game on
kaixing ; pg ; friendship + a tiny bit of romance
~ 1400 wc
a/n: so. this was actually meant to be a plotless drabble. somehow it evolved into this. i do not know what happened.
+ all i can say is this: kaixing does unexplainable things to my brain. that is all.
game on
Jongin glances over at where Yixing was peering into the mirror at his vanity table.
“You know hyung,” he says, “I still don’t get why you’re so hell-bent in reinventing yourself. Like, what’s the point, really.”
“I’m not hell-bent nor am I reinventing myself. I just feel the need for some changes, that’s all,” Yixing murmurs as he focuses on lining his eyes with the black kohl pencil he’s wielding in his hand.
He leans back a little, scrutinises his reflection, turns to Jongin with a slight frown. “Do you think I need another coat of mascara on my left eye? It looks uneven. Does it look uneven to you?”
The younger boy lets out an audible sigh and slowly gets up from the sofa, making his way to the elder who is now holding a mascara wand while squinting at the mirror.
He takes a look at all the various different beauty products on the table and feels a pounding headache creeping up the back of his neck. He frowns and without warning, plucks the application from Yixing’s fingers, proceeding to draw a thick inky streak on the deathly pale skin - the elder’s naturally porcelain white skin caked with layers of foundation, pressed powder, and mind-boggling skin products.
Jongin drops the mascara brush and says plainly, distaste in his eyes and the curl of his lips, “There. Better. Much better.”
Yixing’s mouth falls open in shock as he whips his head around and stares incredulously up at Jongin. He gets to his feet and punches the younger boy in the arm. “The fuck, Jongin,” he scowls, “what the hell was that for?”
Jongin winces at the pain and shoots a glare in the direction of the older boy.
“That’s for ruining my makeup, you asshole,” Yixing says shortly, although there’s no real heat in his words and Jongin can already see the beginnings of guilt and worry on his soft gentle features.
He shakes off the feeling of warmth glowing in the pits of his stomach.
Sighing softly, Jongin says patiently, “This is about Minhyun, isn’t it.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“That’s Minhyun hyung for you, Jongin,” Yixing murmurs under his breath - eyes slightly downcast. “Learn some manners.”
Jongin huffs in slight annoyance. “Okay fine, Minhyun hyung,” he rolls his eyes.
“Look, my point is, just because he broke up
with you, it doesn’t mean you have to go through a 360 degree transformation. You can’t - you shouldn’t let that one idiot get to you.”
Yixing looks at him and says softly - earnestly, “Don’t think it as a transformation. Think of it as - as an upgrade, a different side of me. Zhang Yixing two-point-oh.”
-
Jongin stares at him wordlessly, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. It’s almost like he’s saying You have got to be kidding me.
Yixing stares back just as silently, guileless brown orbs wide as the looks straight into Jongin’s narrowed obsidian ones. “Jongin - ”
He gets cut off when the younger boy suddenly grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him gently. ”Who are you trying to kid?” he questions. “Hyung, you’re telling me that this,” he motions to the table, “you’re telling me that plastering your face with all these gunk is another side of you?”
“The Yixing hyung I know doesn’t even like putting on make-up. I’ve known you for more than a decade. Don’t give me some half-assed flimsy excuse and expect me to believe it.”
Yixing stares at him, wordlessly and motionlessly, brows creasing fractionally. One second, two, three.
Jongin starts to get uncomfortable and fidgets, parts his lips to say something - anything really - to break the oppressing and heavy static silence when -
“Can you please get your hands off me?” Yixing asks quietly. The younger male is quick to obey, hands falling off with a mumbled ‘sorry’.
Yixing turns around and settles back down at his table. He takes the bottle of make-up remover and some cotton wool in his hands, looks at them. Jongin sees the conflict in his eyes from the reflection in the mirror.
“Do you know the exact words Minhyun said when he dumped me?”
He continues speaking when he’s met with silence. “You’re too boring, hyung,” Yixing says with a wry quirk to his lips, pouring a generous amount of the liquid on a cotton pad. “Too boring, too bland, too plain.”
He presses the cotton over an eye. “Apparently I’m too safe, too colourless.”
Jongin takes in a deep breath and exhales through gritted teeth. “I still don’t understand how him being an asshole has to do with you suddenly revamping your look.”
Yixing spares him a quick glance before refocusing on getting the make-up off his face. “The exterior is easy to change, Jongin,” he frowns at his reflection, “the interior will be more difficult. Much more difficult.”
-
Jongin blinks at the boy in front of him. “Okay wait, let me get this straight,” he says.
“You’re going through this twisted transformation because of him? You - you’re upgrading because of that fucker’s words?”
Yixing makes a tsk-ing sound, turns around in his seat to look at the younger boy- face bare. “Language, Jongin,” he chides lightly.
“And who knows, he might be right after all. Maybe I do need more colour.”
