t h r e e

tomorrow is saturday already.

there are three options for woohyun to spend the weekend; a) with sungyeol, dongwoo, and sungjong to visit night market and do some culinary travel until they’re bloating like pregnant whales, or b) with sunggyu, activities to do are still unknown (and it’s not like woohyun is brave enough to call or send a text for the older boy), or c) with sunggyu half the time; and then invite sungyeol, dongwoo, and sungjong to his home and play games and get drunk.

two of his options are involving sunggyu. it’s a dead end, no matter how woohyun looks at it.

“yah, city boy,” sungyeol’s natural loud voice awakens him from his daylight’s dreaming routine. “you busy tomorrow?”

woohyun pauses.

sungyeol raises one eyebrow.

“no.”

“awesome!” sungyeol throws his skinny self onto woohyun’s desk. “you see, there’s an autumn festival tomorrow—we have four seasons festival, by the way. tomorrow we’ll have lots of foods and whatnots in this supermegabig tent. there’s also a stage for us, young residents, to perform. watch out for sungjong’s girl group’s medley dance. actually, this year i’m joining him. dongwoo, too. so! you have to come, okay? i’ll bring extra pom pom for you.”

that explains why woohyun’s three new friends are always busy after dinnertime, and can’t hang out or study together whenever woohyun asked them; and why everybody seems to look brighter this week. even hoya.

speaking of hoya. that boy never eats lunch with woohyun anymore. everyday, he throws woohyun a slight smile and responds friendlily to their classmates—but aside from that, he’s distancing himself from his surrounding. woohyun finally finds out about this myungsoo boy from his classmate’s handphone (a girl). she has a particular folder named ‘L’ and as sungjong giggles through the 179 photos, it’s safe to say woohyun admits that this myungsoo boy vomits an ice cold prince aura. sometimes the handphone captures myungsoo in one frame with hoya; and from the way hoya seems to leisurely stand in myungsoo’s personal space, woohyun is suspicious that there’s something more between them. but he doesn’t ask sungjong this, because if the frilly boy suspects the same thing; he would’ve sung his mind to woohyun already.

it’s none of his business anyway.

“hm,” woohyun clears his throat. “everyone will be there?”

“absolutely.”


*


later that day, after a mute dinner with his appa, woohyun rides his yamaha down to town. he wants to buy oreo and pocky sticks at the supermarket, and he takes the road which leads him to the spacious town’s multifunction field. he decides to stop and watch tomorrow’s autumn festival preparation from afar.

a dozen of small tents are built in a half moon circle, facing the big stage with warm orange and brown colors. the lightings are quite spectacular, it makes woohyun nod in approval.

people from all ages are gathered there, working with laughter and ease. woohyun’s brain is tickling, commanding his body to go and give a hand; but his ego stops him, because nam woohyun doesn’t do chores.

he ends up continuing his journey to the supermarket after his vision lands on what seems like dongwoo’s silhouette walking towards him.

but unfortunately sunggyu, again, is not there. maybe he has a rotating shift, and apparently woohyun isn’t really that smart to calculate the possibilities of them to run into each other. well, isn’t that what he wants. so what’s with this slight disappointment he’s feeling right now? he’s thisclose to shove off all the american snacks in front of him to the floor due to his sudden breakdown. it won’t be the first time he violates public properties. money talks anyway, his appa can easily turns down people’s heavy protests with a big compensation.

but before he can do anything, someone is asking him with a colorless voice,

“are you going to shoplift?”

woohyun frowns, because that accusation doesn’t help his foul mood at all. he glares to his left, and there’s a boy about his height wearing the supermarket’s baby blue polo shirt, writing something on a clipboard. the boy squints to the direction of another american product and writes some more. then, he glances at woohyun.

