I don’t hate you, I swear. I just - I meant what I said. About being friends." He spreads out his palms, akin to surrender. "I'm sorry if you thought I was making fun of you."
Jaebum finally sighs. "You're so complicated, Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum, with a small, sad smile.
I'm not, he thinks, balling his hands into fists on his lap.
He and Jaebum keep missing each other at branches of their lives, like two trains never meeting lest they collide into a freak accident. Or something. Jinyoung keeps mixing his metaphors up when it comes to Jaebum. He hasn't been doing so well since day one.
"I should go," Jaebum finally says, pushing himself off of the chair.
"Off to your adoring fans?" Jinyoung ask, a last-minute attempt to try to settle the mood back to when it was comfortable and none of them were talking about feelings and things like that. Jinyoung does not do well on an emotional quotient.
"Something like that," Jaebum hums, and hefts his bag over his shoulder. He doesn't look at Jinyoung. "See you in class, I guess."
Jinyoung rests his head against the table and sighs.
Jaebum barely notices him for the next few days. When Jinyoung talks, he's distracted, not even listening unlike before, but he keeps looking at Jinyoung like he's an equation he can't work out, like he's waiting for Jinyoung to say or do something.
Jinyoung has no idea what the hell on earth he wants, and soon the expectant stares he gives Jinyoung eventually dull into vacancy, expressionless.
He should consider auditioning for the role of a cold-hearted bastard, Jinyoung thinks, uncharitably, on one of the better days. If he's getting anything out of this, it's that his self-censorship is being put to a test, and it's so hard to practice restraint.
"It's not working," Jinyoung complains, stabbing forcefully into his omelet. The prongs of his fork scrape against the plate in a satisfying hiss. Youngjae blanches. "I think I pissed him off again."
"You're as personable as a cactus around your peers," Mark sighs. "Prickly and all that."
"I was gonna make a joke about Jinyoung's thirst, but now I just feel bad," says Jackson, apparently capable of pity. "Jaebum-hyung sounds super temperamental when you talk about him, but I'm gonna guess this one is all on you."
"I didn't do anything," says Jinyoung, unhappily.
"That's the problem," Jinyoung thinks he hears Youngjae mutter under his breath. He scratches at his plate some more.
"You could always try sucking him off in the gym's locker room," Jackson supplies helpfully. Jinyoung closes his eyes and counts to ten backwards, if only to keep himself from going at Jackson's throat. It's right there. "I have the key."
"Please stop abusing your privileges," Youngjae begs, pained. Mark gives the ring of keys Jackson is dangling a perusing stare. Jinyoung could have gone his whole life without seeing that. "Hyung, have you ever stopped to consider that maybe -- just maybe -- you go overboard about a lot of things and this isn't healthy at all for any of your relationships?"
"I don't go overboard--"
"I think," Mark pipes up, "you should just call him and get this over and done with so we can go back to thinking you're more respectable than you really are."
"Yeah," Jackson scoffs, "the way our phones keep going off every time Jinyoung has a crisis, you'd think he'd get cut off for going over his limit."
Jinyoung makes an unintelligible string of syllables under his breath, and Mark wrinkles his nose at him.
"Are you speaking in Korean, or is that just really bad English?"
"I said," Jinyoung repeats, "I don't have his number." He fixes Jackson with a steely glare. "Please don't make me say it again and beg it off of you."
"As satisfying as that would be, I'm gonna have to let you down, bro."
"What?" Jinyoung can't believe it. Jackson's had to replace his phone with one that had more space for contacts. He's never not had anyone's number and failed to wave it in Jinyoung's face with a taunt and an appeal for bribery.
"I don't have his number either," says Jackson, talking to Jinyoung like he's slow on the uptake. He might kind of be. "He keeps changing it a lot nowadays so I figured it was too much of a hassle."
Jinyoung releases a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd held in. It's not too bad, because at least he wouldn't have the weight of a string of numbers loading him down, taunting his every swipe of his address book. Jackson looks sincerely put out at his reprieve.
"Confrontations are actually healthy in some cases, hyung," Youngjae remarks, clearly unimpressed. "If you just talk for once without making up excuses, then you'd be better off-"
"-and sucking face and di-"
"-than you are right now," Youngjae continues, frowning at Jackson. "Seriously. I don't need more people avoiding certain subjects shoved into their faces."
Mark rolls his eyes and makes a V with his fingers, from his eyes to Youngjae once Jackson's back is turned. Jinyoung, aghast, turns to Youngjae and says, "I can't believe you're comparing me to that."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Youngjae says, unhappily poking at his fried rice.
"Shut up, Youngjae," Mark says with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster.
Needless to say, no one winds up happy that day.
Jaebum skips class for two sessions, and Jinyoung is mentally preparing himself for Kwon-seonsaengnim going batshit insane at Jaebum, favored pupil or not. The last time anyone was cocky and stupid enough to go past the allowable absences, Kwon-seonsaengnim had staged a running campaign of humiliation and degradation against the poor senior. It's kept Jinyoung on his toes more than his innate desire to excel academically does.
It doesn't happen, though. Whatever Jaebum says to their professor on the side, it endears him even more to Kwon-seonsaengnim.
"How did you do it?" Jackson says in wonder. He's gotten chewed out for skipping, official matches or not.
"I'm working on a side project," Jaebum says, breaking out into a yawn. He doesn't look at Jinyoung, seeming to find something more interesting on the ground. "I'd have to give a write-up by the end of it, but it's not so bad."
When it's apparent that they're getting nothing else out of him, Jackson abandons them to find his teammates, no doubt to wreak havoc on poor, unsuspecting freshmen signing up for varsity fencing. Jinyoung and Jaebum are left to stare at each other, a comical pair in the middle of a throng of students rushing to the next class.
From the way Jaebum is attempting to suppress another incoming yawn and failing, Jinyoung takes pity on him. "You look like you're about to collapse if I breathe in your direction," Jinyoung remarks, gesturing at Jaebum's eyes, lids swollen and puffy from lack of sleep. "Rough night?"
