lagoon (2/4)

[gotchick]

Jinyoung lovingly wraps the tiny china cow in tissue and slides it into his pocket, where it presses against his thigh like a little piece of Jaebum he can always carry with him. Jaebum watches the way his eyes glow and how carefully he handles the trinket, his own eyes growing unbearably tender. "It's just a stupid cheap souvenir," he says, voice rough. "You don't have to be so happy."

"Who said I'm happy?" Jinyoung lies through his teeth, mortified. Jaebum only shakes his head in exasperation and places a hand on Jinyoung's knee, squeezing it. Jinyoung feels a current of electricity spark from Jaebum's fingers up his thigh, going straight to his groin. Jaebum tears his eyes from the road and looks straight at him, grinding the car to a halt. Jinyoung peers out of the window to see that they've reached a stately, palatial apartment building. It seems inevitable now, like they've been hurtling towards this destination the entire evening, even before they knew it. Jinyoung's eyes glimmer in silent answer to the unspoken question in Jaebum's, and Jaebum's eyes darken infinitesimally as he climbs out of the car to handle Jinyoung out.

Jaebum's penthouse apartment looks like a perfect replica of one of those showrooms from architectural magazines, but the twinge of pity Jinyoung feels for him is more surprising. He has the impulse to mess up Jaebum's minimalist, black-and-white lacquered kitchentop, cozy up the spacious but vacant living room with a few throw pillows, pull up the corners of the tightly tucked cream bedspread and ruffle them, paint the boring off-white walls a refreshing shade of cobalt. How must it feel like to live in this spotless, imposing house day in and out? Jinyoung resolves to brighten up Jaebum's bleakly beautiful home if it's the last thing Jaebum allows him to do for him.

"Make yourself at home," Jaebum says with a small smile as he drifts to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. Jinyoung flicks a switch, illuminating the living room with a muted pool of orange light from the lamp and sinks down gingerly on the couch. His butt lands on something soft and a shrill mewl makes him leap up.

A fluffy cat is curled up in a tight ball on the couch, hissing and meowing plaintively. Jinyoung gasps, dropping to his knees to gently pick the cat up with adoration.

He's sitting on the couch giggling loosely, running his fingers through the cat's long hair and eliciting contented, sleepy purrs when Jaebum walks in bearing glasses and a bottle of white wine. "Oh," he says, looking surprised. "I see you've met Nora."

"You have a cat?" Jinyoung trills, bubbling over with excitement. "Why didn't you mention it?"

Jaebum chuckles. "I didn't know you liked cats."

"Are you kidding? I love them!" Jinyoung feigns outrage and Jaebum leans back to look at the both of them, seeming inordinately pleased with the picture they form together.

He laughs, setting down the glasses on the coffee table and reaching out to ruffle Jinyoung's hair. "You would. You're the same species, after all," he teases playfully.

"What do you mean?" Jinyoung squawks. "Are you saying that I'm a cat?"

Jaebum waves an apologetic hand, laughing too hard to speak. "You're my Jin-cat," he coos, stroking Jinyoung's hair much like the way Jinyoung is stroking Nora. "Give your master a kiss, now."

Jinyoung gives his proferred cheek a slobbery lick instead, but that only seems to delight Jaebum more. "What am I going to do with the two of you?" he sighs in mock exasperation. "I deserve a cat-lover medal, seriously."

Jinyoung harrumphs and pouts, turning away and pretending he doesn't feel like purring shamelessly and nuzzling into Jaebum's warm touch like Nora. "Or maybe an award for pervert with a bestiality fetish," he sniggers.

Jaebum's eyes glitter and the couch dips as he slides in next to Jinyoung, casually winding his arm around his shoulder. "A kitty kink?" he whispers breathily in Jinyoung's ear, sending delicious chills down his spine. "Sounds intriguing."

"That tickles," Jinyoung gurgles with laughter, squirming away, but Jaebum grabs both his shoulders forcefully and tackles him down, pinning him to the couch with his weight as Nora obligingly slinks out of Jinyoung's arms and wriggles onto the carpet, padding away soundlessly.

Jaebum's body is breathtakingly heavy and warm above his, the sinew of his muscles hard through his dress shirt against Jinyoung's body. He cups Jinyoung's face with both hands, holding him steady as his mouth covers Jinyoung's, taking away his oxygen. Jaebum's tongue is relentless and demanding, sliding sensually against Jinyoung's as his thumbs caress Jinyoung's ears, finding the sensitive spot behind the back of his earlobes. The kiss quickly turns heated as Jinyoung struggles into a horizontal position, spreading his legs enthusiastically for Jaebum to settle between them, his clothed erection nudging the cleft of Jinyoung's ass.

Jinyoung is all thumbs as he reaches out with clumsy, trembling fingers to fumble with Jaebum's belt buckle. Jaebum seems amused by his ineptitude, peeking up at Jinyoung through his eyelashes as his thin lips curve into a dreamy smile, which suddenly slips for no apparent reason.

"Don't do that," Jaebum snaps.

"Do what?" Jinyoung blinks innocently.

"Lick your lips," Jaebum murmurs, voice deepening.

"This?" Jinyoung flicks his tongue over his lips experimentally, wetting them and Jaebum exhales sharply, his dark eyes gleaming with lust.

"That's against the rules," he says softly, but Jinyoung only laughs mischievously, slipping his tongue out again to lick his lips salaciously and throwing in a saucy wink. Jaebum growls and reaches down to undo the belt himself, successfully manipulated.

Jinyoung knows that Jaebum will be able to make him come with just his skilful fingers and mouth, will be more than happy to, but today, this meagre contact no longer seems like enough. He wants to feel the unbearably full, tight sensation of Jaebum inside him, sheathed to the hilt. He wants to see Jaebum's expression when he loses control, hear him breathing Jinyoung's name like a benediction. He wants to possess Jaebum totally and be totally possessed by him.

He stills Jaebum with a hand on his cheek, pointing wordlessly to the bedroom as he smiles coyly and Jaebum's eyes widen as he infers Jinyoung's meaning. "Are you sure?" he rasps hoarsely, eyes tight with worry.

Jinyoung nods, smile unflinching. "Positive."

Jaebum closes his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them, they're blazing.

"No regrets," he warns, hoisting Jinyoung up into his arms and carrying him princess-style over the threshold of his bedroom.

Jaebum lowers Jinyoung gently onto the soft down of the comforter, which yields and sinks under his weight. He undresses Jinyoung as if he has all the time in the world, peeling off his socks and unbuttoning Jinyoung's shirt to reveal the expanse of his collarbones. He divests Jinyoung of his jeans, the back of his hand grazing Jinyoung's aching cock teasingly. Jinyoung stifles a gasp and the urge to buck his hips into Jaebum's palm like a horny teenager. Jaebum drops a trail of featherlight kisses down Jinyoung's torso, worshipping every part of his body with his lips, hot breath ghosting over his skin as he mouths Jinyoung's cock through his boxers.

