(for carrotclarinets) paperback romance ✸ part 1 of 2
❊ for: carrotclarinets
❊ title: paperback romance
❊ pairings: chanyeol/d.o, kai/d.o
❊ rating: pg13
❊ warnings: character death
❊ word count: 16,486w
❊ summary: "My name is Do Kyungsoo. I work the graveyard shift at this bookstore on weekdays. This isn't your world. You came out of a fairytale story, for whatever universal design the night has planned for us."
❊ a/n: This contains spoilers for/butchering of several classic novels and a great movie. Massive massive massive thank you hug to my beta, the most considerate, thorough, patient, lovely, all in all best beta in the world! This fic wouldn't have been as comprehensible/neat without her touch. Also to cas, my #1 fan. To my recipient, I hope you enjoy it! Happy end of summer/winter/respective seasons everyone!
Kyungsoo works nights at the bookstore by the bend. By nights, he means early mornings, he means the time where anybody who loves themselves would avoid taking shifts, he means that slice between ten pm and three am that really only exists in concept.
It suits him well for the most part - ghosts never scared him and the morning sun hisses and spits upon contact with his skin. His black clothing and pale skin makes him more un-dead than living anyway - perfect for the graveyard shift.
Most nights it's just him and the bountiful supply of books to keep him company. This tomb of a bookstore with its little books simmering like fireflies in mason jars. He spends more time here, slotted in between the bookshelves, than anywhere in the city, so much so that he’s become immune to paper cuts.
Tonight however - full moon, hurricane warning, Monday - Kyungsoo wants to burn the whole place down. And the street and the goddamn moon along with it.
"Who the hell," Kyungsoo complains to the cash register whilst furiously wiping away hot tears from his face. "Breaks up with someone over the phone? Who would be that much of a jackass-"
But of course, Kyungsoo's boyfriend of two years, Park Chanyeol did. Five minutes ago as Kyungsoo was walking into the shop after saying goodbye to the last person on shift.
"I don't see you anymore, " was the greeting Kyungsoo was met with when he picked up the phone.
"You saw me three days ago," because Chanyeol was never the type for serious.
"You know what I mean. We don't see each other anymore, like we used to. Like at uni when we'd go to parties together like a team. Junmyeon asked me at work today if we were even dating anymore."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Kyungsoo saw it nonetheless, and who knows the last time they had a proper date together, let alone a time long enough to discuss issues like this face to face.
Chanyeol paused and something like the tinkling of glass and rustle of a large crowd all talking at once overtook the line. "Kyungsoo, you know what I mean."
“Except I don’t.” Kyungsoo slams the keys on the counter and disturbs a few stray ballpoint pens. But he does get it, because Chanyeol was the dynamic one in the relationship and anything moving, even by a centimetre, in their timeline was all his doing. Kyungsoo’s the quiet one, the one that gets manoeuvred around to fit the atmospherical feng shui. What doesn’t fit is how it managed to last long enough for Kyungsoo to get comfortable.
“You don’t- we don’t live in the same world,” Chanyeol said before the line drowned in static and loud, larger-than-life laughter. Only when the clock above the counter chimed ten did Kyungsoo realize where he was, or that he had still been standing by the glass sliding doors, heart sore and bitter, crumbling in his mouth.
He's not going to cry over him. He's not going to cry over him. He's not going to cry over him. Maybe over the two years wasted on an agonizingly painful relationship, or over his Rilakkuma plushies held captive at Chanyeol's apartment, or over the fact that Kyungsoo's jacket smells faintly of Chanyeol's cologne from a week ago when they crossed paths outside of Chanyeol’s office; strangers who kiss upon meeting.
Or over the fact that their first date was at this damn ghost house of a bookstore.
One (probably the only) good thing about working the night shift of a bookstore is that no one is around to see him collapse into a crying mess. It’s just him, in this bookstore in a completely different reality to everyone around him. Outside, the sky cries with him.
-
10:30, subject is seen sunken in a bean bag by the kids corner, Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid slain open on his lap. Definitely not crying.
Kyungsoo doesn't cry when the little mermaid hesitates, hand clutching the dagger hovering over the Prince's chest, gently rising and falling with the new Princess' hair fanned all across. The words get a bit smudged but he makes out the little mermaid throwing herself over the ship's edge and huffs.
"He belongs in your world!” Kyungsoo yells at the book. The words look back at him all black print and sad. "He should drown at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of them." His throat catches, and he has to put the storybook down and have a long hard look at himself and the choices he's made and is making. This is pathetic. No wonder Chanyeol got out as soon as he could-
Motherfucking Chanyeol. A fresh set of angry tears blur his vision, I will kill you. A wretched sob wavers and splits the air.
At the point of the Prince staring longingly at the ocean horizon Kyungsoo's body is shaking, and it seems that the Prince is staring right at him asking, "why are you crying?"
"You asshole," Kyungsoo spits out, voice breaking and swallowing down sharp sobs, "you're supposed to end up with the little mermaid. She was the one that saved your fucking ass in the beginning."
Strange, heavy silence. Like the air is being shared by another set of lungs. "What?"
"Wait," Kyungsoo touches the page, "are- are you talking? To me?"
Someone else's voice clear as day somewhere above him. "Who else would I be talking to?"
A customer, Kyungsoo's mind reels. Shit, he can't handle any human interactions today, not in this pitiful state. But when he looks up, the man before him is unlike any customer he's ever served. A loose white cotton long-sleeve, tight brown trousers with strings instead of a zipper, and dark leather boots, topped with a face as sun-kissed as it is handsome, old dark eyes, tousled black locks.
"Sorry." Kyungsoo wipes his nose and hastily gets up. He only reaches up to the man's chin though, and there's something about his presence that throws the atmosphere in the room off-axis. "Is it- uh- dress up themed at the bar next door or something?"
The man furrows his eyebrows and glances around the store, has a good once-over at Kyungsoo which makes his ears redden, but Kyungsoo stands his ground. "I hardly know where I am."
"You're at a bookstore in Seoul, South Korea." Kyungsoo laughs half-heartedly.
The man runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "I beg your pardon, but I have never heard of Seoul, or South Korea."
Kyungsoo smiles tensely, anger flaring up for another reason now. "Are you trying to fuck with me? 'Cause I've had a pretty shitty day and you're not being funny right now."
The man jolts his head back, as if punched, and clenches his jaw. "My sincerest apologies if I have offended you in any way, but that is no way to talk to royalty. I could make you an enemy of the crown."
Kyungsoo throws his head back and guffaws. "Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me. You can't be serious."
"Then maybe I should not have given you my concern earlier, because you clearly have no moral sense or kindness." The man takes a step closer and suddenly he looks twice his original size. Kyungsoo stretches his arms, warming up to a hard punch straight to that pretty face. "And I was serious, about everything. When I find my ship, it will be my men that you will be dealing with."
Ship. In the electrified air Kyungsoo's eyes quickly dart to The Little Mermaid, lying closed by his foot. But that's just absurd. "What do you mean 'your ship'?"
"I mean, my ship with a crew of over fifty men, and my new bride, a Princess with just as many powerful allies as I have. You have chosen the wrong fight."
This can't be. "You mean, like in The Little Mermaid?"
"The little what? Stop stalling-"
"Are you saying," Kyungsoo has to pause from the sheer stupidity of it all, of all nights for the universe to fuck him over. "You're the prince who married the neighbouring kingdom's Princess instead of the little mer- the pretty, mute girl you found washed up on the shore?"
The man reels back, shadows draining out of his face leaving something immensely vulnerable, dark eyes glazing over like he's still searching the rolling waves at sunrise. It passes in a flash, just as Kyungsoo picks up the book and holds it an arm's way away in case any more characters decide to jump out. The man's breath hitches, mouth opening and closing and opening but no sound slips out. And then, after clearing his throat, the man looks at the book, muttering quietly, "Did you know the mute girl? Why she threw herself into the sea?"
Kyungsoo shoves the book into the Prince's chest, shaking disbelief out of his head. "This book, this fairy tale. It's about a kingdom of mermaids and the Little Mermaid, the youngest of all the Princess mermaids, who fell in love with a Prince she saw on a ship. She saved him when he was drowning out at sea, but she hid herself when he woke."
The Prince's fists clench, knuckles pale.
"But," Kyungsoo continues, fighting back another wave of sobs he thought had died down by now. "She still loved him. She loved him so much that she made a deal with the sea witch, her voice for a pair of human legs. And if the Prince married her in the end, she would gain an immortal soul and be with the Prince for all of eternity."
The Prince's shadow ebbs and glows behind him like a billowing black cape. Something magical in the air, in the night, Kyungsoo feels, is rubbing against reality and eating it away. The Prince tries to speak, but his wide shoulders are trembling.
"I-" he swallows. "Do not understand. Where am I, really? Who are you?"
Kyungsoo stares at the Prince's face. This is one hell of a dream. "My name is Do Kyungsoo. I work the graveyard shift at this bookstore on weekdays. This isn't your world. You came out of a fairytale story, for whatever universal design the night has planned for us, and I don't think any of this is real right now." Really. He must've fallen asleep somewhere after picking up The Little Mermaid. If all goes well then maybe the break up was a dream too; at that Kyungsoo's heart spikes.
"Fairytale…"
"The Little Mermaid. Not the Disney one though, the one with the sad ending."
The Prince rubs at his jaw. "But mermaids are a myth."