He shrugs nonchalantly, gets to his feet, and makes to walk away - conversation seemingly ended.
Jongin reaches out to grab Yixing’s arm, preventing the older boy from moving forward. The latter looks at him confusedly, tilting his head to the side. “Yes?”
“Hyung,” Jongin says slowly, “has it ever crossed your mind that there are some people who think you’re perfect the way you are? That - that you needn’t change anything about yourselves?”
The look of confusion morphs into one of amusement. “To be honest, no. Not really,” Yixing says, grinning slightly. “Do you know of anyone like that? Perhaps you can introduce them to me?”
Jongin lowers his gaze, worrying his full bottom lip. Yixing recognises the gesture that has come to mean that the younger boy was feeling unsure of himself.
“Jong - ”
“Hi, I’m Kim Jongin, aged seventeen, and I think you’re pretty much perfect just the way you are.”
Yixing freezes at the words, heart in his chest pounding furiously. “Really?” he asks in a whisper, “you think I’m perfect?”
Jongin nods, cheeks still stained with a light pink, newly found confidence in his eyes. “Yes, I do. I really think you’re perfect, Yixing hyung.”
-
The older boy smiles lightly. “No one is perfect, Jongin.”
Jongin swallows, adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “Okay fine then, I’ll correct myself,” he darts out his tongue to wet his lips. “I think that you’re as close to perfection as a man can get.”
Yixing’s smile widens. “Well, it’s a pity that neither one of us is a female then, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
An eyebrow arches. “You’re straight, no?”
“I-I’m bisexual.”
Yixing snorts. “A bisexual whose past relationships are all with girls. Makes me think that you’re more into boobs rather than dicks. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Jongin steps closer to the elder and congratulates himself when Yixing does not step back or shove him away. “Well then, guess I have to prove to you that I’m very much into dicks. Especially if it’s yours we’re talking about.”
Yixing narrows his eyes. “Are you making this into some sort of game, Kim Jongin?”
“It’s only a game if you think you’re a worthy enough opponent.” The younger male smirks, a devilish curl to his lips and a playful gleam to his eyes.
The elder laughs out at the sudden turn of events and because really, Jongin couldn’t be more blatant. “Is this a challenge?”
Jongin merely shrugs. “Maybe?”
The wide grin on his face and the sparkle in his obsidian orbs say all.
Yixing answers with an indulgent smile, steps forward and presses their bodies flush against one another. “In that case, I only have two words for you.”
He leans up, places his lips right next to Jongin’s ear and breathes out.
“Game on.”
-
~ 1400 wc
a/n: so. this was actually meant to be a plotless drabble. somehow it evolved into this. i do not know what happened.
+ all i can say is this: kaixing does unexplainable things to my brain. that is all.
game on
Jongin glances over at where Yixing was peering into the mirror at his vanity table.
“You know hyung,” he says, “I still don’t get why you’re so hell-bent in reinventing yourself. Like, what’s the point, really.”
“I’m not hell-bent nor am I reinventing myself. I just feel the need for some changes, that’s all,” Yixing murmurs as he focuses on lining his eyes with the black kohl pencil he’s wielding in his hand.
He leans back a little, scrutinises his reflection, turns to Jongin with a slight frown. “Do you think I need another coat of mascara on my left eye? It looks uneven. Does it look uneven to you?”
The younger boy lets out an audible sigh and slowly gets up from the sofa, making his way to the elder who is now holding a mascara wand while squinting at the mirror.
He takes a look at all the various different beauty products on the table and feels a pounding headache creeping up the back of his neck. He frowns and without warning, plucks the application from Yixing’s fingers, proceeding to draw a thick inky streak on the deathly pale skin - the elder’s naturally porcelain white skin caked with layers of foundation, pressed powder, and mind-boggling skin products.
Jongin drops the mascara brush and says plainly, distaste in his eyes and the curl of his lips, “There. Better. Much better.”
Yixing’s mouth falls open in shock as he whips his head around and stares incredulously up at Jongin. He gets to his feet and punches the younger boy in the arm. “The fuck, Jongin,” he scowls, “what the hell was that for?”
Jongin winces at the pain and shoots a glare in the direction of the older boy.
“That’s for ruining my makeup, you asshole,” Yixing says shortly, although there’s no real heat in his words and Jongin can already see the beginnings of guilt and worry on his soft gentle features.
He shakes off the feeling of warmth glowing in the pits of his stomach.
Sighing softly, Jongin says patiently, “This is about Minhyun, isn’t it.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“That’s Minhyun hyung for you, Jongin,” Yixing murmurs under his breath - eyes slightly downcast. “Learn some manners.”
Jongin huffs in slight annoyance. “Okay fine, Minhyun hyung,” he rolls his eyes.
“Look, my point is, just because he broke up
with you, it doesn’t mean you have to go through a 360 degree transformation. You can’t - you shouldn’t let that one idiot get to you.”