“well?” he asks again.

it’s the kim myungsoo.

he looks damn picturesque in real life. photos don’t really play fair to kim myungsoo’s actual skin tone and the pinkness of his thin lips. but the coldness that flares inside his small eyes; even jpeg format and handphone screen can’t lie about it.

woohyun snorts as he regains his composure. the handsomest boy or not, kim myungsoo equals nothing for him.

woohyun is about to leave to the next aisle for his japanese pocky sticks when kim myungsoo surprises him for the second time that night.

“you’re nam woohyun,” the younger boy states.

woohyun turns around to smirk at kim myungsoo, “i have no idea that i’m this popular.”

kim myungsoo doesn’t blink. he simply keeps staring at woohyun, as if he wants to see through woohyun’s arrogant persona. in the end they have an impromptu staring match; woohyun is too used to people looking down or disgusted or fed up with him, but he’s not used to receive a blank gaze. no. he’s not going to back down first.

somewhere, two ahjummas are having an intense discussion about which new brand of detergent they should try.

finally, kim myungsoo says, “my brother and hoya told me about you. they said you’re charming.”

“oh?” woohyun snorts. it’s a habit. “is that so?”

it’s kim myungsoo’s turn to shrug, “nothing. you didn’t look like you’re the type to shoplift, but you were clenching your fists and gritting your teeth. i thought you were having a mental battle with your inner urge to steal something. i’m sorry.”

woohyun lets his shoulders relax. the kid is just being weird.

“no sweat. but why is the owner’s son working at his father’s supermarket?”

kim myungsoo fixes a box of upside down cereal before answering that he’s here to cover up his brother’s shift. his brother is giving a hand at the festival’s preparation—and why you’re not joining the hype, nam woohyun?

“good night, myungsoo-yah.” woohyun randomly grabs a bag of american potato chips, a signal that he’s ending the conversation.

“see you,” kim myungsoo drawls, “welcome to our town.”





saturday:

woohyun just can’t shut his mouth as he records sungjong dancing his heart out. sungyeol forced him to be their cameraman as he’s going to upload their practicing (last rehearsal before they go up the stage, really) video to youtube.

sungjong’s arms are flailing in every directions while his legs are doing some weird moves—and his hips are so flexible they must have strings attached or something and his facial expressions.

woohyun is thisclose to yank sungjong’s jegging (yes, in fact, sungjong owns a couple of jeggings) to see if there’s a dick tucked neatly inside his panty.

fuck.

“are you sure he’s not a girl?” finally woohyun finds his coherency back and grabs the mineral bottle sungyeol is drinking. sungyeol kicks his shin because the water spills he chokes ungraciously.

“i could die, city boy!” sungyeol shrieks, but then he grins maniacally, “i know, right? lee sungjong, the next seoul big thing!”

dongwoo claps woohyun’s shoulder and laughs, “yaaah, woohyun-ah, don’t fall for sungjong’s charm. he’s a pretty little evil.”

the said boy winks, and woohyun doesn’t give a damn about his cold image anymore and laughs out loud. his obnoxious but obviously genuine laugh startles his three new friends; because it is the first time they witness such rare occasion. nam woohyun barely joins their daily conversations, and so for him to open his mouth that wide; well.

sungjong gets a dirty idea. he goes to his hands and knees and crawls towards woohyun; immersing himself as a kitten. woohyun raises an eyebrow, as if challenging him. sungyeol shrieks again as he elbows dongwoo to prepare their handphones; they’re so not going to lose the holy dirty facebook materials!

sungjong straddles woohyun’s lap and begins singing along with whatisit girl group’s pop song blasting from sungyeol’s ipod. as the impromptu lap dance show continues, they don’t realize someone has come to sungyeol’s family currently vacant garage.

“oh, woohyun-ah? long time no see!”

and woohyun practically throws sungjong’s light as a feather body to the ground.

it’s the love of his life, of course.

the older boy—woohyun really needs to confirm it sooner or later—gasps, rushing to help sungjong to get on his feet. sungyeol and dongwoo are too busy saving the pictures they’ve captured, and sungjong whines loudly at his careless friends (particularly at woohyun); who is rooted to his heat.

sunggyu chuckles, patting sungjong’s butt as he hands him a piece of paper.

