#003²; my skin is sizzling (it might have been you)

[brandnewwind]

Title: my skin is sizzling (it might have been you)
Artists: EXO, SHINee, a fleeting mention of Girls' Generation
Pairings: Taemin/Jongin ; Sehun/Tao in a cameo role
Rating: R
Word count: 10.013
Warnings: homophobia, angst
Prompt: #003² - Taemin/Jongin AU: Jongin finds out he's gay, is afraid and disgusted of himself. Taemin is the boy next door, and it all just skyrockets from there.
Notes: Thanks to C for putting up with all my whining and panicking ;w; I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed this prompt and that the anon who sent it isn't let down! ♥



This job is boring, besides freezing. They're down some tiny way of Seoul he had never seen before today, the walls in red bricks, and he has been holding onto the concept pictures for a couple hours now, following close, but not too close, the photographer, ready to open the book and just stand there while he and the models look at the pictures and discuss the poses. It's fucking five below today and Jongin is starting to think these models are aliens because, despite their red ears, they pose wearing just suits like it's no big deal. Jongin, on the other hand, is wearing a thick, really not elegant jacket that makes him look like a chubby Eskimo, furry hood pulled up on his head, big enough to shade and cover most of his facial features. It's pretty great, because it keeps him warm enough to keep him alive and his yawns mainly go unnoticed. Mainly because one of the models caught him yawning before and heartily laughed at him, calling him a little bear for the ungraceful way his mouth opened wide and his sleepy eyes teared up. Jongin laughed sheepishly in return and soon was introduced to Oh Sehun, apparently his age despite his shoulders being much broader than Jongin's and his legs longer. His friend Zitao, Chinese, is even taller than them and overall today Jongin feels as attractive as a sloth compared to these two, his limbs heavy with sleepiness and his back a little hunched and his bangs in his eyes.

He doesn't like catching people's attention and that's what has beckoned him first and foremost behind a camera. He likes watching without being noticed, observing from the side and that's why there are a thousand pictures of his sisters playing, cooking, reading, decorating the Christmas tree, but barely a few of Jongin. He has always a strained smile in photos or he's looking somewhere else on purpose, or he has his head tilted down enough for his hair to cover much of his features. Jongin has always been a shy kid, preferring reading to making friends - because, anyway, how do you make friends in the first place...?-, studying to skipping classes, glasses to lenses because of the added bonus the bigger the frame, the more of your face is shielded. A boring, shy kid who loves hiding behind a camera. Today he's not even the photographer though, just the assistant of the assistant of the assistant, but it's a job that pays decently for him just standing there and he needs money for the rent anyway.

He gets distracted from his trail of thoughts when Sehun hurriedly makes his way to him, Zitao following close and he blinks at them, confused. They're wearing long, puffy jackets, trying to gain back a few degrees of their body temperature. "Do you need to see the book...?" He wonders, ready to open it but Sehun catches his hands instead, making it drop. It's unexpected and Jongin doesn't pull back only out of surprise, wide eyes looking at Sehun's sharp features. He's freezing and by the way he clutches onto Jongin's hand, the older feels some pity. Being a model may pay well but they're risking to catch pneumonia. "I can't feel my fingers anymore..." He whines, and he holds onto Jongin's hands with both his, now rubs his thumbs on his wrist, now presses their palms together, now brings one to his face, rubbing his warm finger against it. Jongin is baffled. But, more than that, he's terrified. There's a strange heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, coiling in his lower back. His heartbeat has picked up and he parts his lips, tries to make up whatever excuse to pull back, when arms wind around his waist and a firm chest presses to his back. Jongin almost lets out a whimper as Zitao leans his forehead against his shoulder and squeezes him a little, muttering some slurred Korean he doesn't understand. Jongin's breathless, his heartbeat deafening, embarrassment making his cheeks burn. He must be sick. That must be it. For how foggy his mind feels, how his chest aches because of the hectic pace of his heart, for how good it feels to be held against a solid frame, for his fingers to be curled in between Sehun's one, he must be sick.

It's a matter of seconds and the models are beckoned back to their positions, leaving a trembling Jongin behind, breath scratching against his throat and his chest constricting so much around his warm core he almost feels like he's about to faint. He's dizzy and absolutely petrified. When he asks for a break, he's accorded it immediately because he's told he's so pale he must be getting sick, the red drained from his lips.

It must've been because he isn't used to such intimate physical contact. He doesn't have many friends and he really can't remember the last time they hugged. Also, it's cold and he's a little sickly, he probably caught a virus or something. He didn't eat properly the day before and completely skipped breakfast this morning because he was late. Yeah, he thinks, taking a deep breath of icy cold air and clearing his lungs, it must've been all that.

•

They're done with the shoot in around two hours, but Jongin has to stay to set the tools away and get his pay. By the time he gets to the bus stop, it's almost an hour later and it's crowded. Sehun and Zitao are much too tall compared to the rest of people, though, and he notices them anyway, standing to the side with their cheeks rosey for the warmth this time, as Jongin guesses from the big cup of coffee Sehun is holding. They probably stopped by at a coffee shop to get warm again. He hesitates for a moment, but he's about to greet them when Zitao slowly pushes Sehun against the corner of the bus shelter and it's like things are happening in slow motion.

Sehun's laughing and then suddenly Zitao's lips are on his. Jongin's heart stops -he can swear it, for a moment it does stop, because when it starts beating again, it fucking hurts. Zitao kisses his friend like it's the simplest thing in the world, like actual couples do and Sehun's lips perfectly mold on his. Jongin feels that very same heat he felt during the photoshoot blooming under his skin, but this time it's low, dangerously low on his abdomen, crawling up his inner thighs when he catches the dark pink glimpse of a tongue. How does a boy taste like? Would men's lips feel as soft as women's? Would they taste sweeter? Would he feel anything at all if a boy kissed him like that, unlike how it happened with his girlfriend in high school, who could barely get him hard despite hormones raging? He never felt anything for her, not affection, nor arousal. He always thought he was broken and couldn't be fixed, suffering from an intense form of apathy. But now, as he presses together his legs while he tries to imagine the caress of a tongue inside his mouth, he suddenly realizes he's broken in a different way from what he believed.

