[EXO] hey there summerboy
hey there summerboy | exo | jongin/sehun | r | ~7000
not everyone kisses a stranger and meets kim jongin in one summer; sehun is not everyone
written for runandgun!; reposting for archiving purposes // originally posted here for a recipient that dropped out :C
hey there summerboy
There is always a story to go with beginnings; an accidental brush of hands, an introduction from a mutual friend or the meeting of eyes across an expanse of space.
Then there is this:
It starts at a beach party celebrating the start of summer. When the sea breeze is still a little too chilly to be comfortable with but the heat radiating from people, skin slicked with sweat, makes up for it.
However, Sehun is cold, goosebumps lining across his arms as he stands awkwardly in a dark corner of the beach, a cup of beer in his hand. He watches Zitao as he shimmers towards a guy who is taller than him, someone with a head full of bleached hair. Zitao has a small smile hanging on his face. That must be Wu Fan then.
Sehun shifts awkwardly from foot to foot as he sips on the lukewarm beer. It tastes too bitter yet dilute on his tongue, and he has no idea why he is here, especially since his first day at the donut store is tomorrow morning. Added to that, the donut store is in Seoul, and the West Sea Islands are a long bus ride away.
(He isn’t exactly sure why someone would continue running a donut shop in summer, especially since this particular donut shop specialized in freshly fried donuts, which implies heat, lots of heat. During summer.)
“What’s someone like you doing here alone?” a voice questions from the back, and Sehun turns to meet the face of someone half-shadowed by the moonlight. There is eyeliner framing one eye, practiced strokes that are crooked in such a way that it highlights certain rebelliousness.
He lets the cup in his hands get tug out of his grasp, and watches as the boy empties its content on the sand, “how are you drinking this crap? Here, let me give you something better.” The boy opens a bottle and Sehun leans in a little to catch the heady scent of soju before the boy tips a plentiful amount into the red plastic cup. He shoves the cup back towards Sehun and Sehun takes a cautious sip, the sharp zing of alcohol lingering on his tongue; unpleasant.
“This is even worse,” he manages to say, even as he takes another mouthful into his mouth. The slight burn the soju provides surprisingly addictive, and the alcohol settles at the pit of his stomach, insanely warm.
“You’re still drinking it anyway,” the boy replies easily, swigging directly from the bottle. His eyes crunch together as he swallows. Sehun is mesmerized.
Sehun takes shot after shot after shot, and he can feel a burn at the tip of his ears. He feels fine, completely fine but when he stands up, his world spins momentarily and the lights seem to blend into mess of colours.
“Are you drunk already? That is pathetic,” the boy slurs at him, even as he takes another mouthful from the bottle. Sehun shoves the boy’s shoulder, and he stumbles back, laughter ringing in the air.
“You don’t seem very sober either,” Sehun retorts, and the boy laughs more. His laughter sounds like the audio embodiment of effervescence, addictive and contagious. It burns itself into the folds of Sehun’s mind.
The boy is close to him, and he leans in close, breath warm on Sehun’s face. He’s close, so close that all Sehun can see are the depths of his eyes.
Sehun is going to blame it on the alcohol running through his system tomorrow, but right at this moment, he leans in and presses his lips against the ones hovering near his. The boy’s lips are cracked, but Sehun licks at them anyway. The kiss is sloppy, lazy, almost languid in nature yet Sehun can hear his heart pounding wildly in his ear. Teeth knocks against teeth and Sehun feels the other laugh; a loud rumble that trembles through the kiss and down his throat. It is exhilarating for some unknown reason and Sehun pushes against the boy’s tongue with his own. The din of the crowd fades away momentarily, especially when there are nails dragging into his skin.
They pull apart when a loud shriek fills the air, one that pierces through the bubble they had constructed around themselves, and there is a grin across the boy’s face, one white with teeth, stretched wide across his face. The boy turns to leave, throwing him a good bye that gets caught by the wind.
A yellow shirt.
Sehun walks into the donut store the next morning at seven am, sleep lingering at the corner of his eyes. The woman who owns the store has shove a yellow, bright neon yellow shirt towards his chest. “This is your uniform, go and change it now,” she says, “you can use the backroom.” She gestures vaguely to a black door tucked inconspicuously at the corner of the store.
The shirt is too big for him, sleeves dwarfing his already slender arms. The yellow looks terrible on him, and he can’t help but cringe a little at his reflection before he walks out of the backroom.
There is a boy standing behind the counter when Sehun walks out of the backroom, a boy with cheekbones that look like they could cut through glass, but they were not as sharp as compared to the expression in his eyes. He tosses a rag towards Sehun and Sehun catches it swiftly.
“Clean the tables before we open up,” he commands, and wanders back into the kitchen. Sehun stares down at his retreating back for a moment before wiping the tables, stroking extra hard to display his displeasure.
The boy - Jongdae - is apparently his supervisor and has been working at the donut store every summer since he was sixteen, or as he told Sehun before the first customer has walked in, since Sehun was still wrestling with his friends at the beach during summer. Sehun had helpfully point out that they were only two years apart.
Jongdae hadn’t even bother to spare him a sideway glance before ordering Sehun to make sure that the tables and chairs were arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner.
His first day at work passes by in a blur of orders, heat, cleaning and exhaustion. The soles of his feet burn with fatigue, and his eyes are blurred with white; the lights of the shop are fluorescent and glaring. He slumps into the nearest chair ten minutes to closing time, ignoring the glare that Jongdae sends him from the counter.
The tinkling of the bell signalling the arrival of a new customer startles him from his train of thought, and he jerks out of his seat, a too-loud welcome tumbling from his lips.
“Do you still have anything left?” the customer asks, voice rough. He is dressed in a tanktop and jeans that mould themselves to his thighs. The eyeliner around his eyes smudged and his hair was mussed. There’s something about him that taps at Sehun’s mind, but he pushes it aside and instead nods.
Jongdae serves the customer as Sehun cleans the tables clean, hands wrinkled by the water. A thin layer of sweat coats his skin and he feels absolutely gross. A tap on his shoulder sends him turning back.
“Bye, I’m Jongin,” the customer says, a small tilt to the corner of his lips, before turning to leave. Sehun ends up introducing himself to the stale air instead.
The next three days pass by too fast, and every night is punctuated by Jongin, who enters the store exactly ten minutes before closing time to purchase a dozen donuts. He always greets Sehun good bye, and leaves before Sehun can greet him back. He’s an enigma, a mystery, and he is getting under Sehun’s skin like a disease.
One day after work at the store, Sehun gets dragged to another beach party by Zitao. He wants to reject him at first, claiming exhaustion as the excuse, but he remembers the boy from the first party and agrees.
There is a part of him that has been thinking about the boy since that day, a part of him that presses fingers to his lips and remembers. He knows it is insane, terribly insane to think so much about a stranger one had kissed when intoxicated, but Sehun recalls the way he had heard his heart in his ears and brushes thoughts of insanity away.
He meets Zitao at his house straight after work, and the latter makes him change out of the shirt he had chosen to wear. “You’re going to a party, Sehun, can you wear something that’s at the very least, sparkly?” Zitao had said, thrusting a gauzy silver tanktop in Sehun’s direction. Sehun receives it with two fingers, nose wrinkling in distaste at the fabric.
“Are you sure this is actually a top and not a scrap of cloth shaped like a top?” he had asked, and Zitao had thrown a pillow aiming for his face.
They reach the house when the party has already started, and they are greeted by Wu Fan who immediately wraps a hand around Zitao’s wrist and pulls the latter to him. A smile flirts on Zitao’s lips, and he uses his other hand to wave to Sehun.
Sehun ends up in a corner again, sipping quietly at stale beer.
“Hello,” someone whispers into his ear from behind and Sehun turns back to see Jongin. There’s something different about the way he looks, almost edging on perfect, and Sehun realizes it is because the eyeliner ringing his eyes isn’t smudged, and there is the faintest hint of unadulterated gloss on his lips.
“Jongin,” Sehun calls before he can stop himself, watching Jongin’s eyes crunch up in delight. “You remember,” he says, “what about you?”
“Sehun,” Sehun tells him, and Jongin repeats it once, and then twice and even thrice, the syllables sliding off his tongue like silk, Sehun’s name sounding almost like a mantra out of his mouth.
Music fills the air, static and unclear from someone’s iPod and a cheap portable speaker. Jongin tugs the cup from Sehun’s hand and sets it on the floor before he stands in front of Sehun again.
