how did we get here (what are you doing to my heart)
kaixing + mentions of sexing ; angst ; pg
~ wc: 1,500
a/n: part of my 'heartbreakers' verse. in chronological order, this is the second fic of 'heartbreakers'. First, third, fourth.
* the sequence might will undergo a few changes as the verse is being expanded.
(also, i've created a new twitter account for people i meet on livejournal. it's pretty much empty atm, since i just returned from hiatus, but feel free to talk to me @scarlet_petal about anything really. got a request or something you want to see written? prompt me o(^^)o )
how did we get here (what are you doing to my heart)
There’s something different - something scarily and disconcertingly unreadable - about the expression on Yixing’s face when he shows up in front of Jongin’s doorstep at a quarter pass midnight, backpack slung casually over a shoulder and a plastic bag of fried chicken in his hand.
“Hyung?” Jongin mumbles when the door swings open, loose fists coming up to rub the remnants of sleep away from his eyes. He squints confusedly. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
The older boy smiles at him, reaching up to ruffle Jongin’s bed-mused hair affectionately, and says with a tiny hint of guilt in his mellow voice and in the depths of his brown orbs. “I’m sorry for barging in like this baby, but there’s something I have to tell you and I’m afraid it can’t wait anymore.”
Jongin cracks a grin in response.
“So you brought chicken as a peace offering?” he gently pulls Yixing into the apartment and shuts the door. He buries his face into the elder’s pale neck and whispers, “How nice of you.”
Yixing laughs and squirms away. “Guilty as charged,” he says with both hands in the air in mock surrender.
There’s something forced in that laugh, something fake. It’s barely there, almost invisible really, and if it were someone else, he’d brush it off as nothing but a mere trick the wind is playing.
But this is Jongin we’re talking about, and when it came to Yixing, Jongin hears everything. He sees everything. He senses everything.
Furrowed dark brows follow Yixing to the couch. The young man drops his bag onto the floor and the chicken on the low coffee table, and then promptly sinks down into the plush cushions.
Jongin notes with a slight flip in the pits of his stomach that the older boy fits right into his apartment, that he’s perfectly at home and comfortable in Jongin’s space.
And in a way, it’s like a law set in stone - everything that belongs to Kim Jongin is also Zhang Yixing’s, including and most importantly - Jongin’s heart.
(Jongìn can only hope that the older boy’s heart is his as well. He can never be sure about that. Yixing was a mystery in many ways, an enigma - has always been ever since young.)
Jongin frowns at how unfair it all sounds. Why is his heart the only one that’s on the line?
-
The boy on the couch looks over a shoulder and waves Jongin over. “Well don’t just stand there, Jongin. Come and sit with me. You know very well I don’t bite.” The teasing note in his voice and the easy smile on his lips has Jongin almost convinced that nothing’s wrong, that he had just been imagining things. Almost, only for a split second.
His Yixing hyung is many things. And a master actor is one of them.
Well, Jongin can act too. He’s been honing his skills for years now, suppressing the urge and fighting back the desire to take Yixing for himself, to claim him, to make Yixing his and his alone.
Jongin pastes a cheeky grin on his face, walks over in long wide strides, and plops down - finding Yixing’s arm and winding his own through it. It’s an auto-pilot reaction, an action that’s old as time. Yixing and Jongin. YixingandJongin.
“I was just admiring your beauty from afar. Though I have to say,” he rests his head on the elder’s shoulder, “being here right beside you, feeling your warmth and hearing your breaths, is infinitely better.”
He feels Yixing tense up slightly - just marginally, and instead of giving himself a pat on the back for correctly guessing that there’s something amiss, Jongin feels his insides getting downed in icy cold water. Dread. He’s terrified of what’s going to happen.
Still, he steadies and steels himself for one more confirmation.
Tilting his head slightly, Jongin presses a small kiss right above Yixing’s pulse point and mouths into the soft skin, inhaling the sweet scent. “You’re beautiful, Yixing. So so beautiful.”
The older boy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and starts pulling away, clearing his throat and untangling their arms, scoots to a side and effectively placing a more tangible distance between the two bodies. “That’s quite enough, Jongin,” he says softly.
Jongin feels his heart clench painfully at those words. The corners of his lips lift in a wry smile. He has all the confirmation he needs.