"Well, they are. In this world anyway. They exist in yours, but the humans don't know about it." Kyungsoo feels like he's talking to a kindergartner who just wandered into the store in search for The Monster Book of Monsters. "I guess you have more in common with this world than your own, kind of."
They share a look of disbelief for a moment that the Prince pulls away from, looking at the books slotted neatly on the shelves around the empty store. It doesn't feel so empty now that Kyungsoo has to share air with someone else, even if that someone else is just a figment of his imagination.
"Then is this the real world, or whatever?" the Prince asks, plucking a hardback - special edition of The Little Prince - into his hands; fidgety, still slightly shaking.
"I guess," Kyungsoo shrugs. "But who knows. Maybe I'm in someone's story right now. A pretty shitty story." Probably with a lacklustre, typical ending.
"And why is that?"
"Because," he looks at his books, looks at all the interesting lives the characters are living inside the covers, in between the lines. "Because I'm not the most exciting protagonist. And I can't seem to hold on to the people I love very well, and I don't think my ending will be very spectacular. A story's only as good as how it ends, that's how people remember them."
The Prince, surprisingly handling the whole alternate universe phenomenon well, looks shocked, all parted lips and shaking head, sea-breeze hair ruffling like it still has the wind in it. "If a story is only as good as its ending, then what is the point of the story? So I came out of a fairytale, supposedly, does my existence only amount to the outcome of my choices, and not the reasons why I made them?"
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and picks The Little Prince (he cracks the tiniest of smiles here) right out his hands. "Says you who completely ruined the ending to The Little Mermaid. Or at least the Hans Christian Anderson version. I liked the Disney ending so much better." And by impulse, because talking to a character from a children's fairytale is already halfway to crazytown, he bends down and scans the shelf until he spots it - there it is: Walt Disney's The Little Mermaid, storybook edition. He pulls it out gently - book keeper hands - and faces the Prince.
"In this one, Prince Eric - which is you-"
"My name is Prince Kai," he interrupts. "Jongin, actually. Just Jongin."
"Okay then, Just Jongin," Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow. Perhaps the night won't be as dull as he had imagined. "In this version of your story..."
Kyungsoo's face burns with the sea-salt whip, an odd warmth swirling through his fingers, lips cracking from the air. It's warm, but not as warm as below his hips. He's hiding behind a large boulder swallowed by moss, and if he takes peak, he'll be able to see Jongin drenched and sprawled on the beach, basking in a spot of golden sunlight.
Kyungsoo tries to walk to him but instead of two short legs, from his hips down extends a large tail, scales glistening turquoise and emerald.
Jongin is getting up just as Kyungsoo manages to swim his way up shore. One look at Kyungsoo and Jongin's reeling up the beach, scrambling like a crab to get away. "Oh my god!"
"Don't freak out." Kyungsoo raises his palms, grainy with wet sand. "We just finished a major battle against the sea witch. But when she died the deal she made with Ariel died with her, and so she returns to being a mermaid."
The bright light emphasises every emotion on Jongin's face when he hesitantly crawls forward, hand reaching out to touch Kyungsoo's cheeks, then a little more forward to run his hand down his shoulders, back, and the uneven texture of his tail. "This is what she gave up for legs? Who would let go of something so beautiful?"
A strange sensation, Kyungsoo thinks, someone touching his tail. It feels like his legs are in a constant state of pins and needles, but less irritating. "For love. The classic tragedy. But don't worry. Her father gives her legs in the end, and they live happily ever after. The end. Now isn't that a better ending than her dying and dissipating into the air?"
Zip. Zoom. The screen flickers from static to magic transformation to static to a wedding celebration on a large ship, a rainbow overhead and a multitude of crying mermaids over the deck. Jongin is in his white royal uniform endowed in silver buttons, a sword strapped to his hip and shiny black boots giving him more unnecessary centimetres. Kyungsoo, dressed in a black suit with his legs back, holding Jongin's hands as the priest reads out their vows, sees for the first time the Prince within his characterisation; charming and handsome.
Jongin's eyes shine and a smile keeps his lips busy, constantly pulling at the corner at every thought. "I definitely, definitely, like this ending much better."
The smile is contagious, and something in Kyungsoo's gut wishes it were someone else holding his hand. Maybe he can escape to another universe beyond his own and have someone tell him that his ending is as happy as this, a handsome man looking at him with stars in his eyes, a rainbow over their heads.
"All romances should end with the characters getting together." Kyungsoo concludes, closing the book softly. They are sitting down on the bean bags provided for the kids, close enough together that Kyungsoo can feel the warmth of Jongin's body seep through the fabric of his black pants.
"But that is not always possible."
"All good stories end like that."
Jongin scoffs, but there's still a smile on the corners of his mouth. "For example?"
The first book that comes to Kyungsoo's mind has him laughing quietly and jumping to find it. Jongin follows behind him like a loyal puppy, wandering hands dragging across the spines of books on the shelves they walk past. Kyungsoo tenses a bit, what if Jongin pulls out a random character to life? He stops and slots Jongin's arms down before they reach the crime section. "Keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times."
Jongin raises his eyebrow and stares down at Kyungsoo, amused and a touch confused. "What?"
But their journey reaches it's destination at the top 100 books shelf. He grabs for number five, the very top, a little out of his reach but working at this place has him learning a few shortcuts, just nudging the bottom of the book and letting it fall into his grasp. Perfect.
"One of the more popular books." Kyungsoo strokes the cover. "This shows how the world, or the young female population at least, prefers romance novels to give them what they promise."
"A happy ending?" Jongin offers, taking the book out of his hands for a feel. Those wandering hands, Kyungsoo shakes his head.
"A happy ending," Jongin opens to the first page but Kyungsoo flips it to somewhere in the middle. "And vampires."
It's about to rain. Kyungsoo can smell it in the air, the crackle of clouds, the call of the forest ground under his feet for a drink, and-
He appears so silently that Kyungsoo doesn't notice his presence until he feels cold breath on the nape of his neck. He's not scared. Not of Jongin, or of what he is.
"How old are you?" Kyungsoo asks, not daring to turn around, to meet a pair of sharp, eagle eyes.
"Seventeen." Jongin whispers back.
"How long have you been seventeen?"
A deafening pause. "A while."
The sky splits and the first drop grazes Kyungsoo's eyelashes. "I know what you are."
"Say it," Jongin spits out. The venom in his voice could corrode away at Kyungsoo's skin but he stands his ground, a word repeating itself over and over in his head, about to dive off the tip of his tongue. "Out loud."
Kyungsoo breathes out the word. "Vampire." He feels a smirk brushing against his left ear.
"Are you afraid?"
This is following the movie script more so than the book. "No, because you're already in love with me. And there's a werewolf guy that comes into the picture but it's obvious that I'm gonna choose you in the end. And then we get married, have banging vampire-human sex, have a kid, such and such. But point of the story is: they get together and live happily ever after."
Jongin, skin still stubbornly sun kissed even in vampire complexion, frowns like a child denied their dessert. "You could have let the story play itself out instead of telling me the ending. It would have been more heart-warming if I found out why he loves her so much."
"This was to prove my point." He can't tell if it's freezing because Jongin is standing only a breath away or because of this damn town. "And it would have taken four enormous books until the end. Like I have the patience to wait that long for a simple answer to my simpler question."
It makes so much sense that Jongin would settle into Edward Cullen so naturally, despite the skin tone difference and spark of life in his fingertips. His character is made for the handsome love interest archetype. Kyungsoo cards through other stories Jongin would mould to like second skin and giggles. He is having way too much fun in a morbid situation like this, but you know what they say about lemons.
"Why vampires?" He hears Jongin whisper, before a gust of wind pulls him up and all the blood in his body dips to his toes, and for a second all he can feel is the ominous beating of his heart and a pair of icy hands clutching onto his stomach. They're flying, they must be.
"What the hell Jongin!" the scream doesn't move past the gush of wind pulling them up and gravity tugging them back down, and Jongin's loud, childish laughter booming across the tree tops.
"Wait, let me see how high I can jump-" Jongin takes a breath so deep it nudges against Kyungsoo's back, arms tightening around Kyungsoo's stomach.
"No no no no-"
"No!" Kyungsoo slams the book shut. It echoes in the calm of the store, bouncing off the books arranged neatly and quietly next to each other; but now they don't look so innocent. The world feels like it just tripled in depth
"The plot was too dull, I was just making it more interesting." Jongin looks at him innocently. Honestly, how old did Mr Anderson intend for his Prince to be? Or was it just another case of simple minded characters?
"Don't tamper with stories like that. Preserve their purity." He tries to push the novel back to its spot but, upon the airy chuckle Jongin gives him, it's turning out to be an entertaining struggle.
"Do you require assistance?"
"No, I can handle it."
"As you wish."
Kyungsoo gets the novel sitting with the rest of its copies successfully, of course, due to years of bookeeping experience and multiple disappearances of stools. Jongin is looking over the titles in awe.
"How do you get them to be so colourful? It must have taken years of painting to create this collection."
"Well," how do you explain laser printing to a 16th century citizen? "it's a process developed over hundreds of years and technological advancement."
"Amazing!" Jongin is as ecstatic as a child at Disneyland.
"You think this is amazing, you should see the marvel that is the Internet."
But Jongin isn't listening, instead picking a book up and carefully opening it to the first page, endearingly wary of not creasing the cover.
"You have lovely book manners."
"I do not want to cause you any trouble."
Jongin's hands are delicately touching at the print, reading aloud, "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister-"
"Skip to the exciting bit," Kyungsoo mutters impatiently, pressing his hand over Jongin's to flip towards the end of the novel, not meeting his eyes when Jongin glances up to look down at him through his lashes.