Then and there he blinks and realizes Sehun's gaze is on him while his lips are still attached to his friend's. And he smirks against that mouth, eyes glinting with a knowledge that took Sehun a bunch of seconds to guess and Jongin twenty years to realize. "Tao..." He mutters, hands pressing at his chest gently to push him away and Zitao makes a puppy whine that doesn't match at all with his dark and mysterious model image. "What..." He mumbles, still trying to fill the distance between them with pursed lips, Sehun laughing at the childishness. He nudges his head forward, upnods towards Jongin and Zitao finally follows the trail of his eyes and spots the photographer. It's cute, how he blushes hard and suddenly straightens up, the younger man laughing at him. "You could've told me before...!" He complains, swatting at Sehun's shoulder while he other reaches to tug at his cheeks with too much force, just to earn himself some other loud whining.

Zitao turns towards Jongin soon after, though, not a trace of shame on his face but a bright grin and he waves at the other innocently, all childlike. Jongin just bows his head in greeting before scrambling on the bus that's stopping there, doors screeching when they open. He doesn't even check the number and he's fairly sure it'll take him further from his place instead of closer, but it doesn't matter. He gets off at a random stop when he can't stand being with other people anymore and it's already dark outside. He throws up in a bush, eyes watery and a lingering sense of digust that has nothing to do with sickness and all to do with the heavy feeling between his legs every time he thinks about that kiss.

He's gay.

It's no epiphany. There's no angel floating down from the sky; no light cast on him from above and a deep voice revealing it to him. Somehow Jongin has always known there was something wrong with him. It's like when you get all the signs of a cold -a stuffy nose now, a cough then, an itch in your throat that doesn't let you swallow properly. You ignore them, but eventually they catch up with you and you get a fever and everything makes sense. Everything falls in place. There were all the signs, he was just good at ignoring them. He always liked Minho sunbaenim's smile the most at school, despite all the guys liked Miyoung sunbaenim's the best. He blushed once when Minho pointed at him after scoring during a football match. He remembers the way the older guy lifted his shorts absent-mindedly while talking to other players, the thickness of his thighs, the way they clenched when he sprinted, how round his butt was under the dark fabric of his uniform pants. What's funny is that his girlfriend used to be a cheerleader and he has no idea what she was wearing during those matches. He never cared much when his friends told him her uniform was too skimpy, her skirt too short, her shirt a size too little. He can't even remember how the damn uniform looked on her at all.

He's broken, but in a much much worse way than he thought.

•

Jongin hates drinking, but he finds it so much easier to drown his thoughts in cheap soju that burns down his throat, along his esophagus and bursts in his stomach, making it cramp. There's heat prickling under his scalp and he wonders if it's his brain, self-combusting for all the shit that has surfaced there lately. Since he's sick his brain must be sick too. Maybe it's self-destroying and the itchy heat corresponds to his neurons dying one at a time. His thoughts have been slipping away and the quiet buzz in his mind is comforting. But that image of Sehun smirking at him is still seared behind his eyelids, for him to see it also when his eyes closed. It's torture and he drinks more, but that brings up the memory of Zitao's solid frame against his back, the muscle, the firmness, the wish to lean back, and his hand trembles so much he drops his bottle and apologizes profusely with slurred words to the ahjumma who owns the place. She watches him with soft eyes, caresses his head before she cleans up and Jongin can't help looking away, rubbing for the nth time at his chest, where it aches so much. "It'll be okay." She tells him warmly and he suddenly wants to cry.

It won't be okay. It can never be okay again.

Jongin comes up with a brilliant plan stumbling all the way home, and sometimes stopping because his stomach is flipping. He has lived twenty-two years like this, with no issue whatsoever. If he only does his job, earns enough for food and rent, avoid model photoshoots and doesn't let anyone to truly get to know him, it can all work perfectly the same way it has for other twenty-two years and then he'd be fourty-four and he won't have to worry about anything anymore at that age. He'll just forget about Sehun and Zitao, never see them again. He'll get small jobs, take pictures quietly, preferably of dogs, and he'll do great. He only has to avoid men. Be polite yes, but not let the good-looking ones touch him or get close to him anyhow. It's a perfect plan, he tries to convince himself but he trips over a step of the many that lead to his apartment and he can't help finding it ominous. He strokes at his hurt shin while he slowly maneuvers himself to sit on the cold stone, lean his head against the handrail, so hot he feels feverish, disgusting for the way cold sweat clings to his skin and another hundred reasons. He closes his eyes, but the feeling of swimming, of being held hostage by high, rough waves doesn't stop and Jongin breathes from his mouth, noisily, his body reminding him he doesn't drink because he can't hold it. His body has betrayed him so much today it makes him laugh, but the raw, hoarse, desperate sound that echoes in the stairwell doesn't sound like him at all. Who is he anymore, even?

His self has crumbled under the weight of the new discovery and he isn't sure he knows himself at all anymore. It's unsettling, not being able to trust even yourself. And Jongin starts crying, quietly, biting on his lip hard enough to leave the red mark of teeth, soon followed by the taste of cooper and the feeling of split chapped skin. He falls asleep at some point, cold settling in his bones and the steps' edges settling in his flesh.

It hurts.