“Do you dance, Sehun?” Jongin asks, even as his fingers find the waist of Sehun’s jeans and hooks into them. He sways, almost unnoticeably, but Sehun definitely notices the way he angles his hips to almost brush against his own, and all he can feel are the phantom touches.
“What are you doing?” Sehun manages to ask, hands still limp at his side, “why don’t you dance with one of the girls here?”
Jongin reaches out with one hand and presses a finger to Sehun’s lips, as if to silence him. “I rather dance with you. Now, no more talking.” He punctuates this by tugging Sehun even closer.
They stay like that for a while, barely moving , remaining in close proximity to each other. Sehun doesn’t know what is going on and a part of him is urging him to push Jongin away and look for the boy from that night, but then Jongin rolls his hips a little closer, and those thoughts flee.
“I’m performing tomorrow, at the club near the store you work at. You should come watch me, just say you are there under Kim Jongin,” Jongin whispers into his ear, before he untangling himself from Sehun. He is given another casual goodbye, a wave from a retreating figure and a question burning in his head.
He gives Jongin’s name to the bouncer at the club the next night, and is immediately ushered to the second floor of the club, one that gives him a bird's’ eye view of the stage. He settles into the tattered couch that is behind him. A glass gets shoved in his hand, and a sip of it tells him that there is a copious amount of alcohol mixed into it.
He’s the only one here and one glance at the first floor tells him that the crowd is surprisingly small.
Sehun is dozing off when the loud static of a microphone wakes him up. The sound is grating, painful, and Sehun presses a finger into his ear.
“My name is Kyungsoo, and we,” the boy says as he gestures vaguely behind him, “are EXO.” The music starts spontaneously, loud, but Jongin isn’t on stage. The boy who had introduced them - Kyungsoo - sings like his life depends on it, voice rich with something akin to tangible passion.
Jongin appears halfway through the second song, a flurry of leather and glitter. He leans against Kyungsoo, body pressed against the shorter boy as he sings into the microphone Kyungsoo had been using. Their faces are dangerously close, bare inches apart, and Sehun watches as Jongin leans in even closer, their mouths pressed against either side of the microphone. It is incredibly startling to watch, the music, lights and atmosphere melding into one reeking of tension and sensuality, and Sehun gulps down what's left in the glass he is holding.
EXO's set ends after another three songs, one of which Jongin has lead vocals on. He isn't a good singer, Sehun can pick that out, but he isn't bad either. One would call someone like that average, but Jongin is far from average. Average blends in, average disappears, but Jongin shines and shines, a ball of light and gas amidst the darkness of the crowd.
"You came," a voice says from the door and Sehun turns to see Jongin walking in, a thin layer of sweat on his face, a grin taking over his mouth.
"You never actually gave me a chance to reject your invitation," Sehun retorts. One of the boys behind Jongin pats him on the back, laughing. Jongin turns around to glare at him, and that just elicits more laughter from the boy.
The boy pushes past the small group and extends a hand towards Sehun. Sehun takes it tentatively. “Hi, I am Lu Han,” he introduces, and his hand lingers a fraction too long, thumb brushing against Sehun’s knuckles on purpose. Lu Han smiles at him then, something small and secretive and oddly inviting, “Sehun.”
That night, Sehun also meets Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Yixing, and Minseok. They make up EXO, a new band, or a "summertime band" as Lu Han had put it, especially since all of them would be travelling on different paths after the season. "Jongin isn't part of the band, not officially, more of a guest act than anything," Lu Han supplies to him helpfully, breath warm on his cheek. Jongin sweeps in from the corner to throw an arm around him and maneuver him to an empty couch. Sehun meets Lu Han's eyes and the latter smiles.
That night, Sehun saves two new numbers into his cellphone.
“If you take your phone out of your back pocket one more time, I am going to fry it for you,” Jongdae tells Sehun almost casually, voice free of malice. He even throws in a smile before he turns to walk back to the counter.
Jongin and him have been texting each other for the past three days. It's never anything exceptionally important; Jongin texts him "morning" in the afternoon and Sehun replies him with a "it is afternoon". Jongin will reply an hour later, having dozed off, asking Sehun not to "have a stick up his ass; it's just details."
Sehun stuffs his cellphone under the counter before returning to cleaning the tables.
When Jongin barges into the store at five in the evening, eyeliner crooked around his eyes, Sehun drops the plate in his hands.
“You’re alive!” Jongin says instead of a more usual greeting. Sehun blinks at him, and then at the mess of ceramic on the floor. “What made you thought otherwise?”
“You didn’t reply to my text. I texted you “are you alive?” and got no replies,” Jongin replies, settling into the nearest chair.
“I was working. I am working, if you haven’t realized.”
“I was worried,” Jongin says, tentative. Sehun doesn’t know what to answer to that.
“Do you want a donut? You always come at night, the best ones are gone by then,” he asks instead.
Jongin looks at him with something in his eyes, something that Sehun doesn’t think Jongin understand either. He sighs aloud and nods his head as consent. Sehun’s heart does a weird flip, he blames it on the heat.
Lu Han asks him out for dinner three days later. Sehun agrees; even as the look in Lu Han’s eyes the first time they met replays at the back of his head.
They go to a tiny chinese restaurant that Lu Han swears by, and Sehun has his first try of 小笼包 that night; a chinese delicacy, soup in a dumpling.
“They are not dumplings though, technically,” Lu Han corrects him. Sehun ignores him to slurp noisily at his third one of the night.
Sehun is by far not a messy eater, but there’s so much food and it is all so good and it is no wonder he gets food at the corner of his lips. He is about to lick it off, but Lu Han is quicker, and there is a thumb wiping against the side of his mouth. He freezes.
“Lu Han,” he starts, but Lu Han just smiles at him, almost serenely.
“You had food on your face,” Lu Han just replies, tone matter-of-factly.
“I could have wiped it off myself.” Lu Han just smiles at him again. His smile is starting to rub against Sehun’s nerves, makes him feel both annoyed and just (or so he tells himself) a little intrigued.
“It doesn’t mean anything; unless you want it to.” Sehun’s mouth feels oddly dry at this.
“It means nothing then,” Sehun manages to tell him. Lu Han smiles again; it gets more and more unnerving.
“You shouldn’t be around him, he is a terrible influence,” Jongin whispers to him one night after another performance, his eyes trained on Lu Han’s back.
Sehun looks at him, confused. “You aren’t much better influence yourself,” he jokes. Jongin’s eyes harden.
“I’m better, trust me. Didn’t someone say something once about the lesser of two evils?” Jongin is looking at him with something akin to desperation in his eyes, except how can it be that when they barely know each other?
"Why is he a bad influence then?" Sehun asks and Jongin just laughs, an ugly chuckle that rubs raw against Sehun's bones.
"Do you want to hang out tomorrow night? We can go star gazing."
“...Star gazing?”
“Yeah like looking at the stars? The park has a pretty good view. Meet me there, ten?” Jongin’s voice is soft, hesitant, and Sehun cannot bring himself to reject him so he says yes. Something flashes in Jongin’s eyes that confuses him; it disappears in a split second, replaced by a smile that is white with teeth and oddly familiar.
The night is warm and sticky, the breeze barely a whisper in the air. Swear clings to Sehun’s bare skin like a coat; his own shirt uncomfortable against his skin. He shifts from one foot to the other. Jongin is late and not answering his calls; Sehun wonders if he has been fooled, if Jongin had just been messing with him. Seriously, star gazing? He fidgets a little more.
A tap on his shoulder scares him; after all, it is relatively late and the place is silent with emptiness. He turns around and it is Jongin. He looks different, softer, younger, and Sehun realizes that it is the first time he is seeing Jongin’s face without make-up on it; without eyeliner ringing his eyes or gloss swiped across his lips. He thinks he likes it. Maybe a little too much.
“Sorry, I couldn’t find my eyeliner... I haven’t found it actually, as you can see. Sorry,” Jongin rushes out, tongue tripping on words. He laughs a little, light, and it reminds Sehun of a night at the beginning of vacation, one that still lingers in his head.
“You look nice,” he says before he can stop himself. Jongin’s face breaks out into a grin that engulfs his features.
They lie next to each other on an empty patch of grass. One of Jongin’s leg is flung across one of Sehun’s carelessly, and Sehun doesn’t find a need to kick it away. The weight is a comfort for some odd reason.