Yixing looks at him and says softly - earnestly, “Don’t think it as a transformation. Think of it as - as an upgrade, a different side of me. Zhang Yixing two-point-oh.”
-
Jongin stares at him wordlessly, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. It’s almost like he’s saying You have got to be kidding me.
Yixing stares back just as silently, guileless brown orbs wide as the looks straight into Jongin’s narrowed obsidian ones. “Jongin - ”
He gets cut off when the younger boy suddenly grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him gently. ”Who are you trying to kid?” he questions. “Hyung, you’re telling me that this,” he motions to the table, “you’re telling me that plastering your face with all these gunk is another side of you?”
“The Yixing hyung I know doesn’t even like putting on make-up. I’ve known you for more than a decade. Don’t give me some half-assed flimsy excuse and expect me to believe it.”
Yixing stares at him, wordlessly and motionlessly, brows creasing fractionally. One second, two, three.
Jongin starts to get uncomfortable and fidgets, parts his lips to say something - anything really - to break the oppressing and heavy static silence when -
“Can you please get your hands off me?” Yixing asks quietly. The younger male is quick to obey, hands falling off with a mumbled ‘sorry’.
Yixing turns around and settles back down at his table. He takes the bottle of make-up remover and some cotton wool in his hands, looks at them. Jongin sees the conflict in his eyes from the reflection in the mirror.
“Do you know the exact words Minhyun said when he dumped me?”
He continues speaking when he’s met with silence. “You’re too boring, hyung,” Yixing says with a wry quirk to his lips, pouring a generous amount of the liquid on a cotton pad. “Too boring, too bland, too plain.”
He presses the cotton over an eye. “Apparently I’m too safe, too colourless.”
Jongin takes in a deep breath and exhales through gritted teeth. “I still don’t understand how him being an asshole has to do with you suddenly revamping your look.”
Yixing spares him a quick glance before refocusing on getting the make-up off his face. “The exterior is easy to change, Jongin,” he frowns at his reflection, “the interior will be more difficult. Much more difficult.”
-
Jongin blinks at the boy in front of him. “Okay wait, let me get this straight,” he says.
“You’re going through this twisted transformation because of him? You - you’re upgrading because of that fucker’s words?”
Yixing makes a tsk-ing sound, turns around in his seat to look at the younger boy- face bare. “Language, Jongin,” he chides lightly.
“And who knows, he might be right after all. Maybe I do need more colour.”
He shrugs nonchalantly, gets to his feet, and makes to walk away - conversation seemingly ended.
Jongin reaches out to grab Yixing’s arm, preventing the older boy from moving forward. The latter looks at him confusedly, tilting his head to the side. “Yes?”
“Hyung,” Jongin says slowly, “has it ever crossed your mind that there are some people who think you’re perfect the way you are? That - that you needn’t change anything about yourselves?”
The look of confusion morphs into one of amusement. “To be honest, no. Not really,” Yixing says, grinning slightly. “Do you know of anyone like that? Perhaps you can introduce them to me?”
Jongin lowers his gaze, worrying his full bottom lip. Yixing recognises the gesture that has come to mean that the younger boy was feeling unsure of himself.
“Jong - ”
“Hi, I’m Kim Jongin, aged seventeen, and I think you’re pretty much perfect just the way you are.”
Yixing freezes at the words, heart in his chest pounding furiously. “Really?” he asks in a whisper, “you think I’m perfect?”
Jongin nods, cheeks still stained with a light pink, newly found confidence in his eyes. “Yes, I do. I really think you’re perfect, Yixing hyung.”
-
The older boy smiles lightly. “No one is perfect, Jongin.”
Jongin swallows, adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “Okay fine then, I’ll correct myself,” he darts out his tongue to wet his lips. “I think that you’re as close to perfection as a man can get.”
Yixing’s smile widens. “Well, it’s a pity that neither one of us is a female then, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
An eyebrow arches. “You’re straight, no?”
“I-I’m bisexual.”
Yixing snorts. “A bisexual whose past relationships are all with girls. Makes me think that you’re more into boobs rather than dicks. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Jongin steps closer to the elder and congratulates himself when Yixing does not step back or shove him away. “Well then, guess I have to prove to you that I’m very much into dicks. Especially if it’s yours we’re talking about.”
Yixing narrows his eyes. “Are you making this into some sort of game, Kim Jongin?”
“It’s only a game if you think you’re a worthy enough opponent.” The younger male smirks, a devilish curl to his lips and a playful gleam to his eyes.
The elder laughs out at the sudden turn of events and because really, Jongin couldn’t be more blatant. “Is this a challenge?”
Jongin merely shrugs. “Maybe?”
The wide grin on his face and the sparkle in his obsidian orbs say all.
Yixing answers with an indulgent smile, steps forward and presses their bodies flush against one another. “In that case, I only have two words for you.”
He leans up, places his lips right next to Jongin’s ear and breathes out.
“Game on.”
-