He scrambles awake from the touch of fingers to his forehead. Not his fingers. His eyes are bleary and his stomach lurches, making him close them quickly, bile stinging in the back of his throat. When he opens them again there's a pair of curious, cat-like eyes at his face level, looking at him. It takes Jongin an awful long time to put together all the details, it's like he can focus only on one thing at a time. Bleached white, longish hair is what stands out the most at first, matching well with a ghastly pale skin. When his gaze drops to the other's lips Jongin makes a noise and it's embarrassing as hell, his head dropping against the step again and this time he groans out in pain. Lee Taemin, that white devil who happens to live next door, snorts amused. They've been living in the same building, same floor for quite some time now, close to a year he believes, but they meet rarely. Taemin is impossible to catch for anyone who isn't a bat. He wakes up late, leaves later and comes back home just a matter of minutes before normal people start heading to work. He's a rockstar or what have you. It's in his pierced ears, eyes circled with kohl, black nails and too many rings. It's in those goddamn leather pants he's wearing today and fuck, he's beautiful. He's a beautiful young man and that's exactly what Jongin doesn't need now.

"Come on, you must be freezing." He says, still hovering him and he holds out a hand, a frown denting his perfect features. Jongin would rather die than touch any other guy today, so he slowly straightens his back on his own with a wince, the spot of his head he hit throbbing. He wonders if it's bleeding but he doesn't check, too preoccupied with leaving the stairs before Taemin gets more stubborn about helping him. "I'm good." He obviously lies, and Taemin clicks his tongue in disapproval against the roof of his mouth, pulling back but standing on the very same step as before. "You look like shit." He says and Jongin laughs, an empty sound that scratches his throat. Thank you, he doesn't need to be reminded.

He grips tightly on the handrail, blinking furiously to make the white spots in his vision fade as soon as he's standing and turning is so difficult, but he manages and start climbing the stairs. It's like there are hands clutching at his feet, stones tied to his legs and his tongue feels like sand paper. Taemin follows close behind, hands ready to catch him and that frown still in place and Jongin is still so drunk he's almost about to tell him he shouldn't do that because he looks a hundred times more handsome when he smiles. "It's weird finding you around at this time, like this..." Taemin muses and it's a lot like he's simply voicing out his thoughts to himself. Jongin only grunts in reply, heaving out a shaky sigh when thirteen steps later he makes it safely to his landing.

The moment he lets go of the handrail and takes a step forward, though, he sways dangerously, closing his eyes, reflexes too slow for him to do anything but wait for the impact. It doesn't happen, though, one cold hand firmly planted against his back, the other curled around his arm and when his eyelids lift and he sees the look of worry in Taemin's eyes his chest pangs so hard he whimpers with tight lips and doubles over, suddenly very aware of how his knees are buckling and Taemin's hold is steady and there are tears threatening to spill at the corners of his eyes. "Where are your keys?" His neighbour's voice is suddenly so much smoother, velvety and Jongin would just like to close his eyes and let himself be enwrapped in it. It's a thought that attracts and repels him at the same time and it makes him gain some consciousness back. "I'll do it..." He mumbles, mouth so dry he can barely curl his tongue around the words. He pulls back but sways again and Taemin catches him, his jaw hardening. "Stop being so fucking stubborn." He chastites him and by reaction Jongin struggles free again, rougher now till Taemin has to let him go.

He throws him a defiant look, like he's in the way and not actually necessary for him to stand properly, and he reaches his door with rushed steps because he doesn't trust his legs to hold him up any longer. He firmly puts his hand against the hard wood, searching his keys in the pockets of his jacket with clumsy fingers that not quite do what he wants them to. Taemin huffs at the waste of time, eyeing the shape clearly in the fabric of his pants. "They're in your jeans! In your jeans!" He reaches out, touching at Jongin's hip and slipping his hand in his pocket, trying to reach them. The intrusion is violent to Jongin, disturbing and he snaps, suddenly shoving the other away hard. Taemin's eyes widen and he quickly loses his balance, completely taken aback, his foot taking a step back to steady himself but only finding the stairs that lead one floor up and he falls back onto them, frame suddenly so thin, so fragile.

Jongin watches it unfold horrified, shame and embarrassment and disgust hitting him right in the guts like a perfectly placed punch. He scrambles to open the door, fumbles noisily with it till he's inside and he slams it close, heart pounding in his ears so hard he feels the vibrations, the pulsing in his chest up to his fingertips. He stays still for what feels like forever, perked up ears catching the quiet noise of clothes rustling, keys tinkling and then a door is shut. Jongin collapses to the floor like a puppet with strings cut and the hit remotely hurts here and there, but it's dull compared to how violently he's shaking, blank eyes staring into the distance.

What has he become?

•

It takes Jongin two days to find the courage to own up to his mistake. Two panicky days with his phone turned off, where he has stayed huddled in a cover on his couch even long after he cured his hangover. He thinks he should maybe bring Taemin a gift to apologize, but he has no idea what the other likes, nor he feels like venturing into the world yet, even if it's just the store twenty meters from his place. He ends up just getting a small carton of milk from his fridge, musing that everyone likes it and it's the gesture that counts, isn't it? He aborts the plan when he's slipping his shoes on, suddenly finding it dumb. He comes back around fifteen seconds later.

The wait after he has rung the doorbell is the longest of his life. He realizes he has never been this nervous even during a job interview. It's late afternoon, around the time Taemin gets up, from what his older brother told him. The two Lees live together, but Taemin's hyung actually is around at normal times and Jongin happened to catch him quite a few times. He has always been nice to him and Jongin returned the politeness, often chuckling when Taesun complained about the other waking up so late. Taesun travels often for work, though, and the last time Jongin has seen him was a couple months ago. He hopes that Taemin actually hasn't changed schedule or else he can just put the milk there and-- he suddenly bows beyond ninety degrees as soon as the door clicks opens, blurting out a: "I'm truly sorry! I apologize deeply!", that wasn't quite as loud when he mentally rehearsed it.