“There are no stars,” Sehun says after a long stretch of silence. The sky is an empty canvas of blue, cloudless, just the moon shining on them from a little crescent.
“There are, you just can’t see them.”
“And you can?” Sehun teases. He expects Jongin to admit at that point that the whole star gazing thing had just been an excuse to ask Sehun out. Instead, he is met with even more silence.
“I can. Sort of. Just... just close your eyes and block out all the city lights and the desire that has crystallized itself into light.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you thought about it Sehun? Have you thought about shining so bright that you block out the illumination of the stars?”
“You’re a little weird, you know?” Sehun replies instead and Jongin tilts his head to look at him.
“Yet here you are, lying in the dark next to me.”
“Here I am indeed.”
Sehun thinks if this was a romantic novel or a movie, this would be the moment where they kiss and make shallow promises of love and affection; but Jongin and him are not in love, in fact, they are barely friends.
Reality and fantasy have always ran as parallel lines, but Sehun wishes for once they would intersect. He pushes this notion away because it is terribly terribly insane.
They start to spend late nights talking over the phone, Sehun's voice too bright with exhaustion while Jongin one is still laced with consciousness. They talk about nothing and everything, and Sehun learns more about Jongin in a single night than he does at all their previous meetings combined.
Jongin has views and thoughts that deviate far from the perceived norm. Jongin is spontaneous and free; yet there are moments that highlight a crippling need for approval. Jongin tells him about his dreams, to have eyes and cheers trained for him; to be in a spotlight, any spotlight. Sehun asks him once what he meant; Jongin had replied in a jumble of words something about recognition and fame. He doesn’t care how it comes about, it is the end goal that he craves.
Sehun has a little of a fascination with cracked, out-of-sync people.
Jongin tingles his senses and fascinates him to no end.
“Have you heard? There’s a rumour that there is talent scout around,” Lu Han tells him, the first thing that he says to Sehun when he walks into the store in the middle of the day, "maybe something will happen to you."
"Me?"
"You're young, tall, good-looking - they would be crazy not to snap you up."
"I can't perform."
"Doesn't matter. There is always one of those in every pop group; scouted off the streets while shopping, co-op into the group to raise the group's average attractiveness." Sehun blinks at him, unsure of what to say.
"What makes you think I want to be a performer?"
"Doesn't everyone? Doesn't everyone have this insane desire of being loved by thousands and millions; to have their faces plastered across electronic screens and their voices forever captured by speakers?" Lu Han pauses for a moment, eyes trained on Sehun. "I'm sure you are not any different."
Lu Han continues.
"I want it too. I want lights, cameras and action, but I know I am too old for it to happen anymore. I'm four years your senior, and even if my face paints one story, the truth is undeniable; I'm growing older not younger and everything has an expiry date." There is a sadness in his eyes that's too poignant to look at it, not when it seems to choke you with a grip around your neck.
Sehun knows about the talent scout, has seen the man in the donut shop, table in front of him sprawled with documents and pictures. He had seen as he picked one of the pictures up, stare at it for a moment, before returning it to a black folder, clucking his tongue.
The talent scout had asked for his name once, repeated it once, pursued his lips, and then dismissed Sehun with a small smile on his face.
It is an accident, but everything about them had been an accident; a coincidence, a twist of fate. It had been coincidence that Sehun had been working at the same donut store that Jongin had frequent from years before, and it had been fate that they met at the party.
It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that this happened, because everything had been leading up to this moment anyway; the constant underlying longing and touches and smiles and words and tension should have clued them in from the start.
Lu Han’s hand is probably a little too high up his thigh; in fact, he isn’t sure why Lu Han is touching him at all. They are in the same club from EXO’s first performance in the second floor. The only difference is that this time, it is crowded with people and the air is filled with the smell of alcohol and smoke one could probably taste if he stuck out his tongue.
Sehun continues to nurse his first lychee martini as he watches Baekhyun down another shot before nudging a cup against Kyungsoo’s reluctant lips. He thinks he saw Zitao get pulled out of the room by Wu Fan a minute before but he is finding it excessively hard to concentrate on details.
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks as he leans even closer to Sehun, side of his head against Sehun’s shoulder. His breath is heavy on Sehun’s jaw.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sehun replies, and he cringes at how his voice is slurred, words tripping over his tongue as if they were failing at a hurdles event. He smiles a little at that thought, words at a hurdles event.
“You’re terribly lightweight,” Lu Han tells him, and unfortunately it is true. Sehun has never been much of a drinker; the taste of beer makes his insides churn. Truth be told, when the boy at the beach had shoved him the soju, it had been his first time having anything alcoholic that wasn’t beer. The vodka in his lychee martini is awkwardly sharp on his tongue.
When Lu Han’s tongue finds the crook of his neck, Sehun’s movements are too slow for him to care about it. In fact, he leans even closer in, the sensation cooling on his heated skin. It takes him by complete surprise when he feels a hand circle his wrist and tugs him to a standing position. His back hits a wall instead of the expected softness of a couch.
“Jongin?” he slurs, eyes blinking rapidly to clear the way his vision is blurring.
“Do you like Lu Han?” Jongin asks him directly. Sehun continues to blink at him. “No?”
There is a mouth on his and hands tight against his shoulders. Nails dig into bare skin and teeth knocks into teeth. This is rough, unyielding, but it reminds Sehun of a night weeks ago, of a softer and more languid kiss, but the tug on his lips is one that he remembers and that had left an impression on the back of his head.
But this is Jongin, Jongin who has big dreams and the brightest smiles despite his penchant for too much eyeliner. This is not a mysterious stranger who offers him alcohol in the dead of the night. This is Jongin who is licking into his mouth, filthy, exchanging so much saliva that he doesn’t taste alcohol on his tongue anymore. This is Jongin curling a hand around his shoulder and curling another into his hair, tugging painfully. This is Jongin that is kissing him, pressing him against a wall and kissing him absolutely senseless.
“Will you go on a date with me?” Jongin asks in between breaths when they part, foreheads pressing against each other. His hand is still too tight on Sehun’s shoulder, but the way Sehun’s heart is running in his chest blocks everything out.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Sehun replies, voice tint with tease; Jongin laughs a little at this, a low chuckle that vibrates against Sehun’s skin.
“Is that a yes?”
Alcohol still courses through Sehun’s veins and his balance is far from regained, but the yes that escapes his lips is sure and undeniably steady.
The ease of which Lu Han backs off is surprising, the smudge of black against his cracked lips is probably the reason. At the next party he goes to, this time as Jongin’s plus one rather than “Zitao’s friend”, Lu Han breezes past him with a hello before latching on to Yixing. Sehun can’t say that it doesn’t hurt at all, not when Lu Han had suitably intrigued him; but even though it sounds incredibly selfish, the moment Jongin has a hand linked with his, he finds that he doesn’t feel hurt anymore.
“You got ice cream on my nose.” Sehun turns to see Jongin with his nose scrunched up in distaste, a small dollop of ice cream sitting at the tip of it. He reaches a finger to swipe at it, before sticking said finger into Jongin’s mouth.
They are sitting close to each other on Jongin’s bed, a low-budget horror film playing on the television. There are tubs of ice cream between them, on a little cardboard piece on Jongin’s bed.
Sehun is about to pull his finger out, but then Jongin seems to draw it in more, tongue lapping at the single digit quietly. The atmosphere of the room seems to change, start to crackle with something akin to electricity, and Sehun feels it dance across every inch of bare skin.
The air is thick with tension and fraught with possibilities. Jongin looks at him, eyes sharp, even as he continues to lick at that single digit. It’s weird, and Sehun isn’t sure what is going on, but at that moment, he wants, no; he craves something. Something almost primal.
“What is going on?” Sehun manages to breathe out, breaking the tenseness of the situation. Jongin releases his finger with an almost obscene sound. Sehun’s finger is wet with saliva, and he doesn’t know what possessed him to draw it down the side of Jongin’s face. “That’s really gross, Sehun.” Something twists low in Sehun’s stomach at the way Jongin’s voice sounds, heavy and octaves lower.
He doesn’t know how (not that he minds), but suddenly, Jongin is straddling him, legs on either side of Sehun. The air is sultry, both from the sun outside and the desire that has seemingly leaked out of every pore on Sehun’s skin. Jongin leans in down and captures his lips with his own, and the kiss is sloppy, wet with saliva. It’s slow, sometimes just a swirl of tongue against lips, but Sehun’s heart hammers in his chest to a different, quicker rhythm.