Then Jaebum leaves Jinyoung shivering in only his boxers and undresses himself just as slowly, as if aware that Jinyoung is watching and salivating. Jaebum's suits don't quite do justice to the breathtaking broadness of his shoulders that taper to a narrow waist, the play of corded muscles beneath the coffee-coloured skin of his back, the lean plane of his stomach and washboard definition of his abs. He really is the most beautiful specimen of a man Jinyoung has ever seen.

At Jinyoung's wistful sigh, Jaebum's eyes snap down to look at him, sweeping over his body with dark intent. Clad in only his pants with the zipper undone to reveal a spot of precum dampening his underwear, he moves swiftly to the bedside table and opens a drawer, producing a half-used tube of lube.

Jinyoung cringes at the thought of the people Jaebum has used it on before him but quickly files it away as Jaebum douses his fingers liberally and reaches into Jinyoung's boxers.

Jinyoung shivers at the coldness of the gel against his skin as Jaebum eases a digit in, clenching tightly around him. "Relax," Jaebum soothes, "Breathe in and out." Jinyoung does, and on his exhale Jaebum slides a second finger in.

Jinyoung moans softly at the indescribable, burning sensation of the stretch, Jaebum working his slick fingers in knuckle deep and pressing against a spot that makes Jinyoung gasp in delight and snap his hips down on Jaebum's fingers, fucking himself on them.

Jaebum squeezes his eyes shut as if Jinyoung is too risque to look at, his own hand moving to his cock to stroke himself to relief but Jinyoung stops him by whimpering, "J-jaebum-hyung."

Jaebum's eyes open, pupils dilated to twice their usual size but voice none less patient. "Yes?"

"I-I want you," Jinyoung says, placing a hand on Jaebum's cock when he looks uncomprehending. Jaebum makes a muffled noise in the back of his throat, his cock twitching hungrily under Jinyoung's touch.

Bracing his arms over Jinyoung, Jaebum lowers his weight carefully onto him, their erections brushing dizzyingly. Jinyoung feels bereft, empty without Jaebum's withdrawn fingers, his muscles clenching over thin air but Jaebum quickly replaces the absence with his cock, sliding in agonizingly slowly, filling Jinyoung inch by inch.

When Jaebum is completely in, he stills with an effort, hand reaching down to smooth Jinyoung's matted bangs back and peer into his eyes with concern. "Are you okay?"

Jinyoung nods and grits out, "Move," tightening around him and Jaebum groans. The symphony his fingers play over Jinyoung's skin is like an aphrodisiac, igniting his body and licking through his veins, making his blood sing. Jaebum rears over Jinyoung, his densely muscled arms pumping like pistons as he pounds into Jinyoung unrelentingly, splitting Jinyoung open with his cock. Jinyoung arches his back to meet Jaebum's thrusts, their bodies colliding with the wet, slapping sounds of slick skin against slick skin.

The next morning, Jinyoung wakes up before Jaebum, shivering as the covers slip off his bare torso and pool about his waist. His body feels sticky with a mixture of drying sweat and fluids and foreign with strange, unfamiliar sensations. When he sits up, a dull but not unpleasant ache shoots up his lower body. It's ridiculous and cliche but Jinyoung feels as if he's been reborn, his body anointed and changed irrevocably by the memory of Jaebum's touch. He shudders at the vivid imprints of Jaebum's fading touches and thrusts, his bruisingly gentle hands and cock pumping relentlessly into Jinyoung, fucking him from the inside out.

His mouth feels swollen and abused, as used as his body and Jinyoung blushes when he tiptoes to peer in the bathroom mirror. His lips are crimson and bee-stung, bleeding slightly at the corner where Jaebum had gotten a little too excited and accidentally bit Jinyoung's lip. Jinyoung can feel Jaebum on every part of his body, in every step he takes. He suddenly, passionately wishes that this sense memory will be etched indelibly on him like a tattoo branded by a hot poker.

When he drifts back to bed, carelessly tugging a t-shirt on, Jaebum is still sleeping soundly and peacefully, his face beatific and years younger with his eyes closed. Jinyoung smiles and resists the urge to stroke the soft, smooth skin stretched over his cheekbones and the rougher prickle of stubble on his jaw, tucking the covers over his shoulders.

It feels wrong seeing Jaebum's designer clothes strewn haphazardly over the floor, and Jinyoung fights the compulsion to smooth them out and hang them neatly on hangers. He wouldn't know how to explain if Jaebum woke up later and asked why. Instead, his hand lands on the thick, old-fashioned gold Oyster Rolex lying on the bedside table. Jinyoung picks it up tentatively, its heft surprisingly heavy in his palm. He supposes that's the mark of pure gold, not that he would know. He lifts it to his ear and listens to the soothing, hypnotic tick tick tick of the watch's hands.

Jinyoung slips the watch over his wrist and admires it. It's slightly too big, the strap hanging loosely over his arm. The watch is inordinately warm without the chilly hardness of metal, and wearing it gives Jinyoung a comfortable sensation of security, remniscent of Jaebum's hand around his. For some inexplicable reason that he will later be unable to figure out, Jinyoung slips the watch into the pocket of his jeans, draped over the back of a chair.

He is distracted by Jaebum yawning awake behind him. He props his chin up on one elbow, the corners of his lips lifting in a lazily aroused smile as he takes Jinyoung in. "Is that my shirt you're wearing?" he says, voice gritty, and Jinyoung looks down and realizes it is. Jaebum sits up, lunging for him, and Jinyoung shrieks and scampers away giggling, the watch temporarily forgotten.

Leaving the studio in the evening with the team, Jinyoung stops in his tracks to see a red Ferrari parked conspicuously in front of the main entrance of the building. His teammates stare and murmur with interest, admiring the car, and Jackson nudges him, frowning. "Isn't that the dick's car?"

Jinyoung elbows him. Jackson had spammed Jinyoung's cell phone with missed calls and rude messages all night, but Jinyoung had turned it off, not wanting to provoke Jaebum further. When he reached home in the morning, Jackson was standing by the front door with his hands on his hips, blasting Jinyoung the moment he stepped in. Jinyoung barely managed to escape to his room with Jackson yapping at his heels like a terrier making crude remarks and berating Jinyoung for not keeping his promise of being right back after a few minutes. Luckily, after the day wore on and Jinyoung had apologized no less than five times, Jackson had finally grown tired and let it rest.