He looks at Yixing and asks simply, straightforwardly, “What is it?”
A look of hesitation flashes past Yixing’s face, soon to be replaced by an expression of firm determination. He wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue and says clearly, “I’m going out with Sehun.”
Jongin freezes, he forgets to breathe for a moment. He forgets how to.
“You..what?” he whispers incredulously.
Pain, disbelief, betrayal. So much pain. Too much pain.
“Your best friend, Sehun. We’re dating. I couldn’t keep it from you anymore; it felt too much like lying. I had to tell you.”
Despair. Loss. Desperation.
“You..can’t be serious. You’re not dating Sehun, you can’t be. You’re joking right? Please tell me you’re joking, Yixing.”
Hopelessness and helplessness.
A sigh of barely concealed frustration. “Why on earth would I joke about something like this?” A weary hand through inky black hair. “I knew that you’d react like this. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. But Jongin, I couldn’t keep it from you anymore. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”
Yixing was looking directly at him with pleading eyes. Eyes that were screaming for him to understand, eyes that were asking for..forgiveness.
Jongin wants to scream and cry and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.
He lets out a broken laugh, a hollow laugh, a fake laugh. “But you’re okay with lying to yourself?” he shakes his head, “you don’t love him, Yixing, you cannot. So why are you with him?”
The older boy stares at him with wide disbelieving eyes. “And I suppose you think you can tell me who I should or should not love?” he takes in a deep breath. “Jongin, I came over to tell you about our relationship, not to ask for your permission.”
He gets up from his seat and picks up his bag. “Look, I really don’t want to fight with you so I’m going to leave now. But remember Jongin, like it or not, Sehun is my boyfriend now and guess what. I fully intend to keep it that way.”
-
Yixing is approximately three steps from the door when he pauses and voices out a quiet “Goodnight Jongin. Sleep tight.” just as the younger boy parts his lips and says expressionlessly, “Break up with him.”
-
Yixing whirls around immediately at the words. “Excuse me?” he whispers, looking like he has just been slapped in the face.
“You heard me,” Jongin gets to his feet and walks to the stunned boy. “Break up with Sehun.”
“And who do you think you are, telling me what to do.” Yixing narrows his eyes and lowers his voice dangerously. “Tell me Jongin, who died and gave you permission to dictate my life. Who, Jongin, who?”
“Hyung, listen. I just - ”
Yixing rolls his eyes and scoffs.”No Jongin, you listen,” he pokes a finger into the boy’s chest. “You’re being ridiculous and crazy and I’m too tired to deal with your shit right now so leaving. Goodbye.”
He turns around and is about to turn the brass knob when Jongin grabs him by an arm and spins him back round. “I’m serious. Break up with him.”
Yixing shoots him a glare and forcefully snatches his arm back. “I’m serious too, you’re insane.”
“Yixing - ”
“What, Jongin, what?!” the older boy is fuming by now, nostrils flaring angrily and fire burning in his eyes. “I leave Sehun. And then what? You think that I’ll come to you? Really Jongin, really? Did you actually think for one second that I’ll come to you?”
He lowers his voice when he continues, the flames still burning, “You’re smarter than that. Please don’t act otherwise.”
Jongin gulps nervously. “A-are you angry at me?”
Yixing snorts. “Obviously. Did you really have to ask?”
And when the only response he gets is Jongin worrying his bottom lip and fingers nervously playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, Yixing’s anger dissipates a little. He can never stay mad at the younger boy for long.
With a sigh, he reaches over and stills the fidgeting fingers. Taking Jongin’s hand in both of his, Yixing thumbs over the knuckles and says gently. “I’ve told you time after time why we can’t be together. Are you openly defying your hyung, Jongin? Are you?”
Jongin snaps his head up and widens his eyes. “I would never! I just think that you and Sehun won’t be a good fit. That’s all.”
Wrong answer.
Yixing frowns deeply at him. There’s weariness and disappointment etched into the panes of his face.
“Should I become a monk then? Since apparently nobody is a good fit for me unless that person is named Kim Jongin.”
He shoots Jongin a final tight-lipped look before leaving the apartment.
The younger man stays silent as he stares blankly at the closed door.
-
Just in case you were wondering where your best friend is and where he has been the past week, he’s with me.