When Jongin thrusts against him, the friction against the front of his shorts causes a hitch in his breath. He breaks the kiss to look at Jongin, really look at him, but Jongin just grips his shoulders and rolls his hips against his again.
“J - Jongin. Fuck, you need to... stop,” Sehun manages to stutter out, even as Jongin presses his mouth against the side of his neck. It’s not that something like this had never happened to him before (it had once, with Zitao, when they were young and experimental), but he isn’t quite sure this is the right time, even if the heat that courses through his veins currently tells otherwise.
“Why?” Jongin questions, and he is looking back at him now, eyes clouded with desire. Jongin shifts back a little and presses a hand against the front of Sehun’s shorts even as his eyes remain in contact with Sehun’s. Sehun feels his own eyes widen and a whimper escapes his mouth.
“Do you still want me to stop?” Jongin asks, even as the edge of his palm grinds in a little deeper; stealing another sound from the back of Sehun’s throat.
It takes every inch of Sehun’s control to nod his head. Jongin gets off him immediately. “Dinner?” he asks, and the atmosphere of the room does a complete turnover, so quick that it makes Sehun’s head spin a little. Sehun nods and excuses himself to the bathroom to jerk himself off, imagining that it was Jongin’s hand around him rather than his own.
Sehun isn’t quite sure if he is in love or not, because love can be so fleeting and largely confusing. He feels something for Jongin, that itself is a given, but he can’t quite compartmentalize it, and it remains a jumble of emotions that he cannot fully grasp. Like a ball of yarn thrown to the ground, strings caught in cat’s cradle.
They are too young for love, he thinks, because love itself brings in so much commitment and sounds so terribly grown-up. Youth in its essence, parallels them to the wind, free and easy and never staying at one spot for too long.
So Sehun decides that they are not quite in love, maybe one day they will be, but at this moment, all he needs is the companionship from Jongin, of Jongin nearby, close and to a certain small degree, his.
“Kid... Se... Sehun, right?” Sehun turns to see the talent scout gesture at him to come closer. He glances momentarily at Jongdae’s disapproving face before edging close. “What can I do for you?”
The man sticks out a name card towards Sehun’s general direction, and Sehun takes it cautiously. “Kim Joonmyun” it reads, “Scouter”.
“We would like to invite you to audition for us. It really is just formalities though; we want you as our trainee. What about it, Oh Sehun, are you interested in being a star?”
His conversation with Lu Han from weeks back returns to his memory, and he turns over everything Lu Han had said about everyone wanting to be a star in his head. Does he want this? Does he want to be adored by millions and to be scrutinized by the world?
And then he remembers Jongin, Jongin who wants fame and love and recognition more than anyone he has ever known.
“No,” he replies, and his answer surprises him a little, “no. I don’t want to be a star, but -” he rummages through his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper; an advertisement for EXO’s performance at a bigger club three days from now. “You should go watch them.”
“Maybe I will. Pity about you, though,” Joonmyun says, even as he slides the advertisement into his file, right at the very top.
“Trust me, you will find your real star there,” Sehun insists. Jongdae hollers for him from the counter, and he gives a slight tilt of his head before returning to his duties.
“What happens after summer? Where are you going?” Jongin asks him the next day. They are sitting on a bench with ice cream, and Jongin’s question catches Sehun off balance.
“Nowhere. I am staying here. For University.” Jongin smiles at that. “Me too.”
“I’m glad we’re not just a summertime romance,” Jongin tells him later on. Sehun remembers the talent scout and the advertisement and he isn’t sure what he wants anymore; Jongin with him or Jongin to be a star. He forces himself to smile back.
“Romance?” Sehun questions instead, surprised at how his voice still manages to sound teasing.
Jongin cocks his head towards him. “I asked you out, didn’t I?”
“Going on a date doesn’t mean we’re dating.”
Jongin looks him, silent, lips pursed. Sehun is about to brush him off, choke out a laughter and tell him he was joking when -
“Fine. Will you be my boyfriend then, Oh Sehun?”
Conflicting emotions wound themselves around Sehun’s heart. Jongin might leave him soon, for a long time, and forget about him; yet there is undeniable happiness that twists with this doubt and worry.
“Yes,” he replies, “yes yes yes.”
The smile that Jongin graces him is blinding, stark with white and searing itself into the folds of Sehun’s mind.
“Be amazing on stage today.” Jongin crooks an eyebrow at him.
“I’m always amazing.”
“I know, but be extra amazing.”
Jongin laughs and leans in to kiss at his nose.
“I’m leaving in three days, Sehun,” Jongin suddenly says after he has sat in the donut store for a while. His hands are cupped around a glass, fingers nervously tangling with each other. Sehun remains silent.
“I got scouted, Sehun. We would like to invite you to audition for our company. It’s just formalities; we want you as our trainee. We want to nurture you into a star.”
“I said yes. I said yes and he gave me a card and asked me to meet him at their Seoul branch office the next day. And then I danced for them. I sang for them, and they said... Sehun they just said when can you start?”
“I am happy for you,” Sehun says, and his voice is void of emotions, blank. His emotions are all caught in his throat, burning, and he thinks this is ridiculous because he isn’t in love, he can’t be in love, it is impossible for a heart to make a place for someone new in just a matter of weeks.
“Why don’t you come over tonight?” Jongin says instead. Sehun gulps and nods his head, looking up to stop the tension he feels at the corner of his eyes.
Jongin’s family isn’t home that night and when Sehun arrives, Jongin tugs him in and slams the door close. He isn’t sure how they got to Jongin’s room, but he is sure they have left a cookie trail of clothes because it is his bare back that hits Jongin’s bed, and it is Jongin’s naked chest that he licks against, tongue following the edges of his ribcage.
It is rushed, too rushed for Sehun’s liking, but then Jongin is kissing him again, filthy and obscene, tongue more liberal than it has ever been, and the very notion of thought flees from Sehun’s mind. There is a desperation in the way Jongin keeps grinding against him even as he nips on Sehun’s lower lip, but Sehun is desperate enough to match it with jerks of his hips.
They barely have time left together, and it is evident in the way Jongin’s hands seem to map the expanse of Sehun’s body, trying to memorize every contour and ridges, fingers lingering at spots that he likes best.
Jongin’s hands are on his zipper and he pauses, his eyes fleeting up to look at Sehun. “Are you sure?” he asks. Sehun leans close to kiss him again, and Jongin takes it as consent.
The feel of bare skin against bare skin is addictive, slippery yet mixed with so much friction. Jongin has a hand around Sehun’s cock, and he is jerking him off slowly, slide of his palm stealing little mewls from Sehun’s throat.
When Jongin fucks him, Sehun can’t help but dig blunt nails into Jongin’s back. Jongin grunts against his neck before he sucks at the soft skin there, and Sehun knows there is going to be a mark there tomorrow, blue with possessiveness. He likes that just fine.
The necklace Jongin had gave him sits cool against his chest. Sehun isn’t quite sure if it is a promise or a momento.
He helps Jongin with his luggages silently, stacking them in the truck of the cab that is going to bring Jongin away from him. Jongin is quiet too.
“Well, this is it then,” Jongin says when they are done, turning to face Sehun. His hands are rubbing against each other nervously. Sehun steps close and pulls Jongin into a hug, taking a moment to just breathe Jongin in again.
“I’ll miss you,” Jongin whispers against the side of his head, voice uncharacteristically soft.
“You won’t last a second out there anyway, I don’t have to miss you,” Sehun tries to joke, even if something chokes his words and lodges itself firmly in his throat.
“I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll be back as a star, and then you can tell people you knew Kim Jongin from before he was famous. You can tell people that you stole Kim Jongin’s heart.” Sehun’s heart skips a beat, because that’s as close as a I love you he will get.
“Yeah you have my heart too,” he mumbles. He feels vibration against his hair, Jongin laughing with his mouth pressed close to him.
Sehun isn’t quite sure where they will go in the future, or if they will remain like this always, but one thing's for sure, there is a slot in his heart labelled “Kim Jongin” and he never wants it to be empty.