“like scheduled, you guys will perform right after my stage,” he smiles at woohyun.

woohyun swallows.

“sunggyu-hyung!” sungyeol yells before he tackles the shorter boy in a headlock. “have you met woohyun?”

sunggyu squirms cutely and woohyun can do nothing but to stare.

“of course i’ve met him,” sunggyu winks at woohyun, “i like quiet kids, remember?”

sungyeol, dongwoo, and sungjong are protesting in sync. sunggyu laughs and gives each of them a pinch on the cheek. he stops when he’s about to treat woohyun the same, and opts to ruffle woohyun’s hair instead.

he says, “quiet kids with, hopefully, a killer smile. just like myungsoo.”

“he’s a nutcase, hyung, his smile is too expensive.” sungyeol scoffs, shaking his head.

sunggyu is giving woohyun a sympathetic look, as if he knows exactly what the three troublemakers are talking about. sure he does. he pats woohyun’s shoulder, biding his farewell, and before woohyun can think twice; he bolts out to chase him, leaving without so much a glance towards his friends.

“do you need a ride? what are you doing?” woohyun tries not to sound too nervous. or eager. both.

sunggyu beams, “i just need to deliver today’s rundown around this neighborhood. i’m almost done.”

woohyun nods dumbly as sunggyu knocks on sungyeol’s neighbor and converses a bit with the ahjumma there. then he divides the stack of papers on his arms and gives half for woohyun.

“come on, help your old hyung will you?”


*


in woohyun’s completely delusional mind; what they do right now is just like a date. only, the usual ritual of watching movies, eating in fancy restaurant and visiting cute accessories shops are replaced with walking in the middle of a warm spring day, enjoying free soya milk and freshly baked bread.

it’s not that bad.

sunggyu leans on his elbows as they take a rest by the river woohyun doesn’t know the name of. it’s five hours before the festival will be officially held; and sunggyu is glowing, somehow. with what though, woohyun has no idea. but maybe sunggyu is just happy to welcome the festival.

wait.

“you’re performing?” woohyun is beyond surprised to see sunggyu’s name on the paper, along with, “myungsoo?”

“haven’t you met him? myungsoo said he met you already.” sunggyu smiles.

“yeah,” woohyun re-reads the rundown again. “‘the kim brothers’?”

sunggyu laughs, “that’s sungyeol’s silly nickname for us. it’s like, imprinted already because now our friends call us that. so we decided to use it.”

“so myungsoo is your brother?”

sunggyu looks like he’s giving the polite version of ‘are you kidding me’ face at woohyun, and woohyun himself believes that he’s missing something big from the whole picture. but he can’t pinpoint what.

“he plays the guitar, and i sing. i hope you like some k-pop dance songs being played acoustically.” sunggyu sits up straighter, scoots closer to woohyun. “what kind of music you’re currently listening to, woohyun-ah?”

it’s a mistake for woohyun to look straight into sunggyu’s whatthehecksoclose face.

and it’s another mistake that he answers with his arrogant tone,

“are you seeing someone right now?”

sunggyu tilts his head and laughs nervously, “well...i’m seeing you seeing me right now, woohyun-ah.”

woohyun decides he doesn’t acknowledge it. he leans forward.

sunggyu pushes his shoulders. quite hard that woohyun stumbles back and has to use his palms to prevent a fall.

“hyung—” kim sunggyu is confirmed to be woohyun’s senior by three years. “hyung, wait—” but the older man doesn’t; he’s already on his feet, climbing to the main road with shaking legs, and woohyun doesn’t understand.

as he makes a run to explain, he halts because hoya is there, unintentionally blocking him as he himself stops pedaling his bicycle, frowning at sunggyu’s distancing figure—at first, and then hoya’s stare turns icy cold, just like his quiet accusation, “what did you do?”