Jongin screams and throws his phone across the room.
-
~ wc: 1,500
a/n: part of my 'heartbreakers' verse. in chronological order, this is the second fic of 'heartbreakers'. First, third, fourth.
* the sequence might will undergo a few changes as the verse is being expanded.
(also, i've created a new twitter account for people i meet on livejournal. it's pretty much empty atm, since i just returned from hiatus, but feel free to talk to me @scarlet_petal about anything really. got a request or something you want to see written? prompt me o(^^)o )
how did we get here (what are you doing to my heart)
There’s something different - something scarily and disconcertingly unreadable - about the expression on Yixing’s face when he shows up in front of Jongin’s doorstep at a quarter pass midnight, backpack slung casually over a shoulder and a plastic bag of fried chicken in his hand.
“Hyung?” Jongin mumbles when the door swings open, loose fists coming up to rub the remnants of sleep away from his eyes. He squints confusedly. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
The older boy smiles at him, reaching up to ruffle Jongin’s bed-mused hair affectionately, and says with a tiny hint of guilt in his mellow voice and in the depths of his brown orbs. “I’m sorry for barging in like this baby, but there’s something I have to tell you and I’m afraid it can’t wait anymore.”
Jongin cracks a grin in response.
“So you brought chicken as a peace offering?” he gently pulls Yixing into the apartment and shuts the door. He buries his face into the elder’s pale neck and whispers, “How nice of you.”
Yixing laughs and squirms away. “Guilty as charged,” he says with both hands in the air in mock surrender.
There’s something forced in that laugh, something fake. It’s barely there, almost invisible really, and if it were someone else, he’d brush it off as nothing but a mere trick the wind is playing.
But this is Jongin we’re talking about, and when it came to Yixing, Jongin hears everything. He sees everything. He senses everything.
Furrowed dark brows follow Yixing to the couch. The young man drops his bag onto the floor and the chicken on the low coffee table, and then promptly sinks down into the plush cushions.
Jongin notes with a slight flip in the pits of his stomach that the older boy fits right into his apartment, that he’s perfectly at home and comfortable in Jongin’s space.
And in a way, it’s like a law set in stone - everything that belongs to Kim Jongin is also Zhang Yixing’s, including and most importantly - Jongin’s heart.
(Jongìn can only hope that the older boy’s heart is his as well. He can never be sure about that. Yixing was a mystery in many ways, an enigma - has always been ever since young.)
Jongin frowns at how unfair it all sounds. Why is his heart the only one that’s on the line?
-
The boy on the couch looks over a shoulder and waves Jongin over. “Well don’t just stand there, Jongin. Come and sit with me. You know very well I don’t bite.” The teasing note in his voice and the easy smile on his lips has Jongin almost convinced that nothing’s wrong, that he had just been imagining things. Almost, only for a split second.
His Yixing hyung is many things. And a master actor is one of them.
Well, Jongin can act too. He’s been honing his skills for years now, suppressing the urge and fighting back the desire to take Yixing for himself, to claim him, to make Yixing his and his alone.
Jongin pastes a cheeky grin on his face, walks over in long wide strides, and plops down - finding Yixing’s arm and winding his own through it. It’s an auto-pilot reaction, an action that’s old as time. Yixing and Jongin. YixingandJongin.
“I was just admiring your beauty from afar. Though I have to say,” he rests his head on the elder’s shoulder, “being here right beside you, feeling your warmth and hearing your breaths, is infinitely better.”
He feels Yixing tense up slightly - just marginally, and instead of giving himself a pat on the back for correctly guessing that there’s something amiss, Jongin feels his insides getting downed in icy cold water. Dread. He’s terrified of what’s going to happen.
Still, he steadies and steels himself for one more confirmation.
Tilting his head slightly, Jongin presses a small kiss right above Yixing’s pulse point and mouths into the soft skin, inhaling the sweet scent. “You’re beautiful, Yixing. So so beautiful.”
The older boy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and starts pulling away, clearing his throat and untangling their arms, scoots to a side and effectively placing a more tangible distance between the two bodies. “That’s quite enough, Jongin,” he says softly.
Jongin feels his heart clench painfully at those words. The corners of his lips lift in a wry smile. He has all the confirmation he needs.