- soundtrack: i’d rather dance with you (kings of convenience) | chasing a rock star (the friday night boys) | dancing in the rain (b.a.p) | one more night (maroon 5)
- the funniest thing while writing this was that half-way through i found out SEOUL HAD NO BEACHES so i had to insert things welp
- so much love to my lovely beta develei; this fic was a mess without her guidance
not everyone kisses a stranger and meets kim jongin in one summer; sehun is not everyone
written for runandgun!; reposting for archiving purposes // originally posted here for a recipient that dropped out :C
hey there summerboy
There is always a story to go with beginnings; an accidental brush of hands, an introduction from a mutual friend or the meeting of eyes across an expanse of space.
Then there is this:
It starts at a beach party celebrating the start of summer. When the sea breeze is still a little too chilly to be comfortable with but the heat radiating from people, skin slicked with sweat, makes up for it.
However, Sehun is cold, goosebumps lining across his arms as he stands awkwardly in a dark corner of the beach, a cup of beer in his hand. He watches Zitao as he shimmers towards a guy who is taller than him, someone with a head full of bleached hair. Zitao has a small smile hanging on his face. That must be Wu Fan then.
Sehun shifts awkwardly from foot to foot as he sips on the lukewarm beer. It tastes too bitter yet dilute on his tongue, and he has no idea why he is here, especially since his first day at the donut store is tomorrow morning. Added to that, the donut store is in Seoul, and the West Sea Islands are a long bus ride away.
(He isn’t exactly sure why someone would continue running a donut shop in summer, especially since this particular donut shop specialized in freshly fried donuts, which implies heat, lots of heat. During summer.)
“What’s someone like you doing here alone?” a voice questions from the back, and Sehun turns to meet the face of someone half-shadowed by the moonlight. There is eyeliner framing one eye, practiced strokes that are crooked in such a way that it highlights certain rebelliousness.
He lets the cup in his hands get tug out of his grasp, and watches as the boy empties its content on the sand, “how are you drinking this crap? Here, let me give you something better.” The boy opens a bottle and Sehun leans in a little to catch the heady scent of soju before the boy tips a plentiful amount into the red plastic cup. He shoves the cup back towards Sehun and Sehun takes a cautious sip, the sharp zing of alcohol lingering on his tongue; unpleasant.
“This is even worse,” he manages to say, even as he takes another mouthful into his mouth. The slight burn the soju provides surprisingly addictive, and the alcohol settles at the pit of his stomach, insanely warm.
“You’re still drinking it anyway,” the boy replies easily, swigging directly from the bottle. His eyes crunch together as he swallows. Sehun is mesmerized.
Sehun takes shot after shot after shot, and he can feel a burn at the tip of his ears. He feels fine, completely fine but when he stands up, his world spins momentarily and the lights seem to blend into mess of colours.
“Are you drunk already? That is pathetic,” the boy slurs at him, even as he takes another mouthful from the bottle. Sehun shoves the boy’s shoulder, and he stumbles back, laughter ringing in the air.
“You don’t seem very sober either,” Sehun retorts, and the boy laughs more. His laughter sounds like the audio embodiment of effervescence, addictive and contagious. It burns itself into the folds of Sehun’s mind.
The boy is close to him, and he leans in close, breath warm on Sehun’s face. He’s close, so close that all Sehun can see are the depths of his eyes.
Sehun is going to blame it on the alcohol running through his system tomorrow, but right at this moment, he leans in and presses his lips against the ones hovering near his. The boy’s lips are cracked, but Sehun licks at them anyway. The kiss is sloppy, lazy, almost languid in nature yet Sehun can hear his heart pounding wildly in his ear. Teeth knocks against teeth and Sehun feels the other laugh; a loud rumble that trembles through the kiss and down his throat. It is exhilarating for some unknown reason and Sehun pushes against the boy’s tongue with his own. The din of the crowd fades away momentarily, especially when there are nails dragging into his skin.
They pull apart when a loud shriek fills the air, one that pierces through the bubble they had constructed around themselves, and there is a grin across the boy’s face, one white with teeth, stretched wide across his face. The boy turns to leave, throwing him a good bye that gets caught by the wind.
A yellow shirt.
Sehun walks into the donut store the next morning at seven am, sleep lingering at the corner of his eyes. The woman who owns the store has shove a yellow, bright neon yellow shirt towards his chest. “This is your uniform, go and change it now,” she says, “you can use the backroom.” She gestures vaguely to a black door tucked inconspicuously at the corner of the store.
The shirt is too big for him, sleeves dwarfing his already slender arms. The yellow looks terrible on him, and he can’t help but cringe a little at his reflection before he walks out of the backroom.
There is a boy standing behind the counter when Sehun walks out of the backroom, a boy with cheekbones that look like they could cut through glass, but they were not as sharp as compared to the expression in his eyes. He tosses a rag towards Sehun and Sehun catches it swiftly.
“Clean the tables before we open up,” he commands, and wanders back into the kitchen. Sehun stares down at his retreating back for a moment before wiping the tables, stroking extra hard to display his displeasure.
The boy - Jongdae - is apparently his supervisor and has been working at the donut store every summer since he was sixteen, or as he told Sehun before the first customer has walked in, since Sehun was still wrestling with his friends at the beach during summer. Sehun had helpfully point out that they were only two years apart.
Jongdae hadn’t even bother to spare him a sideway glance before ordering Sehun to make sure that the tables and chairs were arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner.
His first day at work passes by in a blur of orders, heat, cleaning and exhaustion. The soles of his feet burn with fatigue, and his eyes are blurred with white; the lights of the shop are fluorescent and glaring. He slumps into the nearest chair ten minutes to closing time, ignoring the glare that Jongdae sends him from the counter.
The tinkling of the bell signalling the arrival of a new customer startles him from his train of thought, and he jerks out of his seat, a too-loud welcome tumbling from his lips.
“Do you still have anything left?” the customer asks, voice rough. He is dressed in a tanktop and jeans that mould themselves to his thighs. The eyeliner around his eyes smudged and his hair was mussed. There’s something about him that taps at Sehun’s mind, but he pushes it aside and instead nods.
Jongdae serves the customer as Sehun cleans the tables clean, hands wrinkled by the water. A thin layer of sweat coats his skin and he feels absolutely gross. A tap on his shoulder sends him turning back.
“Bye, I’m Jongin,” the customer says, a small tilt to the corner of his lips, before turning to leave. Sehun ends up introducing himself to the stale air instead.
The next three days pass by too fast, and every night is punctuated by Jongin, who enters the store exactly ten minutes before closing time to purchase a dozen donuts. He always greets Sehun good bye, and leaves before Sehun can greet him back. He’s an enigma, a mystery, and he is getting under Sehun’s skin like a disease.
One day after work at the store, Sehun gets dragged to another beach party by Zitao. He wants to reject him at first, claiming exhaustion as the excuse, but he remembers the boy from the first party and agrees.
There is a part of him that has been thinking about the boy since that day, a part of him that presses fingers to his lips and remembers. He knows it is insane, terribly insane to think so much about a stranger one had kissed when intoxicated, but Sehun recalls the way he had heard his heart in his ears and brushes thoughts of insanity away.
He meets Zitao at his house straight after work, and the latter makes him change out of the shirt he had chosen to wear. “You’re going to a party, Sehun, can you wear something that’s at the very least, sparkly?” Zitao had said, thrusting a gauzy silver tanktop in Sehun’s direction. Sehun receives it with two fingers, nose wrinkling in distaste at the fabric.
“Are you sure this is actually a top and not a scrap of cloth shaped like a top?” he had asked, and Zitao had thrown a pillow aiming for his face.
They reach the house when the party has already started, and they are greeted by Wu Fan who immediately wraps a hand around Zitao’s wrist and pulls the latter to him. A smile flirts on Zitao’s lips, and he uses his other hand to wave to Sehun.
Sehun ends up in a corner again, sipping quietly at stale beer.
“Hello,” someone whispers into his ear from behind and Sehun turns back to see Jongin. There’s something different about the way he looks, almost edging on perfect, and Sehun realizes it is because the eyeliner ringing his eyes isn’t smudged, and there is the faintest hint of unadulterated gloss on his lips.
“Jongin,” Sehun calls before he can stop himself, watching Jongin’s eyes crunch up in delight. “You remember,” he says, “what about you?”
“Sehun,” Sehun tells him, and Jongin repeats it once, and then twice and even thrice, the syllables sliding off his tongue like silk, Sehun’s name sounding almost like a mantra out of his mouth.
Music fills the air, static and unclear from someone’s iPod and a cheap portable speaker. Jongin tugs the cup from Sehun’s hand and sets it on the floor before he stands in front of Sehun again.