“none of your fucking business.” woohyun intelligently spats, his drumming heartbeats is not helping anything.

“we’ll see about that,” hoya’s tone is monotonous but it’s sounding murderous anyway. soon, because he fucking accelerates like he thinks he can save sunggyu or something, he’s touching sunggyu’s wrist, and sunggyu keeps shaking his head as woohyun’s previously lovedrunk brain is coming back to its normal, detached state—now that his love is taken away from him, by his own conceitedness, everything makes sense.

lee howon doesn’t need anyone else, sungyeol said, he’s content enough with the kim brothers.



to be c o n t i n u e d

“you’re a fool, you know that?”

“but, baekhyun-ah—”

“how could you let him kiss you?! no. how did you even want to kiss him?! are you insane!?”

baekhyun’s words sting. chanyeol had thought that his best friend would be all squealing and rambling that he’s so going to tell his followers after he forced and begged and threatened chanyeol to describe the kiss vividly because it was kris wufan, wangja-yah, the man of every teenage girl’s wet dream!

“why are you like this, baekhyun-ah?”

“why?!” baekhyun practically squeals, alright, but he’s also sounding murderous right now. “goddammit park chanyeol. you’re in love with him aren’t you? you’re a fucking moron, i swear to fuck. he’s—”

“baekhyun-ah listen to me—”

“OKAY FINE, what do you have in store, huh? he treats you like you’re the center of his universe? of course he does, one fucking word from your mouth and his career will end! or you fell for him because he’s just the handsomest human being ever? he smiles at you and your heart flutters? his fucking fans are feeling it too! you’re not the only one, chanyeol-ah, you’re just a tool for him, okay?”

“baek—”

“HE TOUCHED YOU AGAIN, DIDN’T HE? fucking fuck i’m going to kill that pedophile sonofab—”

“BAEKHYUN-AH I JUST LOVE HIM, OKAY, IS IT WRONG?!”

“...”

chanyeol is angry. the ugly emotion he’s promised himself to never bother him ever again is coming back; it’s spreading in a speed of light to his veins, numbing his supposedly neverending affection towards his best friend, replacing it with an equally ugly accusation of why can’t baekhyun understand?

this can be his long awaited happiness, right, after all the things—no, shits—he’s been going through. but apparently baekhyun is thinking otherwise, while chanyeol doesn’t really have anyone else to share one of the most crucial moments in his life.

“chanyeol-ah, please get back on track,” baekhyun’s voice is so tiny. “it’s useless. you only have less than four months. while your l—” he pauses. “while your love hasn’t developed fully, please just forget about it. in that four months time, you’re going to fall deeper, i’m sure of it dammit, you were so excited to tell me weren’t you? i’m so sorry my reaction isn’t...exactly what you’ve wanted.”

chanyeol counts to thirty one.

“but i’m not siding with you on this.” one, two, three—

—fifty three, and baekhyun is talking more confidently now, “you’ll end up hurting even more, you understand what i’m saying, right? i don’t want you to drown in misery later, chanyeol-ah, it can’t be sunshine and rainbow all the time, no matter how much you try to see the positive side of it.”

“i know, baekhyun-ah, i know,” it’s no use to convince baekhyun at all. “i’m ready to bear the consequence on my own. i was just hoping i could spazz with you about the kiss. about what’s about to come. i’m sorry i’m a fool. but i don’t care. i love kris-hyung, baekhyun-ah, i really do.”

baekhyun curses softly on the other line.

“chanyeol-ah i’m so—”

“save it,” baekhyun makes a weak protest. chanyeol grits his teeth to prevent his voice to waver or to vomit words he will regret in the future.

both.

“thanks for your concern, baekhyun-ah. i’ll be fine,” and with that, he ends the phone call and diverts any upcoming call from baekhyun, ignores baekhyun’s bombarding texts, and lets his mind cruelly replaying baekhyun’s smile, baekhyun’s laugh, baekhyun’s everything that is related to his life pre-kris era, and he falls asleep clutching at his chest.