Taemin's warm, tinkling laugh arrives before Jongin dares looking at him and, as soon as he does, he regrets it. Taemin really has just woken up. His eyes and his lips are puffy, his blonde hair in disarray and he's just wearing an old tee of a washed-out grey long enough to reveal only a sliver of his dark underwear, and for that the younger is thankful. Jongin's hands were already trembling, but it gets way worse after that and Taemin smiles at him with such a softness in the curve of his mouth that Jongin is left breathless for a moment. "Is that for me?" He asks, raising his eyebrows as he eyes the milk Jongin is holding. He barely has the time to nod before Taemin snatches it from him. "I'll get it before it becomes a milkshake." He teases him while carefully opening it and Jongin feels his face becoming a dark shade of red. "Come in, it's cold with the door open." He states, not leaving him much choice since he simply turns and walks further inside, leaving the door wide open and Jongin standing alone on the threshold.

He gets in and closes the door quietly, standing there for a moment before Taemin turns to him, confused by the lack of sound, and motions him to get closer. Jongin toes his shoes off and pads towards him, subtly looking around. It's a bright, cozy place. Somehow, for how Taemin dresses like he imagined the furniture to be dark and the walls to be painted red and not a creamy yellow. "Did I wake you?" He wonders and Taemin shakes his head while taking a sip of milk, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Jongin looks away. "I was awake, but it's nice staying under the covers when it's so cold outside." He explains easily and he settles on the couch, crossing his legs. Jongin once again notices how thin he is and he's sharply stabbed by guilt again. "I'm really, really sorry about what happened the other night. I had drunk and I wasn't well and--" "It's okay, I only got a bruise but I bruise easily." Taemin cuts him off, some milk still lingering at the corners of his plump mouth and he looks younger, boyish. Jongin suddenly realizes he's not wearing makeup for once and he's so different but still so pretty in a whole new way. An innocent kind of charm. "It is not... I hurt you and that was despicable of me when you were helping... I'm sorry." He bows again and Taemin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and suddenly this place is too bright and the warmth in Jongin's chest too much. He wants to flee.

It's like his neighbour reads his mind though, because he quickly interrupts the trail of his thoughts. "If you're so sorry, do something for me in return." His smile is a little less wide, more crooked to the side. "Hyung said you're a photographer, right?" "Yes, but I'm not a pro or anything, I--" "It doesn't matter, I'm sure you can do a way better job than any of my friends can." And with the way he grins, Jongin can't be mad about having been cut off again. "I sing in a rock band, I'm not sure if hyung told you or you guessed..." He picks at the skin of his neck, as if he was suddenly sheepish and Jongin notices how small his fingers look without rings, endearingly short.

"But, anyway, we have a small live soon and I think it'd be cool if there were pictures of it, to put on our Facebook page maybe. It could help us getting new gigs. And since I don't have to pay you, it's two birds with one stone." The smile he gives now is so big and mischievous that Jongin can't help chuckling, features suddenly melting from their nervous freeze and Taemin looks at him a little differently, his smile fading at the edges like his attention shifted. "Sounds good." Jongin hears himself saying and he's not sure what spell that other guy put on him, but accepting feels okay. Being given the chance to truly make up for his rudeness makes him feel well and he has never taken pictures of a rock concert before, so it's much needed experience. "Should I bring ear plugs?" He asks and Taemin furrows his brows, confused. "Is your music so good I could get distracted by you and stop taking pictures?" Jongin elaborates and the other laughs, soon nodding solemnly. "Yeah, we're like Sirens. You'll be drawn to us." The blonde gestures with his hand and with the way Jongin can't take his eyes off him, he thinks some magic has already been cast.

•

Taemin makes things seem easy, Jongin muses, as he settles his camera and accessories in his bag with a churning stomach. It's the day of the concert and Jongin feels like shit. It's not as terrible as when he went to apologize, but close enough. He's socially inept and the only relief comes from knowing he can hide behind his camera the way he has done for most of his life. It's comforting knowing his face will be hidden behind its body and he'll see everything through the viewfinder. His photographer side is actually excited, it's such a new experience and he has never really been that close to instruments. Maybe he'll manage to take macros of the bass and drums and the strings of the guitar. He tries to focus on that as he slides the strap of his bag on his shoulder and slips his shoes in. He has barely the time to open the door, though, that his tentative confidence crumbles.

Taemin is waiting for him outside and Jongin's stomach flips. He had mentioned it but Jongin didn't really believe he would do it. Why would the singer go with him instead of getting there with his own band? Jongin swallows hard and he bows his head a little, Taemin mirroring his movement but his smile is too bright for him to be doing it seriously. It's like a playful mock of Jongin's stiffness. When the photographer turns to lock the door he does it slowly on purpose, eyes squeezed shut, trying to control his heartbeat. Why does he feel like this? It's only a job, after all. One where he won't even be paid. But when he turns again and this time his eyes linger on Taemin, a part of him knows exactly because he's feeling like this and it's his wrong part. His sick part. The one that can't stop staring because Taemin is dressed all in white and nobody should be allowed to look good dressed like that. A rock singer should look dumb but he looks ethereal, unreachable. Tight skinny pants, an oversize jacket that shows dark mesh underneath and a black coat only resting on his shoulders, Taemin is everything Jongin wants and will only ever get through his finder. But it's alright, because he shouldn't want him in the first place. Jongin gives a tight-lipped smile, feeling dumber than ever in his casual attire. He isn't even sure he brushed his hair. "So, let's go? Someone may notice if I arrive late." Taemin jokes and Jongin gives a small hum, nodding and leading for the stairs first. He misses the way a pair of eyes donning thick makeup linger on the broadness of his back and the way blue jeans wrap around his thighs.

