(no subject)
title good boy, bad boy
count ~7000
a/n college/stripper au for jongyu line on twitter, you know who you are (and if you don't, lets face it, you're just in denial).
x-posted to tumblr
"Hey, you're Kibum Kim, right?"
“Key.”
“Sorry?”
“I go by Key, I haven’t used my full name since freshmen year. You would know that if you paid any attention to the visual arts, which incidentally I have dedicated my life to.” Jonghyun’s best friend, roommate and soul sister examined his nails. “A simple Google search would have told you as much.”
The average-height auburn boy who is no doubt trying to him on him looks even more confused. “What?”
“I was one of Buzzfeed’s student artists to watch last year. God, out of eight times I’ve been hit on this week, this has got to be the worst.” He stands up. “Come on, Jjong, I’m sure we can find a better spot than this one.”
Jonghyun gives the bewildered boy a small shrug before following his friend out of the café they had perched in not too long ago. The sky is surly with rain clouds; they probably have less than five minutes till it starts pouring.
“Where now, master?” he asks and Key clicks his tongue.
“It had to be done, I can’t have just anyone coming up to me and wasting my precious time.”
Jonghyun laughs. “Sure. But seriously, where are we going?”
Key stops and he nearly smacks into him. “I have no idea.”
“Are you hungry?”
His best friend turns around and glares at him. “We don’t say the h-word, Jonghyun.”
“I will take that as a yes. But since we both know you’re not going to eat, I am going to pop down to the library and get an early start on my paper.”
“Of course,” Key says with a less than impressed face. “Come on, I’ll drop you there. Nerd.”
“Education is the cornerstone of progress, Kibum.”
“Suck my dick, Jonghyun.”
“Okay, but I have to finish my homework first.”
“That’s fine, what time can I schedule you in for? Let me just check my datebook,” the taller boy mimes licking a finger and turning the page. “Would you look at that, I’m busy for the next eleven hundred years.”
“Your loss,” Jonghyun says, pouting his lips as far as they will go.
“So I’ve heard.” Key rolls his eyes. The library looms closer and closer in front of them and, silly as it sounds, Jonghyun is loath to be separated from his friend.
“I’ll see you later?”
He takes the distracted hum Key lets out (his phone has already been whipped out to maintain the image of being ever busy) as confirmation before slipping through the revolving doors of the library. Immediately it’s as if someone has turned the volume on the universe down. The sound of air pouring through the vents is serene and there’s a quiet thrum to the place. Jonghyun feels his shoulders drop in a familiar surrender. For all the jibes he gets, he loves it here.
Of course the library doesn’t quite love him back. His deep blue hair and labret piercing often earn him looks of mistrust. Admittedly he wasn’t your typical library-goer, however he does think it’s a bit much to eye him like he’s a daylight vandal. Most people don’t even bother disguising how surprised they are to see him reading a book. He gets the same disbelief every time he informs someone of his double major: Music and Philosophy.
“Hi, Jonghyun!”
“Hey,” he waves to the friendly redhead behind the front desk on his way up. He hasn’t bothered memorizing her name, but he does really like her. She’s the only one who makes him feel welcome here.
It’s still early, most people are in class, and the place is almost empty. He takes a deep breath, reveling in the carpeted calm of the first floor.
His paper, American music during the first-world war, is not due for another week, but he’s excited about it (even if he would never admit that out loud). He knows that his tendency to make farfetched conclusions is really going to get a chance to shine this semester.
Dropping his bag on an empty table he makes his way down the aisle, to the right stack. He isn’t too proficient with the Dewey Decimal system, but he has been coming here long enough to know where he’s going. There are a few other students lurking among them, muttering to themselves as they browse the titles. The desperation on some faces is more prominent than others and he chuckles. Freshmen can be so obvious sometimes.
For Jonghyun it’s already been two years in his sometimes loved, sometimes hated university. It gave him the gift of Kim Kibum, but robbed him of precious sleep and money.
A pleasant whistling slices through his mental scorecard of collegiate life. He stops and heads off in search of it, the tune is simple but kind of mesmerizing and Jonghyun is already writing the story in his head, even as he lives it. He doesn’t expect it to come true though and maybe that’s why he freezes on the spot in front of what is undoubtedly the boy of his dreams.