"More like, rough week," says Jaebum, shortly. He seems to regret the snappish tone as soon as he says it, and the shame merging with his grimace makes something in Jinyoung ache. "Sorry, I just have a lot on my plate right now."
"Do you wanna crash at the library?" Jinyoung blurts out. "No one really uses the staff room for anything other than napping anyway, and I think I can buy you some time."
"That's nice," says Jaebum, "but I don't want you to get fired for being a bother."
"You're not," Jinyoung insists awkwardly. "Besides, I don't want you to get mobbed in the study rooms for letting your guard down."
He means to tease, but it makes Jaebum's expression shutter into himself, and just like that, they're tense again. Shit. "Thanks for the offer, but I really have to be somewhere else."
Jaebum picks up his bag from the floor and hefts it over his shoulder. Dramas make everything look so easy, Jinyoung thinks, but without a script in hand, he's fumbling and coasting along. "Are we okay?" Jinyoung asks, voice small but honest, the only thing he's got going for him right now.
Jaebum is quiet, for a moment, like he's considering it. Like he can't believe Jinyoung is even asking - or has the gall to even ask? Jinyoung's not too great at reading other people, and Jaebum's more closed-off than ever before.
"Yeah," says Jaebum, finally. He's finally looking at Jinyoung, meeting his eyes head-on. "We're okay."
Great, Jinyoung thinks. His hypothetical boat has finally hit an iceberg and sunk into the fiery pits of hell. Jaebum is never going to talk, and fuck him for looking cool and having the last word as he walks off to wherever it is he goes to these days. Hell if Jinyoung knows what he does now. He kind of misses knowing everything about Jaebum even when he didn't care at all.
He's been doing a lot of that lately. Watching Jaebum walk away, he means. He hates it.
one | two | three | part four | five | six
It turns out, he doesn't really need to worry about that part too much. The next few weeks are a flurry of midterms that have Jackson and Mark complaining about the relevance of academic and literary English in their daily lives ("Who the hell needs to know what an Achilles' heel is in real life? Not the guy lost at the airport, that's who.") and Youngjae sinking further into his self-pitying nightmares of his bleak future as a starving busker that can't even tell the difference between a G sharp and A. The most Jinyoung sees of Jaebum is during class, and even then he's usually buried in practice exams and problem sets to do more than make small talk for a few minutes.
To Jaebum's credit as a decent human being, he doesn't bring up Jinyoung's less than stellar behavior before, nor does he seem to still be holding a grudge. If anything, he looks a little careful around Jinyoung, as if Jinyoung's the one who's gonna set off into the sunset at the first sign of gunfire. Jinyoung doesn't have the heart to admit he might be right about that.
At least he doesn't say anything about Jinyoung having a breakdown in the middle of Jaebum's studio apartment (not that he'd even witnessed it -- Jinyoung made sure to check for signs of life and Jaebum had been out cold), or whatever Jinyoung may or may not have said during the party. Jaebum is just so insufferably civil, losing some of the cockiness he'd displayed beforehand. It rankles at Jinyoung because it's like Jaebum is giving him the next move, like life is some god damned baduk game with the stakes as elusive as the potential rewards. Basically, he's back to square one minus the internal loathing and wallowing about Jaebum's existence, cup still full of stones and no strategic formation in sight.
"Are you sure about that, because I know I could be doing better things with my time than countering what's currently happening," says Yugyeom, checking his nails. Jinyoung needs a better agony aunt, one that actually offers useful advice and none of the sarcasm that Yugyeom as a rebellious teenager wears like a shield.
"I am," Jinyoung insists.
"You don't even play go," Yugyeom points out.
"You're Korean, stop calling it go."
"Semantics," Yugyeom scoffs. "The only thing I got out of the noon time drama that is your life is that you didn't really make up with him, you just swept it under a rug and prayed that ignoring the issue would give you peace of mind."
"I'm trying," Jinyoung protests. "That's got to count for something, right?"
Yugyeom doesn't really look like Jinyoung's words have instilled some faith in him, but Jinyoung's used to it by now. "I'd tell you to look him up on Naver, but what are the odds you'd find his contact details in there?" He taps the side of the table with restless fingers. "Jackson-hyung might give it to you, but more importantly, what would you even say?"
Yugyeom's right. Those stickers are pretty violent, if not nauseatingly romantic. Only two things are applicable to Jinyoung's present feelings, and he's not even sure which one is tipping the scales further.
"You're not being very helpful with plotting ways for me to befriend him," Jinyoung grumbles.
"I'm an innocent bystander that only listens to you for my own entertainment, not your life coach and personal adviser in one, hyung."
Jinyoung scowls at him.
"I've never seen you this tense since you pretended you were a clean and put-together person in front of that classmate you liked in high school," says Yugyeom. He's already gone through three boxes of Jinyoung's banana milk, but he reaches for another one, giving Jinyoung's mom a dimpled smile and a smug sneer to the actual owner of said milk. Brat. "I wish I could say that this is funny, but now it's just sad."
Jinyoung wrinkles his nose, and not just because Yugyeom makes it a point to take a loud slurp out of the milk box. "You make me sound like a socially inept person."
"Talk to me when he starts buying you brunch again," Yugyeom counters. "Then that will prove me wrong."
"Fine," Jinyoung grits out, like the pushover he is. Yugyeom just gives him an all-knowing look.
This is how Jinyoung finds himself shivering outside the Engineering building, too far away from his own department to feign an excuse about being in the area, bunched up in a cardigan and the scarf he'd stolen from a pissed off Jackson and keeping his hands cupped around a drastically cooling tumbler of coffee. In late October.
"This better be worth it," Jinyoung grumbles, kicking at a pile of leaves in irritation. It's not exactly bribery, per se, just an incentive for Jaebum - Jinyoung didn't stalk his old interviews regarding his coffee preferences for nothing, even if Yugyeom had laughed at him for a good portion of the two hours he'd spent jeering at his hyung.
It's barely fifteen minutes later when someone touches the small of his back, and Jinyoung barely has the time to even think oh god there really are perverts on campus god DAMN IT JACKSON when Jaebum waves his other hand in front of Jinyoung's face, unaware of the heart palpitations he's given him.
"Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum. Jinyoung almost -- almost! -- drops his tumbler. "What are you doing here?"
Jaebum is considerably better dressed for the weather, bundled up in a thick pea coat that probably costs more than Jinyoung's tuition per semester. It's his hair that distracts Jinyoung the most, dyed a soft brown and definitely styled more than it has in recent years. Jinyoung tucks the thought away for future reference and attempts not to look as distracted as he feels.
"Here," Jinyoung says, shoving the bottle at him. Jaebum looks at it, as lost as ever, and Jinyoung sighs. "It's not poisoned, god, you don't have to worry about it."
Jaebum doesn't smile, but the hint of amusement in his voice is enough to make Jinyoung exhale, releasing the anxious breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Now that you mention it, you're making me even more suspicious."
"I wouldn't," Jinyoung argues, flushing. He's glad the scarf covers up the redness he's sure he's sporting around his throat. "It's. Apology coffee." He can't stop fidgeting. "Since, you know. You took care of me before."
"Thank you." Jaebum uncaps the tumbler and inhales the aroma of peaberry and hazelnut. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Jaebum's face is inscrutable, but mostly it's because Jinyoung can't look him in the eye for too long without wanting to beg the earth to swallow him up whole, pilfered scarf and all. "Ah," Jaebum breathes out. Like he's found some kind of answer, and Jinyoung can't tell if he's satisfied or not. Slow clap for Im Jaebum, man of few words, Jinyoung despairs. He'll take what he can get.
"Walk with me," Jinyoung says, tersely. Then adds, with a wince, "hyung", just so no one can get on his case about acting too much like Yugyeom.
He doesn't offer his arm because he's not - augh. He isn't going to reenact yet another one of his sisters' romantic comedy fantasies, even if Jaebum looks like the kind who'd be doing the offering instead. Whatever. Jinyoung's as tall as he is anyway, maybe taller if Jaebum actually wears insoles, and even then -
Jinyoung grimaces. He really has to stop thinking sometimes, because he can't seem to stop insulting him at every turn despite accepting the mess of other emotions Jaebum manages to bring out of him. At least Jaebum doesn't seem to sense this ugly part about him, not yet, because he wordlessly falls into step beside Jinyoung and lets Jinyoung carry most of the conversation to the library instead.
It's so worth it when Jinyoung gets a chicken saran wrap in the end. Take that, Yugyeom.
"I'm questioning a lot of your ideas of courtship," says Jackson, very judgmentally. "You do realize I'm never gonna stop making fun of your moves, don't you?"
Jinyoung swats at him. "I'm being friendly."
Jackson eyebrows don't seem to be going down any time soon. "Oh, so you're friends now?" He drawls, tapping out a message on his phone, no doubt to Bambam giving him a play by play narrative of how he's ruining Jinyoung's life and more. "Is getting you to admit that you're actively trying to sweep him off his feet gonna take longer than bullying you into being nice to hyung, or are we talking 'never' here?"
"I don’t know what you're talking about," Jinyoung sniffs.
"Oh, sorry about that, I meant stalking him, not wooing," Jackson mutters. They're both crouched behind a bench a little off the side of the pathway, close enough to the Engineering building to see anyone coming out of it but sufficiently far away to duck and run for cover if anyone manages to notice two idiots on the prowl. "As if the magazine clips and your browsing history weren't bad enough."
"That was private," Jinyoung protests, scandalized.
"You're neighbors with Yugyeom, everything you own is fair game!"
"Oh my god, please be quiet." Jinyoung shoves him to the ground, and Jackson falls, sprawled on his back like an upended turtle. The pile of dried leaves does not do him any favors. "You're giving us away!"
"One, rude. Two, your paranoia is seriously screaming code red levels, we're sending you to counseling from now on." Jackson squints and points at the direction of the entrance. "Three, pop star at ten o'clock, alert! Alert!"
"Where?"
Jackson covers his face with one hand and points with the other. "My ten o'clock, god. Why don't you just kiss him in broad daylight so we could get this over and done with?" Jinyoung leaves his prone body still on the grass, but not without a well-timed kick to his hip.
It's a simple enough plan, when it comes down to it. He isn't stalking -- just. Conveniently appearing wherever Jaebum is. If he has food or drink in hand, it's called sharing. Jaebum is going to be so fucking grateful to have Jinyoung in his life, and Jinyoung is going to make damn sure of it. Let it not be said that Jinyoung does not take all his plans seriously.
("It's foolproof," he gushes. "He won't even expect it."
Youngjae almost chokes on his pretzel. Mark contemplates a potato chip and thinks about the meaning of life.
"I'm sure he won't, Jinyoung-ah," says Mark, though he doesn't sound reassuring at all.
"On a scale of academic dishonesty, this is honestly the most stellar performance of plagiarism I've had the honor of witnessing," is Youngjae's only input, though Jinyoung could do without the sarcasm.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Jinyoung, truthfully.
"So handsome, but so dumb," says Jackson, shaking his head despite being up for anything potentially damaging to Jinyoung's reputation or self-esteem. "Let's do it.")
In retrospect, this is probably a huge chunk of why he's friends with Jackson, both of them overboard and reckless in the most inappropriate of times. By the time Jinyoung's flagged Jaebum down, Jaebum looks torn between looking resigned, hunted, and maybe a little pleased. Jaebum has complicated facial expressions sometimes.
"This is, what, the fifth time this week?" Jaebum asks, warily. On one hand, it offends Jinyoung that his smiling face is being met with suspicion. On the other hand, Jinyoung really enjoys being intimidating for all the wrong reasons.
"Are you counting?" Jinyoung dimples at him. Be cool, Jinyoung reminds himself. Be absolutely cool even in the face of mortification.
Jaebum still looks skeptical. "Why is Jackson crawling away from us?"
"Dunno, he's weird like that," says Jinyoung, touching his arm. Jaebum makes a soft, surprised noise that Jinyoung almost misses from attempting to bore holes into Jackson's retreating back. "Must be all the testosterone in the air. Let's go, hyung, or we might not catch a table at the café."