“Do you dance, Sehun?” Jongin asks, even as his fingers find the waist of Sehun’s jeans and hooks into them. He sways, almost unnoticeably, but Sehun definitely notices the way he angles his hips to almost brush against his own, and all he can feel are the phantom touches.
“What are you doing?” Sehun manages to ask, hands still limp at his side, “why don’t you dance with one of the girls here?”
Jongin reaches out with one hand and presses a finger to Sehun’s lips, as if to silence him. “I rather dance with you. Now, no more talking.” He punctuates this by tugging Sehun even closer.
They stay like that for a while, barely moving , remaining in close proximity to each other. Sehun doesn’t know what is going on and a part of him is urging him to push Jongin away and look for the boy from that night, but then Jongin rolls his hips a little closer, and those thoughts flee.
“I’m performing tomorrow, at the club near the store you work at. You should come watch me, just say you are there under Kim Jongin,” Jongin whispers into his ear, before he untangling himself from Sehun. He is given another casual goodbye, a wave from a retreating figure and a question burning in his head.
He gives Jongin’s name to the bouncer at the club the next night, and is immediately ushered to the second floor of the club, one that gives him a bird's’ eye view of the stage. He settles into the tattered couch that is behind him. A glass gets shoved in his hand, and a sip of it tells him that there is a copious amount of alcohol mixed into it.
He’s the only one here and one glance at the first floor tells him that the crowd is surprisingly small.
Sehun is dozing off when the loud static of a microphone wakes him up. The sound is grating, painful, and Sehun presses a finger into his ear.
“My name is Kyungsoo, and we,” the boy says as he gestures vaguely behind him, “are EXO.” The music starts spontaneously, loud, but Jongin isn’t on stage. The boy who had introduced them - Kyungsoo - sings like his life depends on it, voice rich with something akin to tangible passion.
Jongin appears halfway through the second song, a flurry of leather and glitter. He leans against Kyungsoo, body pressed against the shorter boy as he sings into the microphone Kyungsoo had been using. Their faces are dangerously close, bare inches apart, and Sehun watches as Jongin leans in even closer, their mouths pressed against either side of the microphone. It is incredibly startling to watch, the music, lights and atmosphere melding into one reeking of tension and sensuality, and Sehun gulps down what's left in the glass he is holding.
EXO's set ends after another three songs, one of which Jongin has lead vocals on. He isn't a good singer, Sehun can pick that out, but he isn't bad either. One would call someone like that average, but Jongin is far from average. Average blends in, average disappears, but Jongin shines and shines, a ball of light and gas amidst the darkness of the crowd.
"You came," a voice says from the door and Sehun turns to see Jongin walking in, a thin layer of sweat on his face, a grin taking over his mouth.
"You never actually gave me a chance to reject your invitation," Sehun retorts. One of the boys behind Jongin pats him on the back, laughing. Jongin turns around to glare at him, and that just elicits more laughter from the boy.
The boy pushes past the small group and extends a hand towards Sehun. Sehun takes it tentatively. “Hi, I am Lu Han,” he introduces, and his hand lingers a fraction too long, thumb brushing against Sehun’s knuckles on purpose. Lu Han smiles at him then, something small and secretive and oddly inviting, “Sehun.”
That night, Sehun also meets Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Yixing, and Minseok. They make up EXO, a new band, or a "summertime band" as Lu Han had put it, especially since all of them would be travelling on different paths after the season. "Jongin isn't part of the band, not officially, more of a guest act than anything," Lu Han supplies to him helpfully, breath warm on his cheek. Jongin sweeps in from the corner to throw an arm around him and maneuver him to an empty couch. Sehun meets Lu Han's eyes and the latter smiles.
That night, Sehun saves two new numbers into his cellphone.
“If you take your phone out of your back pocket one more time, I am going to fry it for you,” Jongdae tells Sehun almost casually, voice free of malice. He even throws in a smile before he turns to walk back to the counter.
Jongin and him have been texting each other for the past three days. It's never anything exceptionally important; Jongin texts him "morning" in the afternoon and Sehun replies him with a "it is afternoon". Jongin will reply an hour later, having dozed off, asking Sehun not to "have a stick up his ass; it's just details."
Sehun stuffs his cellphone under the counter before returning to cleaning the tables.
When Jongin barges into the store at five in the evening, eyeliner crooked around his eyes, Sehun drops the plate in his hands.
“You’re alive!” Jongin says instead of a more usual greeting. Sehun blinks at him, and then at the mess of ceramic on the floor. “What made you thought otherwise?”
“You didn’t reply to my text. I texted you “are you alive?” and got no replies,” Jongin replies, settling into the nearest chair.
“I was working. I am working, if you haven’t realized.”
“I was worried,” Jongin says, tentative. Sehun doesn’t know what to answer to that.
“Do you want a donut? You always come at night, the best ones are gone by then,” he asks instead.
Jongin looks at him with something in his eyes, something that Sehun doesn’t think Jongin understand either. He sighs aloud and nods his head as consent. Sehun’s heart does a weird flip, he blames it on the heat.
Lu Han asks him out for dinner three days later. Sehun agrees; even as the look in Lu Han’s eyes the first time they met replays at the back of his head.
They go to a tiny chinese restaurant that Lu Han swears by, and Sehun has his first try of 小笼包 that night; a chinese delicacy, soup in a dumpling.
“They are not dumplings though, technically,” Lu Han corrects him. Sehun ignores him to slurp noisily at his third one of the night.
Sehun is by far not a messy eater, but there’s so much food and it is all so good and it is no wonder he gets food at the corner of his lips. He is about to lick it off, but Lu Han is quicker, and there is a thumb wiping against the side of his mouth. He freezes.
“Lu Han,” he starts, but Lu Han just smiles at him, almost serenely.
“You had food on your face,” Lu Han just replies, tone matter-of-factly.
“I could have wiped it off myself.” Lu Han just smiles at him again. His smile is starting to rub against Sehun’s nerves, makes him feel both annoyed and just (or so he tells himself) a little intrigued.
“It doesn’t mean anything; unless you want it to.” Sehun’s mouth feels oddly dry at this.
“It means nothing then,” Sehun manages to tell him. Lu Han smiles again; it gets more and more unnerving.
“You shouldn’t be around him, he is a terrible influence,” Jongin whispers to him one night after another performance, his eyes trained on Lu Han’s back.
Sehun looks at him, confused. “You aren’t much better influence yourself,” he jokes. Jongin’s eyes harden.
“I’m better, trust me. Didn’t someone say something once about the lesser of two evils?” Jongin is looking at him with something akin to desperation in his eyes, except how can it be that when they barely know each other?
"Why is he a bad influence then?" Sehun asks and Jongin just laughs, an ugly chuckle that rubs raw against Sehun's bones.
"Do you want to hang out tomorrow night? We can go star gazing."
“...Star gazing?”
“Yeah like looking at the stars? The park has a pretty good view. Meet me there, ten?” Jongin’s voice is soft, hesitant, and Sehun cannot bring himself to reject him so he says yes. Something flashes in Jongin’s eyes that confuses him; it disappears in a split second, replaced by a smile that is white with teeth and oddly familiar.
The night is warm and sticky, the breeze barely a whisper in the air. Swear clings to Sehun’s bare skin like a coat; his own shirt uncomfortable against his skin. He shifts from one foot to the other. Jongin is late and not answering his calls; Sehun wonders if he has been fooled, if Jongin had just been messing with him. Seriously, star gazing? He fidgets a little more.
A tap on his shoulder scares him; after all, it is relatively late and the place is silent with emptiness. He turns around and it is Jongin. He looks different, softer, younger, and Sehun realizes that it is the first time he is seeing Jongin’s face without make-up on it; without eyeliner ringing his eyes or gloss swiped across his lips. He thinks he likes it. Maybe a little too much.
“Sorry, I couldn’t find my eyeliner... I haven’t found it actually, as you can see. Sorry,” Jongin rushes out, tongue tripping on words. He laughs a little, light, and it reminds Sehun of a night at the beginning of vacation, one that still lingers in his head.
“You look nice,” he says before he can stop himself. Jongin’s face breaks out into a grin that engulfs his features.
They lie next to each other on an empty patch of grass. One of Jongin’s leg is flung across one of Sehun’s carelessly, and Sehun doesn’t find a need to kick it away. The weight is a comfort for some odd reason.