▲▼



if kris notices chanyeol’s simply undisguised bad mood nowadays, then he’s being himself by not mentioning anything and showering him with more teasing and hair ruffling instead.

but no kiss(es).

it’s been a week.



▲▼



because exo has their comeback stage for about a month, it’s lee-sshi again who drives him to/from school. chanyeol is waiting for him on the school’s main lobby, playing with his iphone and listening to this new zealand indie band that never fails to soothe his wounded soul when a lanky boy who eerily looks like lu han-hyung’s taller version is approaching him; dragging a huge, pink, hello kitty bag with him.

chanyeol puts on a smile, expands it to a grin because he hasn’t been smiling much this past week and he doesn’t want to appear unfriendly or something, and then he greets lu han-hyung’s younger brother,

“annyeong!”

what’shisnameagain is panting as he halts in front of chanyeol; soon he’s hauled as the palest boy ever in history of park chanyeol’s encounter with people.

“hi, my name is park chanyeol,” chanyeol offers his hand, “nice to meet you!”

they shake hands briefly. “oh sehun,” now that’s a cute lisp he’s got. “ummm ge—lu han-hyung said you can keep the bag.”

“thank you!” chanyeol smiles. “so did you enjoy one piece?” he forgets the last time he has a decent talk with anyone, doesn’t even care if this oh sehun is one of them (or not). he just wants some kind of a company.

“i—yeah. it was awesome to have a marathon reading,” sehun smiles, nervously, and he mumbles again; like he has something more relevant to say other than talking about a japanese manhwa.

chanyeol waits patiently.

but in the end sehun only bows deeply and runs to the direction of another boy with the laziest stance who stares at chanyeol when their eyes collide.



▲▼



another days pass by meaninglessly. chanyeol spends his time mostly alone now, like seriously alone because exo is busier than ever and, yeah, he’s still giving baekhyun the silly silent treatment.

they haven’t talked ever since. and it’s nearing chanyeol’s eighteenth birthday so he’s determined to return baekhyun’s texts and calls because deep down, somewhere, chanyeol understands that to baekhyun, falling in love with kris will only drag chanyeol deeper into the mess that chanyeol didn’t even create in the first place—he did it—and in his very own twisted mindset; baekhyun sees himself as the only one to blame, he’s responsible for chanyeol’s life, therefore, chanyeol’s selfish confession worries him.

it’s selfish, because despite his understanding towards baekhyun’s strong belief that he’s a moron to fall for kris (he probably is), he still wants everything, remember, and if baekhyun said while his love for kris isn’t developed fully yet then he should give up, chanyeol holds onto his own strong belief that he should cherish the now less than four months period he can share with kris.

chanyeol sighs, pouts at his own roller coaster mood, smiles to kris’ gifs smirking at him via his tumblr dashboard, and falls asleep clutching at his iphone, dreaming about more hopeful kisses and ice creams.



▲▼



exo wins all kill in music shows and chanyeol takes a selca with each of the trophy. exo tops the online charts and the sale for their cd is also on top three in record stores. chanyeol sent two signed (free) cds, for his umma and baekhyun the next day after his argument with his best friend.

he really misses baekhyun.

the bombarding of fangirls’ presents at exo dorm might be one of the best things that ever happened in chanyeol’s life. thanks to his status as kris’ adorable fiancee (courtesy of the very popular episode of MTV’s ‘a day with...’) he receives cute little things like iphone’s cover, a couple of t-shirts and hats, accessories, endless supply of new and classic games, and one baby blue dildo.

kris exclaims extra loud when chanyeol asks about it, about the thing that is shaped like p-p-penis as they unwrap the colorful presents on their living room. chanyeol flushes so redredred at kris’ brief explanation, he can’t help it! but fortunately, no exo members are around—meaning no lewd teasing from yixing and tao’s mind won’t be tainted. they’re kind enough to pile chanyeol’s and takes them across the hallway to ‘krisyeol’s love nest’.