As they approach the car, Jinyoung's heart thumps wildly in his chest, feeling first surprised then flattered. They hadn't arranged to meet again today, and Jaebum hadn't texted or called him all day. But maybe he had missed Jinyoung enough to want to see him twice.

The horn beeps, making Jinyoung jump. He bends to squint into the car and spots Jaebum sitting in the driver's seat, making no move to get out and open the door for him as per normal. "Get in," is all he says. His voice is emotionless, his eyes impassively staring straight ahead so Jinyoung can't tell his mood.

Jinyoung looks apprehensively over his shoulder at Jackson, who folds his arms over his chest and makes it clear by his disapproving frown that he's not getting involved. Jinyoung smiles apologetically at him and gingerly tugs at the car door handle to slide into the passenger seat. Jaebum keeps both hands clenched around the wheel and doesn't even spare him a glance. The moment Jinyoung closes the door, he speeds off, leaving the rest of the team in a cloud of fumes.

Jaebum swerves onto the freeway, driving so recklessly that Jinyoung's hand moves unconsciously to the overhead handle. Jaebum doesn't seem to care whether he's wearing his seatbelt this time but he hastily clicks it on anyway, already beginning to regret getting in. It's getting obvious that something has changed between morning, when Jaebum was smiling and devoted and indulgent, and now, but Jinyoung can't figure out what. He doesn't remember doing anything that might have pissed Jaebum off.

Jaebum pulls off at the next exit, swiveling the steering wheel so violently that the tires skid perilously over the gravel, rubber squealing. He pulls into a deserted parking lot in a district Jinyoung isn't familiar with and slams on the brake abruptly, throwing Jinyoung back against his seat and knocking the breath out of him.

Jinyoung sits motionless for a few beats, shell-shocked and breathing hard. He has no idea why Jaebum is so obviously seething and his stomach churns queasily with a current of ominous unease. He unlocks the seatbelt with trembling hands and the click sounds deafeningly loud in the plunging silence. The air in the car is thick enough to be cut with a knife and suddenly all Jinyoung wants is to get out of here.

But just as his left hand closes around the door handle, a vicelike grip tightens around his right wrist. Jinyoung inhales sharply and spins around to find Jaebum's eyes drilling into his, dark with a chilling rage.

"Did you take my watch?" he says quietly.

"W-what?" Jinyoung squeaks, the question not making any sense for a moment. Then his heart lurches as he recalls the morning's events, feeling the watch digging into his thigh through his jeans pocket like a deadweight of guilt.

Jaebum is watching his face intently, and his thoughts must be transparent because Jaebum's face changes, his lips tightening. "You took it," he states flatly, daring Jinyoung to deny.

Jinyoung tries to extract his hand but Jaebum's fingers lock painfully around his arm. "I... I..." Jinyoung flounders, at a loss to how to start explaining. He reaches with difficulty into his pocket with his left hand and fishes the watch out resignedly. "I'm sorry."

Jaebum's eyes flicker down to the watch lying in his palm, his face hardening. He stares at it for an interminable moment before shaking his head slowly in disbelief. When he looks up again, Jinyoung flinches at the contempt and scorn scrawled across his eyes.

"Keep it," he says dispassionately, finally letting go of Jinyoung's wrist, where welts are already starting to bloom. He tears his eyes away from Jinyoung and stares hollowly out at the parking lot.

"What?" Jinyoung stammers shrilly. "I don't want it!" He tries to shove the watch into Jaebum's palm, but Jaebum tosses his hand away as though scalded.

"Then why did you steal it?" he says accusingly, voice sharp and unforgiving as a blade. His tone makes Jinyoung's face burn with shame -- dripping with condescension, something Jinyoung has never thought he would hear from Jaebum of all people.

Hot, angry tears sting Jinyoung's eyes and blur his vision. He wants to rail at Jaebum, explain himself, do something -- but he just stays mutely silent and hauls the car door open, climbing out as fast as he can.

What hurts the most, though, is that Jaebum doesn't stop him.

Jackson is sitting on the couch waiting to pounce the moment Jinyoung slips soundlessly into the house, hoping to slink to his bedroom without further confrontation. No such luck. His emotions must be scrawled across his face because Jackson takes one look at him and says sharply, "You cried?"

"No."

"Holy shit, you did. What happened? What did that dickhead do to you?"

It's the concern in Jackson's voice that undoes him. Despite his best efforts, a tear slips out of Jinyoung's eyes. In a moment, Jackson is on his feet and looking ready for battle.

"I'm going to pulverize him," he says, voice low as he brushes past Jinyoung and toes on his shoes.

"No!" Jinyoung pleads, clutching Jackson's arm frantically. To be honest, in the light of Jaebum's current mood, he's more worried about Jackson's safety, but he knows Jackson will take that as a slur on his manhood.

"Let me go! I'll teach that douche a lesson."

"Please, don't. For me," Jinyoung begs pitifully, and sees Jackson softening against his will. He kicks off his shoes but continues muttering darkly as he lets Jinyoung drag him back to the couch. "Then tell me what he did."

Something in Jackson's gruffly caring tone loosens the stopper, and the unaired grievances tumble out of Jinyoung's mouth.

"Oh. My. God," Jackson heaves dramatically. "I literally cannot believe this. What a..." he lapses into English the way he does when he can't find the right words to express himself in Korean, this time with a stream of impressively colourful profanities.

Jinyoung waits until the torrent of vulgarity stops and Jackson switches back to Korean to continue his passionate rant. "So what if he's rich? Where does he get off treating people like crap? Who would want to steal his crusty watch anyway? We don't have to be humiliated by him! How dare he..." And he's off again.

Jinyoung is immeasurably comforted by Jackson's righteous anger on his behalf, his unchanging stance on Jinyoung's side, but he really just wants to be alone to wallow in the heartbreak. He half-listens to Jackson voicing out his innermost thoughts and litany of suffered slights, but soon it stops vindicating him and somehow starts making him feel worse. His mind keeps flitting uncontrollably back to Jaebum's face in the parking lot -- a crushing mixture of disappointment and betrayal.

He straggles to his feet, making Jackson pause and look up at him fretfully. "What's wrong?"

"I have to return the watch," Jinyoung says resolutely.

"Of course you have to! I'll take you to his house tomorrow and we can throw it at his face."

"No, thanks. I can go alone."

Jinyoung takes two whole days to muster up the courage to return the watch, which sits heavy in his pocket like an irreversible mistake, an irretrievable loss. At first, he considers taking the easy way out of leaving it in an envelope in Jaebum's mailbox or at the reception of his company, but decides that he can't rely on strangers to deliver it to Jaebum. This time, he needs to personally pass it back into Jaebum's hands to leave no room for further misunderstanding.