Silhouetted against the waning sunlight but somehow still catching every bit of it is a caramel-haired young man. His shoulders are broad and dependable, and his thick brows furrow as he turns the page. There is something entirely non-descript about the whole scene - it could be titled Student Does Homework - but Jonghyun has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight is playing in this boy’s hair or the perfect bend of his fingers or just the absentminded whistle issuing forth from his plump lips.
It doesn’t matter what it is because as far as Jonghyun is concerned, this is his soulmate.
*
“I’m telling you, it was like… time fucking stopped. It was like the start of Funeral Blues except with a happy ending.” His hands won’t stop moving.
“What?” Key looks up from his phone.
“The poem? By Auden? That’s not the point, the point is I need to woo this boy, Kibum, so I can marry him someday.”
His roommate holds up a hand. “Slow down there, little tornado, and let me get this straight. You went to the library, saw a cute boy, dropped everything and ran here to tell me about it?”
“Exactly!”
“You’re an idiot.” Key laughs. “For all you know your soulmate could be straight. Or engaged.”
“Not with those nails. And I didn’t see a ring.”
“Stereotyping is bad.” Key waggles a finger.
“So is negativity. I’m not giving up before I even try, this could be the one.”
“The one time you don’t snag a date and shut up forever? I sure hope so.”
Jonghyun settles for sticking his tongue out.
*
The next day finds him back on the first floor of the library, prowling as causally as he can and ignoring the multiple texts from Hae Sol asking him why he’s not in class. It’s not like he skips often. This was an exception in every sense of the word. To his disappointment though his whistling angel (other names include his honey-haired soulmate and broad-chested boy wonder) was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had class, Jonghyun sat down with a deflated pout and pulled his laptop out.
As long as he was here, he might as well work.
Somewhere between the fifth and sixth essay his eyes start giving up. The uniformly sized font blurs into large bars of black and white.
“Fuck,” he says and stretches as far back as his chair will allow him. His neck is sore and he can’t feel what little ass he has. Maybe a bit of walking around was in order. He saves his work and leaps to his feet. The weather is better today and his phone tells him it is currently four in the afternoon. Not a bad time at all.
He’s halfway to the nearest window when he hears it and he nearly falls on his face trying to turn around on the spot.
“Minho,” he splutters out as soon as he has recovered.
The tall, shaggy haired boy looks up and his face breaks into a smile. “Hyung, it’s been ages! How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been okay, how about you?” It’s killing him to feign interest. Minho is a star soccer player, he is the Miss Korea of campus, he has no right to complain.
“Same. Just struggling to keep my business grade up,” he says with a sheepish grin.
“Hang in there, man, I’m sure you’ll be able to get it up soon.” There’s an awkward pause after that and it’s more than half the reason he takes the plunge.
“Hey, what was that song you were whistling?”
“That?” Minho laughs. “It’s so silly, one of my friends made up this song about bread and now it’s totally stuck in my head.”
“Bread?” Jonghyun blinks.
“Yeah. It’s just catchy, you know? He keeps saying he’s going to copyright it.”
“Is he a music major too?”
“No, architecture actually. You might know him? His name’s Lee Jinki.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Jonghyun shakes his head.
“He was elected student body president this year? It was kind of a big deal because he’s the only Asian in a decade.”
“I guess I’ll have to look him up then.”
“You do that and I will see you around,” Minho says with a dorky little salute that is just so him. “Later, hyung!”
“Later.”
*
“Did you know the student body president is Korean?” Jonghyun asks, sprawled tummy-first on his bed, one arm brushing the ground.
“Yes,” Key says, “because unlike you, I don’t live in my head all day.”
“His name’s Lee Jinki. It’s a cute name.” Jonghyun nuzzles his pillow.
“Disgusting.”
“What?” He looks up.
“You are literally greasier than a French fry dripped in pig fat.”
“And you are more acidic than Professor J’s farts, can we move on now?”
“Gladly.” Key shudders. “What about Lee Jinki?”
“I think he’s whistle boy.”
Key drops his magazine. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“What? Why?”
“You don’t know?”
Jonghyun shakes his head, the trepidation making it difficult to breathe. Or maybe that’s the mattress crushing his diaphragm. He rolls onto his back and sits up. “Spit it out.”
“Lee Jinki is a legend.”
“For the bread song?”
“What?” Key frowns. “No, for so many things! How have you not heard about him? I swear, sometimes you art majors are such snobs.”
“You’re an art major.”
“I know, but I make it a point to keep myself abreast of what’s happening in the world. Anyway, Lee Jinki is famous, or infamous depending on how church you are, for paying off his all student loans eight months into his freshmen year.”