“madness,” kris mumbles in english, and timidly asks if chanyeol wants to keep it or not.

“n-no!” chanyeol laughs like a hyena. “oh god, no.”

kris nods, mumbling again about throwing it out but not before he destroys it somehow.

that night, chanyeol googles about dildo.

in the end, he can’t sleep at all.



▲▼



the next day, chanyeol is distracted at school, thankfully. on first period there’s a sudden english pop quiz, and after that, his class is going to have an individual basketball test. still high from the intense pop quiz, he walks like a robot to his favorite space, as usual, the boy’s restroom on the fifth floor to change to the gym clothes—trying to recall his mistakes about when to use ‘their’ and ‘they’re’ in a sentence.

ugh! it should have been ‘they aaareee my best friends’ not thei—

“jongin-ah, make it quick—”

chanyeol’s brain is still in the english composition land he’s not exactly subtle about his surprised squeak.

sehun, lu han-hyung’s younger brother, is bending against the washbasins. the boy with the laziest stance from before, is hovering above him; one hand is inside sehun’s untucked school’s shirt and the other is on sehun’s belt.

the two boys—only sehun, actually—hastily tidying up themselves. the other b—okay. jongin, of course it’s jongin. and sehun. sehun’s lisp. his pleading. jongin’s cocky response.

of course.

“um,” chanyeol kind of wants to laugh at his life (like, dildo, just yesterday, and then this?) but he kind of wants to cry too because it’s...funny.

maybe they can be friends?

“um, annyeong...” but now isn’t a good time, so he steps out of the restroom and closes the door quietly.

only to squeak again at the harsh bang on his back. sehun is looking at him with pleading eyes.

“y-you can’t tell anyone—!” he stutters. “i’m—i’m so sorry!”

chanyeol grins sheepishly, rubbing at the stinging spot.

“no worries! your secret is safe with me,” he says, eyeing jongin who wraps his arms around sehun’s narrow waist, resting his chin on sehun’s left shoulder. their different skin tone is amazing, at one glance they do look like the darker-lighter version of each other due to their similar height.

“um,” chanyeol blinks. he’ll be late and kangin-songsaenim will make him to run extra laps. “i have to go. see you around...i guess?”

it’s jongin who answers, “sure,” lazily, and chanyeol scurries out to the girl’s restroom. no one comes here anyway.



▲▼



chanyeol dreams about sehun and jongin, and he wakes up hard at four in the morning, doesn’t get a wink of sleep after.

he’s going to the school’s lab for a physic experiment, absentmindedly sighing now and then as he walks down the stairs; his classmates are way ahead of him in pairs when suddenly, his head is hit by...

a lollipop?

he picks it up, waits for the owner to fetch it, and a moment later sehun has an apology ready but his pretty face pales at the sight of chanyeol.

“hey!” chanyeol grimaces at his own loudness. well, whatever. it’s just too surreal. “yours?” sehun nods, gnawing his bottom lip, looking up, and jongin is above them, leaning against the railing, watching.

“um, you guys are going to the gym class or something?” chanyeol asks, a minute or two of mini conversation won’t hurt his physic grade. that, and kris and exo always arrive late and depart early because of their tight schedules. lu han-hyung still sends him funny texts but currently he’s in japan to assist KARA.

and he’s still neglecting baekhyun.

“going to the computer lab?” chanyeol tries again because sehun doesn’t even look at him.

jongin says, “we’re going to the studio.”

“oooh...music class?” chanyeol smiles slightly; jongin’s voice is the same as what he can remember.

“no, we’re skipping korean history,” jongin glances at the white lab coat on chanyeol’s arm. “physic?”