The White Rabbit stamps his foot nervously behind Kyungsoo, muttering about the time and other tidings that Kyungsoo can't hear, or really can't make out with his staggered breathing as loud as tidal waves crashing onto shore.
A hundred eyes around the cavernous hall drill into the back of Kyungsoo’s cotton dress shirt.
"Look at me," the Queen of Hearts commands. Something in Kyungsoo's chest drops and breaks like porcelain. He is paralysed on his knees, the patterns on the marble tiles swirling into each other.
"I said look at me!"
The White Rabbit shuffles and checks his pocket watch, clicking it open and closed and open and closed. Prisoners rattling their chains. Kyungsoo looks up, eyes trailing over the steps one by one to the thick legs of a red throne, to the young man donned in a ragged white T-shirt and blue jeans, hiding all track of royalty save for his long velvet cape, a bloody waterfall spilling to the marble floor.
The Queen, Prince Kai, Jongin, tilts his head and pink hair falls into his eyes. "Good boy." He smirks. "Now come closer. Let me see those eyes of yours."
No amount of Kyungsoo's pride prevents the blush blooming on his cheeks. This is ridiculous, the Queen's not giving a trial but a show for the courtroom to feast on. A test on his patience, Kyungsoo thinks as he crawls forward, a horrible massacre of a classic fantasy. But how could he voice his frustrations when Jongin looks so content stretched out on the throne, feline posture carving the arch of his back and the flick of his lips.
A white Converse shoe comes into Kyungsoo’s view, lightly brushing his fringe then tracing the curve of his jaw. Suddenly it pushes his chin up, though gentler than a mother’s hand. His eyes follow the clean set of laces to the mile long legs, to the lazy pane of Jongin's stomach to the sharp line of his neck and jaw. Jongin's eyes are half-lidded, looking down at Kyungsoo under his nose.
When Kyungsoo swallows, Jongin's smirk deepens and glows electric. "Pretty as a rose. It would be a shame to ruin such beauty," the courtroom simmers in murmurs, fuming the air ashy, "or paint it red." The it wasn't me defence dissolves on Kyungsoo’s tongue when Jongin leans forward onto his elbows, his face so close every breath they take could be felt on each other's lips. This is so plot deviancy, if not incredibly hot-
And then Jongin has the audacity to bite his lips.
"Okay stop." Kyungsoo reels metres back; away from Jongin and his sinful lip biting. "I let you have your fun but this has gone too far. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland had no romance, and certainly no sexual tension with anyone."
Once the facade is shattered Jongin drops the lusty act and the puppy is back. "It felt right in the moment."
Behind them, the White Rabbit backs away in confusion, pocket watch still ticking away.
"If you follow the plot," Kyungsoo scoffs and pats down his pants from the kneeling and crawling, "or lack thereof, Alice is unafraid of the Queen or her playing card army. But then she wakes up because it was all a lucid dream."
The room shuffles uneasily. This is beyond breaking the fourth wall, this is demolishing it and creating a new building.
"If you are constantly going to ruin the endings, then why bother giving me this slice of fun to tease me with?" The red cape cradles him in a bloody embrace.
"Who said it wasn't fun for me too?"
They're pulling at books now, carelessly, care-fully, romance novels and crime fiction and children's picture books. In this one the couple gets together, in that one the heroes slay the dragon and return gloriously, in those the family overcomes their issues and finds their way back to each other. In every that Kyungsoo deems good: happiness, satisfaction, tears of joy.
"Goodness, it is as if they are all the same people, living different stories." Jongin somehow in all of this yellow happiness manages to dampen the mood, insistent on his theory of 'the climb' or whatever.
"But why would you ever want a sad ending. There's plenty of sadness in the world already."
"The ending," Jongin looks as if he wants to strangle Kyungsoo by the neck, and Kyungsoo wouldn't put it past him. He himself wants to choke the other blue. "Is not supposed to be the most important part of the story! Goodness! Just as your death does not affect the quality of the life you have lived!"
Kyungsoo snorts. "'Goodness!', I haven't heard that since my grandmother was alive."
"No, listen to what I am saying." Jongin waves his hands in front of Kyungsoo's face. "How about this, what is your favourite book?"
"I don't have one."
"What kind of book keeper does not have a favourite book? Think harder."
He can't choose a favourite, it's like a mother choosing her favourite child. It'll feel like he's betraying all the rest, but. "Fine, you got me. My favourite book is The Great Gatsby."
"And why do you like it?"
"Because…" Shit, he's cornered. "Because it's great."
"How descriptive of you."
"Because... fine, I like the characters, and the prose, and the story, and maybe not the ending. One point to you, hoorah. I'm still standing by statement, favourite book be damned."
Jongin stands up so suddenly Kyungsoo jumps a bit in shock. His face is lined with determination and those wandering hands start tracing the spines of the books, the night spent book hunting and book debating so much so that he must've memorised half the titles by now. Kyungsoo's impressed to say the least. Half a minute in and Jongin holds up the tiny book over his head triumphantly.
"Mr Do Kyungsoo, you are about to eat your own words - as your people say." He turns over the cover and reads in a clear, confident voice, "In my younger and more vulnerable years…"
The party is larger when you're on the inside, every colour in every direction, the night going on forever and forever. Despite being more prone to an empty room and Sunday morning tranquillity, Kyungsoo finds it unbelievably comfortable to get caught up in a crowd, drown in the brass band playing like it's the last night of their lives, to exist as not an individual but a hive mind all waiting with the swell of the night for the next glass of champagne.
The mysterious shadow who owns the estate and essentially the interests of half the city, is a man, who under the hazy glow of his fireplace looks as young as a schoolboy, but a few minutes ago, illuminated by the red and blue of the fireworks, looked well-seasoned and ten years older than he does now. Kim Jongin, he calls himself, and he wants to discuss something with Kyungsoo.
It must be about his cousin, a lovely girl who lives across the lake.
Outside, the party continues into the open embrace of the night. "I'm a fair man, Mr Do, a good man."
"Sure," Kyungsoo stutters. "From what I've heard you're a war hero." And a German spy and secretly a prince living in America as a guise.
"From what you've heard." A glint in Jongin's eyes, twitch of his lips. "Is that what they say about me?"
"Umm." Kyungsoo rubs his hands together nervously. "Some of them aren't that flattering."
"I've ceased to listen to hearsay. The world is unkind to those who give it the most kindness."
They fall into coarse silence, listening to the world outside like listening to the radio. Kyungsoo clears his throat. "So, you wanted to talk. I'm assuming this is to do with my cousin."
"Slow down old sport," Jongin eases into his chair, "the talk will come. Business always kills the party, why don't we discuss other things. Tell me about yourself, Kyungsoo, why did you move here? What do you do? How come you've never attended my parties?"
Kyungsoo, the bookstore one, leers at Jongin, the façade of Gatsby over the fairytale prince. The moment passes. The story resumes as if nothing happened. "I sell bonds. I wanted to live here to be closer to the city, you know, the golden rush of it all."
Jongin is watching Kyungsoo in fascination. "Are you a poet?"
Book keeper Kyungsoo comes reeling back. " Okay, hold up, you will not butcher the characters of my favourite novel-"
"Just answer the question, Kyungsoo." He isn't looking at the man but he can hear the pout.
This is going to be interesting. "I'm no poet, Mr Kim, just a big fan of literature."
"And why you've avoided my house for so long?"
Kyungsoo blushes, avoiding Jongin's imploring gaze. "I always thought you needed an invite. And I'm not one for large social gatherings. I'm new to the town. The list goes on."
"Do you like it - the parties, the music, the people."
"There's not much to dislike."
Lighter, like an inside joke, "Just answer the question, Kyungsoo."
"I like it, as much as an introvert can like parties."
"Then, would you like it if there were less people? Get rid of the brass band and just have some chamber music or soft jazz?"
Kyungsoo makes a confused face. "Well, sure. But these are your parties, you do what you like."
Something like surprise crosses Jongin's face, and he rubs his jaw with his hand, laughing nervously. "Yes, of course, these are my parties. But they are for the- the general public. Any feedback, um, would surely make these gatherings more enjoyable…”
Only then does Kyungsoo notice the charged atmosphere, the glow to Jongin's cheeks not only from the fireplace. "Jongin, tell me, why did you want to talk to me?"
"Well- I was curious about, um, your- your," Jongin is rubbing his neck now, looking at everywhere in the room except Kyungsoo. "Cousin! Right, your cousin."
"Then go ahead."
Dead silence.
Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow. "Jongin?"
The man is a wreck of nerves, shuffling this way and that. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry, Mr Do, it was absolutely lovely meeting you but- but- I can't do this right now."
"Honest to god, just say it. I'm here, might as well."
"Might as well," Jongin mumbles, then snaps his head still, like he's come to a decision. "I called you here today not to talk about your cousin. It's to talk about, with, you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. I like you, Kyungsoo. I like you a great deal, much more than I ought to-"
"Wait wait wait wait wait." The record scratches, Kyungsoo shaking his head in massive disbelief. Jongin can ruin other books but not his favourite. "Are you serious? A romance between Nick and Gatsby? What are you even thinking?"
Jongin drops his character and childish prince comes back. "Can you not see it? It is so obvious."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this right now. They've only just met for goodness sakes!" Goodness, at any other moment Kyungsoo would have smiled.