He looks at Yixing and asks simply, straightforwardly, “What is it?”
A look of hesitation flashes past Yixing’s face, soon to be replaced by an expression of firm determination. He wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue and says clearly, “I’m going out with Sehun.”
Jongin freezes, he forgets to breathe for a moment. He forgets how to.
“You..what?” he whispers incredulously.
Pain, disbelief, betrayal. So much pain. Too much pain.
“Your best friend, Sehun. We’re dating. I couldn’t keep it from you anymore; it felt too much like lying. I had to tell you.”
Despair. Loss. Desperation.
“You..can’t be serious. You’re not dating Sehun, you can’t be. You’re joking right? Please tell me you’re joking, Yixing.”
Hopelessness and helplessness.
A sigh of barely concealed frustration. “Why on earth would I joke about something like this?” A weary hand through inky black hair. “I knew that you’d react like this. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. But Jongin, I couldn’t keep it from you anymore. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”
Yixing was looking directly at him with pleading eyes. Eyes that were screaming for him to understand, eyes that were asking for..forgiveness.
Jongin wants to scream and cry and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.
He lets out a broken laugh, a hollow laugh, a fake laugh. “But you’re okay with lying to yourself?” he shakes his head, “you don’t love him, Yixing, you cannot. So why are you with him?”
The older boy stares at him with wide disbelieving eyes. “And I suppose you think you can tell me who I should or should not love?” he takes in a deep breath. “Jongin, I came over to tell you about our relationship, not to ask for your permission.”
He gets up from his seat and picks up his bag. “Look, I really don’t want to fight with you so I’m going to leave now. But remember Jongin, like it or not, Sehun is my boyfriend now and guess what. I fully intend to keep it that way.”
-
Yixing is approximately three steps from the door when he pauses and voices out a quiet “Goodnight Jongin. Sleep tight.” just as the younger boy parts his lips and says expressionlessly, “Break up with him.”
-
Yixing whirls around immediately at the words. “Excuse me?” he whispers, looking like he has just been slapped in the face.
“You heard me,” Jongin gets to his feet and walks to the stunned boy. “Break up with Sehun.”
“And who do you think you are, telling me what to do.” Yixing narrows his eyes and lowers his voice dangerously. “Tell me Jongin, who died and gave you permission to dictate my life. Who, Jongin, who?”
“Hyung, listen. I just - ”
Yixing rolls his eyes and scoffs.”No Jongin, you listen,” he pokes a finger into the boy’s chest. “You’re being ridiculous and crazy and I’m too tired to deal with your shit right now so leaving. Goodbye.”
He turns around and is about to turn the brass knob when Jongin grabs him by an arm and spins him back round. “I’m serious. Break up with him.”
Yixing shoots him a glare and forcefully snatches his arm back. “I’m serious too, you’re insane.”
“Yixing - ”
“What, Jongin, what?!” the older boy is fuming by now, nostrils flaring angrily and fire burning in his eyes. “I leave Sehun. And then what? You think that I’ll come to you? Really Jongin, really? Did you actually think for one second that I’ll come to you?”
He lowers his voice when he continues, the flames still burning, “You’re smarter than that. Please don’t act otherwise.”
Jongin gulps nervously. “A-are you angry at me?”
Yixing snorts. “Obviously. Did you really have to ask?”
And when the only response he gets is Jongin worrying his bottom lip and fingers nervously playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, Yixing’s anger dissipates a little. He can never stay mad at the younger boy for long.
With a sigh, he reaches over and stills the fidgeting fingers. Taking Jongin’s hand in both of his, Yixing thumbs over the knuckles and says gently. “I’ve told you time after time why we can’t be together. Are you openly defying your hyung, Jongin? Are you?”
Jongin snaps his head up and widens his eyes. “I would never! I just think that you and Sehun won’t be a good fit. That’s all.”
Wrong answer.
Yixing frowns deeply at him. There’s weariness and disappointment etched into the panes of his face.
“Should I become a monk then? Since apparently nobody is a good fit for me unless that person is named Kim Jongin.”
He shoots Jongin a final tight-lipped look before leaving the apartment.
The younger man stays silent as he stares blankly at the closed door.
-
Just in case you were wondering where your best friend is and where he has been the past week, he’s with me.
Jongin screams and throws his phone across the room.
-