“yeah,” this is awkward. “um. bye—”

“how about you join us?” jongin is standing next to sehun in a flash, smirking down at chanyeol. “bonding time,” he ignores sehun’s surprised look, “or something.”

maybe this is the right time to make new friends.



▲▼



“why aren’t you on tv!” chanyeol claps his hands, bouncing on his seat on the floor. “seriously jongin-ah! you dance much, much, much better than kris!”

jongin smirks, popping his upper body and saluting chanyeol with a simple yet so cool move.

“this is what you guys do when you skip classes?” chanyeol tosses jongin’s black hand towel as jongin and sehun plop down in front of him, catching their breaths.

“my princess likes to do other things too,” jongin gives the hand towel to a flushing sehun to use it first (they were dancing together). chanyeol mimics sehun’s state of embarrassment.

“i watched your MTV reality show,” jongin continues nonchalantly, closing his eyes as sehun gently wipes the sweat off of his face and neck. “you play?” he tilts his head to the direction of the musical instruments.

chanyeol grins; jongin is a chill boy, he can live with that.

“shall we?” jongin raises an eyebrow, smirks, and sehun helps chanyeol to get up.

“what should i do?” chanyeol takes the battered drumsticks. “it’s been too long.”

“hit it.”

they jam like they’ve been doing it forever, together, the three of them; jongin dances effortlessly to chanyeol’s drumbeats, and sehun laughs, losing himself.

“my best friend,” chanyeol wipes at his face using the sleeve of the school’s yellow cardigan after they’ve finished being awesome, “and our circle of friends like to videotaping themselves dancing weird freestyle to western pop songs and uploading it to youtube. we should try it sometimes!”

his two new friends are cackling.

“really?” sehun’s eyes sparkle.

“yeah! baekhyun—”

“the one who took that photo?”

there’s a painful tug inside of chanyeol’s ribs, but he manages to compose his face to appear indifferent.

“yeah, that’s him. baekhyun. my best friend,” chanyeol swallows down a lump, but keeps on smiling, “yeah.”

sehun glares at jongin, who stares back at him calmly, and sehun glances at chanyeol, rabbit quick, before he releases his death grip on jongin’s arm.

jongin fishes out his wallet.

he unfolds a pink paper, “sehun’s got something for you.”



▲▼



sehun reassures him that no, his lu han-hyung doesn’t know anything about it, he and jongin don’t want anything from chanyeol, and,

“i just thought it’s only right to give it back to you, chanyeol-ah.”



▲▼



it’s the pink note, obviously, that ryeowook-sshi had prepared neatly for chanyeol (and kris) to remember, in order to perfecting their arranged marriage scenario.

sehun found it on his one piece manhwa, volume 21, precisely on page 67-68, because lu han-hyung hadn’t read up to that volume yet, and sehun also picked a random volume after wearing gloves as he was bored waiting for jongin to pick him up to a photoshoot set.



▲▼



chanyeol is so damn tempted to get a knife and kill himself, when he arrives home, where the tears finally flooding his nostrils and cheeks; but he doesn’t, because he’s too preoccupied by his uncontrollable tears and this foreign happiness bursting in his heart, holding to a blind faith that jongin and sehun are indeed his new friends who have sworn they’ve got their own problems, plural, to mend.

his eyes are puffy even after hours. he googles on how to bring them back to normal, and the cucumbers on his closed eyes are suddenly floating.

“huh?” he sits up, and there, under the colorful fluorescent of moving animals sleeping lamp (from chanyeol’s fans), kris is frowning at him.

“what are you doing?” kris asks, squinting. chanyeol never locks his bedroom, a lifetime habit he brings from gangwon.

“what are you doing?” it’s already late, and kris is still on his sleek stage outfits. “hyung, seriously. what are you doing?”

the answer is coming a little bit too fast, “nothing.”

chanyeol nods—nothing? okay—he covers his face as he yawns. he really needs his sleep asap.

“uhhh aren’t you tired, hyung?” he slaps his face once. he looks up to kris, smiling groggily. “hyung?”