Jongin rolls his eyes - Kyungsoo must be spreading bad habits. "Love isn't measured in time, Mr Do. You can know someone for years and still not love them."
A twisting ache in his chest. "What do you know about love?"
"I know what isn't. I know, from this side of my fairytale, love or the idea of it is a feeling, not an answer to a formula books have."
Jongin, Prince Kai, no longer Gatsby/Red Queen/Edward/Prince Eric, sitting in his large arm chair turning this way and that by the dancing of the flames eating chunks of wood in the fireplace, lecturing him on love like a conveniently timed councillor, and it all strikes Kyungsoo as surreal and humorous so in the heat of the discussion he laughs, stomach cramping, jaw dislocating, lungs imploding.
Jongin grimaces and crosses his arms. "I'm serious."
Kyungsoo convulses in his chair, calming down and now sore in his throat and in his chest. "That's rich coming from Gatsby, you know he ends up getting killed for love, right?"
"How did I not expect you would ruin this book for me? Knowing you."
It's time for Kyungsoo to tease. "You've only just met me."
"I feel like I have known you my whole life." Just Jongin sighs. "My whole life and more."
For the first time that night, Kyungsoo checks the cuckoo clock above the counter. It's antique, dusty from the store manager's fear that one human touch will send it crumbling into ash, though if you look hard enough the carved details reveal themselves to be lovely and colourful. Everything was young and beautiful once.
It reads ten past eleven. Kyungsoo doesn't remember the yellow swallow chirping at the hour but it had to. Time seems to be the only constant he can hold onto. It's a bit late for dinner but the 24 hours convenience store across the street never fails to deliver a satisfying meal of ramen when desperate.
"Hey, let's grab dinner. I'm starving." Kyungsoo nudges Jongin's knee with his own, letting his head fall against the wall with a hollow thump. The Great Gatsbyescapes his hands and closes, locking its glittery world away into black ink on paper.
Jongin runs a hand through his hair and clutches, releasing a handful of wavy brown strands to float back down, repeat. "How… does dinner work here? Is there a magic button you press and rice pours down from the ceiling?"
After carefully slotting the book snugly back in its spot, Kyungsoo hurriedly gets up. All the adventuring has drained his stomach empty. He must have been so distracted with Jongin it deafened him to the whinge of his appetite. "I wish," Kyungsoo rubs his belly, "but it's more like you pay for a bowl of pre-made noodles and flavouring, add hot water, and it transforms into an edible meal. The magic's how it takes only 800 won to satisfy a stomach."
"And where can we get these magical bowls of noodles?"
The glow of the convenience store sign can be seen even under the glare of the bookstore's lights. He remembers the first time he gave up all pretence of a 'healthy lifestyle' and trudged through the automated doors, craving for something cheap and fulfilling. A pivoting moment in his life. "Across the street."
Only when they've speed walked across the deserted street - chilly from the winter that refuses to leave even though April is well on its way - picked a window seat overlooking nothing, split their chopsticks, does it come to Kyungsoo that maybe Jongin will arouse suspicion. He waves it away along with the steam of his ramen; it's near midnight on a Monday, not even the cashier guy batted an eyelash. Worse things have probably passed through nightlife Seoul. Worse than a handsome prince in tight pants.
"I'm sorry if this isn't up to your royal standards."
"Ha, whatever that means. I was always out at sea, so the best I got was fish. Imagine that, seafood every day." There is a frustration in his voice that reminds Kyungsoo of how high schoolers would talk about whatever was bothering their little world.
"How old are you?" Serious déjà vu.
"I turned eighteen three months ago."
Kyungsoo's chopsticks stop dead on their tracks to his mouth. "Oh my god, you're a child! This whole time I've been corrupting a child!"
Jongin scrunches his face and puffs out his chest. "I am not a child. I will become king soon."
Kyungsoo shakes his head in desolation. "I'm a cradle robber."
"How old are you, then? You can't be any older than me. You have a baby's face."
The blush spreads despite how Kyungsoo wants to murder anyone that calls him any variation of cute. If Jongin wasn't so handsome and charming (and young!), Kyungsoo swears. "I'm twenty-three. Call me cute again and it'll be your last."
"I never said that, but if you insist."
"You are so child. It's very inappropriate to flirt with an adult like me." And then Kyungsoo's eyes focus on the bookstore, empty and lonely and he remembers the nights he would sit here and look at the same spot, remembers everything that happened prior to tonight, prior to three hours ago. Now he feels sick for a completely different reason.
The air sags and falls on their shoulders. Jongin notices the change and purses his lips, placing his chopsticks into the bowl and fixing his eyes on the same, lonely scenery. "Are you willing to share what is bothering you?"
It would be so easy to, Kyungsoo tells himself, because as far as he knows, Jongin is simply a fictional character. He could dump all of his frustrations on the prince and send him on horseback to his made up castle by the sea, and never does he have to worry about any odd judgement or awkward tension. It would be so easy - so why is he hesitating?
Kyungsoo watches Jongin watching the bookstore and the answer doesn't come to him, but arises in the knowing clench in his stomach. Jongin is real. He's here and he's breathing and they're having cheap ramen for supper and their knees are nudging against each other under the table.
"When you came out of your story and found me crying, I told you it was because of the sad ending, right? Well I lied."
"That felt like a lifetime ago, but I remember."
"Yeah." Kyungsoo stirs the soup coated in an oily sheen. "I was dumped by my boyfriend. Over the phone. That's the equivalent of over a letter in your times."
Jongin slams his fists on the tabletop so hard it rattles their bowls and earns a hiss from the store keeper. "What a bastard!"
"I dated him for two years and knew him for four, and I don't know, I thought we would last a bit longer than we did. Not forever, but just, longer." This is embarrassing, but the ramen is doing strange things to his mind. "Whatever. Love or lust or like or fancy or whatever it's called, it's unfair. Like you said, love isn't measured in time. It took two years for Chanyeol to realize I'm not it."
Jongin ponders in silence. "Chanyeol, is that his name?" Then, with more conviction, "sounds like an asshole's name."
"Whoa, who am I talking to because that is not the Prince Jongin I know and cherish."
"People change after living sixteen different lives in one night."
Their knees bump underneath the table. "It has only been one night, hasn't it?"
"Do Kyungsoo, I am more familiar with you than anyone I know in my life."
"You mean everyone in The Little Mermaid?"
"Every existence is valid.” Jongin leans his head on the palm of his hands, propped up on the table, watches Kyungsoo with sleepy eyes. Cue the food coma. "What would you call this world, if it were a book?"
Kyungsoo mirrors Jongin's actions. "Well, if this world were a book, it'd be one of those cheap paperback romances sold in newsagencies, with a disgusting cover. Did I mention that it would end horribly, with the protagonist living an unloved, mediocre life?"
"Would I be considered a love interest or a side kick?" Jongin smiles.
"Hmm, both, why not?"
"That would be nice, to live here with you, looking at books, eating cheap food. Maybe the night will actually end, and we can do other things as well like in all the books - go on adventures, kill the villain, fall in love." The food coma kicks in fully and they drift into silence. Kyungsoo's mind plays out the night like a movie reel, Jongin as a vampire, Jongin as a tycoon, Jongin Jongin Jongin. Jongin before him as he is, sleepy and content and real.
Jongin's quiet long enough for Kyungsoo to check up on him, blinking through his spicy tears to catch the boy fixated on something behind them, still as a marble statue. His line of vision ends on the TV screen attached to the wall above the counter, playing a Hollywood film with big yellow hangul subtitles.
"That's a TV. It plays videos- um, they're like a series of photographs-"
"I get it, I get it." Jongin says without moving a muscle, his side profile taut enough that his jaw slices the air in a perfect ruled line. “Are the people real or made up?”
“They’re actors. It’s like theatre.” Kyungsoo squints at the screen. “Wait, I know this movie. It’s one of my favourites, because-“
The speed of which it takes for Jongin to slam a warm hand on Kyungsoo’s lips is so unexpectedly quick it sends Kyungsoo toppling of his high chair with a muffled yelp. The Twilight phase must still be in his system.
“Do not say another word,” Jongin says lightly, eyes razor sharp and chiselling into Kyungsoo’s gaze. “You will not ruin this ending for me.”
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes to the next universe, resisting the urge to punch Jongin’s arm and failing. “The ending isn’t-“
“Shut up.”
“The reason why I-“
“Mr Do, please stop talking.”
“This movie is my favourite, because-“
And when Jongin moves towards him, quicker than Kyungsoo’s seen anyone move in his life. Kyungsoo’s still mid-sentence explaining that reason why he liked Titanic wasn’t because of the ending (god no - one of his least favourite ending to ever exist in Hollywood history). What he expected was a strong chokehold, or at least a large palm covering his mouth. Not for Jongin's face to be a breath’s away from his own, not to get a sensory overload of sea-salt and honey skin, not for Jongin to kiss him.
Fireworks, gold and red. On his lips and thundering wildly against his ribs.
Jongin pulls away before Kyungsoo's fist can punch in instinct. Several emotions bubble and blur in his head but his mouth can't fathom any of them. Chanyeol never used do to that - interrupt Kyungsoo with a kiss.
"I'm sorry," Jongin blurts, all smiles and no remorse at all. "It was just to make you shut up. I really do not want to know what happens."
"Just to make me shut up." Kyungsoo grumbles, for once speechless and flustered. He knows it was more than a ploy; he's kissed enough people to know the difference. "Fine. No spoilers. I'll let you enjoy this ending, every bit of it."