There is a moment of stunned silence.
“How?”
“By moonlighting as a stripper,” Key says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, nearly sending Jonghyun to his grave. He spends a good ten seconds choking on his own spit before croaking out an, “Explain.”
“You could just Google it, the UC Daily a front page feature on him a year ago, but fine. Four fine summers ago son of a small town butcher Lee Jinki dreamt of changing the way people lay bricks. It was all very exciting, but coming to the college of his dreams wasn’t the easiest thing. One day he chanced upon a rather interesting flyer for a ladies’ club. Fast forward to today and one hot bod later he is the model son and the model fuck, all rolled in one,” he finishes and Jonghyun has goosebumps. No, his goosebumps have goosebumps. Lee Jinki is positively electric.
“What, did you think he got those thighs from running track?” Key smirks after Jonghyun has been quiet for a minute.
“I don’t know what to think anymore to be honest.”
*
That night he has the first dream. It’s a mish mash of everything he knows about the bread piping, pole dancing Lee Jinki, where their library has transformed into a seedy strip joint slash record store and the older boy is dusting the shelves in nothing but booty shorts.
Needless to say Jonghyun wakes up with an enormous boner and, needless to add, Key teases him about it for the rest of the week.
*
For all his popularity Lee Jinki proves to be an elusive creature. Jonghyun never sights him in the library again, despite having “practically moved there” as Key says and frequenting other student haunts doesn’t pay off either. It might be because Jinki is good at blending in when he wants to, or because he has better things to do than be stalked by a famously moody third year.
He’s lying on his bed, legs and lyrics in the air, when Key walks in looking triumphant. “I have a surprise for you.”
Jonghyun looks up at him curiously. “What?”
“Well, last week I found out that Taemin, the freakishly prodigious ballet dancer from my jazz class, is best friends with Lee Jinki. I’ve been talking to him and warming him up and today,” Key beams, “he finally spilled.”
“That sounds gross.”
“Maybe but it did get me the name of Jinki’s current club and an exclusive tip off about his performance timings. What do you say?”
Jonghyun is on his feet faster than his tweets get published. “When?” he breathes.
“Not for another two days,” Key laughs, “so down, boy. I looked it up and it costs a fair bit so you better skimp on the iTunes till Saturday night if you want a glimpse of Onew.”
“Onew?”
“It’s his stage name. Like ‘on you’? He has a thing for puns apparently.”
“Key, I love you, I absolutely lo-”
“Get your gross hands of-”
“I want to kiss you, can I kiss you?”
“Absolutely no-”
*
“What are you saying, Anakin is clearly schizophrenic. He is completely inconsistent in his behavior.” Jonghyun slams a fist on the table.
Hae Sol stares at the bits of half-chewed sandwich that dot it. “You’re gross.”
“You didn’t even stay up for half the movies.”
“Because you wanted to watch all of them at once! Not all of us have trouble sleeping.”
“Yeah, well, then you’re not allowed to give your opinion.” Jonghyun shrugs and takes another bite of his lunch. Hae Sol flips him off but nothing can bring him down today. In a few hours he and Kibum will be off to watch Jinki perform at Black Velvet, an up-scale club in the heart of the city. He has no idea what to expect, from his research it seems Jinki sometimes chooses to sing the songs he strips to himself. Maybe that’s what he’ll do tonight. Or maybe he’ll do something Jonghyun could never expect and blow his mind to pieces.
“You have,” Hae Sol shakes his head, “the creepiest damn smile on your face right now. And you look pretty creepy anyway so I would drop it if I were you.”
“I wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Jonghyun pouts.
“Tell that to all the parents who want to keep their children away from you, Satan worshipper.”
He almost chokes on his sandwich. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”
“How?” Hae Sol laughs. “It is your legacy.”
“I can’t deny that.”
“Hey, you coming to see us tonight?”
“I can’t, I have plans.”
“I hate you.” Hae Sol throws a chopstick at his face.
“Stop the violence. It’s one night, you’ll survive.”
“But you’re my good luck charm!”
“You say that about anyone with a C-cup.”
Hae Sol brandishes his remaining chopstick. “Well played. Where are you going then?”
“Out. With Key.”
“Informative.” Hae Sol raises his brows.
Jonghyun pops the last bite in his mouth and jumps to his feet. “I can’t disclose more than that but, if everything goes according to plan, the next time I come see you perform I won’t be alone.”