On one of those very same thighs, twenty minutes later, in the subway, lays Taemin's hand with no apparent intention of moving. It has become horribly difficult for Jongin to pay attention to what they other is saying when his hand keeps patting at the fabric and lightly stroking it. His fingers even pressed into the muscles at some point when Taemin got carried away telling the story of the first time he went on stage, how he instantly knew it was that one thing he had always looked for. "I'm like that, I know if something is right for me in a second." Taemin says, eyeing the other with a smaller smile now and Jongin can't tell why it has gotten almost shy. "I think you can always trust your gut feeling." The singer says and Jongin bites his lip at that, so hyper aware of the way Taemin's gaze seems deeper with makeup on and it's unsettling how good he looks. Boys aren't supposed to look good with eyeshadow on, but on Taemin it looks so natural. Jongin can't help imagining him in front of the mirror putting makeup and somehow it isn't ridiculous or disturbing. "You can't always trust yourself. There are times your own feelings betray you." Jongin mutters and he doesn't look at the other, because his voice came out so sad it's unexpected. The other doesn't say anything but Jongin can see it from the corner of his eye, a softness to them that looks like empathy. He is about to ask if he has ever experienced something like that, but their stop is loudly announced and before he knows it he's up on his feet, with a lump in his throat. It looks like Taemin's undecided, but slowly his gaze lets go of the younger and he gets up as well, turning his back on him as they get in line to get off.

They don't arrive late, but not exactly early either. There are just a few minutes before the show is supposed to start and Taemin barely has time to drop his coat and introduce Jongin to his bandmates. "He's my neighbour." Taemin says and a literal ba dum tss can be heard, Jongin's gaze wandering to the drummer. "God, tell me again where you live Taemin-ah because I wanna move there." The guy says and Jongin feels a blush creeping up his cheeks. He doesn't know what to say and only bows his head a little. He isn't used to be complimented, having made a mission of going unnoticed, but mostly he can't wrap his mind around a guy so obviously flirting with him. How can he be so careless about it? Or maybe, just carefree... it's like it doesn't matter to him and Jongin can't help envying such a personality. Taemin, on the other hand, seems used to it and waves his hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes and there's a certain warmth in Jongin's chest at how normal his reaction is, no trace of disgust in it.

He's assigned a place in the first row, as close to the stage as possible and luckily he's clutching onto his camera tight, exuding as much of his photographer aura as possible, or else he isn't sure he wouldn't be attacked, judging by the countless dirty looks he gets from young women as he walks past them. The crowd seems to be made mostly of females and he can't really blame them, when the singer is Taemin. Jongin fears again for his life when the older gets on stage, the shrieks from the fans threatening to make his ears bleed, and he points at Jongin saying, "I'm counting on you, huh?". Jongin nods warily, glancing to the side at all those girls who suddenly want to murder him and take his place.

Then, it's a matter of seconds. The drumsticks are beat together, Taemin wraps his hand around the mic, Jongin wields his camera and holds his breath and the live starts.

It's much more difficult than photoshoots, Jongin learns right away, but it's also way more fun. He moves a little his body to the rhythm of the bass as he snaps pictures, now focusing on the bassist's fingers, now on the drummer's head, bent down. The photos he takes of Taemin are quick, at first, and few. He starts gaining confidence around the fourth song and he catches Taemin's hand undoing the button of his jacket, black nail polish and silver and black rubber rings. He catches him with closed eyes, his lips pressed against the mic, its stand tilted forward. Then it's a smile to a fan now, his back against the guitarist's one then, the relentless clicking of the shutter going completely unnoticed with how loud the music is.

Taemin on a stage is so much different from the kid sitting on the couch drinking milk he has seen. When he said performing was his calling, he was speaking the truth. He oozes charisma, the crowd's eyes following him with no effort, like they're mesmerized. And Jongin is a little too, to be honest, high on music and adrenaline. Taemin sometimes looks at the camera, smiles a little wider, winks even and Jongin feels dizzy. At some point, the beat drops all of a sudden, announcing a song that Jongin obviously doesn't know but that has the girl next to him almost sobbing, her call of Taemin...! cracking. It's all different from the others, the lights from the stage turning red and Taemin's register lowering. "I bet you all know what this is." He breathes into the mic and Jongin's throat feels so tight as he tries to swallow.

It's sexy, even if the lyrics speak of a broken heart, of wanting someone back, it's so damn sexy. Jongin feels the vibrations off the amplifiers pouring right into his muscles. Truthfully, he spends a long time of the song simply following Taemin on stage through the viewfinder, everything about taking pictures forgotten. Taemin's voice is creamy, so rich and thick that it feels like all of it is filling him. Taemin inches to the edge of the low stage and crouches down, the crowd going wild and Jongin gets pushed a little to the side, forced to gain back his place and trying to fix the focus of the camera again. It's with horror that he realizes through the lens that Taemin is looking right at him and his free hand reaches for him, curling around the zoom gently and pushing it down. Jongin stares at him with wide eyes, vulnerable more than ever without that shield that's his camera. Taemin keeps muttering the verse and he slips a finger under Jongin's chin, tilts his head up so they can properly look at each other, brushes a thumb along his jawline and suddenly the world goes quiet for Jongin. Everything's on mute, even Taemin's voice itself. The touch of his fingers is electrifying and the singer goes further, slipping them through his locks, pressing fingertips into his scalp as he lowers his mic and for one, endless second, as they swim in each other's eyes, Jongin could swear the other is about to kiss him.

Reality comes back harshly in the form of Taemin pulling back and taking the mic to his mouth again and in that very moment, all the noises explode in Jongin's ears, making him stagger. His heartbeat is so fast he has a hard time breathing and he feels lost as Taemin straightens up again. He feels like a toy thrown away. Did he really expect Taemin would kiss him, then and there? Why would he even kiss a boy? That's so very wrong and not everyone is as disgusting as he is. Jongin can't take it anymore, the crowd suffocating and the noise overwhelming all of a sudden. His view falters as he stumbles back and, then, out of the blue, he turns his back to the stage and rushes away.

