# 16
neon
exo & shinee ⥽ taemin/kai
it's as though jongin slips through taemin's fingers no matter what. inspired by john mayer's neon.
taemin watches jongin, eyes narrowed and skeptical behind thick-frame glasses.
he’s got a chemistry final tomorrow and it’s really fucking difficult to focus with jongin blowing puffs of billowy white smoke into the air, in hopes of achieving a perfect “o” shape. so far his efforts are in vain, as they just end up as blobs of nauseating smoke. taemin observes jongin’s long fingers, slender and neat, the tips stained with black india ink, curled around the joint. taemin knows by the end of the night he’ll return to his brother’s apartment smelling of coffee and weed and he’ll be met with, at first, jinki’s nervous gaze, one that falls into pity and slight judgement, because taemin’s consistently average marks (as compared to his genius older brother) simply must be due to the fact that’s he’s very obviously on drugs (not due to the fact he fucking hates all the science courses he’s enrolled in), and taemin’s not a child anymore, he’s 19, and nothing jinki says terrifies him anymore. because the annoying, patronizing “i know you’re a good kid” speeches get on his fucking nerves.
so he stays curled up on the end of the couch in jongin’s apartment, watching his best friend grow languid and lethargic, a tinge of jealousy burning at the back of his mind.
jongin had always been this--not necessarily into drugs, no, but he’d always been the lazy, careless sort of kid that managed to ace all his classes and taemin thought this trend was just lasting through middle school where everything was easy (supposedly; it appeared much easier to everyone else as compared to taemin) until jongin breezed through high school with taemin trailing behind him, consistantly carrying 90-percent papers and exams with him.
university was bound to be the same. a light breath leaves taemin’s lips and jongin’s hooded eyes lift from the floor to meet taemin’s, lips curling into an easy and (dare he say it?) wanton smile, nodding his head to beckon taemin to shift closer (although he was already quite close to jongin, who was settled on the floor near taemin’s spot on the couch) amidst bottles of ink and notepads and scratches of images taemin can't recognize and pictures and figures and symbols and formulas.
he probably shouldn’t.
the closer he gets the more he’ll smell and he knows how much jinki hates it but the way jongin meets his eyes, the same way he’s always met them for the fourteen years they’ve known one another, that had him, lee taemin, putty in jongin’s hands.
“just c’mere. you can shower before you go,” he murmurs, his voice expectedly raspy and taemin shivers.
he scoots close anyways, sliding off of the couch to settle beside him, eyes fluttering shut as he finds himself tucked into jongin’s side, jongin’s slender fingers sliding up and down along taemin’s upper arm. he discards the joint, knowing how much taemin hates not only the smell but its presence entirely.
“you should stop,” taemin mumbles. a laugh leaves jongin’s lips.
“it helps me concentrate,” he defends, dropping his head back against the wall, “i’m always buzzing.”
“just like neon,” taemin finishes, and the way jongin stares at him (in slight amusement) is enough to make taemin laugh and give in, tucking himself further into jongin’s side.
jongin smells like everything taemin knows. like outdoors, like the sun, like a bit of the cologne he’d bought him for one of his birthdays, like weed and like ink and paper and, taemin decides he could probably get used to smelling like this every night.
smells like home.
“stop sniffing me, you’ll get high,” jongin teases and taemin pinches his side.
the weird thing about jongin was that he never really sounded high. sure, his eyes were a bit red and hooded, his motions slow and careful but he didn’t actually...sound high.
“you should try it, tae,” jongin murmurs into his ear and taemin snorts, rolling his eyes.
“as if. not everyone’s immune to everything like you.” he only sighs heavily, leaning a bit more against the wall behind him, lips curled into a wry smile.