Maybe it's punishment for the kiss. Maybe it's to buy time for Kyungsoo to figure it all out.
❊ title: paperback romance
❊ pairings: chanyeol/d.o, kai/d.o
❊ rating: pg13
❊ warnings: character death
❊ word count: 16,486w
❊ summary: "My name is Do Kyungsoo. I work the graveyard shift at this bookstore on weekdays. This isn't your world. You came out of a fairytale story, for whatever universal design the night has planned for us."
❊ a/n: This contains spoilers for/butchering of several classic novels and a great movie. Massive massive massive thank you hug to my beta, the most considerate, thorough, patient, lovely, all in all best beta in the world! This fic wouldn't have been as comprehensible/neat without her touch. Also to cas, my #1 fan. To my recipient, I hope you enjoy it! Happy end of summer/winter/respective seasons everyone!
Kyungsoo works nights at the bookstore by the bend. By nights, he means early mornings, he means the time where anybody who loves themselves would avoid taking shifts, he means that slice between ten pm and three am that really only exists in concept.
It suits him well for the most part - ghosts never scared him and the morning sun hisses and spits upon contact with his skin. His black clothing and pale skin makes him more un-dead than living anyway - perfect for the graveyard shift.
Most nights it's just him and the bountiful supply of books to keep him company. This tomb of a bookstore with its little books simmering like fireflies in mason jars. He spends more time here, slotted in between the bookshelves, than anywhere in the city, so much so that he’s become immune to paper cuts.
Tonight however - full moon, hurricane warning, Monday - Kyungsoo wants to burn the whole place down. And the street and the goddamn moon along with it.
"Who the hell," Kyungsoo complains to the cash register whilst furiously wiping away hot tears from his face. "Breaks up with someone over the phone? Who would be that much of a jackass-"
But of course, Kyungsoo's boyfriend of two years, Park Chanyeol did. Five minutes ago as Kyungsoo was walking into the shop after saying goodbye to the last person on shift.
"I don't see you anymore, " was the greeting Kyungsoo was met with when he picked up the phone.
"You saw me three days ago," because Chanyeol was never the type for serious.
"You know what I mean. We don't see each other anymore, like we used to. Like at uni when we'd go to parties together like a team. Junmyeon asked me at work today if we were even dating anymore."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Kyungsoo saw it nonetheless, and who knows the last time they had a proper date together, let alone a time long enough to discuss issues like this face to face.
Chanyeol paused and something like the tinkling of glass and rustle of a large crowd all talking at once overtook the line. "Kyungsoo, you know what I mean."
“Except I don’t.” Kyungsoo slams the keys on the counter and disturbs a few stray ballpoint pens. But he does get it, because Chanyeol was the dynamic one in the relationship and anything moving, even by a centimetre, in their timeline was all his doing. Kyungsoo’s the quiet one, the one that gets manoeuvred around to fit the atmospherical feng shui. What doesn’t fit is how it managed to last long enough for Kyungsoo to get comfortable.
“You don’t- we don’t live in the same world,” Chanyeol said before the line drowned in static and loud, larger-than-life laughter. Only when the clock above the counter chimed ten did Kyungsoo realize where he was, or that he had still been standing by the glass sliding doors, heart sore and bitter, crumbling in his mouth.
He's not going to cry over him. He's not going to cry over him. He's not going to cry over him. Maybe over the two years wasted on an agonizingly painful relationship, or over his Rilakkuma plushies held captive at Chanyeol's apartment, or over the fact that Kyungsoo's jacket smells faintly of Chanyeol's cologne from a week ago when they crossed paths outside of Chanyeol’s office; strangers who kiss upon meeting.
Or over the fact that their first date was at this damn ghost house of a bookstore.
One (probably the only) good thing about working the night shift of a bookstore is that no one is around to see him collapse into a crying mess. It’s just him, in this bookstore in a completely different reality to everyone around him. Outside, the sky cries with him.
-
10:30, subject is seen sunken in a bean bag by the kids corner, Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid slain open on his lap. Definitely not crying.
Kyungsoo doesn't cry when the little mermaid hesitates, hand clutching the dagger hovering over the Prince's chest, gently rising and falling with the new Princess' hair fanned all across. The words get a bit smudged but he makes out the little mermaid throwing herself over the ship's edge and huffs.
"He belongs in your world!” Kyungsoo yells at the book. The words look back at him all black print and sad. "He should drown at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of them." His throat catches, and he has to put the storybook down and have a long hard look at himself and the choices he's made and is making. This is pathetic. No wonder Chanyeol got out as soon as he could-
Motherfucking Chanyeol. A fresh set of angry tears blur his vision, I will kill you. A wretched sob wavers and splits the air.
At the point of the Prince staring longingly at the ocean horizon Kyungsoo's body is shaking, and it seems that the Prince is staring right at him asking, "why are you crying?"
"You asshole," Kyungsoo spits out, voice breaking and swallowing down sharp sobs, "you're supposed to end up with the little mermaid. She was the one that saved your fucking ass in the beginning."
Strange, heavy silence. Like the air is being shared by another set of lungs. "What?"
"Wait," Kyungsoo touches the page, "are- are you talking? To me?"
Someone else's voice clear as day somewhere above him. "Who else would I be talking to?"
A customer, Kyungsoo's mind reels. Shit, he can't handle any human interactions today, not in this pitiful state. But when he looks up, the man before him is unlike any customer he's ever served. A loose white cotton long-sleeve, tight brown trousers with strings instead of a zipper, and dark leather boots, topped with a face as sun-kissed as it is handsome, old dark eyes, tousled black locks.
"Sorry." Kyungsoo wipes his nose and hastily gets up. He only reaches up to the man's chin though, and there's something about his presence that throws the atmosphere in the room off-axis. "Is it- uh- dress up themed at the bar next door or something?"
The man furrows his eyebrows and glances around the store, has a good once-over at Kyungsoo which makes his ears redden, but Kyungsoo stands his ground. "I hardly know where I am."
"You're at a bookstore in Seoul, South Korea." Kyungsoo laughs half-heartedly.
The man runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "I beg your pardon, but I have never heard of Seoul, or South Korea."
Kyungsoo smiles tensely, anger flaring up for another reason now. "Are you trying to fuck with me? 'Cause I've had a pretty shitty day and you're not being funny right now."
The man jolts his head back, as if punched, and clenches his jaw. "My sincerest apologies if I have offended you in any way, but that is no way to talk to royalty. I could make you an enemy of the crown."
Kyungsoo throws his head back and guffaws. "Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me. You can't be serious."
"Then maybe I should not have given you my concern earlier, because you clearly have no moral sense or kindness." The man takes a step closer and suddenly he looks twice his original size. Kyungsoo stretches his arms, warming up to a hard punch straight to that pretty face. "And I was serious, about everything. When I find my ship, it will be my men that you will be dealing with."
Ship. In the electrified air Kyungsoo's eyes quickly dart to The Little Mermaid, lying closed by his foot. But that's just absurd. "What do you mean 'your ship'?"
"I mean, my ship with a crew of over fifty men, and my new bride, a Princess with just as many powerful allies as I have. You have chosen the wrong fight."
This can't be. "You mean, like in The Little Mermaid?"
"The little what? Stop stalling-"
"Are you saying," Kyungsoo has to pause from the sheer stupidity of it all, of all nights for the universe to fuck him over. "You're the prince who married the neighbouring kingdom's Princess instead of the little mer- the pretty, mute girl you found washed up on the shore?"
The man reels back, shadows draining out of his face leaving something immensely vulnerable, dark eyes glazing over like he's still searching the rolling waves at sunrise. It passes in a flash, just as Kyungsoo picks up the book and holds it an arm's way away in case any more characters decide to jump out. The man's breath hitches, mouth opening and closing and opening but no sound slips out. And then, after clearing his throat, the man looks at the book, muttering quietly, "Did you know the mute girl? Why she threw herself into the sea?"
Kyungsoo shoves the book into the Prince's chest, shaking disbelief out of his head. "This book, this fairy tale. It's about a kingdom of mermaids and the Little Mermaid, the youngest of all the Princess mermaids, who fell in love with a Prince she saw on a ship. She saved him when he was drowning out at sea, but she hid herself when he woke."
The Prince's fists clench, knuckles pale.
"But," Kyungsoo continues, fighting back another wave of sobs he thought had died down by now. "She still loved him. She loved him so much that she made a deal with the sea witch, her voice for a pair of human legs. And if the Prince married her in the end, she would gain an immortal soul and be with the Prince for all of eternity."
The Prince's shadow ebbs and glows behind him like a billowing black cape. Something magical in the air, in the night, Kyungsoo feels, is rubbing against reality and eating it away. The Prince tries to speak, but his wide shoulders are trembling.
"I-" he swallows. "Do not understand. Where am I, really? Who are you?"
Kyungsoo stares at the Prince's face. This is one hell of a dream. "My name is Do Kyungsoo. I work the graveyard shift at this bookstore on weekdays. This isn't your world. You came out of a fairytale story, for whatever universal design the night has planned for us, and I don't think any of this is real right now." Really. He must've fallen asleep somewhere after picking up The Little Mermaid. If all goes well then maybe the break up was a dream too; at that Kyungsoo's heart spikes.
"Fairytale…"
"The Little Mermaid. Not the Disney one though, the one with the sad ending."
The Prince rubs at his jaw. "But mermaids are a myth."
"Well, they are. In this world anyway. They exist in yours, but the humans don't know about it." Kyungsoo feels like he's talking to a kindergartner who just wandered into the store in search for The Monster Book of Monsters. "I guess you have more in common with this world than your own, kind of."