On the third day, Jinyoung showers after practice and puts on his smartest set of clothes. It's the only branded clothes he owns and he usually wears it to interviews or special occasions. He convinces himself it has nothing to do with impressing Jaebum, wanting to leave a good last impression.

He lies to Jackson that he's going to meet another friend and takes a taxi to the address on Jaebum's name card. When he reaches the office building in the heart of the bustling business district, he has to crane his neck to stare up at where the top of the skyscraper spears the clouds.

Jinyoung shuffles into the polished, air-conditioned lobby self-consciously, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He heads for the reception and leans forward, mumbling, "I'm here to see Mr Im Jaebum."

The receptionist, a modelesque young woman, looks startled. "Do you mean the CEO?" she clarifies, and Jinyoung nods.

The woman gives him an odd once-over. "Do you have an appointment?"

Jinyoung hesitates. "No. But I texted him that I was coming."

This apparently convinces the woman, who asks for his name and presses a button on the phone to speak to a female secretary.

"Mr Im will see you now. Please proceed to the elevators and alight on the fifteenth floor," she bows respectfully, buzzing Jinyoung through the barriers.

Jinyoung tries not to trip over his feet as he follows her directions, knees feeling like jelly. When the elevator dings open at the fifteenth floor, he steps out onto a carpeted lobby. It is spacious, elegantly decorated and spotlessly clean, and Jinyoung treads warily towards the glass door of the only office on the floor.

He presses the intercom and the secretary sitting inside looks up and buzzes him in. Her face is as plastic pretty as the receptionist on the ground floor and she flashes him a perfect, white smile. "Mr Park? Please proceed directly to Mr Im's office." She gestures to another door in the adjacent wall, this one opaque.

Jinyoung smiles back and thanks her nervously before walking towards the door and knocking tentatively on it.

"Come in," he hears Jaebum's muffled voice and turns the doorknob.

Jaebum's office is even more forbidding than his apartment, consisting of three white walls and one floor-length picture window overlooking a vista of the city. He is sitting behind a large desk piled high with assorted documents and folders surrounding a cutting-edge computer, his name and title embossed on the glossy plate at the head of the table. He's dressed in only a striped tie and work shirt today, suit jacket hanging from a coat rack by the wall.

When Jinyoung steps in, he looks up slowly, taking off the horn-rimmed glasses he's wearing and massaging the grooves on both sides of his nose with his fingers. Is it Jinyoung's imagination or do his eyes look more tired than they did days ago?

"What do you want?" Jaebum's voice is impassive, his eyes blank.

"I... I texted you that I was coming to return this," Jinyoung says, taking the watch out of his pocket and quickly placing it on the edge of the desk before withdrawing. "Well, then," he bows cordially and turns to leave.

"I asked you to keep it," Jaebum's voice rings out behind him, now coloured by a vibrant note of anger.

Jinyoung turns around slowly. "I don't want it," he enunciates, glaring at Jaebum. "I'm sorry I took it. Bye."

Before he reaches the door, Jaebum has stood up, crossed the room in three strides and slammed a palm onto it, effectively blocking his exit.

Jinyoung gulps, his heart dropping to his feet which are rooted to the ground.

"You're not leaving unless you take it," Jaebum says, voice icy again.

Jinyoung struggles to hold back the hot tears of rage pushing at his eyes. "I'm going to scream," he threatens. "I'm going to let the whole world know you fucked me."

"Go ahead," Jaebum says silkily. "I own this fucking company, in case you forgot."

Jinyoung grits his teeth helplessly. He considers trying to overpower Jaebum and flee, but knows from experience that his strength is no match.

"What do you want from me?" he bursts out. "Why are you treating me like this?"

Jaebum lets his hand fall from the door, Jinyoung's questions seeming unheard. "Why don't you want it? Isn't that what you approached me for?" He skewers Jinyoung with his gaze, seeming genuinely perplexed.

Jinyoung's mouth falls open. He nearly snorts out loud at the man's unbelievable conceitedness, the sheer nerve of him.

"No," he says, putting as much venom in the single word as he can. "Why would I want your shitty watch?"

Jaebum's lips curl in amusement. "It's worth more than a million."

"W-what?" Jinyoung takes a step back. He didn't know Rolexes cost so much.

As if reading his thoughts, Jaebum says carelessly, "It's an antique, custom-made for my father, the only one in the world. But I think you already know that."

"I... I didn't!" Jinyoung says in horror. "I swear I didn't!"

Jaebum's eyes widen, surprise, uncertainty and an unnameable emotion flickering across his features for an instant. But his voice is patronizing as he continues smoothly, "It's alright. You can have it."

Jinyoung hates the pitying charity in his eyes, the way they make Jinyoung feel smaller than an ant. Then a jolt of anger flares white hot across his vision. Honestly, the man had a severe affliction of Prince disease. Was he really so delusional as to think that Jinyoung had nothing better to do with his life than hatch a conspiracy to get close to him just to steal a crappy Rolex?

He digs his fingernails into his palms and says clearly, "I don't care if you believe me, but I really did not know anything about your watch. I never meant to take it either. It was an accident, and I apologize once more for any misunderstanding I caused. Goodbye." He bows again, then turns on his heel, determined that Jaebum will not deter him from leaving this time.

As he places his hand on the doorknob, Jinyoung remembers his parting shot. He turns around to aim it like an arrow towards bull's eye, but the expression on Jaebum's face makes the words vanish from his brain. Because Jaebum looks stricken, relieved, bereaved and bitterly regretful all at once, if that is possible. There is none of the arrogance and brutality Jinyoung had heard in his voice in those wide eyes, which are staring at Jinyoung's back with an almost unbearably soft longing --

Jaebum freezes for a beat, looking terrified, before blinking rapidly. His regains control of his face within seconds, impenetrable vacancy washing over it again, as placid and stoic as if Jinyoung had imagined the passion, the intensity he saw in those dark orbs.

Jaebum is staring at him quizzically, so Jinyoung racks his brain for his planned closing statement. Thankfully, he remembers it. "And you need to get your head out of your ass!" he practically shouts before hauling the door open and bursting out, running all the way past the stunned secretary to the lobby, his heart still racing frantically in the downward hurtling elevator as his last glimpse of Jaebum's face stays imprinted behind his retinas -- wounded, frustrated, uncomprehending.

Jinyoung doesn't hear from Jaebum for a week and four days. Not that he's counting. Or expecting to hear from Jaebum ever, for that matter. He is more jaded and cynical than after the first time they met, knowing that their relationship has been broken in a way that can never be mended, like shards of shattered glass cannot be pieced together into the original whole, like spilt milk cannot be contained in the cup again.