“i’m not immune to everything,” he says, eyes searching to meet taemin’s.
and then, after a long, lingering moment of silence, jongin kisses him.
he tastes like pine and honey and berries and jongin and many other things taemin wished he could always taste but never had the guts to and it’s over as quickly as it had begun, jongin holding the joint to his lips once more.
taemin scrambles up, standing and almost blindly gathering his things up, knocking a few empty cups around before he hastily makes his way out of the house.
as he walks home, he wonders how long jongin can go without burning away.
exo & shinee ⥽ taemin/kai
it's as though jongin slips through taemin's fingers no matter what. inspired by john mayer's neon.
taemin watches jongin, eyes narrowed and skeptical behind thick-frame glasses.
he’s got a chemistry final tomorrow and it’s really fucking difficult to focus with jongin blowing puffs of billowy white smoke into the air, in hopes of achieving a perfect “o” shape. so far his efforts are in vain, as they just end up as blobs of nauseating smoke. taemin observes jongin’s long fingers, slender and neat, the tips stained with black india ink, curled around the joint. taemin knows by the end of the night he’ll return to his brother’s apartment smelling of coffee and weed and he’ll be met with, at first, jinki’s nervous gaze, one that falls into pity and slight judgement, because taemin’s consistently average marks (as compared to his genius older brother) simply must be due to the fact that’s he’s very obviously on drugs (not due to the fact he fucking hates all the science courses he’s enrolled in), and taemin’s not a child anymore, he’s 19, and nothing jinki says terrifies him anymore. because the annoying, patronizing “i know you’re a good kid” speeches get on his fucking nerves.
so he stays curled up on the end of the couch in jongin’s apartment, watching his best friend grow languid and lethargic, a tinge of jealousy burning at the back of his mind.
jongin had always been this--not necessarily into drugs, no, but he’d always been the lazy, careless sort of kid that managed to ace all his classes and taemin thought this trend was just lasting through middle school where everything was easy (supposedly; it appeared much easier to everyone else as compared to taemin) until jongin breezed through high school with taemin trailing behind him, consistantly carrying 90-percent papers and exams with him.
university was bound to be the same. a light breath leaves taemin’s lips and jongin’s hooded eyes lift from the floor to meet taemin’s, lips curling into an easy and (dare he say it?) wanton smile, nodding his head to beckon taemin to shift closer (although he was already quite close to jongin, who was settled on the floor near taemin’s spot on the couch) amidst bottles of ink and notepads and scratches of images taemin can't recognize and pictures and figures and symbols and formulas.
he probably shouldn’t.
the closer he gets the more he’ll smell and he knows how much jinki hates it but the way jongin meets his eyes, the same way he’s always met them for the fourteen years they’ve known one another, that had him, lee taemin, putty in jongin’s hands.
“just c’mere. you can shower before you go,” he murmurs, his voice expectedly raspy and taemin shivers.
he scoots close anyways, sliding off of the couch to settle beside him, eyes fluttering shut as he finds himself tucked into jongin’s side, jongin’s slender fingers sliding up and down along taemin’s upper arm. he discards the joint, knowing how much taemin hates not only the smell but its presence entirely.
“you should stop,” taemin mumbles. a laugh leaves jongin’s lips.
“it helps me concentrate,” he defends, dropping his head back against the wall, “i’m always buzzing.”
“just like neon,” taemin finishes, and the way jongin stares at him (in slight amusement) is enough to make taemin laugh and give in, tucking himself further into jongin’s side.
jongin smells like everything taemin knows. like outdoors, like the sun, like a bit of the cologne he’d bought him for one of his birthdays, like weed and like ink and paper and, taemin decides he could probably get used to smelling like this every night.
smells like home.
“stop sniffing me, you’ll get high,” jongin teases and taemin pinches his side.
the weird thing about jongin was that he never really sounded high. sure, his eyes were a bit red and hooded, his motions slow and careful but he didn’t actually...sound high.
“you should try it, tae,” jongin murmurs into his ear and taemin snorts, rolling his eyes.
“as if. not everyone’s immune to everything like you.” he only sighs heavily, leaning a bit more against the wall behind him, lips curled into a wry smile.
“i’m not immune to everything,” he says, eyes searching to meet taemin’s.
and then, after a long, lingering moment of silence, jongin kisses him.
he tastes like pine and honey and berries and jongin and many other things taemin wished he could always taste but never had the guts to and it’s over as quickly as it had begun, jongin holding the joint to his lips once more.
taemin scrambles up, standing and almost blindly gathering his things up, knocking a few empty cups around before he hastily makes his way out of the house.
as he walks home, he wonders how long jongin can go without burning away.