They share a look of disbelief for a moment that the Prince pulls away from, looking at the books slotted neatly on the shelves around the empty store. It doesn't feel so empty now that Kyungsoo has to share air with someone else, even if that someone else is just a figment of his imagination.
"Then is this the real world, or whatever?" the Prince asks, plucking a hardback - special edition of The Little Prince - into his hands; fidgety, still slightly shaking.
"I guess," Kyungsoo shrugs. "But who knows. Maybe I'm in someone's story right now. A pretty shitty story." Probably with a lacklustre, typical ending.
"And why is that?"
"Because," he looks at his books, looks at all the interesting lives the characters are living inside the covers, in between the lines. "Because I'm not the most exciting protagonist. And I can't seem to hold on to the people I love very well, and I don't think my ending will be very spectacular. A story's only as good as how it ends, that's how people remember them."
The Prince, surprisingly handling the whole alternate universe phenomenon well, looks shocked, all parted lips and shaking head, sea-breeze hair ruffling like it still has the wind in it. "If a story is only as good as its ending, then what is the point of the story? So I came out of a fairytale, supposedly, does my existence only amount to the outcome of my choices, and not the reasons why I made them?"
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and picks The Little Prince (he cracks the tiniest of smiles here) right out his hands. "Says you who completely ruined the ending to The Little Mermaid. Or at least the Hans Christian Anderson version. I liked the Disney ending so much better." And by impulse, because talking to a character from a children's fairytale is already halfway to crazytown, he bends down and scans the shelf until he spots it - there it is: Walt Disney's The Little Mermaid, storybook edition. He pulls it out gently - book keeper hands - and faces the Prince.
"In this one, Prince Eric - which is you-"
"My name is Prince Kai," he interrupts. "Jongin, actually. Just Jongin."
"Okay then, Just Jongin," Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow. Perhaps the night won't be as dull as he had imagined. "In this version of your story..."
Kyungsoo's face burns with the sea-salt whip, an odd warmth swirling through his fingers, lips cracking from the air. It's warm, but not as warm as below his hips. He's hiding behind a large boulder swallowed by moss, and if he takes peak, he'll be able to see Jongin drenched and sprawled on the beach, basking in a spot of golden sunlight.
Kyungsoo tries to walk to him but instead of two short legs, from his hips down extends a large tail, scales glistening turquoise and emerald.
Jongin is getting up just as Kyungsoo manages to swim his way up shore. One look at Kyungsoo and Jongin's reeling up the beach, scrambling like a crab to get away. "Oh my god!"
"Don't freak out." Kyungsoo raises his palms, grainy with wet sand. "We just finished a major battle against the sea witch. But when she died the deal she made with Ariel died with her, and so she returns to being a mermaid."
The bright light emphasises every emotion on Jongin's face when he hesitantly crawls forward, hand reaching out to touch Kyungsoo's cheeks, then a little more forward to run his hand down his shoulders, back, and the uneven texture of his tail. "This is what she gave up for legs? Who would let go of something so beautiful?"
A strange sensation, Kyungsoo thinks, someone touching his tail. It feels like his legs are in a constant state of pins and needles, but less irritating. "For love. The classic tragedy. But don't worry. Her father gives her legs in the end, and they live happily ever after. The end. Now isn't that a better ending than her dying and dissipating into the air?"
Zip. Zoom. The screen flickers from static to magic transformation to static to a wedding celebration on a large ship, a rainbow overhead and a multitude of crying mermaids over the deck. Jongin is in his white royal uniform endowed in silver buttons, a sword strapped to his hip and shiny black boots giving him more unnecessary centimetres. Kyungsoo, dressed in a black suit with his legs back, holding Jongin's hands as the priest reads out their vows, sees for the first time the Prince within his characterisation; charming and handsome.
Jongin's eyes shine and a smile keeps his lips busy, constantly pulling at the corner at every thought. "I definitely, definitely, like this ending much better."
The smile is contagious, and something in Kyungsoo's gut wishes it were someone else holding his hand. Maybe he can escape to another universe beyond his own and have someone tell him that his ending is as happy as this, a handsome man looking at him with stars in his eyes, a rainbow over their heads.
"All romances should end with the characters getting together." Kyungsoo concludes, closing the book softly. They are sitting down on the bean bags provided for the kids, close enough together that Kyungsoo can feel the warmth of Jongin's body seep through the fabric of his black pants.
"But that is not always possible."
"All good stories end like that."
Jongin scoffs, but there's still a smile on the corners of his mouth. "For example?"
The first book that comes to Kyungsoo's mind has him laughing quietly and jumping to find it. Jongin follows behind him like a loyal puppy, wandering hands dragging across the spines of books on the shelves they walk past. Kyungsoo tenses a bit, what if Jongin pulls out a random character to life? He stops and slots Jongin's arms down before they reach the crime section. "Keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times."
Jongin raises his eyebrow and stares down at Kyungsoo, amused and a touch confused. "What?"
But their journey reaches it's destination at the top 100 books shelf. He grabs for number five, the very top, a little out of his reach but working at this place has him learning a few shortcuts, just nudging the bottom of the book and letting it fall into his grasp. Perfect.
"One of the more popular books." Kyungsoo strokes the cover. "This shows how the world, or the young female population at least, prefers romance novels to give them what they promise."
"A happy ending?" Jongin offers, taking the book out of his hands for a feel. Those wandering hands, Kyungsoo shakes his head.
"A happy ending," Jongin opens to the first page but Kyungsoo flips it to somewhere in the middle. "And vampires."
It's about to rain. Kyungsoo can smell it in the air, the crackle of clouds, the call of the forest ground under his feet for a drink, and-
He appears so silently that Kyungsoo doesn't notice his presence until he feels cold breath on the nape of his neck. He's not scared. Not of Jongin, or of what he is.
"How old are you?" Kyungsoo asks, not daring to turn around, to meet a pair of sharp, eagle eyes.
"Seventeen." Jongin whispers back.
"How long have you been seventeen?"
A deafening pause. "A while."
The sky splits and the first drop grazes Kyungsoo's eyelashes. "I know what you are."
"Say it," Jongin spits out. The venom in his voice could corrode away at Kyungsoo's skin but he stands his ground, a word repeating itself over and over in his head, about to dive off the tip of his tongue. "Out loud."
Kyungsoo breathes out the word. "Vampire." He feels a smirk brushing against his left ear.
"Are you afraid?"
This is following the movie script more so than the book. "No, because you're already in love with me. And there's a werewolf guy that comes into the picture but it's obvious that I'm gonna choose you in the end. And then we get married, have banging vampire-human sex, have a kid, such and such. But point of the story is: they get together and live happily ever after."
Jongin, skin still stubbornly sun kissed even in vampire complexion, frowns like a child denied their dessert. "You could have let the story play itself out instead of telling me the ending. It would have been more heart-warming if I found out why he loves her so much."
"This was to prove my point." He can't tell if it's freezing because Jongin is standing only a breath away or because of this damn town. "And it would have taken four enormous books until the end. Like I have the patience to wait that long for a simple answer to my simpler question."
It makes so much sense that Jongin would settle into Edward Cullen so naturally, despite the skin tone difference and spark of life in his fingertips. His character is made for the handsome love interest archetype. Kyungsoo cards through other stories Jongin would mould to like second skin and giggles. He is having way too much fun in a morbid situation like this, but you know what they say about lemons.
"Why vampires?" He hears Jongin whisper, before a gust of wind pulls him up and all the blood in his body dips to his toes, and for a second all he can feel is the ominous beating of his heart and a pair of icy hands clutching onto his stomach. They're flying, they must be.
"What the hell Jongin!" the scream doesn't move past the gush of wind pulling them up and gravity tugging them back down, and Jongin's loud, childish laughter booming across the tree tops.
"Wait, let me see how high I can jump-" Jongin takes a breath so deep it nudges against Kyungsoo's back, arms tightening around Kyungsoo's stomach.
"No no no no-"
"No!" Kyungsoo slams the book shut. It echoes in the calm of the store, bouncing off the books arranged neatly and quietly next to each other; but now they don't look so innocent. The world feels like it just tripled in depth
"The plot was too dull, I was just making it more interesting." Jongin looks at him innocently. Honestly, how old did Mr Anderson intend for his Prince to be? Or was it just another case of simple minded characters?
"Don't tamper with stories like that. Preserve their purity." He tries to push the novel back to its spot but, upon the airy chuckle Jongin gives him, it's turning out to be an entertaining struggle.
"Do you require assistance?"
"No, I can handle it."
"As you wish."
Kyungsoo gets the novel sitting with the rest of its copies successfully, of course, due to years of bookeeping experience and multiple disappearances of stools. Jongin is looking over the titles in awe.
"How do you get them to be so colourful? It must have taken years of painting to create this collection."
"Well," how do you explain laser printing to a 16th century citizen? "it's a process developed over hundreds of years and technological advancement."
"Amazing!" Jongin is as ecstatic as a child at Disneyland.
"You think this is amazing, you should see the marvel that is the Internet."
But Jongin isn't listening, instead picking a book up and carefully opening it to the first page, endearingly wary of not creasing the cover.
"You have lovely book manners."
"I do not want to cause you any trouble."
Jongin's hands are delicately touching at the print, reading aloud, "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister-"
"Skip to the exciting bit," Kyungsoo mutters impatiently, pressing his hand over Jongin's to flip towards the end of the novel, not meeting his eyes when Jongin glances up to look down at him through his lashes.