He ignores Jaebum's splutter of "It's not even noon!" and tugs him away.
Jaebum keeps thrumming his fingers on the table when Jinyoung returns with their mugs of coffee. He's been doing it since Jinyoung forced him to sit down and stay there, so help me god, and this is not boding well for Jinyoung.
"So," says Jinyoung, pleasantly, "how did midterms go?"
"Horribly," says Jaebum, ever the optimist. He crosses his arms and furrows his brow. "What are we doing here, Jinyoung?"
Prickly and determined not to please. This is steadily rising in rank as one of Jinyoung's least favorite of Jaebum's personas. At least he's graduated from anxious foot tapping and onto abrasive confrontation via his eyebrows game. Jinyoung is already an inherently anxious person that feeds off of other people's energy, so this isn't turning out to be a Disastrous Train Wreck. Not yet.
So, swallowing down his pride, he decides to go for honesty, counting on Jaebum's bleeding heart for lost causes and all that.
"Look," says Jinyoung, tracing the rim of his mug with a finger. Jaebum's eyes follow the motion unconsciously before he narrows his eyes and looks away, flustered. "I know we got off to a horrible start, and we've been having a lot of hiccups along the way."
"That's an understatement," says Jaebum, mulishly. Jinyoung ignores him, already figuring that the only way to deal with a stubborn Jaebum is much like how he would deal with a toddler. Or Jackson. Same difference.
"But," Jinyoung goes on, raising his hand to cover Jaebum's mouth. Jaebum immediately purses his lips, more out of surprise than irritation, "for some unknown reason and against my better judgment -"
"Always a great opener," Jaebum tries to say, except it comes out as a confused "mffffghrhg".
"-- I like you way more than I should," okay, Jaebum's ears are starting to turn a worrying shade of red, they should probably wrap up before the coffee gets cold and winter decides to go batshit insane on Jaebum's complexion, "and I would really like to have you in my life at a more permanent basis."
Jinyoung is almost proud at how bereft of words Jaebum seems to be, like Jinyoung's hit him with a bat from nowhere and is running around the entire campus in a state of undress. Which, augh. He's not functioning right now. He should probably do this more often. Shock is a good look on Jaebum.
He takes a celebratory sip of his coffee to hide his smug smile, only to nearly spit it out once Jaebum recovers enough to say, dryly, "Are you practicing for a role in a drama or are you proposing marriage?"
Jinyoung dabs at his chin with some tissue, his eyes swimming with unshed tears from trying not to die. When he lifts his eyes to meet Jaebum's, the jerk is grinning, like he's made some joke Jinyoung's not a part of, too pleased for no rational reason.
But whatever. If it's gotten Jaebum relaxed enough around him, he'd take whatever snipe Jaebum has at his expense. And Jinyoung realizes, with a start, that he doesn't really mind it anymore when Jaebum acts like they're closer than they really are. Because when it comes down to it, for all the years he's grown up with Jaebum at the other side of a TV screen or in the glossy pages of a magazine, the soft smile on Jaebum's face is something he's never really known until now, and it makes him feel that maybe Jaebum's not some unreachable star, like they're both just circling around in the same constellation after all.
"Hyung," he says, very seriously, "if I were, I'd prefer not to be drowning in my own espresso."
"It's okay, Jinyounggie," Jaebum says, reaching out to hold his hand from across the table. "I don't let people I like back die so easily after that kind of speech."
Jinyoung finally releases the breath he doesn't realize he's been holding for a while now, and squeezes back, relishing in the piece of melon bread Jaebum breaks off to feed him. He can probably get used to this, even if he does feel a little bit off-kilter, like something in Jaebum's gaze that he hasn't completely grasped just yet
He'll think about it next time. Jaebum's hand is too comfortable, after all.
Now that he's slowly but surely reinserted himself into Jaebum's life and endeared himself into Jaebum's good graces (he thinks), the logical way forward is to take up a significant portion of Jaebum's attention span. No, Jinyoung does not get this advice from a magazine that targets fifteen year old girls (shut up, Yugyeom), nor does he obtain this information from a disreputable variety show of questionable appeal ("I swear to god, Jackson, if you don't stop making fun of me -"). It's just. Natural. Force of habit.
As the youngest child and only son of a middle class family, Jinyoung is used to having to employ any and all kinds of strategies to ensure that his family focuses their attention and energy on him. He's had to fight for it as a grade school kid trapped in a household with an overly dramatic sister in high school, a frequently absent father devoted to work, a mother that finds Yugyeom infallibly more adorable than her own children, and an older sister in university that almost never wanted to go home. He's learned long ago that throwing tantrums and pity parties does nothing but earn a raised eyebrow or two, and his aegyo could only take him so far before his voice changed and he shot up beyond 150 centimeters. (No twenty year old should ever be caught dead doing baby talk. Just. No.)
He doesn't think that Jaebum is the type to be carried away by sudden fits of articulacy, though, and he hasn't managed to test out the theory if Jaebum prefers sexy librarian types over actual ones. From the way he still looks intensely uncomfortable whenever he catches sight of Jinyoung at the front desk, Jinyoung's scratched out study bro-dates as a viable option. His wallet is equally relieved at the resurgence of food and beverages courtesy of Jaebum's pockets, but he makes an effort to actually pay this time, lest Jaebum considers him as a hanger-on rather than as a new and improved version of himself, non-bitchy Jinyoung 2.0 and all that.
In his desperation, Jinyoung turns to advice columns on the web and self-help books. Yugyeom makes a face and shoves the package containing 5 Love Languages, translated by Jang Dong-sook to his chest on his way out, never mind that he's not in love, god, shut up Yugyeom. He manages to manhandle Yugyeom to his room and puts Bambam on speaker phone because this is exactly the kind of crisis that Bambam takes an inordinate amount of interest in. Sometimes Jinyoung wonders if this is Bambam's way of compensating for all the adorable things he'd done when he was younger. He has the mouth for it, at least.
"So you've got the bribery down, and I'm ticking out acts of modern-day slavery even if Jackson-hyung tells me it's really just your path towards getting a restraining order." Bambam's voice, grainy through the line, is still as obnoxious as ever. "So we have, what, kissing ass and feeling him up left?"