*
“What exactly is your plan?” Key asks, inspecting his eyeliner.
“Love at first sight?” Jonghyun says weakly.
His roommate pauses to throw him a scathing look. “Worst plan ever.”
“Well it’s not like I can talk to him in the middle of his routine.”
Key gives himself a final once-over before he turns around. “True,” he admits, “I guess you’ll just have to rely on your body to do the talking for you.”
Jonghyun is wearing his prize leather jacket, the one that’s so black it makes his hair look like a thundercloud, and his favourite sneakers. He even moisturized. He is serious about Jinki and he wants it to show.
“How are we getting there?”
“The bus.”
He wrinkles his nose. Not the entrance he had hoped for.
*
The club is actually a three-story cube made of polished black glass.
“This place is gorgeous,” Key says, stepping forward to run a hand across it. “He must make an assload.”
“Eloquent,” Jonghyun mutters. The doors are tall and chrome, imposing almost. There are no queues, it’s nothing like he had expected.
“Why is it so empty?” he frowns.
Key shrugs his blazer off and drapes it over his shoulders. “You don’t go in here if you can’t afford it. You don’t even look at it.”
“Right. So how exactly are we supposed to watch Jinki?”
“Confidence,” his friend says before setting off for the door. Jonghyun shrugs and follows him. The second they enter the world explodes with sound and color. He can hear applause and cheering and music coming down the narrow corridor.
“Stay close to me,” Key says loudly.
Jonghyun doesn’t need to be told twice. He has no idea what he’s doing here and he’s looking around for answers when he slams into Key’s back.
“I’m not sure where Jinki’s platform is.”
Jonghyun peers past him to see an enormous room that looks more like a 90s maze than a strip club. Part of the floor is sunken to form a bar and dance area. The rest of it is dedicated to poles and stages of various sizes, each surrounded by its own cast of admirers.
“Are you boys lost?” someone says behind them and Jonghyun jumps.
It’s a tall lady with thick black glasses and a high ponytail.
“N-no, we’re ju-”
“We’re looking for Onew,” Key interrupts smoothly.
“He’s not on for another,” she checks her watch, “five minutes. Why don’t you grab a drink? You’ll know him when you see him.” She winks and then she’s gone, as suddenly as she had appeared.
“This place is weird.” Jonghyun shudders.
*
“What’ll it be, son?” Key waves his wallet.
“Rum and coke,” Jonghyun yells. The music is louder than ever down here and he is in serious need of some liquid courage. He can tell Key wasn’t expecting that answer.
“Interesting.” He smirks and turns to the bartender.
Jonghyun’s drink has just reached his hand when the lights go down and the people around him scream. They seem to be mostly girls and the effect it has on his eardrums is positively murderous.
“What is happening?”
“I think its Onew!” Key grabs his arm. “Come on, we need to find a good spot.”
Jonghyun lets himself be dragged back up. The music has shifted to something slower, deeper, almost R&B and for some reason he’s starting to feel really anxious.
The crowd is thickest on the platform to their right and that’s where Key takes him, fingers digging into his sleeve, oblivious to the nerves singing beneath it.
Jonghyun almost stops breathing when he spots Jinki. This couldn’t be the same person. The boy - no, the man up on the stage was something else, he was someone else. He had the same honeyed hair and full lips but the look on his face and the way his body moved were something Jonghyun had never seen before. He felt like he was the one stripped down every time those eyes moved over the crowd.
And this was all before Onew began to sing.
*
Somewhere around the part where Jinki’s shirt flutters down his broad shoulders and glistening chest, Jonghyun starts to feel the unmistakable beginnings of an erection.
“We have to leave,” he hisses, grabbing Key’s blazer.
*
“Damn.” Key whistles, falling on his bed. Jonghyun hasn’t said a word the entire ride home. He’s still in shock. “That boy knows how to put on a show.” He rolls onto his stomach and grins sleazily at the shorter boy. “I hope that was a spare mic in his pocket for your sake.”
“I calnt belaba,” Jonghyun tries and Key reaches under his mattress for a magazine.
“It’s okay,” he says, flipping it open, “take your time.”
*
“Kibum, wake up, come on, wake up!”
“I’m up, I’m up, stop throwing stuff at me.” Key raises himself on one elbow. “What?” he barks.
“He’s so hot,” Jonghyun moans.
“Who? Anakin?”