The White Rabbit stamps his foot nervously behind Kyungsoo, muttering about the time and other tidings that Kyungsoo can't hear, or really can't make out with his staggered breathing as loud as tidal waves crashing onto shore.
A hundred eyes around the cavernous hall drill into the back of Kyungsoo’s cotton dress shirt.
"Look at me," the Queen of Hearts commands. Something in Kyungsoo's chest drops and breaks like porcelain. He is paralysed on his knees, the patterns on the marble tiles swirling into each other.
"I said look at me!"
The White Rabbit shuffles and checks his pocket watch, clicking it open and closed and open and closed. Prisoners rattling their chains. Kyungsoo looks up, eyes trailing over the steps one by one to the thick legs of a red throne, to the young man donned in a ragged white T-shirt and blue jeans, hiding all track of royalty save for his long velvet cape, a bloody waterfall spilling to the marble floor.
The Queen, Prince Kai, Jongin, tilts his head and pink hair falls into his eyes. "Good boy." He smirks. "Now come closer. Let me see those eyes of yours."
No amount of Kyungsoo's pride prevents the blush blooming on his cheeks. This is ridiculous, the Queen's not giving a trial but a show for the courtroom to feast on. A test on his patience, Kyungsoo thinks as he crawls forward, a horrible massacre of a classic fantasy. But how could he voice his frustrations when Jongin looks so content stretched out on the throne, feline posture carving the arch of his back and the flick of his lips.
A white Converse shoe comes into Kyungsoo’s view, lightly brushing his fringe then tracing the curve of his jaw. Suddenly it pushes his chin up, though gentler than a mother’s hand. His eyes follow the clean set of laces to the mile long legs, to the lazy pane of Jongin's stomach to the sharp line of his neck and jaw. Jongin's eyes are half-lidded, looking down at Kyungsoo under his nose.
When Kyungsoo swallows, Jongin's smirk deepens and glows electric. "Pretty as a rose. It would be a shame to ruin such beauty," the courtroom simmers in murmurs, fuming the air ashy, "or paint it red." The it wasn't me defence dissolves on Kyungsoo’s tongue when Jongin leans forward onto his elbows, his face so close every breath they take could be felt on each other's lips. This is so plot deviancy, if not incredibly hot-
And then Jongin has the audacity to bite his lips.
"Okay stop." Kyungsoo reels metres back; away from Jongin and his sinful lip biting. "I let you have your fun but this has gone too far. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland had no romance, and certainly no sexual tension with anyone."
Once the facade is shattered Jongin drops the lusty act and the puppy is back. "It felt right in the moment."
Behind them, the White Rabbit backs away in confusion, pocket watch still ticking away.
"If you follow the plot," Kyungsoo scoffs and pats down his pants from the kneeling and crawling, "or lack thereof, Alice is unafraid of the Queen or her playing card army. But then she wakes up because it was all a lucid dream."
The room shuffles uneasily. This is beyond breaking the fourth wall, this is demolishing it and creating a new building.
"If you are constantly going to ruin the endings, then why bother giving me this slice of fun to tease me with?" The red cape cradles him in a bloody embrace.
"Who said it wasn't fun for me too?"
They're pulling at books now, carelessly, care-fully, romance novels and crime fiction and children's picture books. In this one the couple gets together, in that one the heroes slay the dragon and return gloriously, in those the family overcomes their issues and finds their way back to each other. In every that Kyungsoo deems good: happiness, satisfaction, tears of joy.
"Goodness, it is as if they are all the same people, living different stories." Jongin somehow in all of this yellow happiness manages to dampen the mood, insistent on his theory of 'the climb' or whatever.
"But why would you ever want a sad ending. There's plenty of sadness in the world already."
"The ending," Jongin looks as if he wants to strangle Kyungsoo by the neck, and Kyungsoo wouldn't put it past him. He himself wants to choke the other blue. "Is not supposed to be the most important part of the story! Goodness! Just as your death does not affect the quality of the life you have lived!"
Kyungsoo snorts. "'Goodness!', I haven't heard that since my grandmother was alive."
"No, listen to what I am saying." Jongin waves his hands in front of Kyungsoo's face. "How about this, what is your favourite book?"
"I don't have one."
"What kind of book keeper does not have a favourite book? Think harder."
He can't choose a favourite, it's like a mother choosing her favourite child. It'll feel like he's betraying all the rest, but. "Fine, you got me. My favourite book is The Great Gatsby."
"And why do you like it?"
"Because…" Shit, he's cornered. "Because it's great."
"How descriptive of you."
"Because... fine, I like the characters, and the prose, and the story, and maybe not the ending. One point to you, hoorah. I'm still standing by statement, favourite book be damned."
Jongin stands up so suddenly Kyungsoo jumps a bit in shock. His face is lined with determination and those wandering hands start tracing the spines of the books, the night spent book hunting and book debating so much so that he must've memorised half the titles by now. Kyungsoo's impressed to say the least. Half a minute in and Jongin holds up the tiny book over his head triumphantly.
"Mr Do Kyungsoo, you are about to eat your own words - as your people say." He turns over the cover and reads in a clear, confident voice, "In my younger and more vulnerable years…"
The party is larger when you're on the inside, every colour in every direction, the night going on forever and forever. Despite being more prone to an empty room and Sunday morning tranquillity, Kyungsoo finds it unbelievably comfortable to get caught up in a crowd, drown in the brass band playing like it's the last night of their lives, to exist as not an individual but a hive mind all waiting with the swell of the night for the next glass of champagne.
The mysterious shadow who owns the estate and essentially the interests of half the city, is a man, who under the hazy glow of his fireplace looks as young as a schoolboy, but a few minutes ago, illuminated by the red and blue of the fireworks, looked well-seasoned and ten years older than he does now. Kim Jongin, he calls himself, and he wants to discuss something with Kyungsoo.
It must be about his cousin, a lovely girl who lives across the lake.
Outside, the party continues into the open embrace of the night. "I'm a fair man, Mr Do, a good man."
"Sure," Kyungsoo stutters. "From what I've heard you're a war hero." And a German spy and secretly a prince living in America as a guise.
"From what you've heard." A glint in Jongin's eyes, twitch of his lips. "Is that what they say about me?"
"Umm." Kyungsoo rubs his hands together nervously. "Some of them aren't that flattering."
"I've ceased to listen to hearsay. The world is unkind to those who give it the most kindness."
They fall into coarse silence, listening to the world outside like listening to the radio. Kyungsoo clears his throat. "So, you wanted to talk. I'm assuming this is to do with my cousin."
"Slow down old sport," Jongin eases into his chair, "the talk will come. Business always kills the party, why don't we discuss other things. Tell me about yourself, Kyungsoo, why did you move here? What do you do? How come you've never attended my parties?"
Kyungsoo, the bookstore one, leers at Jongin, the façade of Gatsby over the fairytale prince. The moment passes. The story resumes as if nothing happened. "I sell bonds. I wanted to live here to be closer to the city, you know, the golden rush of it all."
Jongin is watching Kyungsoo in fascination. "Are you a poet?"
Book keeper Kyungsoo comes reeling back. " Okay, hold up, you will not butcher the characters of my favourite novel-"
"Just answer the question, Kyungsoo." He isn't looking at the man but he can hear the pout.
This is going to be interesting. "I'm no poet, Mr Kim, just a big fan of literature."
"And why you've avoided my house for so long?"
Kyungsoo blushes, avoiding Jongin's imploring gaze. "I always thought you needed an invite. And I'm not one for large social gatherings. I'm new to the town. The list goes on."
"Do you like it - the parties, the music, the people."
"There's not much to dislike."
Lighter, like an inside joke, "Just answer the question, Kyungsoo."
"I like it, as much as an introvert can like parties."
"Then, would you like it if there were less people? Get rid of the brass band and just have some chamber music or soft jazz?"
Kyungsoo makes a confused face. "Well, sure. But these are your parties, you do what you like."
Something like surprise crosses Jongin's face, and he rubs his jaw with his hand, laughing nervously. "Yes, of course, these are my parties. But they are for the- the general public. Any feedback, um, would surely make these gatherings more enjoyable…”
Only then does Kyungsoo notice the charged atmosphere, the glow to Jongin's cheeks not only from the fireplace. "Jongin, tell me, why did you want to talk to me?"
"Well- I was curious about, um, your- your," Jongin is rubbing his neck now, looking at everywhere in the room except Kyungsoo. "Cousin! Right, your cousin."
"Then go ahead."
Dead silence.
Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow. "Jongin?"
The man is a wreck of nerves, shuffling this way and that. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry, Mr Do, it was absolutely lovely meeting you but- but- I can't do this right now."
"Honest to god, just say it. I'm here, might as well."
"Might as well," Jongin mumbles, then snaps his head still, like he's come to a decision. "I called you here today not to talk about your cousin. It's to talk about, with, you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. I like you, Kyungsoo. I like you a great deal, much more than I ought to-"
"Wait wait wait wait wait." The record scratches, Kyungsoo shaking his head in massive disbelief. Jongin can ruin other books but not his favourite. "Are you serious? A romance between Nick and Gatsby? What are you even thinking?"
Jongin drops his character and childish prince comes back. "Can you not see it? It is so obvious."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this right now. They've only just met for goodness sakes!" Goodness, at any other moment Kyungsoo would have smiled.
Jongin rolls his eyes - Kyungsoo must be spreading bad habits. "Love isn't measured in time, Mr Do. You can know someone for years and still not love them."