"That's not what it says in the book, Bambam-ah," says Jinyoung, pained. He's almost about to ask who on earth Bambam's been learning Korean from, but thinks better of it as he watches Yugyeom idly crossing out affirmation and service and penciling in something that looks far too vulgar to be in a self-help book. No wonder.
"Isn't that the same thing?" Bambam asks, confused. Jinyoung stifles the urge to punch something.
"Can you even shower anyone with compliments that don't come out as back-handed, though?" Yugyeom snorts, looking far too pleased with himself. "I think if you started praising him, he'd think you were plotting his death."
"Molestation is the answer, then," Bambam affirms, satisfied. "Go forth and harass him, hyung."
"You two, I swear," Jinyoung despairs. Jinyoung is a tactile person with or without prompting, prone to showing affection mostly through touch. It shouldn't be any worse than what Jaebum's gotten from him yet, but Bambam's phrasing makes him leery about the idea. He's not a fucking saesang, so why does it feel like he is? "I'm not going to get myself arrested just to entertain you guys."
"But hyuuung," says Bambam, "we're only invested in your emotional well-being. Remember the last time you broke up with someone and we had to hold your hand the entire time? Do you?"
Jinyoung sighs and hides his face behind his hands. Freshman year was not a good look on him, and from the hunted expression on Yugyeom's face, he agrees. There may or may not have been a screaming match with Jackson involved. He shudders.
As if sensing his hesitation, Bambam plows on. "Come on, Yugyeom, back me up," Bambam whines, as relentless as a predator sinking its claws into poor, unsuspecting herbivores. "Tell hyung what a wuss he's being right now."
"Step up your game, hyung," says Yugyeom, looking like he deeply regrets it despite the comforting pat he gives Jinyoung. It comes out more like a smack on his shoulder than one filled with care and tenderness. Jinyoung scowls.
"I don't even have game." He pauses, and scrambles for reason. "I don't want any game at all!"
"Trust me," says Bambam, even though Yugyeom's complaining about how I don't wanna know, why do you tell me these things, hyung, "by the time the semester ends, you will."
Jinyoung is never trusting Bambam again. Ever.
He's sure he's done enough reassessing of his life choices for the past few weeks. He could be at home, buried under a comforter and speed-reading his way through next week's readings and a blog post or two, but instead he's pasting a wavering smile on his face and lying through his teeth that, yes, of course, he loves football so much he'd be so on for a quick game, isn't that right, Youngjae-ah?
Youngjae mimes projectile vomiting from somewhere behind Jaebum's shoulder. This just reeks of desperation all over, he mouths, but Jinyoung is a bit too distracted by the way relief seems to blossom across Jaebum's entire form, shoulders loosening from some imaginary weight.
"I wasn't sure you'd agree," Jaebum admits. "I mean, sometimes you're barely awake enough to notice a bicycle nearly barreling into you."
It takes a while for Jinyoung to realize that Jaebum is teasing him, and Youngjae doesn't even bother to hold back his laughter. "You are a horrible person," Jinyoung informs him, except, fuck, this is not scoring points for him at all if Jaebum is insanely dependent on compliments as a love language, is it?
Jaebum doesn't seem to mind, only reaching over to ruffle his hair from across the counter separating Jinyoung from the rest of the plebeians strolling into the library with their overdue fines and their middling grasp of the Dewey Decimal System. It's weird seeing Jaebum in the library after their not-fight, shared space and violations of privacy and all. "Just for that, I'm putting you on the other team."
"Better take your shirt off if you wanna win, oppa," Jimin butts in, not looking up from her tablet. "I'm sure some people would love that."
"Ignore her," says Jinyoung. "We haven't reined her in yet."
"That's okay," says Jaebum. "I'm sure Jackson's gonna do enough stripping for all of us."
Jimin and Youngjae chime in with noises of disgust and pain, why would you say those things, we don't wanna know, ever. Jinyoung is already simulating in his mind's eye how he'll trip on a clump of weeds, set the detonator to a hidden landmine off, and successfully eliminate half the field with his ineptitude. Rocks fall, everybody dies, the whole shebang and all.
"Seriously, though," Jaebum says, pushing a smuggled tumbler of coffee into Jinyoung's hands - clearly a bribe but still raising all sorts of alarm bells in Jinyoung's head, "thanks for saying yes."
Fuck, Jinyoung thinks, smile still plastered to his face. He's gonna die.
Jinyoung's not an extremely athletic person by nature - sure, he can kick around a few balls here and there, enough to screw around with Jackson when they're both high-strung and beating each other down with Super Smash Brothers isn't an option, but Jinyoung would rather curl up in the corner of his room with a trashy magazine pilfered from his sister and a tall glass of honey lemon tea in hand than willingly suffer through a few rounds of football at ass o'clock in the morning.
The only consolation, he thinks, bent over and dry-heaving into the grass come Saturday morning, is that no one is crowding around Jaebum for not having a shirt on, already discarding it an hour into the makeshift game with his engineering friends and Jinyoung's relatively smaller circle. It may have been the reason for half of Jinyoung's distraction the entire time, mostly because he's still stuck on having hot flashes of Jaebum's biggest mistake of his underage career. Really. That's it. No one is comparing his pectorals from now and then, okay?
"Are you having heart palpitations now or is this something else?" Jackson asks, warily watching him as Youngjae runs back to the game, abandoning Jinyoung to the mercy of the cool ground. "I have to remind you that if you throw up on me, I'm contractually obligated to punch you for vomiting on an injured person."
Jackson is benched by virtue of a sprained ankle from a match last week (or so he claims - Jinyoung's pretty sure it's because he tried skateboarding down the stairs while drunk), and from the way he keeps shooting baleful glares at everyone on the field, Mark included, Jinyoung has half the mind to kick at him and send him away. Instead, Jinyoung groans and tucks his face into Jackson's hip, shielding himself from seeing the sweat roll off Jaebum's s-line. It should be disgusting but it just makes Jinyoung's insides churn some more. He wrinkles his nose at the itchy fabric of Jackson's jeans.