“There are no stars,” Sehun says after a long stretch of silence. The sky is an empty canvas of blue, cloudless, just the moon shining on them from a little crescent.
“There are, you just can’t see them.”
“And you can?” Sehun teases. He expects Jongin to admit at that point that the whole star gazing thing had just been an excuse to ask Sehun out. Instead, he is met with even more silence.
“I can. Sort of. Just... just close your eyes and block out all the city lights and the desire that has crystallized itself into light.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you thought about it Sehun? Have you thought about shining so bright that you block out the illumination of the stars?”
“You’re a little weird, you know?” Sehun replies instead and Jongin tilts his head to look at him.
“Yet here you are, lying in the dark next to me.”
“Here I am indeed.”
Sehun thinks if this was a romantic novel or a movie, this would be the moment where they kiss and make shallow promises of love and affection; but Jongin and him are not in love, in fact, they are barely friends.
Reality and fantasy have always ran as parallel lines, but Sehun wishes for once they would intersect. He pushes this notion away because it is terribly terribly insane.
They start to spend late nights talking over the phone, Sehun's voice too bright with exhaustion while Jongin one is still laced with consciousness. They talk about nothing and everything, and Sehun learns more about Jongin in a single night than he does at all their previous meetings combined.
Jongin has views and thoughts that deviate far from the perceived norm. Jongin is spontaneous and free; yet there are moments that highlight a crippling need for approval. Jongin tells him about his dreams, to have eyes and cheers trained for him; to be in a spotlight, any spotlight. Sehun asks him once what he meant; Jongin had replied in a jumble of words something about recognition and fame. He doesn’t care how it comes about, it is the end goal that he craves.
Sehun has a little of a fascination with cracked, out-of-sync people.
Jongin tingles his senses and fascinates him to no end.
“Have you heard? There’s a rumour that there is talent scout around,” Lu Han tells him, the first thing that he says to Sehun when he walks into the store in the middle of the day, "maybe something will happen to you."
"Me?"
"You're young, tall, good-looking - they would be crazy not to snap you up."
"I can't perform."
"Doesn't matter. There is always one of those in every pop group; scouted off the streets while shopping, co-op into the group to raise the group's average attractiveness." Sehun blinks at him, unsure of what to say.
"What makes you think I want to be a performer?"
"Doesn't everyone? Doesn't everyone have this insane desire of being loved by thousands and millions; to have their faces plastered across electronic screens and their voices forever captured by speakers?" Lu Han pauses for a moment, eyes trained on Sehun. "I'm sure you are not any different."
Lu Han continues.
"I want it too. I want lights, cameras and action, but I know I am too old for it to happen anymore. I'm four years your senior, and even if my face paints one story, the truth is undeniable; I'm growing older not younger and everything has an expiry date." There is a sadness in his eyes that's too poignant to look at it, not when it seems to choke you with a grip around your neck.
Sehun knows about the talent scout, has seen the man in the donut shop, table in front of him sprawled with documents and pictures. He had seen as he picked one of the pictures up, stare at it for a moment, before returning it to a black folder, clucking his tongue.
The talent scout had asked for his name once, repeated it once, pursued his lips, and then dismissed Sehun with a small smile on his face.
It is an accident, but everything about them had been an accident; a coincidence, a twist of fate. It had been coincidence that Sehun had been working at the same donut store that Jongin had frequent from years before, and it had been fate that they met at the party.
It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that this happened, because everything had been leading up to this moment anyway; the constant underlying longing and touches and smiles and words and tension should have clued them in from the start.
Lu Han’s hand is probably a little too high up his thigh; in fact, he isn’t sure why Lu Han is touching him at all. They are in the same club from EXO’s first performance in the second floor. The only difference is that this time, it is crowded with people and the air is filled with the smell of alcohol and smoke one could probably taste if he stuck out his tongue.
Sehun continues to nurse his first lychee martini as he watches Baekhyun down another shot before nudging a cup against Kyungsoo’s reluctant lips. He thinks he saw Zitao get pulled out of the room by Wu Fan a minute before but he is finding it excessively hard to concentrate on details.
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks as he leans even closer to Sehun, side of his head against Sehun’s shoulder. His breath is heavy on Sehun’s jaw.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sehun replies, and he cringes at how his voice is slurred, words tripping over his tongue as if they were failing at a hurdles event. He smiles a little at that thought, words at a hurdles event.
“You’re terribly lightweight,” Lu Han tells him, and unfortunately it is true. Sehun has never been much of a drinker; the taste of beer makes his insides churn. Truth be told, when the boy at the beach had shoved him the soju, it had been his first time having anything alcoholic that wasn’t beer. The vodka in his lychee martini is awkwardly sharp on his tongue.
When Lu Han’s tongue finds the crook of his neck, Sehun’s movements are too slow for him to care about it. In fact, he leans even closer in, the sensation cooling on his heated skin. It takes him by complete surprise when he feels a hand circle his wrist and tugs him to a standing position. His back hits a wall instead of the expected softness of a couch.
“Jongin?” he slurs, eyes blinking rapidly to clear the way his vision is blurring.
“Do you like Lu Han?” Jongin asks him directly. Sehun continues to blink at him. “No?”
There is a mouth on his and hands tight against his shoulders. Nails dig into bare skin and teeth knocks into teeth. This is rough, unyielding, but it reminds Sehun of a night weeks ago, of a softer and more languid kiss, but the tug on his lips is one that he remembers and that had left an impression on the back of his head.
But this is Jongin, Jongin who has big dreams and the brightest smiles despite his penchant for too much eyeliner. This is not a mysterious stranger who offers him alcohol in the dead of the night. This is Jongin who is licking into his mouth, filthy, exchanging so much saliva that he doesn’t taste alcohol on his tongue anymore. This is Jongin curling a hand around his shoulder and curling another into his hair, tugging painfully. This is Jongin that is kissing him, pressing him against a wall and kissing him absolutely senseless.
“Will you go on a date with me?” Jongin asks in between breaths when they part, foreheads pressing against each other. His hand is still too tight on Sehun’s shoulder, but the way Sehun’s heart is running in his chest blocks everything out.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Sehun replies, voice tint with tease; Jongin laughs a little at this, a low chuckle that vibrates against Sehun’s skin.
“Is that a yes?”
Alcohol still courses through Sehun’s veins and his balance is far from regained, but the yes that escapes his lips is sure and undeniably steady.
The ease of which Lu Han backs off is surprising, the smudge of black against his cracked lips is probably the reason. At the next party he goes to, this time as Jongin’s plus one rather than “Zitao’s friend”, Lu Han breezes past him with a hello before latching on to Yixing. Sehun can’t say that it doesn’t hurt at all, not when Lu Han had suitably intrigued him; but even though it sounds incredibly selfish, the moment Jongin has a hand linked with his, he finds that he doesn’t feel hurt anymore.
“You got ice cream on my nose.” Sehun turns to see Jongin with his nose scrunched up in distaste, a small dollop of ice cream sitting at the tip of it. He reaches a finger to swipe at it, before sticking said finger into Jongin’s mouth.
They are sitting close to each other on Jongin’s bed, a low-budget horror film playing on the television. There are tubs of ice cream between them, on a little cardboard piece on Jongin’s bed.
Sehun is about to pull his finger out, but then Jongin seems to draw it in more, tongue lapping at the single digit quietly. The atmosphere of the room seems to change, start to crackle with something akin to electricity, and Sehun feels it dance across every inch of bare skin.
The air is thick with tension and fraught with possibilities. Jongin looks at him, eyes sharp, even as he continues to lick at that single digit. It’s weird, and Sehun isn’t sure what is going on, but at that moment, he wants, no; he craves something. Something almost primal.
“What is going on?” Sehun manages to breathe out, breaking the tenseness of the situation. Jongin releases his finger with an almost obscene sound. Sehun’s finger is wet with saliva, and he doesn’t know what possessed him to draw it down the side of Jongin’s face. “That’s really gross, Sehun.” Something twists low in Sehun’s stomach at the way Jongin’s voice sounds, heavy and octaves lower.
He doesn’t know how (not that he minds), but suddenly, Jongin is straddling him, legs on either side of Sehun. The air is sultry, both from the sun outside and the desire that has seemingly leaked out of every pore on Sehun’s skin. Jongin leans in down and captures his lips with his own, and the kiss is sloppy, wet with saliva. It’s slow, sometimes just a swirl of tongue against lips, but Sehun’s heart hammers in his chest to a different, quicker rhythm.