He shivers so much on the way back home that a girl offers him a hand warmer, thinking he's freezing. If he is, it's more than just his body being cold. He feels cold on the inside, like his heart is coated in ice, that rejection hurting like frost bite. He knows he should've expected nothing, that rock singers do it all the time, playing around, teasing. But still it aches deep in his bones.

He has a long shower when he's home and despite the hot water he keeps on shivering. His heart is what's actually trembling. He can't help thinking of the way Taemin's mouth molded around the words, obscene, how his singing voice crawled down his spine, like thick tar, infecting him with thoughts he should've never had, questions about how it'd sound bouncing off bedroom walls, his gaze promising everything Jongin ever wanted but was too afraid to ask. Jongin thinks of that and another thousand things -the way his mesh shirt hid nothing of the smooth skin underneath, dark pink of nipples tempting; how the older was looking right at him while slowly dragging both his hands up the mic stand, so very slowly, so very suggestively, lips pressed to the mic itself like he wasn't singing but making out with it; the way Taemin had smiled when letting go of him like he knew exactly what was going on in his head. He thinks of all that while he touches himself in the shower, with urgency, quickly, to get rid of the horrible hard he got over another boy. He comes harder than he has in a really long while, shame filling him as soon as he falls from his high and he falls to a lower place than he has ever been. He feels filthy afterwards, no matter the amount of soap.

That night he dreams of hands slowly crawling up his wide tanned back, hands stained with black, many rings taking his breath away with how cold they are against his feverish skin. A plump mouth presses against his ear to pant a burning Jongin there, teeth tugging at his lobe, stray locks ticklish against his nape. Somehow he finds himself laying on his back a moment later, hands pinned down on either side of his head on the pillow, a weight on him. He feels his length engulfed by tight heat, flesh slapping against flesh, deep eyes enhanced by smudged makeup stealing his breath before plump lips are pressed over his own and his soul is sucked away the same moment he comes, in a flash of searing white.

He wakes up with his back damp, panting. He wakes up dirty with come and self-loathing and promises himself he won't see Taemin anymore.

•

The promise is easy to keep. Taemin's schedule keeps being all over the place and simply following a normal one that has him out of bed early in the morning and back home before the sun sets, Jongin doesn't meet the other for five days -not that he's counting. On the sixth he wakes up late, gets ready in barely ten minutes and rushes down the stairs with the heavy bag containing his reflex camera bumping almost painfully against his side. He's oblivious to that door opened just a crack and clicked shut right after Jongin has disappeared over the corner of the stairs, a sigh swallowed by an empty apartment and an overflowing heart.

Day seven is a Saturday and Jongin thinks this is going well. He has been accepting minor, not exactly exciting jobs, but they pay decently and there are worse things in the world than taking pictures of a bunny for a photobook. He hasn't thought of Taemin lately, too tired to. Today he has a birthday party to attend and he's in a good mood. Kids seem to like him and the atmosphere will be light and carefree, which is something he needs. He has the chance to take nice pictures that maybe he can add to his portfolio, since it's a sunny day, almost too warm for this season, and everyone has a soft spot for cute kids.

The birthday boy's name is Kyungsoo, a cute kid that's turning the grand age of 5 with wide eyes and puffy lips who likes hiding behind his mother's legs and apparently is really scared of the camera, especially if Jongin is wielding it. His mother looks really apologetic to him when at some point it seems impossible he'll manage to take pictures at all. Even at a distance, if Kyungsoo spots Jongin and his heavy camera he'll stop playing with his friends and look for his mother for protection. Jongin crouches down in front of him, a smile and his camera hanging from his neck, and he tells him the story of the Cyclops. Without even noticing, in a matter of minutes he's surrounded by kids looking at him in awe as he talks of the one-eyed giants, making up details on the spot. "I'm an undercover Cyclop...!" He reveals, then he holds his camera again and this time Kyungsoo's mouth molds in a perfect 'o', pointing at the long zoom. "You have one eye!!" He exclaims, excited. And suddenly, Jongin is the life of the party. He manages to take pictures comfortably from that moment on, all of them going out in the garden since it's still warm and the light nicely hits the green grass and shiny snow, remnants slowly melting. He manages to snap a picture of Kyungsoo in his red coat and equally red nose, crouched down poking at snow, that makes him a little proud of himself. It looks good.

"The Cyclop will get youuu!~" He playfully threatens the kids, all laughing and awkwardly running on chubby legs now, taking pictures of them as he chases them at a slower pace. "I'll eat youuu~ rawr~" He isn't sure rawr is exactly how a Cyclop goes but he can't help smiling as the shutter clicks are drowned out by laughter and he thinks by far this is the job he has liked the most in a long while. He suddenly catches a glimpse of white from the finder, though, that's way taller than the kids and instictively he raises his camera, focus adjusting automatically on the new apparition and he swallows hard, slowly lowering it. It's Taemin, standing by the garden gate, almost shy. He greets him with an awkward gesture of his hand and offers the kids a bright smile. When they see Jongin isn't playing with them anymore, they start chasing each other instead, the sound of laughter and teasing following them.