Jonghyun lobs another pencil at him. “No! Jinki. Onew. I don’t know. Whoever that was. Kibum, I couldn’t feel my fucking knees. I still can’t feel them. He was amazing, his voice, his legs, his tone, hi-”
“His abs?”
“Oh God, his abs.” Jonghyun pitches face first into his pillow. “How is he real?”
“What?”
“How,” he lifts his head, “is that man real.”
“Fairy dust and weights, I don’t know. The point is, what are you going to do about it? Are you just going to let this sexy, button-ripping angel walk out of your life?”
Jonghyun shakes his head vigorously.
“Then you better think fast because lets face it, Lee Jinki can have anyone he wants. You better make sure that’s you.”
*
“Can I help you?”
Jonghyun takes a deep breath and turns around. “Is this yours?” he asks
smoothly.
“Yes, it’s for a project. I’m an architecture major.”
“Oh. Well, it’s really cool!”
“Thanks, um, sorry, do we know each other?”
“No, my name is Jonghyun. I was just looking for a book and I saw this here. I hope you don’t mind that I had a look.”
“Not at all.” Jinki sticks a hand out. “Lee Jinki.”
Jonghyun shakes it briefly (letting go is difficult already). “Kim Jonghyun. Music major. We don’t really make things that look so impressive.” He laughs.
“You make music. What’s more beautiful than that?” Jinki says sincerely.
Damn it. This was not in the script.
“This might be a stupid question,” he rubs the back of his neck, “but what is it?”
“Not stupid at all.” Jinki steps around to the other side of the table on which his model is lying. “It’s an enclosure, actually. For red pandas. I collaborated with a friend who studies zoology to create a structure that melds with the urban landscape on the outside, but offers the perfect sanctuary inside. We’ve even detailed out the space as per their needs.”
Jonghyun blinks. “That’s even cooler than I thought.”
“I’m glad you thought it was cool in the first place. I’m not done though, not even close,” Jinki explains, holding up the thick book in his hand. “So if you don’t mind,” he trails off.
Who would mind, Jonghyun thinks wildly. Who could say no to a face like that?
“Of course not! I’m sorry for interrupting you.”
“Interruptions can be good,” Jinki says with a smile. “I’ll see you around?”
“Sure.” Jonghyun beams.
*
“I did it, I did it, I did it,” he chants and Key throws him an all-suffering look.
“Congratulations, he knows your name.”
Jonghyun spins one last time and falls on his bed.
He sure does.
*
From then on, it’s easier. Mostly because Jinki is too polite to kick him away instantly, but also because there is some genuine chemistry there. The banter comes easy and as long as Jinki smiles, there’s nothing Jonghyun wouldn’t do. He’s already demeaned himself by imitating a goat and getting kicked out of the library. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, Jinki took him for ice cream to compensate. He thought it was his fault it happened the first place.
“He likes mint chocolate chip,” Jonghyun informs Key that evening.
“I’m not your fucking diary!”
*
“We discussed global warming today. Jinki thinks the way we make our buildings can really change the game.”
“Nobody cares.”
*
“Jinki said he wants to hear me sing.”
“Have you told him you’ve heard him sing?”
“He also told me that penguins have spikes on their tongues to catch more slippery fish. He said my piercing reminded him of it.”
“Oh, God.”
*
“Jinki is so cute, he clipped all his nails yesterday but he forgot to clip the thumb and he just kept staring at it all da-”
“I’m moving out.”
*
“Before,” Key says loudly the second Jonghyun walks in, “you start off with your daily dick of my dreams report, I hope you haven’t forgotten about the party tomorrow night?”
“Party,” Jonghyun repeats slowly.
Key hops off the bed with a sigh. “Amber and Henry are throwing a party for the performing arts kids. Kind of like a mid-semester blowout. I think we all need to let out some steam. I know what you’re going to say, you’d rather stay back and play video games with Minho but Jinki’s going, so I know I’m going to see you there.”
He can’t argue with that.
*
There are two things about Jonghyun everyone knows: his bark is worse than his bite, and his tolerance for alcohol is next to nothing. That’s why he finds it so strange that less than an hour into arriving at Henry’s apartment he is definitely not sober. Most people knew better than that, but he can’t remember who he took his last drink from.
He hops off the couch and teeters off in search of Kibum. He would know what to do. He always does. He was the one who helped him find out more about Jinki.
Speaking of Jinki, isn’t that him, talking to that girl from the drama club? There are a lot of things Jonghyun is less than perceptive about. Lee Jinki is not one of them.