When Jongin thrusts against him, the friction against the front of his shorts causes a hitch in his breath. He breaks the kiss to look at Jongin, really look at him, but Jongin just grips his shoulders and rolls his hips against his again.
“J - Jongin. Fuck, you need to... stop,” Sehun manages to stutter out, even as Jongin presses his mouth against the side of his neck. It’s not that something like this had never happened to him before (it had once, with Zitao, when they were young and experimental), but he isn’t quite sure this is the right time, even if the heat that courses through his veins currently tells otherwise.
“Why?” Jongin questions, and he is looking back at him now, eyes clouded with desire. Jongin shifts back a little and presses a hand against the front of Sehun’s shorts even as his eyes remain in contact with Sehun’s. Sehun feels his own eyes widen and a whimper escapes his mouth.
“Do you still want me to stop?” Jongin asks, even as the edge of his palm grinds in a little deeper; stealing another sound from the back of Sehun’s throat.
It takes every inch of Sehun’s control to nod his head. Jongin gets off him immediately. “Dinner?” he asks, and the atmosphere of the room does a complete turnover, so quick that it makes Sehun’s head spin a little. Sehun nods and excuses himself to the bathroom to jerk himself off, imagining that it was Jongin’s hand around him rather than his own.
Sehun isn’t quite sure if he is in love or not, because love can be so fleeting and largely confusing. He feels something for Jongin, that itself is a given, but he can’t quite compartmentalize it, and it remains a jumble of emotions that he cannot fully grasp. Like a ball of yarn thrown to the ground, strings caught in cat’s cradle.
They are too young for love, he thinks, because love itself brings in so much commitment and sounds so terribly grown-up. Youth in its essence, parallels them to the wind, free and easy and never staying at one spot for too long.
So Sehun decides that they are not quite in love, maybe one day they will be, but at this moment, all he needs is the companionship from Jongin, of Jongin nearby, close and to a certain small degree, his.
“Kid... Se... Sehun, right?” Sehun turns to see the talent scout gesture at him to come closer. He glances momentarily at Jongdae’s disapproving face before edging close. “What can I do for you?”
The man sticks out a name card towards Sehun’s general direction, and Sehun takes it cautiously. “Kim Joonmyun” it reads, “Scouter”.
“We would like to invite you to audition for us. It really is just formalities though; we want you as our trainee. What about it, Oh Sehun, are you interested in being a star?”
His conversation with Lu Han from weeks back returns to his memory, and he turns over everything Lu Han had said about everyone wanting to be a star in his head. Does he want this? Does he want to be adored by millions and to be scrutinized by the world?
And then he remembers Jongin, Jongin who wants fame and love and recognition more than anyone he has ever known.
“No,” he replies, and his answer surprises him a little, “no. I don’t want to be a star, but -” he rummages through his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper; an advertisement for EXO’s performance at a bigger club three days from now. “You should go watch them.”
“Maybe I will. Pity about you, though,” Joonmyun says, even as he slides the advertisement into his file, right at the very top.
“Trust me, you will find your real star there,” Sehun insists. Jongdae hollers for him from the counter, and he gives a slight tilt of his head before returning to his duties.
“What happens after summer? Where are you going?” Jongin asks him the next day. They are sitting on a bench with ice cream, and Jongin’s question catches Sehun off balance.
“Nowhere. I am staying here. For University.” Jongin smiles at that. “Me too.”
“I’m glad we’re not just a summertime romance,” Jongin tells him later on. Sehun remembers the talent scout and the advertisement and he isn’t sure what he wants anymore; Jongin with him or Jongin to be a star. He forces himself to smile back.
“Romance?” Sehun questions instead, surprised at how his voice still manages to sound teasing.
Jongin cocks his head towards him. “I asked you out, didn’t I?”
“Going on a date doesn’t mean we’re dating.”
Jongin looks him, silent, lips pursed. Sehun is about to brush him off, choke out a laughter and tell him he was joking when -
“Fine. Will you be my boyfriend then, Oh Sehun?”
Conflicting emotions wound themselves around Sehun’s heart. Jongin might leave him soon, for a long time, and forget about him; yet there is undeniable happiness that twists with this doubt and worry.
“Yes,” he replies, “yes yes yes.”
The smile that Jongin graces him is blinding, stark with white and searing itself into the folds of Sehun’s mind.
“Be amazing on stage today.” Jongin crooks an eyebrow at him.
“I’m always amazing.”
“I know, but be extra amazing.”
Jongin laughs and leans in to kiss at his nose.
“I’m leaving in three days, Sehun,” Jongin suddenly says after he has sat in the donut store for a while. His hands are cupped around a glass, fingers nervously tangling with each other. Sehun remains silent.
“I got scouted, Sehun. We would like to invite you to audition for our company. It’s just formalities; we want you as our trainee. We want to nurture you into a star.”
“I said yes. I said yes and he gave me a card and asked me to meet him at their Seoul branch office the next day. And then I danced for them. I sang for them, and they said... Sehun they just said when can you start?”
“I am happy for you,” Sehun says, and his voice is void of emotions, blank. His emotions are all caught in his throat, burning, and he thinks this is ridiculous because he isn’t in love, he can’t be in love, it is impossible for a heart to make a place for someone new in just a matter of weeks.
“Why don’t you come over tonight?” Jongin says instead. Sehun gulps and nods his head, looking up to stop the tension he feels at the corner of his eyes.
Jongin’s family isn’t home that night and when Sehun arrives, Jongin tugs him in and slams the door close. He isn’t sure how they got to Jongin’s room, but he is sure they have left a cookie trail of clothes because it is his bare back that hits Jongin’s bed, and it is Jongin’s naked chest that he licks against, tongue following the edges of his ribcage.
It is rushed, too rushed for Sehun’s liking, but then Jongin is kissing him again, filthy and obscene, tongue more liberal than it has ever been, and the very notion of thought flees from Sehun’s mind. There is a desperation in the way Jongin keeps grinding against him even as he nips on Sehun’s lower lip, but Sehun is desperate enough to match it with jerks of his hips.
They barely have time left together, and it is evident in the way Jongin’s hands seem to map the expanse of Sehun’s body, trying to memorize every contour and ridges, fingers lingering at spots that he likes best.
Jongin’s hands are on his zipper and he pauses, his eyes fleeting up to look at Sehun. “Are you sure?” he asks. Sehun leans close to kiss him again, and Jongin takes it as consent.
The feel of bare skin against bare skin is addictive, slippery yet mixed with so much friction. Jongin has a hand around Sehun’s cock, and he is jerking him off slowly, slide of his palm stealing little mewls from Sehun’s throat.
When Jongin fucks him, Sehun can’t help but dig blunt nails into Jongin’s back. Jongin grunts against his neck before he sucks at the soft skin there, and Sehun knows there is going to be a mark there tomorrow, blue with possessiveness. He likes that just fine.
The necklace Jongin had gave him sits cool against his chest. Sehun isn’t quite sure if it is a promise or a momento.
He helps Jongin with his luggages silently, stacking them in the truck of the cab that is going to bring Jongin away from him. Jongin is quiet too.
“Well, this is it then,” Jongin says when they are done, turning to face Sehun. His hands are rubbing against each other nervously. Sehun steps close and pulls Jongin into a hug, taking a moment to just breathe Jongin in again.
“I’ll miss you,” Jongin whispers against the side of his head, voice uncharacteristically soft.
“You won’t last a second out there anyway, I don’t have to miss you,” Sehun tries to joke, even if something chokes his words and lodges itself firmly in his throat.
“I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll be back as a star, and then you can tell people you knew Kim Jongin from before he was famous. You can tell people that you stole Kim Jongin’s heart.” Sehun’s heart skips a beat, because that’s as close as a I love you he will get.
“Yeah you have my heart too,” he mumbles. He feels vibration against his hair, Jongin laughing with his mouth pressed close to him.
Sehun isn’t quite sure where they will go in the future, or if they will remain like this always, but one thing's for sure, there is a slot in his heart labelled “Kim Jongin” and he never wants it to be empty.
- soundtrack: i’d rather dance with you (kings of convenience) | chasing a rock star (the friday night boys) | dancing in the rain (b.a.p) | one more night (maroon 5)
- the funniest thing while writing this was that half-way through i found out SEOUL HAD NO BEACHES so i had to insert things welp
- so much love to my lovely beta develei; this fic was a mess without her guidance