"Don't talk," Jinyoung begs. "Just let me die."
It's too hot to feel anything like November, but it's likely the last of their days to run around in track shorts without having to tug on leg warmers in the process. Today feels like a really bad case of July, and Jackson isn't helping at all.
"Whatever, drama queen," Jackson scoffs, pressing his tumbler to Jinyoung's forehead. "You can't die yet, you haven't even scored with JB."
Jinyoung lifts his head long enough to scowl at him. "Stop talking to Bambam, you two are the absolute worst."
"You shouldn't talk to me like that," Jackson complains. "Who knows what kind of damage you can do to my already fragile state?"
"Fragile?" Jinyoung scoffs. "You just wanted to sit in the sidelines and make fun of me."
"Why, yes, I willingly let myself almost get stabbed by a very pointy sword, thanks for asking," says Jackson, scathingly. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it."
"The bandage is a lie," Jinyoung says, picking at the cloth wrapped around Jackson's foot. Jackson squawks and shoves him away without mercy. "Oof."
From the way Mark is narrowing his eyes at him, Jinyoung isn't even gonna try anything else, but it's much more entertaining to let Jackson believe what he wants. Jinyoung holds up his hands, waggling his fingers threateningly, and Jackson lets out a sound of frustration.
"Fuck off," Jackson shrieks, bending to shield his ankle from Jinyoung's touch. "I swear, you're the most immature person ever."
"Uh huh," says Jinyoung, loftily. "Keep watching your back, tough guy."
"Whatever," Jackson grumbles, but he's not really pissed, if the way he paws at Jinyoung and impatiently pats his thigh is a sign. Jinyoung would barely give in on a normal day, but right now he's too worn out to resist the opportunity of resting his head on Jackson's lap. Jackson doesn't boast about his lower body for nothing, but Jinyoung would rather choke on something than admit that.
Jackson goes back to trash talking everyone on the field, devoting most of his zingers to Youngjae, self-proclaimed VIP from Mokpo. The shouting and the muggy heat should be anything but comforting, but the sound of Jaebum's incoherent instructions to his ragtag band of players seems to placate something inside Jinyoung. As empty as his gut feels, there's so much that coalesces in his mind: the smell of fabric softener from Jackson's shorts, the trill of a whistle, jarring and sharp, the earthy taste of sweat from the back of Youngjae's arm. And then, in the distance, Jinyoung can make out, with startlingly clarity, Jaebum's voice.
It's deep and lingering, not at all lilted like the tail end of Jinyoung's sentences and as smooth and sure as a well-aimed kick at the goal; there's a buzzing echo in Jinyoung's ears, ringing of Jaebum's full-bodied laughter. He closes his eyes.
He's not sure how long he dozes off after that, but he's jolted out of sleep by Jackson's fidgeting. And possibly the pinching at his side. He rolls off of Jackson and onto the grass, batting Jackson's hands away.
"Great, you're awake. Your head is super heavy, you know that?" Jackson grumbles, but the back of his hand is plucking at Jinyoung's bangs, clearing his hair away from his eyes. "Are you gonna be fine on your own or do we have to send you to the student clinic just in case?"
"Mfrghsh," Jinyoung retorts, very intelligently.
"Perfect, you're useless," Jackson concludes. It takes a moment for him to come to a stand, and he winces the entire time. "Hey, Jaebum-hyung," Jackson calls out, cupping his hand around his mouth, "can you watch over this weakling while I hobble off to class?"
"You don't even go to class, Jackson-ah," Jaebum yells back, amused, but jogs over to them anyway.
Jackson peels off Jinyoung's fingers from where Jinyoung is trying to claw at his hipbone, sending signals of distress and loathing because god, as if he needed another reason to add to his list of lame moments in front of Im Jaebum. "Chill out," Jackson hisses, eyeing him, "I'm just psyching him up for how disgusting you'd look like in bed, all gross and sweaty."
"I'm gonna kill you."
"You've been threatening to kill me since we met," says Jackson. "You do realize I've stopped listening to you after the first five seconds, right?"
Jinyoung groans and press the back of his fisted hands against his face. If he waits long enough, maybe Jackson will go away. A shadow covers him from the sunlight, and Jinyoung has 3.5 seconds to contemplate how far away the person is before he can kick out and make them regret getting in between his plans of burying Jackson into the ground.
"Wow," Jaebum snorts, not at all impressed, "you look more like roadkill than a sick bay."
Jinyoung attempts to sit up, but the ground is suddenly a lot closer to his face than he'd realized; it's only after he registers the hand bracing him from behind that he realizes just how dizzying the heat is, and Jaebum's fingers splayed across his elbow is doing nothing to stifle the motion sickness in his stomach from going on overdrive.
"Hey," says Jaebum, "slow down. Remind me to keep you hydrated every ten minutes next time."
Jinyoung's still stuck at next time to process the way Jackson leers at the two of them, taking the water bottle from Jaebum and nodding dumbly in thanks. He's so distracted by guzzling its contents that he misses the first few words out of Jackson's mouth - no doubt useless, incriminating, or a mixture of both, and catches only "- in broad daylight, hyung, no one wants to know."
Jaebum's skin flushes red from his ears to his nape, but that could just be his body coming down from the adrenaline. Jinyoung doesn't know. He's not a biology major, but there's just no way Jaebum would be easily fazed by Jackson's innuendos. Absolutely none. Jinyoung's life doesn't work out smoothly enough for that to happen.
He tightens his grip on the bottle and looks away.
"Go to class, Jackson," Jaebum commands tersely, snapping a towel at Jackson's side.
Their group breaks off bit by bit after that, a trickle of goodbyes and consoling sounds directed at Jinyoung as he uses Jaebum as his substitute bolster. When the sun creeps up to their side of the field, Jaebum gently prods him to make sure he's still alive and functioning enough to move.
"We can go to a café, if you want," Jaebum offers, knowing the power of the promise of coffee. He even carries Jinyoung's bag for him, which is always a plus when you're about to keel over and die in the middle of campus grounds. Looking at Jaebum with a gym bag on each shoulder, Jinyoung wonders how effortless he makes it seem. "Or hit the showers first, if you really need to cool off."