“Hyung!” he yells and the both of them look in his direction. He doesn’t remember the girl’s name, but he isn’t too fussed about that.
Jinki waves and pointing at the speakers, covers his ears and grimaces and it nearly kills Jonghyun. He’s twice as motivated to talk to his crush now, which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t sprawled on the ground. He raises his head to find Jinki staring down at him worriedly.
“Shit, are you okay?” The older boy bends down to helps him up.
Jonghyun shakes his head. “I’m drunk,” he announces proudly.
“Congratulations.” Jinki laughs. “Where are your friends? I have a feeling you’ll be needing them soon.”
Jonghyun tilts his head. “You’re not my friend?”
“I am! I just don’t know how helpful I can be.” He grabs Jonghyun’s hand. “Come on, let’s go find them.”
“Wait.” Jonghyun grins. “This is a great song! We should dance.”
Jinki shakes his head and tugs at him. “I’m not a very good da-”
Jonghyun frowns. “Why are you lying to me?”
Jinki goes still. “You know?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Well, I guess. But they usually let me know what they think of it.”
“It’s none of my business.” Jonghyun shrugs.
“Thank you.” Jinki squeezes his hand with a smile. “Now shall we?”
*
Jinki helps him find Kibum, who is busy downing shots in the kitchen. It’s not easy to get his attention, but once he has assessed the situation he is frantic to get Jonghyun away from the senior.
“I’ll handle him from here. I’m so sorry, I hope he wasn’t a bother.”
“Not at all. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hyung!” Jonghyun calls and Jinki turns around. “Don’t leave without saying bye to me.”
Jinki waves a pinky at him before wandering off into the crowd.
“You’re hopeless,” Key tells him and wraps him in a hug.
*
Someone taps his shoulder and he nearly falls again turning around.
“Easy there.” Jinki laughs and grabs his shoulder. “I just, I came say to bye? I’m heading back.”
Jonghyun bites down a groan. Why is he always drunk when Jinki is around? He was perfectly fine thirty minutes and two glasses of red wine ago. Now he probably looks like a very flushed vampire.
“I’ll be inside if you need me,” Hae Sol says with a smirk. The bastard. It’s silent for a minute after he’s gone until Jinki burrows into his jacket and says, “It’s freezing. What were you doing out here?”
“The, um,” Jonghyun stares at the empty quad, “spitting thing from the Titanic. Maybe. There’s really no way to prove it.”
Jinki bursts out laughing. “Seriously? Who won?”
“I did! At least I think I did.” He turns to look up at the older boy. “How come you’re leaving so early?”
“I came here with Taemin, but he’s kind of with his dance troupe now. It’s getting a little boring.” Jinki shrugs. “No offence.”
It’s Jonghyun’s turn to laugh. “It’s not my party.” He puts his cup down on the little table Henry keeps on his balcony. “Let me walk you down.”
“I’m not sure you’re in the best condition for that.”
Jonghyun puts his hands on his hips. “I am a grown ass man, now march.”
His discretion is significantly dulled right now, but there’s no reason for Jinki to know that, he thinks, leading him through the apartment and out the door. It is cold and he’s kind of wishing he had brought his jacket. They head down the stairs in silence; Jonghyun’s cheeks warm with whine and Jinki’s lips caught in an idle whistle. It’s nice. It’s kind of really, really nice.
“I can handle it from here,” Jinki says once they’re on the street. Jonghyun shuffles around, not sure of what to from here when his eyes snag on an empty cup lying on its side between them. God, he hate-
“Litterers.” Jinki shakes his head and picks it up. Jonghyun holds a hand out for it. “It’s fine, I’ll throw it on my way home. It’s kind of gross, even if you’re a grown ass man,” he teases but his smile is gentle and Jonghyun’s head is spinning because he feels like if he doesn’t kiss the other man now, he isn’t going to make it. He steps forward and nudges Jinki’s arm out of the way.
For one second it’s Jonghyun’s lips on Jinki’s and it’s perfect and he’s here in the middle of the pavement with his heels in the air and his heart on his sleeve, and then Jinki is shoving him away with a look that is a hundred different things and none of them is love.
“I don’t think you meant to do that,” he says gently. “I should go. Goodnight, Jonghyun.”
*
“Where were you?” Key catches him by the door. “I was worried.”
“Just had to make a call. I lost my drink though.”
His best friend slings an arm over his shoulders. “Let’s get you a new one.”