A twisting ache in his chest. "What do you know about love?"
"I know what isn't. I know, from this side of my fairytale, love or the idea of it is a feeling, not an answer to a formula books have."
Jongin, Prince Kai, no longer Gatsby/Red Queen/Edward/Prince Eric, sitting in his large arm chair turning this way and that by the dancing of the flames eating chunks of wood in the fireplace, lecturing him on love like a conveniently timed councillor, and it all strikes Kyungsoo as surreal and humorous so in the heat of the discussion he laughs, stomach cramping, jaw dislocating, lungs imploding.
Jongin grimaces and crosses his arms. "I'm serious."
Kyungsoo convulses in his chair, calming down and now sore in his throat and in his chest. "That's rich coming from Gatsby, you know he ends up getting killed for love, right?"
"How did I not expect you would ruin this book for me? Knowing you."
It's time for Kyungsoo to tease. "You've only just met me."
"I feel like I have known you my whole life." Just Jongin sighs. "My whole life and more."
For the first time that night, Kyungsoo checks the cuckoo clock above the counter. It's antique, dusty from the store manager's fear that one human touch will send it crumbling into ash, though if you look hard enough the carved details reveal themselves to be lovely and colourful. Everything was young and beautiful once.
It reads ten past eleven. Kyungsoo doesn't remember the yellow swallow chirping at the hour but it had to. Time seems to be the only constant he can hold onto. It's a bit late for dinner but the 24 hours convenience store across the street never fails to deliver a satisfying meal of ramen when desperate.
"Hey, let's grab dinner. I'm starving." Kyungsoo nudges Jongin's knee with his own, letting his head fall against the wall with a hollow thump. The Great Gatsbyescapes his hands and closes, locking its glittery world away into black ink on paper.
Jongin runs a hand through his hair and clutches, releasing a handful of wavy brown strands to float back down, repeat. "How… does dinner work here? Is there a magic button you press and rice pours down from the ceiling?"
After carefully slotting the book snugly back in its spot, Kyungsoo hurriedly gets up. All the adventuring has drained his stomach empty. He must have been so distracted with Jongin it deafened him to the whinge of his appetite. "I wish," Kyungsoo rubs his belly, "but it's more like you pay for a bowl of pre-made noodles and flavouring, add hot water, and it transforms into an edible meal. The magic's how it takes only 800 won to satisfy a stomach."
"And where can we get these magical bowls of noodles?"
The glow of the convenience store sign can be seen even under the glare of the bookstore's lights. He remembers the first time he gave up all pretence of a 'healthy lifestyle' and trudged through the automated doors, craving for something cheap and fulfilling. A pivoting moment in his life. "Across the street."
Only when they've speed walked across the deserted street - chilly from the winter that refuses to leave even though April is well on its way - picked a window seat overlooking nothing, split their chopsticks, does it come to Kyungsoo that maybe Jongin will arouse suspicion. He waves it away along with the steam of his ramen; it's near midnight on a Monday, not even the cashier guy batted an eyelash. Worse things have probably passed through nightlife Seoul. Worse than a handsome prince in tight pants.
"I'm sorry if this isn't up to your royal standards."
"Ha, whatever that means. I was always out at sea, so the best I got was fish. Imagine that, seafood every day." There is a frustration in his voice that reminds Kyungsoo of how high schoolers would talk about whatever was bothering their little world.
"How old are you?" Serious déjà vu.
"I turned eighteen three months ago."
Kyungsoo's chopsticks stop dead on their tracks to his mouth. "Oh my god, you're a child! This whole time I've been corrupting a child!"
Jongin scrunches his face and puffs out his chest. "I am not a child. I will become king soon."
Kyungsoo shakes his head in desolation. "I'm a cradle robber."
"How old are you, then? You can't be any older than me. You have a baby's face."
The blush spreads despite how Kyungsoo wants to murder anyone that calls him any variation of cute. If Jongin wasn't so handsome and charming (and young!), Kyungsoo swears. "I'm twenty-three. Call me cute again and it'll be your last."
"I never said that, but if you insist."
"You are so child. It's very inappropriate to flirt with an adult like me." And then Kyungsoo's eyes focus on the bookstore, empty and lonely and he remembers the nights he would sit here and look at the same spot, remembers everything that happened prior to tonight, prior to three hours ago. Now he feels sick for a completely different reason.
The air sags and falls on their shoulders. Jongin notices the change and purses his lips, placing his chopsticks into the bowl and fixing his eyes on the same, lonely scenery. "Are you willing to share what is bothering you?"
It would be so easy to, Kyungsoo tells himself, because as far as he knows, Jongin is simply a fictional character. He could dump all of his frustrations on the prince and send him on horseback to his made up castle by the sea, and never does he have to worry about any odd judgement or awkward tension. It would be so easy - so why is he hesitating?
Kyungsoo watches Jongin watching the bookstore and the answer doesn't come to him, but arises in the knowing clench in his stomach. Jongin is real. He's here and he's breathing and they're having cheap ramen for supper and their knees are nudging against each other under the table.
"When you came out of your story and found me crying, I told you it was because of the sad ending, right? Well I lied."
"That felt like a lifetime ago, but I remember."
"Yeah." Kyungsoo stirs the soup coated in an oily sheen. "I was dumped by my boyfriend. Over the phone. That's the equivalent of over a letter in your times."
Jongin slams his fists on the tabletop so hard it rattles their bowls and earns a hiss from the store keeper. "What a bastard!"
"I dated him for two years and knew him for four, and I don't know, I thought we would last a bit longer than we did. Not forever, but just, longer." This is embarrassing, but the ramen is doing strange things to his mind. "Whatever. Love or lust or like or fancy or whatever it's called, it's unfair. Like you said, love isn't measured in time. It took two years for Chanyeol to realize I'm not it."
Jongin ponders in silence. "Chanyeol, is that his name?" Then, with more conviction, "sounds like an asshole's name."
"Whoa, who am I talking to because that is not the Prince Jongin I know and cherish."
"People change after living sixteen different lives in one night."
Their knees bump underneath the table. "It has only been one night, hasn't it?"
"Do Kyungsoo, I am more familiar with you than anyone I know in my life."
"You mean everyone in The Little Mermaid?"
"Every existence is valid.” Jongin leans his head on the palm of his hands, propped up on the table, watches Kyungsoo with sleepy eyes. Cue the food coma. "What would you call this world, if it were a book?"
Kyungsoo mirrors Jongin's actions. "Well, if this world were a book, it'd be one of those cheap paperback romances sold in newsagencies, with a disgusting cover. Did I mention that it would end horribly, with the protagonist living an unloved, mediocre life?"
"Would I be considered a love interest or a side kick?" Jongin smiles.
"Hmm, both, why not?"
"That would be nice, to live here with you, looking at books, eating cheap food. Maybe the night will actually end, and we can do other things as well like in all the books - go on adventures, kill the villain, fall in love." The food coma kicks in fully and they drift into silence. Kyungsoo's mind plays out the night like a movie reel, Jongin as a vampire, Jongin as a tycoon, Jongin Jongin Jongin. Jongin before him as he is, sleepy and content and real.
Jongin's quiet long enough for Kyungsoo to check up on him, blinking through his spicy tears to catch the boy fixated on something behind them, still as a marble statue. His line of vision ends on the TV screen attached to the wall above the counter, playing a Hollywood film with big yellow hangul subtitles.
"That's a TV. It plays videos- um, they're like a series of photographs-"
"I get it, I get it." Jongin says without moving a muscle, his side profile taut enough that his jaw slices the air in a perfect ruled line. “Are the people real or made up?”
“They’re actors. It’s like theatre.” Kyungsoo squints at the screen. “Wait, I know this movie. It’s one of my favourites, because-“
The speed of which it takes for Jongin to slam a warm hand on Kyungsoo’s lips is so unexpectedly quick it sends Kyungsoo toppling of his high chair with a muffled yelp. The Twilight phase must still be in his system.
“Do not say another word,” Jongin says lightly, eyes razor sharp and chiselling into Kyungsoo’s gaze. “You will not ruin this ending for me.”
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes to the next universe, resisting the urge to punch Jongin’s arm and failing. “The ending isn’t-“
“Shut up.”
“The reason why I-“
“Mr Do, please stop talking.”
“This movie is my favourite, because-“
And when Jongin moves towards him, quicker than Kyungsoo’s seen anyone move in his life. Kyungsoo’s still mid-sentence explaining that reason why he liked Titanic wasn’t because of the ending (god no - one of his least favourite ending to ever exist in Hollywood history). What he expected was a strong chokehold, or at least a large palm covering his mouth. Not for Jongin's face to be a breath’s away from his own, not to get a sensory overload of sea-salt and honey skin, not for Jongin to kiss him.
Fireworks, gold and red. On his lips and thundering wildly against his ribs.
Jongin pulls away before Kyungsoo's fist can punch in instinct. Several emotions bubble and blur in his head but his mouth can't fathom any of them. Chanyeol never used do to that - interrupt Kyungsoo with a kiss.
"I'm sorry," Jongin blurts, all smiles and no remorse at all. "It was just to make you shut up. I really do not want to know what happens."
"Just to make me shut up." Kyungsoo grumbles, for once speechless and flustered. He knows it was more than a ploy; he's kissed enough people to know the difference. "Fine. No spoilers. I'll let you enjoy this ending, every bit of it."
Maybe it's punishment for the kiss. Maybe it's to buy time for Kyungsoo to figure it all out.