"We have showers?" Jinyoung says, aghast. "I've been a student here for two years and I've never seen it."
"What physical education classes have you been taking?" Jaebum asks, laughing.
"Clearly not ones that require breaking a sweat enough to warrant having to bathe at school," Jinyoung grumbles. "How are you not a varsity player?"
Jaebum looks embarrassed but pleased all the same, ducking his head and switching the football tucked against his side to his other hand. Jinyoung sometimes wonders about that, how Jaebum's less cocky and shyer than he looks, unable to handle praise with grace, like he doesn't get enough compliments as it is. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's had more closed doors than Jinyoung thinks he does. "I'm not that good."
"You should have been a football player instead," Jinyoung mutters, stifling the irrational urge to kick something, anything. He doesn't get it. "National team and all that."
"Don't you hate jocks?"
"I hate Jackson."
Jaebum laughs again and takes a small step towards him. He must have lost his footing because he's bent slightly, angled towards his face, and Jinyoung has to remind himself that Jaebum is only regaining his balance, god, don't be so weird about this, Jinyoung. Jinyoung jolts back at Jaebum's palm touching his jaw, and Jaebum drops his searching look as quickly as he drops his arm to rest on Jinyoung's shoulder.
"Sorry," says Jaebum. He pulls away.
"It's okay," Jinyoung mutters, awkwardly, stamping down the feeling of disappointment. Jaebum's touch still burns at his skin.
Chill out, he berates himself. It might just be the post-game adrenaline and jitters talking, simmering under his skin. What could have been -- what a tiny part of Jinyoung wants it to be -- could wait for later. Right now, he has to focus on making that stiff line across Jaebum's back disappear.
He is well and truly fucked.
The thing is - Jinyoung's never been one for humor. His jokes fall a little too flat and icy at the edges, sarcasm the only thing he can fall back on with confidence. He's always been more comfortable being the straight man to Jackson's antics, but when he's the one looking like an ass, Jinyoung just clams up.
Foregoing the showers in the face of quelling tension, they take a seat outside the nearest coffee shop; Jinyoung makes a face at the look of disgust a freshman throws at them, tipping her seat away, and misses the rest of Jaebum's words completely.
"Sorry, I was too busy defending our manliness in the face of judgment," says Jinyoung, the words sticking like acid to his tongue. "What did you say?"
"I said," Jaebum repeats, voice tight but even, "you've been acting really strange since we left the field."
"You're imagining things," says Jinyoung. "This is me, like, all the time."
"With everyone?" Jaebum asks, still with that careful tone. He's staring at something on Jinyoung's face, probably a smudge of dirt on his jaw, and Jinyoung licks his lower lip, nervously.
"No, just with you."
Jaebum's eyes snap away from his jaw and back up to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, we're friends now, right?" Jinyoung says, trying not to bristle from the embarrassment. "Like, this is how I am with friends."
"Friends," Jaebum intones.
"Yes," Jinyoung insists. "Friendly. Because we're friends."
Jinyoung doesn't notice that Jaebum's not keeping up with his pace anymore until Jaebum's voice brings him back.
"Jinyoung," Jaebum calls out. His eyes are hooded. "I just…"
"What?" Jinyoung asks. Something is thudding in his ears, and it's the same feeling he had when he was younger and crying to be sent back to land after five minutes on a cruise ship. He's never seen Jaebum look so hesitant, and Jinyoung is regretting whatever he's said to rock the unsteady raft they're on right now.
"Are you making fun of me?"
Forget the boat, they've completely capsized and drifted apart, a circle of piranhas surrounding Jinyoung. "What?"
"Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean?" Jinyoung cocks his head to the side. He's been told it's a good look on him, feigning innocence, but from Jaebum's frown, he's failing. Crap. He should probably text Jackson for backup.
"The whole walking me to classes, and buying me stuff, and doing stuff I like even if you clearly hate it, and -" Jaebum runs a hand over his bangs, and it's only now that Jinyoung notices he's trembling. "You know."
And Jinyoung realizes that, fuck, he's been ripping off Im Jaebum's moves all along.
Plagiarist, Youngjae's voice comes, unbidden. "Oh," says Jinyoung, voice small.
"If you hated me this much," Jaebum says, "you didn't really have to go out of your way to do this."
"I'm an idiot," he confesses, "but I don’t hate you, I swear. I just - I meant what I said. About being friends." He spreads out his palms, akin to surrender. "I'm sorry if you thought I was making fun of you."
Jaebum finally sighs. "You're so complicated, Jinyoung-ah," says Jaebum, with a small, sad smile.
I'm not, he thinks, balling his hands into fists on his lap.
He and Jaebum keep missing each other at branches of their lives, like two trains never meeting lest they collide into a freak accident. Or something. Jinyoung keeps mixing his metaphors up when it comes to Jaebum. He hasn't been doing so well since day one.
"I should go," Jaebum finally says, pushing himself off of the chair.
"Off to your adoring fans?" Jinyoung ask, a last-minute attempt to try to settle the mood back to when it was comfortable and none of them were talking about feelings and things like that. Jinyoung does not do well on an emotional quotient.
"Something like that," Jaebum hums, and hefts his bag over his shoulder. He doesn't look at Jinyoung. "See you in class, I guess."
Jinyoung rests his head against the table and sighs.
Jaebum barely notices him for the next few days. When Jinyoung talks, he's distracted, not even listening unlike before, but he keeps looking at Jinyoung like he's an equation he can't work out, like he's waiting for Jinyoung to say or do something.
Jinyoung has no idea what the hell on earth he wants, and soon the expectant stares he gives Jinyoung eventually dull into vacancy, expressionless.
He should consider auditioning for the role of a cold-hearted bastard, Jinyoung thinks, uncharitably, on one of the better days. If he's getting anything out of this, it's that his self-censorship is being put to a test, and it's so hard to practice restraint.
"It's not working," Jinyoung complains, stabbing forcefully into his omelet. The prongs of his fork scrape against the plate in a satisfying hiss. Youngjae blanches. "I think I pissed him off again."