Jongin is frozen on spot, hands loosely curled around the camera body out of habit. "How did you find me...?" Is what he asks first, giving away his intent of avoiding the other. It's only after saying it that he realizes the expected question should've been why are you here?. "My friend Moonkyu took his little brother to a friend's party and he said he was getting bored so... yeah..." He gives an embarrassed laugh, rubbing at his nape, gaze wandering indecisively between the ground and Jongin's face. Jongin doesn't say anything, simply stands there, so baffled his mind is blank. Of course. It was so dumb thinking the other may have come for him. What was the possibility of that happening, even? “Oh, sure.” He simply says, awkwardly. “Then, have fun.” He wishes him with a curt nod of his head and turns away. He's stiff when he goes back to the party, so distracted he almost misses Kyungsoo now posing for him holding very proudly his new set of crayons. His gaze wanders, looking for Taemin, till around fifteen minutes later he appears again. “Moonkyu had to leave...” He says but he doesn't look at Jongin. “You're good with kids.” He mutters now and Jongin chuckles. “Kids are easy to deal with. They're straight-forward and innocent.” He wonders when he has lost both of those qualities, he used to be so different as a kid. When has he become so fearful?

Taemin starts playing with a little girl at some point, who then introduces him to another and eventually he's there pretending to chew on stones that are supposed to be the scones to their imaginary tea. Jongin can't help laughing loud when Taemin sends him a puppy look that screams help me and he just takes a pictures instead, the older playfully glaring at him. It's soon after that that he's saved by the announcement of the actual cake being served and they all go back inside the house, sitting around the table. Taemin is offered a piece too and he gladly accepts, while Jongin turns it down. “Aw, come on, don't be a party pooper!” Taemin exclaims and the other panics. “Shhh! Don't say that with the kids around!” “Oh, please.” Taemin makes a face. “What's wrong with poop? Nothing wrong with poop right kids?” “Poop! Poop! Poop!” The kids start chanting while running around screaming excitedly and Jongin tries to hush them to no avail, till he gives up and bursts out laughing, loud and ungraceful, eyes narrowing till they're almost shut. “Go, get some cake. Or do you want to be fed like a baby too?” Taemin asks teasingly and he dips his fingertip in the cream on top of the cake, offering it out to him with an aaah~ that soon breaks into a laugh. Click -Jongin takes a picture.

•

They take the subway together on the way back, both exhausted after dealing with hyper kids. They can't find free seats though, so they're forced to stand in a corner, too close for comfort. “The other evening I couldn't find you anymore...” Taemin starts and Jongin's stomach drops. “I didn't feel well.” He makes up and thinking about it, it's not exactly a lie. “Ah.” is all Taemin says. The silence is heavy between them, like a wall slowly building up and he feels grateful when Taemin starts talking again -he was almost leaning closer to smell his scent better. “Kyungsoo is a really cute kid, even crying when you had to go.” They both laugh and Jongin shrugs. “He's a sweet kid.” “You're easy to love.” Taemin mutters in return and Jongin's eyes run to his face right away, his heart tripping over a beat. He looks in the soft brown and finds nothing there but sweetness and he can't help wondering if it's there because Taemin feels bad about the other night. It'd be so easy to drown in them, so easy to lean in till their noses bump and his eyelids flutter close and suddenly Jongin is painfully aware of the warmth exuding from Taemin, of the way his breath tickles lightly his skin. They're too close and it takes his breath away, but he can't move either, since it's too crowded.

The subway train halts harshly at its stop all of a sudden and Jongin is taken aback, forced to take a step forward to keep his balance. Taemin's lips crush on his, soft, plush and Jongin's eyes widen impossibly. The loud beep that announces the doors are about to shut again rings in his head, making him unable to think and before he can control himself, without even sparing a glance to Taemin, Jongin is fleeing out, leaving the other behind. His heart beats so fast it hurts in his chest, like the space isn't enough. He sways as if he's drunk and by the time he turns the train has already taken off again and he has no way to know if Taemin tried to follow him or not. It must've been a coincidence, his mistake when he unwittingly closed the distance between them. It must've been that, he tells himself as he sits down on one of the too cold metal benches in the station, but his mind keeps haunting him with the flash of a detail he caught and it's so stark he can't have made it up -when their lips met, Taemin was tiptoeing.

It's difficult thinking of nothing when it's so cold and the distraction of a wandering mind is welcome, rather than focusing on how he's likely going to lose a few toes if he keeps skipping trains. But as soon as he lets his mind travel, he finds his chest stinging. Taemin looked so good today, in his turtleneck and thick sweatpants, almost a home attire that clashes so much with that concert outfit and speaks of an endearing laziness and carefree attitude. As much as he didn't care about the looks he got in the subway with his thick makeup, he couldn't care less that he wasn't dressed nicely at the birthday party. He smiled so bright Jongin was almost blinded when he commented his pants must've been comfortable. "They're warm too." He said and insisted for the younger to touch at the fabric so he could tell for himself, his hand wrapping around Jongin's to beckon it closer. His fingers had been cold but the way their complexion contrasted and they were so small compared to his almost hypnotized him. He regretted not being able to take a picture of that too, but there are some things that you can forever store in your mind and Jongin had done just that. The brush of their skin, Taemin's was so much smoother than his, and the firm press around his hand.

Jongin buries his face in his hands, exhaling a long shaky breath. He can't help the way his tongue runs over his bottom lip and he's almost disappointed there's no different taste from the usual on the soft flesh. That kiss was so much different, it made something in the back of his mind tingle, made his toes curl and his eyes wanted to shut. It made his heart swell. It had never been like that with his only girlfriend, he had never felt anything when they kissed, to the point the slickness of saliva started to gross him out and he felt no pull whatsoever towards her lips. Taemin's lips instead are divine. With his eyes closed, he can picture them perfectly, that thickness and the way his Cupid's bow is unique, the dark pink almost jagged. And when his tongue pokes out -ah, his heart's shivering.

But they're both boys and Jongin must've made it up, the tilt of the other's feet when their lips touched. Not everyone is wrong the way he is and forcing his own fault on Taemin is going too far. He guesses he'll have to apologize again, this time probably with flavored milk. He sighs as he stands up to the sound of the train approaching and this time he gets in, exhaling with relief at the warmth there's inside. It's almost all empty and he wonders just how long he has stayed in that station. He sits down and refuses to think of Taemin any longer, and to distract himself he produces his camera from his bag, starts going through the pictures he has taken today.