The only thing that bothers him is the incomplete, hostile note on which they parted. It had felt like walking down a street only to step into thin air and being plunged into an abyss, like driving on a road and being blindsided by a truck spinning out of nowhere. No warning signs or premonitions, lightning striking on a clear day. They had been getting on so well. What had gone wrong? Jinyoung hadn't even found the answer to this question before it was all over. But then again, that's not his fault.

Jinyoung knows that he should thank his stars if Jaebum never contacts him again, that even if he does, Jinyoung should sever their ties permanently. Because being with Jaebum is like playing with fire -- every time Jinyoung walks away, he finds himself burned beyond recognition.

Jinyoung knows all this, he does. But then why does his heart skip a beat when he sees a familiar height, a salaryman's suit? Why do his body and heart defy his mind and remember sensations he has no memory of? Or maybe he's just repressing the memory because it's too painful. Why does Jinyoung leap out of his skin every time his phone rings or vibrates with a message? Why does he spend his days staring listlessly out of the window, even his usually precise movements during practice growing sluggish and lethargic?

Why then, despite knowing in every fiber of his being that he shouldn't, does he open the text message with a pounding heart when the name Im Jaebum flashes across his phone screen two weeks and three days later?

(Why the hell was Jaebum's number still in his contact list anyway?)

Jinyoung opens the message with shaking fingers and a furiously cartwheeling heart, feeling like the embodiment of the saying Curiosity killed the cat. He knows he should delete the message without reading it, that reading it will only open doors he has no right entering, but if he did, how could he ever deal with not knowing what was in that message for the rest of his life? He'd just take one peek, he promises himself. One peek and then he'd ignore and delete it, and Jaebum's number too.

The world stops for an instant when he rapidly scans the message. Can you meet me, just once? I have something to tell you. I'll be waiting at the park nearby your studio at 6 until you come. If you don't, I'll understand and never contact you again.

The last four words hit Jinyoung with the force of a freight train. Never contact you again. Jinyoung's world tilts alarmingly at the thought of Jaebum vanishing completely from his life, as if he had never existed, never fucked Jinyoung until every cell of his body ignited like an inferno, never swept into Jinyoung's life like a hurricane and turned it upside down. How could he live without the prospect of ever seeing Jaebum again; how could he ever, ever forget his traffic-stopping good looks, his breathtaking brutality, his devastating gentleness?

Jinyoung doesn't think he's capable of it.

So he doesn't keep his promise of deleting the message. He doesn't reply it either, just puts away his phone and tries to concentrate on individual practice for the next few hours. But his concentration is shot and he falls more than once, nearly spraining his ankle. When he picks up his phone again, the time reads 6.14 PM.

An incredibly vivid image flashes through his mind: Jaebum sitting alone on a park bench, his immaculate suit looking misfitting against the scarred, ugly wood, looking around him eagerly and occasionally peering at his watch. His head snapping up with hope at every set of passing footsteps, then lowering in disappointment. His growing resignation as the minutes ticked by, the imminent realization that Jinyoung would not be coming...

Jinyoung shakes his head to dissipate the image. This is ridiculous. Why should he care if Jaebum waited stupidly, pathetically alone in the cold until midnight? He deserved it for how he had treated Jinyoung. Jinyoung hadn't dared to breathe a word about it to anybody, especially Jackson, only evasively replying that he had returned the watch when Jackson asked. He knew that if he told Jackson the truth about how horribly he had been degraded, the unspeakable words that Jaebum had hurled at him, nothing and no one would be able to stop Jackson from going on a rampage to avenge Jinyoung. Jinyoung would rather be the only casualty in this catastrophe.

Jinyoung practices for another hour, until his muscles are screaming for mercy, until he's too exhausted to continue thinking Jaebum Jaebum Jaebum. The rest of the team have long since left and he takes a long, hot shower in the empty changing room. After that, he dries himself off and dresses slowly, blow-drying his hair as he studies himself in the mirror. Bambam's eyeliner is lying on the dressing table. He must've forgotten to take it home. Jinyoung picks it up and opens it, bringing the pencil tip towards his eyelash line and experimentally tracing the top of his eye, then colouring in the corners. He shades and smudges until both his eyes are heavily lined with kohl and he no longer looks like himself. He looks dangerous, sensual.

Jinyoung replaces the eyeliner on the table and doesn't ask himself why he's putting on makeup if he's going straight home because he doesn't have an answer.

He checks his phone again. It reads 9.05PM. There are no new messages. Jinyoung plays Angry Birds on his phone for forty minutes before gathering up his belongings, satisfied that even if Jaebum had been by, he would've long given up by now.

The early winter chill is biting in the night breeze, and Jinyoung wraps a scarf around his neck and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets as he makes his way out of the building. His breath fogs up in the air as he exhales and the streets are mostly deserted, too late and cold for people to roam around.

As he's walking past the park, Jinyoung can't resist stealing a sideways glance, just for the sake of it. He doesn't actually expect Jaebum to be there in this bone-aching cold and nearly four hours later. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees a familiar figure, on the very park bench he had imagined, his shoulders hunched against the cold, looking like a hallucination.

Jinyoung's heart is roaring in his ears as he approaches, anger clouding his mind and confusing him. He knows he should just ignore Jaebum and continue his way home. He had done so well so far. But all he can think of as he stalks towards the park bench is what he's going to do if he finds Jaebum still on the bench on his way to practice the next morning, only dead and blue with hypothermia.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snaps as soon as he's in front of Jaebum. Jaebum is clad in a lightweight suit and tie, not even wearing a jacket for heaven's sake. A thin briefcase is his own companion, sitting on the bench beside him. His ears are deep red with cold and his arms are folded tightly for warmth, his face paper white. Jinyoung thinks he can hear his teeth clattering.

"Jinyoung?" Jaebum raises his head, eyes widening comically and leaps to his feet, his knees immediately buckling. If Jinyoung hadn't caught him in time, he would've faceplanted. "Whoops," he laughs hoarsely. "Just a little cramp."

"Have you been sitting here since six?" Jinyoung is dimly aware that he's shouting.

Jaebum looks surprised. "Didn't you see my text?"

"Of course I saw your fucking text, why else would I know you've been here since six? Jesus."

"Jinyoung."

"..."

"Jinyoung."

"What?! Stop calling my name."

"Is that really you? Am I dreaming?"

"I'm leaving."

"You came. You came."

Jinyoung abruptly realizes that he's still holding Jaebum's elbows, and quickly lets go. Jaebum teeters unsteadily on his feet and Jinyoung grabs his arm roughly again. "You really are an old man, aren't you?"

"Too old for you."

"Damn straight. You can go home now."

"Let me drive you home."

"No."

"Please. It's too cold for you to walk."

"Not too cold for you to sit here for four hours, apparently."

"I was freezing."