"You're as personable as a cactus around your peers," Mark sighs. "Prickly and all that."
"I was gonna make a joke about Jinyoung's thirst, but now I just feel bad," says Jackson, apparently capable of pity. "Jaebum-hyung sounds super temperamental when you talk about him, but I'm gonna guess this one is all on you."
"I didn't do anything," says Jinyoung, unhappily.
"That's the problem," Jinyoung thinks he hears Youngjae mutter under his breath. He scratches at his plate some more.
"You could always try sucking him off in the gym's locker room," Jackson supplies helpfully. Jinyoung closes his eyes and counts to ten backwards, if only to keep himself from going at Jackson's throat. It's right there. "I have the key."
"Please stop abusing your privileges," Youngjae begs, pained. Mark gives the ring of keys Jackson is dangling a perusing stare. Jinyoung could have gone his whole life without seeing that. "Hyung, have you ever stopped to consider that maybe -- just maybe -- you go overboard about a lot of things and this isn't healthy at all for any of your relationships?"
"I don't go overboard--"
"I think," Mark pipes up, "you should just call him and get this over and done with so we can go back to thinking you're more respectable than you really are."
"Yeah," Jackson scoffs, "the way our phones keep going off every time Jinyoung has a crisis, you'd think he'd get cut off for going over his limit."
Jinyoung makes an unintelligible string of syllables under his breath, and Mark wrinkles his nose at him.
"Are you speaking in Korean, or is that just really bad English?"
"I said," Jinyoung repeats, "I don't have his number." He fixes Jackson with a steely glare. "Please don't make me say it again and beg it off of you."
"As satisfying as that would be, I'm gonna have to let you down, bro."
"What?" Jinyoung can't believe it. Jackson's had to replace his phone with one that had more space for contacts. He's never not had anyone's number and failed to wave it in Jinyoung's face with a taunt and an appeal for bribery.
"I don't have his number either," says Jackson, talking to Jinyoung like he's slow on the uptake. He might kind of be. "He keeps changing it a lot nowadays so I figured it was too much of a hassle."
Jinyoung releases a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd held in. It's not too bad, because at least he wouldn't have the weight of a string of numbers loading him down, taunting his every swipe of his address book. Jackson looks sincerely put out at his reprieve.
"Confrontations are actually healthy in some cases, hyung," Youngjae remarks, clearly unimpressed. "If you just talk for once without making up excuses, then you'd be better off-"
"-and sucking face and di-"
"-than you are right now," Youngjae continues, frowning at Jackson. "Seriously. I don't need more people avoiding certain subjects shoved into their faces."
Mark rolls his eyes and makes a V with his fingers, from his eyes to Youngjae once Jackson's back is turned. Jinyoung, aghast, turns to Youngjae and says, "I can't believe you're comparing me to that."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Youngjae says, unhappily poking at his fried rice.
"Shut up, Youngjae," Mark says with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster.
Needless to say, no one winds up happy that day.
Jaebum skips class for two sessions, and Jinyoung is mentally preparing himself for Kwon-seonsaengnim going batshit insane at Jaebum, favored pupil or not. The last time anyone was cocky and stupid enough to go past the allowable absences, Kwon-seonsaengnim had staged a running campaign of humiliation and degradation against the poor senior. It's kept Jinyoung on his toes more than his innate desire to excel academically does.
It doesn't happen, though. Whatever Jaebum says to their professor on the side, it endears him even more to Kwon-seonsaengnim.
"How did you do it?" Jackson says in wonder. He's gotten chewed out for skipping, official matches or not.
"I'm working on a side project," Jaebum says, breaking out into a yawn. He doesn't look at Jinyoung, seeming to find something more interesting on the ground. "I'd have to give a write-up by the end of it, but it's not so bad."
When it's apparent that they're getting nothing else out of him, Jackson abandons them to find his teammates, no doubt to wreak havoc on poor, unsuspecting freshmen signing up for varsity fencing. Jinyoung and Jaebum are left to stare at each other, a comical pair in the middle of a throng of students rushing to the next class.
From the way Jaebum is attempting to suppress another incoming yawn and failing, Jinyoung takes pity on him. "You look like you're about to collapse if I breathe in your direction," Jinyoung remarks, gesturing at Jaebum's eyes, lids swollen and puffy from lack of sleep. "Rough night?"
"More like, rough week," says Jaebum, shortly. He seems to regret the snappish tone as soon as he says it, and the shame merging with his grimace makes something in Jinyoung ache. "Sorry, I just have a lot on my plate right now."
"Do you wanna crash at the library?" Jinyoung blurts out. "No one really uses the staff room for anything other than napping anyway, and I think I can buy you some time."
"That's nice," says Jaebum, "but I don't want you to get fired for being a bother."
"You're not," Jinyoung insists awkwardly. "Besides, I don't want you to get mobbed in the study rooms for letting your guard down."
He means to tease, but it makes Jaebum's expression shutter into himself, and just like that, they're tense again. Shit. "Thanks for the offer, but I really have to be somewhere else."
Jaebum picks up his bag from the floor and hefts it over his shoulder. Dramas make everything look so easy, Jinyoung thinks, but without a script in hand, he's fumbling and coasting along. "Are we okay?" Jinyoung asks, voice small but honest, the only thing he's got going for him right now.
Jaebum is quiet, for a moment, like he's considering it. Like he can't believe Jinyoung is even asking - or has the gall to even ask? Jinyoung's not too great at reading other people, and Jaebum's more closed-off than ever before.
"Yeah," says Jaebum, finally. He's finally looking at Jinyoung, meeting his eyes head-on. "We're okay."
Great, Jinyoung thinks. His hypothetical boat has finally hit an iceberg and sunk into the fiery pits of hell. Jaebum is never going to talk, and fuck him for looking cool and having the last word as he walks off to wherever it is he goes to these days. Hell if Jinyoung knows what he does now. He kind of misses knowing everything about Jaebum even when he didn't care at all.
He's been doing a lot of that lately. Watching Jaebum walk away, he means. He hates it.
one | two | three | part four | five | six