*
Three days later the pain and the embarrassment are still going strong. Key has managed to wheedle the story out of him. He’s been surprisingly supportive though, trying to convince Jonghyun he had only gone with his instincts.
He’s resigned himself to another evening in bed, counting down to the most regrettable minute of his life, but something is different today.
There is an angry, young man waiting outside his door who punches him the second he reaches it.
“What the fuck, man,” Jonghyun yells, hands flying to his nose.
“I should be the one asking that,” the tall brunette yells back. “How does it feel to be on the end of something you weren’t expecting at al-”
“Taemin?!” The door swings open and a confused Key steps out into the corridor and between them. “What are you doing?”
“Punching me,” Jonghyun says loudly.
“What?” Key pushes Jonghyun behind him. “Why?”
“Because your fucking midget roommate was a dick to my best friend who’s obviously too nice to do anything about it himself,” Taemin growls and Jonghyun is suddenly so glad there is someone between them.
Key raises his hands. “You need to relax, it was just a kiss and if he had a problem with it, they’re old enough to sort it out themselves.”
“It was his first fucking kiss, Kibum,” Taemin spits out.
“Shit,” Key says and whirls around. “Did you know that?”
“N-no, I had no idea,” Jonghyun wants to punch himself now, “if I had known I would have never, I thought he-”
“What?” Taemin says scathingly. “You thought he sleeps around because he’s a stripper? You thought he’ll just jump in your bed if you said two nice things to him?”
“No!” Jonghyun bites his lip. “I like him, okay. A lot. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to show it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Well it’s not like he hates you,” Taemin murmurs and Jonghyun can’t help it, he perks up.
“He doesn’t?”
Taemin shakes his head grudgingly. “He should but he doesn’t.”
“Where is now?” Jonghyun steps forward eagerly. “I need to talk to him.”
“He has a performance right now.” Taemin frowns. “After which he’ll probably be tired and to be honest, I don’t think he wants to see you. Or I wouldn’t to at leas-”
Jonghyun doesn’t hear the rest. He’s already halfway down the corridor.
*
“You don’t understand.” Jonghyun is having hard time keeping his voice down. “I have to apologise to him!”
“Look, kid, it’s a closed performance,” the bouncer says firmly. “You say you know him, why the fuck should I believe you?”
He could tear his hair out. The only thing standing between him and Jinki is this man. Breathe, Jonghyun. He stuffs his fists in his pocket. He wants to punch him, but that will lock him out forever. The traffic is speeding behind his back and he can’t think straight.
“What’s going on?”
Jonghyun’s head snaps up. It’s the woman from that night. Her eyes snag on his hair and he knows she remembers him.
“I need to see Jink- Onew, I need to see him.”
She pinches her nose. “You know he’s performing, right? I don’t need you causing trouble. This is an important night for us.”
“I can wait, I’ll wait here. Just don’t let him go without talking to me.”
“I don’t even know your name, Romeo, so why don’t you just catch him yourself? I’ve got this, Bert,” she says to the bouncer and jerks her head inwards. “Come on.”
It takes a second for his eyes to adjust. The lights are low yet sharp, thick shades of blue make his eyes hurt. The corridor splays and reveals the club. It’s empty, a shadow of its usual self, upturned chairs and empty poles piercing the darkness. It’s eerie. The woman leads him past a curtain into a quieter place. The walls are lined with velvet. They stop outside a non-descript black door.
“Consider yourself lucky. Onew’s been working on this for weeks.” She pushes it open with a wry smile. The first thing he notices is the smell. Dozens of expensive perfumes and colognes have mixed into something rich, almost nauseating. “Don’t talk to anyone and don’t approach him until he’s done,” she whispers in his ear and then he’s being pushed inside. No one notices. The door shuts soundlessly behind him.
Jinki is already on the stage, a seamless piece of glittering darkness that catches the light and throws it up on him. His baggy silk shirt flutters in some invisible wind and he’s smiling as he talks, voice pitched low.
“- and we’ve both seen rough times, but we’ve both made it through them,” somebody cheers, “so I wanted to celebrate. Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy this.”
The slim figures crowded around the platform are rapt with attention as the lights go out. A single spotlight comes on and Jonghyun grips the banister as Jinki, poised on the pole, springs to life with the first bars of Sia’sChandelier.
He slides down, back to the pole, and it’s heartbreaking. Rolls across the ground, arms stretched, elbows raw with longing. The music kicks and he’s wrapped around the pole in the blink of an eye, higher and higher till Jonghyun’s hands are shaking.