"That's your business. No one asked you to wait."

"I couldn't take the risk."

"What risk?"

"The risk that if you came by at --" Jaebum checks his watch with a wry smile, "-- 10.23PM, I wouldn't be here."

Somehow, Jinyoung ends up helping Jaebum to his car, carrying his briefcase for him. He doesn't know how it happened, probably due to Jaebum's Oscar-worthy acting skills. The way he had hobbled to the carpark, leaning heavily on Jinyoung, you'd think he'd been sitting there for four days and not hours.

"You can stop faking it," Jinyoung says testily when Jaebum opens the passenger door for him. "You're cramped, not crippled."

Jaebum's eyes widen, his feet halting mid-limp, and suddenly Jinyoung finds himself pinned against the side of the car by Jaebum's hips and imprisoned between his arms, his face way too close for comfort to Jinyoung's as he peers into Jinyoung's eyes. "What did you do to your eyes?" he breathes, hand moving up to Jinyoung's face, tracing the shape of his eye with a light finger.

Jinyoung struggles to escape the awkward position to no avail, settling on coughing to maintain his dignity. "It's just eyeliner," he says carelessly, trying to hide how thrilled he is that Jaebum noticed.

"Whatever it is... do you know what it does to me?" Jaebum's gaze continues penetrating him, eyelids falling to half-mast.

Jinyoung shrugs, face flaming, and Jaebum rolls his hips against Jinyoung's, once, twice. "It makes me want to bend you over the hood of my car and fuck you right here, right now," he whispers hotly, right in Jinyoung's ear.

Jinyoung feels his own erection growing, and hastily brings his hands up to Jaebum's chest to shove him away brusquely. "We're over," he says curtly. "Say whatever you want and take me home now."

Apparently Jaebum realizes that he means business, because he reluctantly releases Jinyoung and hurries to the driver's side, his cramp miraculously cured. The interior of the car is relievingly toasty, the heater on. Jinyoung immediately cranks it to full blast to warm Jaebum up. After a few minutes he starts feeling like he's in a sauna, so he discreetly unwinds his scarf. He steals a glance at Jaebum and fights back the impulse to wrap it around his neck.

Jinyoung studies Jaebum and feels his warm feelings slowly ebb away as he realizes that Jaebum had literally manipulated him into seeing him again. He knew that Jinyoung was soft-hearted and had used that against him. Jackson was right. What was his problem? Why did he think he could blow hot and cold whenever he liked, belittle Jinyoung whenever he was angry, flirt playfully with him whenever he felt horny, fuck him anytime and anywhere he pleased? Jinyoung had no obligation to deal with his bipolar mood swings, his ever-changing temperament.

But the question Jinyoung found most difficult to answer was: why, despite knowing how toxic and screwed up their relationship was, did Jinyoung come back for more, time and again?

Jaebum's sleeve slips down his left wrist a little, and Jinyoung notices a detail he faintly registered just now but was too overwhelmed to dissect -- Jaebum is wearing the Rolex again. What did it mean? Did Jinyoung even care?

Jaebum notices the direction of his gaze, and says casually, "It's a family heirloom."

"Of course I knew that," Jinyoung says bitterly. "Why else would I steal it?"

Jaebum looks startled by the biting sarcasm in his tone, hazarding a glance at him. "Jinyoung-ah..." he starts.

"You said you had something to tell me," Jinyoung interrupts.

Jaebum is silent for a moment, before he says, "It's difficult for me to trust people. A lot of them... have a motive for getting close to me."

Jinyoung doesn't say anything.

"Most of the time, though, I don't really care," Jaebum continues. "But when I thought you did that, it... it killed me." His voice grows harsh. "I don't know why but I felt like such a gullible idiot for believing you, for misjudging you, for --"

"For?" Jinyoung prompts.

Jaebum swallows, his throat working. "For trusting you. For letting you in."

"Then don't," Jinyoung says shortly, reaching for his door handle as Jaebum pulls up outside his apartment building.

Jaebum's hand on his shoulder stops him. "But I want you," he says, voice raw. "Any way I can have you, on any terms, I'll take them."

Jinyoung closes his eyes, focusing all the nerve endings in his body in that one blistering spot of his shoulder where Jaebum's hand rests. The conversation is losing its thread of logic, and Jinyoung knows that if he's smart, he'll run away as far as he can and never look back. But there's only one thing he knows for sure: that he craves Jaebum's touch, needs it like he needs oxygen and water and food, that he wants to feel the electric heat of Jaebum's body on top of him.

"Jinyoung," Jaebum murmurs behind him, his voice like an enchantation. "I'm cold tonight. Warm me up."

Jinyoung's eyes flutter open the next morning to Jaebum carefully carding his fingers through Jinyoung's floppy bangs, brushing them to one side like a curtain so he can see Jinyoung's eyes. Jaebum's eyes are deep dark pools like abysses, and Jinyoung wishes he could hide behind his fringe from their intensity.

"You look different with your hair down," Jaebum remarks, letting it fall back when Jinyoung closes his eyes again. "Younger."

Jinyoung isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing. He usually sweeps his bangs to the side of his forehead and holds it in place with a barette at home, and hairspray or mousse when he's going out. "Do you like it?" he dares to joke.

"Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum says grimly. "How old are you?"

Uh-oh, Jinyoung thinks. He had slyly managed to avoid bringing up his age until then, knowing that Jaebum thought he was in his late twenties and not correcting the assumption. He didn't know why, maybe because he was worried Jaebum wouldn't take him seriously or see him as an equal. The disparity in their statuses was already vast enough as it was and Jaebum is just so infuriatingly adult he makes Jinyoung feel hopelessly adolescent.

"I just turned twenty-five," he admits with consternation, and Jaebum inhales softly.

"You're a baby!" he mutters an oath, but his eyes are dark more with contrition and remorse than anger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jaebum murmurs, anguished. "How could I have suspected you...?"

Jinyoung is confused. "Does that have anything to do with my age?"

Jaebum only shakes his head and covers both Jinyoung's eyes with one hand, his voice deepening. "Don't look at me. I'm ashamed."

Jinyoung laughs and waits patiently for Jaebum to remove his hand, but after a few seconds he feels something cold and hard slipping around his wrist instead. Metal. A watch.

Jinyoung gasps, throwing Jaebum's hand off as he brings his arm up. An exquisitely crafted, obviously expensive Tag Heuer watch is clasped snugly around his wrist. A small smile spreads over Jaebum's face as he studies it. "It suits you."

Jinyoung's fingers tremble as he struggles clumsily to take it off. "I can't accept this --" he protests, but Jaebum silences him with a finger on his lips.

"I'm so sorry," he says, a tear falling soundlessly from the corner of his eye onto the pillow, dampening it. "Please don't return it. I'll never be able to forgive myself."