It's heart-warming seeing the way Kyungsoo went from hiding, to actually posing with a peace sign, eyes sparkling. It makes Jongin proud and for a moment he thinks of how the child started tearing up when the party was over, rubbing at his eyes as the tears started running along his cheeks. "When I grow up, I'll marry Jongin hyung!" He had announced confidently, a pout stuck on his face and Jongin had laughed then. "You want to marry a Cyclop?" He had asked then, stroking the other's head while crouched down in front of him and Kyungsoo had shaken his head, repeating Jongin hyung! stubbornly. It hits him now, just how natural it had been for Kyungsoo saying it. After all, it was simple to him: if you like someone, why not being with them? Jongin had told Taemin he likes kids' innocence and that confession was coated in it. Jongin can't remember when he started thinking liking boys was wrong, dirty. He remembers when he held hands with a male friend back in kindergarten and it wasn't just to be safe, or not get lost. It was because it made him happy and there's no filth in happiness.

He's absent-mindedly skimming through pictures, barely paying any attentiont to them with how he's swimming in his thoughts, when "Wow!" comes from someone close to him and he suddenly snaps out of it, his hands stopping its motion as well. He turns towards the young man sitting next to him. He's tiny, with pretty hands clasped on his lap and apparently he's quite nosy as well, since he's shamelessly looking at the camera screen. Jongin looks down to it too and he sees Taemin, offering him cake. There's his finger dirty with cream so close it's out of focus, then crisp with details there's his beautiful face, his bright smile and bleached hair. Jongin can't help zooming a little on his eyes. There's a gleam in them he can't quite explain. “I wish someone ever looked at me like that." The stranger says. "You're lucky.” He beams bright, a mischievous spark in his eyes and Jongin is left speechless. He suddenly looks back to Taemin's gaze in the picture and he can place it. He knows where he has seen that kind of look before. It's not just fondness or a temporary contentment: it's the way Sehun looked at Zitao at that bus stop.

The stranger's words and Kyungsoo's still ring in his ears during the rest of the way back, as Jongin runs, breathless, climbing the stairs two steps at a time to leave the subway stop. The cold air hits his face with harsh slaps and he risks to slip a few times on sleamy melted snow, but he doesn't slow down. By the time he reaches his apartment's building there's a sharp pain in his side and the muscles of his legs burn, but he keeps pushing himself and climbs upstairs. He suddenly stops on the landing of his floor with wide eyes, a thin frame huddled against the door to his place. Taemin has never looked that frail, that small as he glances up to the noise of clothes rustling and heavy panting coming from Jongin. His eyes are bleary, sleepy at first, but as soon as he recognizes the other he rushes up on his feet. “You got off at a stop so far from home and it's late and your camera is expensive and I was worried someone--” It's Jongin's turn for once to cut him off. And he does so with quick steps, a hand curling around his neck and his lips pushing against Taemin's.

Taemin tastes sweet in a way nothing else ever has and Jongin doubts it's the cake. It's more a taste that belongs on his tongue and Jongin knows he wants to get used to it, he wants it to become familiar, together with the taste of Taemin's skin and Taemin's breaths. His tentativeness becomes desperation quickly and he kisses him deep, whimpers at how soft and pliant the other is, fingers curled in the front of his shirt. “Jongin...” Taemin whimpers, vulnerable in the way he nuzzles against Jongin's cheek for a second after he has pulled back for air and then he opens his eyes and looks at him that way again, the way he has in that picture and Jongin wonders how he could've been so blind to it. That look is salve for his soul, it speaks of love and it may be just a bud, but Jongin decides he wants to make it bloom. He can't be that wrong, that sickening if Taemin looks at him like that. He doesn't want to be afraid anymore, he doesn't want to run anymore.

His eyes water and he cups his face with both hands, Taemin's own curling around his wrists and they look into each other's eyes, chuckle, overwhelmed, before Jongin starts scattering the smallest pecks on his forehead, the tip of his nose, his Cupid's bow and then his lips again and he feels Taemin smiling under the pressure. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For pushing you that day and for running away and for--" Taemin shuts him up with a more lingering kiss and Jongin decides he really doesn't mind being cut off at all anymore.

•

"I went to that party to see you." Taemin confesses in the morning, in Jongin's bed when they're looking at the pictures of the day before. He's wearing one of Jongin's pajamas as if his own apartment was too far and he couldn't go get his instead and Jongin believes the other is still a little scared he'll run away again, even if he has promised out loud he won't, before they fell asleep. "I know." The photographer mutters, smiling bright as he sets his camera aside and turns his face on the pillow, Taemin's so close his breath tickles the same it did in the train but it's not scary anymore. It's sort of soothing, as much as the beat of their hearts reverberating in each other's chests, the way it has done all night while they held each other tightly, is.

"Let's take a selca." The older suggests and he slips off the bed before Jongin can catch him, resorting to burying his face into the pillow with a whine because he hates that. "We'll have to fix these party pooper ways you have, sir." Taemin says as he gets into bed under the warm covers again, wielding his phone this time, and Jongin peeks at him with his face still half-hidden in the pillow case. Taemin gives him those puppy eyes and Jongin groans and gives in, something he thinks he'll have to get used to when he can't really fight that irresistibly bright smile. He settles next to the older, their cheeks close but he catches Taemin peeking at him so he turns. The picture is snapped the moment the older turns suddenly too, pushing his lips into Jongin's. The next is taken by mistake, Taemin's finger slipping. In it, there's Jongin laughing against the other's mouth and their eyes sparkling.

It's blurry but Jongin has never seen a better picture.