Don’t fall, don’t fa-
He slides down, head tipped, eyes closed, inches from the ground and Jonghyun swears the world has stopped. Jinki looks like he’s in a trance, sculpted legs stretched out, achingly slow around the pole, fluid like water around a bend. He lands on his knees for the bridge, all raw energy and angry limbs, before the song is climbing again and so is he, hand over hand, legs above his head, light splattering across his body till Jonghyun is beside himself with something.
Jinki is swinging like his life depends on it and, suddenly, Jonghyun understands. The music has taken him somewhere he can’t follow; he just has to be patient. This time he’s going to be there to catch Jinki, eyes anxious as Jinki swings lower and lower, languid, beautiful, and the music lets up, the words ringing, repeating till Jinki is laid out on the ground in surrender.
There is a beat of silence and then everything happens all at once. The lights come back. The people erupt, jump to their feet and shout his name. Jonghyun is running down the stairs, Jinki is staggering up, sweat painting his exposed chest, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. He takes a bow just as Jonghyun reaches the edge of the stage. He can feel the stares on his back, but he doesn’t care.
“We need to talk.”
Jinki’s eyes go wide. He licks his lips, thinks about it, before nodding imperceptibly towards the left.
“Thank you,” he says shortly and walks off the stage.
*
“What are you doing here? Are you trying to get me fired because I wil-”
“No!” Jonghyun is bewildered. Jinki had wanted him to follow him here. “Why would you think that?” He takes a step forward, earnest. “I came here to talk to you. That’s all.”
“Did you sneak in here?”
“What?”
“Jonghyun.”
“I was let in, by that tall woman, with the glasses?”
“Oh.” That seems to calm the older boy a bit. “What do you want?”
“I,” he swallows. Why is this suddenly so hard?” “I wanted to say sorry. It’s something I should have done that night itself. I didn’t, I didn’t know that was your first kiss.”
Jinki shrugs and turns his attention to his bag, unzipping it and pulling out his phone. “Well, now you know. Apology accepted, Jonghyun, you can go back to your life with a clean conscience. If you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’d like some time alo-”
“I didn’t come here to tell you I’m giving up on you.”
Jinki looks up, surprised. “Then why are you here?”
“To apologise for being a complete asshole. To tell you you were amazing tonight. To hang around long enough to find one, just one fucking thing wrong with you because I am so hopelessly in love and I’m pretty sure you can’t stand the sight of my face.”
Jonghyun forces himself to look at Jinki and his knees almost buckle with relief. He’s smiling.
“Two out of those three are true. Guess which?” he says, folding his arms.
“Um, you knew you were great and it’s pretty obvious I have it bad for you so maybe,” Jonghyun says weakly, “you actually like assholes?”
“Crude, but true.” Jinki taps his chin and Jonghyun splutters.
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
Jinki grabs his coat. “I’m tired. Is your speech over?”
Jonghyun nods. He doesn’t want to push his luck, but he kind of does. “Can I walk you back?”
The older boy is halfway down one sleeve when he stops to think and it takes all of Jonghyun’s willpower not to coo. “Well, it’s hard to see how you could do anything worse than what you pulled last night,” Jinki says and his cheeks go up in flames.
“I’m an idiot,” he says firmly. “Let me make it up to you. Let me do this properly.”
Jinki zips his jacket up and hoists his bag one shoulder. “Don’t rush me. I’m a bit exhausted, in case you haven’t noticed. Pole dancing is a pain.”
“I’ll carry you home!” Jonghyun says immediately.
Jinki grins as he crosses him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Desperation suits you.”
Jonghyun blinks and scrambles to follow him. They walk down a dim lit corridor and emerge into the empty club. Jinki heads for the front door. It feels like there’s no one else in the world.
“Please, I won’t talk if you don’t want me too! I’ll carry your stuff, I’ll serenade you. I’ll clean the ground before you step on it, I’l-” He knows he’s being ridiculous, Jinki’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter and it’s perfect. “It’s a bit nippy, you should take my coat. Wait, you must be hungry. We can stop for some fried chicken, I know you like that,” he ends weakly. Jinki takes his hand off the handle and stares at him.
“Say something.” He swings on his toes, heart drumming something fierce.
“One condition.”
“Anything,” Jonghyun says instantly.
“No goodnight kiss.”
Jonghyun laughs. “Deal.”