Jinyoung can practically feel his heart melting into a puddle of goo. Seriously, he's such a softie. He disgusts himself. Jinyoung sighs loudly but leaves it on. "I'll pay you back in installments," he mumbles, and Jaebum cracks an impossibly relieved smile through his tears.

Jinyoung's eyes fall on the Rolex around his wrist, and Jaebum looks chagrined for a second before chuckling softly. "I wanted to give you this at first, but figured it was too big," he says with a straight face.

Jinyoung makes a face. "No, thanks. I'd have bad memories every time I looked at it."

Jaebum looks hurt by the words but accepts them humbly, and Jinyoung is surprised by the dawning realization that they are not strictly true. For all intents and purposes, they should be, but instead of the fading sting of Jaebum's humiliation, what Jinyoung recalls most when he sees the watch is Jaebum's vulnerability, his easily hurt fragility and feigned toughness. His controlled gentility now as he gazes down at Jinyoung, like Jinyoung is the one who is fragile as porcelain and Jaebum is afraid to break him.

Jaebum remains speechless, as if reflecting on his mistakes, and Jinyoung decides to steer the conversation to lighter topics. "How did you know my size, anyway?" He pokes Jaebum's cheek, and Jaebum breaks out of his reverie with a dazed laugh.

He touches his thumb to his forefinger to form a circle. "Because your wrist fits in here," he says.

Jinyoung snorts at the tiny hole. "I don't believe it."

Jaebum just takes his other arm and closes the fingers over Jinyoung's bare wrist, and Jinyoung is surprised to find that it's true.

After Jinyoung washes up and brushes his teeth with a new toothbrush borrowed from Jaebum, he pads to the kitchen barefoot, drawn by the aromas of caffeine, eggs and bacon. Jaebum is standing at the stove looking comically housewife-like in an apron, clumsily scrambling eggs in a pan.

"It's almost ready!" he enthuses when Jinyoung comes in, and bustles to the refrigerator to pour him a glass of fresh milk. Jinyoung accepts and drinks it, amused. It's ice cold and frothy, delicious. Probably some ridiculously expensive designer brand. Was there such a thing as designer milk?

Jaebum slides the eggs onto two plates of greasy bacon and slightly charred toast, humming under his breath. He seems to be in a good mood. After he sets them down on the kitchen counter in a flourish, he turns to face Jinyoung who is struggling to clamber onto one of the uncomfortably high barstools, and laughs.

Jinyoung looks up, blushing in embarrassment. Who designed these impractical stools, anyway? But Jaebum reaches out to brush his thumb across Jinyoung's upper lip. "You have a milk moustache," he explains, eyes still laughing.

Jinyoung blushes twice as violently as Jaebum lifts his thumb to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, sucking slowly as he holds Jinyoung's gaze. He is caught off guard when Jaebum easily climbs onto a stool and lifts Jinyoung into his lap. "Darling," he murmurs in Jinyoung's ear, and Jinyoung can't see Jaebum's expression but the depth of his voice sends a tingle down Jinyoung's spine.

When he turns, Jaebum's lips meet his halfway, the plates of cooling breakfast forgotten as Jinyoung sips and laps at Jaebum's mouth. Jaebum tastes of strong black coffee and the spearmint toothpaste Jinyoung has just used, and Jinyoung has never felt so hungry.

Jinyoung has always known that Jaebum was possessive, but as they enter this tentative new phase of their relationship, his need to monopolize Jinyoung begins to seem stifling, even suffocating. He doesn't seem to understand the concept of personal space, expecting Jinyoung to drop everything and make time for him the moment he calls and sulking irritably whenever he doesn't get his way or Jinyoung's attention wanders from him. He's acting like an overgrown kid and it's overbearing.

"You need to back down," Jinyoung tells him reasonably. "My life doesn't revolve around you, you know."

Jaebum pouts with uncharacteristic childishness. "I just don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Jinyoung furrows his brow.

"Why do you live with him if you're not fucking?" Jaebum explodes crudely, and Jinyoung realizes the reason for his short-temperedness of late.

"Do you mean Jackson?" he hedges, and Jaebum grinds his teeth at the name, confirming his suspicions.

Jinyoung laughs incredulously. "We're just friends. This might come as a surprise to you, but not everyone can afford to rent a whole apartment by themselves," he can't help jibing snarkily.

Jaebum's face clears up. "If that's the reason, then --"

"No, no, no," Jinyoung interrupts flatly. "Whatever you're about to offer, the answer is no." He's getting a little tired of Jaebum's narrow mindset that all problems can be solved with money. "Even if I had enough money, I would still choose to live with Jackson. I enjoy his company."

Jaebum looks desolate. "But why..." he forces out, unable to continue.

"It's called being roommates." Jinyoung rolls his eyes. "Though I doubt you'd understand."

Jaebum looks frustrated as he struggles to voice the question in his mind. "Is he... straight?"

Jinyoung hesitates at this, the wind going out of his sails. "Not really," he says slowly.

"Then why haven't you hooked up?" Jaebum interrogates.

Jinyoung sighs, wondering how to put this delicately. "He doesn't like... being on top," he finally manages, flushing bright crimson.

This revelation stops Jaebum's tirade, comprehension dawning in his eyes. Jinyoung can already see the next question chasing across his face and quickly launches on before Jaebum can ask how he knows. "Besides, he has a boyfriend." Jinyoung delivers this information with a truimphant smile, certain it will put an end to Jaebum's petty jealousies.

Jaebum takes this in and considers it for a beat, then thankfully softens, looking pacified, at least for the moment. "I still don't like it," he grumbles halfheartedly, eyes narrowed, but Jinyoung declines to discuss the subject any longer.

Jaebum clings on to his unsavory first impression of Jackson, refusing to be satisfied until Jinyoung finally gives in and agrees to introduce Jaebum to Jackson's boyfriend. Jinyoung persuades Jackson to call Yugyeom out and Jaebum reserves a table at a swanky, newly-opened French bistro.

The dinner is predictably awkward, Jackson and Jaebum staring each other down from opposite sides of the table, the air between them sizzling as Jinyoung stares ahead at Yugyeom, the only one who seems to have any appetite and is ravenously wolfing down escargots and duck confit, oblivious to the cloud of tension.

Jaebum cracks a few tasteless jokes and generally acts like a pompous narcissist, and Jinyoung wouldn't have been able to stick it before but today he sees through the cracks in Jaebum's exterior to the frustrated difficulty in expressing himself, the burning desire to impress Jinyoung's friends that ends up backfiring.

"What do you see in that asshat?" Jackson shakes his head tragically, finally picking at his Caesar salad when Jaebum has excused himself to go to the restroom.

Jinyoung avoids his eyes. "We're just friends."

"Friends with benefits, you mean." Jackson sniggers at his own pun.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, face growing warm. "What's your problem? You were the one who encouraged me to call him at first, remember?"

"Don't remind me," Jackson groans, covering his face. "I just... I don't like how he makes you cry."

"He does not make me cry!" Jinyoung hisses, shooting a mortified glance at Yugyeom. "I mean,  I don't cry!"

"Relax, Yugyeomie already knows," Jackson drawls, like that's supposed to make him feel better.

Yugyeom's ears perk up at his name and he raises his head at last, still chewing. "Jackson-hyung is right. I heard some stuff about him too."

"Stuff? What stuff?" Jinyoung takes the bait, passionately curious despite himself.

Yugyeom wipes his mouth with a napkin and downs a gulp of red wine. "My friend Yerin's sister Jimin dated him for awhile a few years back, and he totally broke her heart."

Jinyoung swallows hard at the mention of one of Jaebum's ex-girlfriends. Yugyeom continues, unperturbed. "She told me he's kind of notorious for being a playboy."

Playboy. The word hits Jinyoung like a glancing blow, and he imagines Jaebum with his scruffy hair and bad-boy smile, trailing a string of broken hearts behind him like a comet's tail. Maybe Jinyoung might just be one of many, replaceable, disposable.

"We're just having fun," is all he can think to blurt out to save face in front of his friends who are watching him intently, but at that moment Jaebum appears back at the table, the look on his face making it obvious that he heard Jinyoung's proclamation, loud and clear.

After that day, they settle into a kind of routine, a careful, calculated dancing around each other, this thing between them undefined but steadily growing. Jinyoung will go days on end without hearing from Jaebum, not a single text or call, and then Jaebum will turn up outside his studio after practice without a word of warning, looking so achingly hopeful that Jinyoung doesn't have the heart to say no to him. They will drive to Jaebum's apartment in smouldering silence, Jaebum's hand on the gearshift snaking hungrily to find his knee and Jinyoung will feel that familiar electrical charge leaping between their skin, like a magnetic attraction that defies all logic and common sense, never losing its mysterious power.

He now regrets pretending to be such a seasoned player of the game, that hot guys hit on him on a daily basis. He had wanted to seem tougher and more experienced than he really was, and it had backfired on him. Jinyoung worries now that he has bitten off more than he can chew.

There is an unacknowledged but tangible current of mistrust running between them, sown by the watch issue and fed by Yugyeom's gossip and Jackson's outspoken disapproval. Jinyoung abhores it but has no idea how to undo it. The longer he leaves it to fester, the deeper and more convoluted the misunderstanding evolves, spreading its roots in the foundation of their relationship and becoming more and more taboo, unmentionable. Jinyoung feels like a small animal tangled in a ball of yarn -- the more he struggles, the increasingly difficult the knots are to unravel.

After their first date, Jinyoung had wondered if that would be the end of them, if Jaebum would lose interest in him after a one-night stand. He doesn't tell anyone, but that insecurity still persists, grating and disturbing, gnawing at him from the inside. Is Jaebum even interested in being more than fuck buddies? Even after they have met more times than he can count on his fingers, every night spent together still feels like a booty call, detached from each other and not the infinitesimal building of a growing relationship.

Jinyoung knows that he is reaping his just desserts, that he can hardly act like a spurned girl tricked into losing her chastity because he's not one. He's a tall, masculine man with the strength to fend for himself but Jinyoung wonders why Jaebum's unattainable maturity makes him feel hopelessly small.

Jinyoung can't stand how distant he feels when Jaebum puts him at arm's length, growing avuncular and standoffish, unapproachable. When his eyes shutter like closed windows and grow brooding and pensive, it's like an insurmountable brick wall going up between them, a chasm too deep and treacherous to breach.

On his part, Jaebum seems to advance and withdraw in an incomprehensible pattern too. Now that they have grown comfortable, Jinyoung realizes that the cocky swagger and suave charisma are but smokescreens he hides behind to disguise his real, inscrutable emotions. He is always faultlessly well-bred, treating Jinyoung with a chivalry so exaggerated it's almost mocking.

Jinyoung wishes that Jaebum would stop handling him with kid gloves and restrained strength, holding himself back as if Jinyoung is a ticking explosive he's dismantling, liable to implode any moment.

Up till now, it still confounds him sometimes what's a front and what's not, never completely sure at any time whether Jaebum is joking or serious. More than once, Jinyoung had caught himself staring at Jaebum like a Rubik's cube that stumped him, trying with infuriating inability to figure out the thoughts and secrets that lay behind that easy, laidback grin. Jinyoung hates the way Jaebum is so presumptous and confident in his possession, just taking for granted that he owns Jinyoung, body and soul. Or maybe he hates that Jaebum is right.

So they go on, unable to progress but powerless to stop too, trapped in an agonizingly sweet stalemate. Every time, Jinyoung is certain that it will be the last, that this will be the day the all-consuming fire between them finally dies out into ineffectual embers, dissipating as quickly as it had come, but it only seems to grow impossibly stronger like a beast that feeds on everything.

But every time Jinyoung is thisclose to giving up, Jaebum will show a flash of vulnerability, a glimpse of something genuine, and that will be all it takes to reel Jinyoung back in. One step forward, two steps back. He's like a marionette and Jaebum the puppetmaster controlling his strings, and it's twisted and warped but Jinyoung can't run away from this doomed falling.

Jinyoung had never imagined he would ever fall for a person like Jaebum. Jinyoung's ideal type is humble, easygoing and friendly, good-natured. Jaebum is entirely the antithesis of that -- entitled, undeserving, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and everything handed to him, the embodiment of the haughty spoilt chaebols every penniless middle-class guy, including Jinyoung and Jackson, loves to hate. But maybe the saying that opposites attract is true after all.

Jinyoung soon finds out that Jaebum had neglected to mention that the apartment and summer house were just two of the countless properties and land that he owned, and that was only in Korea. And property only made up a fraction of his assets and investments. Jinyoung can't even wrap his head around the kingdom of Jaebum's wealth, much less put himself in Jaebum's shoes. But he imagines that it might sometimes feel more like a burden than liberating.

Jaebum is breathtakingly ambitious, a man of unabashedly enormous appetites for living, playing and most of all, loving. Sometimes Jinyoung wonders if he's just another of Jaebum's proudly displayed acquisitions, on the same rank as inanimate objects like auctioned items sold to the highest bidder. He wants to tell Jaebum to treat him with care, because Jinyoung is not an android sex doll but flesh and blood, a living and breathing human being, rendered powerless by his weakness for Jaebum.

part 3