“you were crying,” kris deadpans, invites himself to sit at the edge of chanyeol’s bed and strokes a cold thumb to chanyeol’s left eyelid.

chanyeol closes his eyes, humming contentedly.

“what did they do this time?” kris pushes chanyeol to lie down and chanyeol blinks, sniffing.

kris’ frowning face is thisclose as he answers, “what? i made new friends. lu han-hyung’s younger brother and his boyfriend. they’re so awesome.”

“yeah?” kris is moving on top of him, and chanyeol is on his side, kris is too, and then the tips of their noses are touching.

“yeah,” chanyeol’s vision is dropping.

“promise?”

“i promise.”

chanyeol wakes up before kris, the older man has a heavy arm on his waist and instead of freaking out, chanyeol cheats. he snuggles closer to the warm, bigger body, and makes a barrier with his right knee because he’s not that sly.

kris doesn’t frown when he sleeps. there’s a gap between his lips, and his lips are dry.

in movies and girly manhwas baekhyun sometimes identified himself as the lead boy character, the protagonist dares himself/herself to lean in and kiss his/her love interest.

chanyeol is not stupid.

he feels under his pillows for his iphone. activating the camera, aiming the lens, and covering the speaker, he takes a photo of sleeping kris wufan for a future blackmail or something.

nice shot.

okay maybe one more time from a different angle.



▲▼



slowly, chanyeol learns about his new friends. apparently, kim jongin and oh sehun have been the school’s ‘dark knight’ and ‘prince’ (“princess,” jongin corrects him) ever since they’re in elementary, and growing up, despite their distinctive differences, they still are the most popular boys.

and quite untouchable, meaning, it’s been the two of them, and so, being seen with park chanyeol is causing an uproar for the entire school’s population. especially for the ‘jonghun’ (yes, another abbreviation) fans.

“they think we’re having a threesome,” jongin smirks as they enjoy their lunch on the restricted rooftop area. jongin can handle simple locks, by the way, and chanyeol is more than glad to explore; the rooftop gives him a nice view.

“how long have you been dating?” chanyeol struts back to his spot next to sehun, picking up his chopsticks.

a pout from sehun and nothing from jongin.

“guys?” chanyeol obliviously chews on his fried rice.

“well we’re not,” jongin shrugs, and they’ve promised not to say a word about him and kris, right, so chanyeol pretends sehun’s radiating blue vibe goes unnoticed.



▲▼



“baby-yah, what do you want for your birthday?” ryeowook-sshi asks chanyeol in a hushed tone as he, for publication’s sake, tags along to high cut photoshoot.

chanyeol grins, tearing his eyes off of exo members posing professionally.

“rainbow cake!” he nods. “i want to taste it!”

ryeowook-sshi approves. “what else?” he checks his blackberry. “oh, lu han asked about it too. he’s in japan right now.”

“yes i know,” chanyeol is suddenly excited, “can i really ask him for a birthday gift?”

“of course!” ryeowook-sshi urges him to ask for the most expensive gift. “like, a car,” he giggles, “or jewelries.”

“i’ll email him later,” chanyeol rubs his palms, contemplating to ask for an original thirty cm luffy figurine from japan (it’s rather expensive here in seoul). or maybe...KARA’s autograph for baekhyun? as a peace offering?

that seems promising, but for now, he just wants to live at the moment!

“ryeowook-sshi, let’s take selcas!” and then they do, making weird-aegyo-handsome faces, earning giggles from the high cut female staffs, and one of them tells the photographer hyung to at least shoot kris-goon’s cute fiancee; so she, apparently the writer, can add some side story for exo’s article.

“no, don’t do his makeup, let him look natural,” she taps her chin, scrutinizing chanyeol’s tamed hair and makeup free face. she smiles at chanyeol’s contagious one. “make everything krisyeol candid. readers love candid moments!”

ryeowook-sshi whispers right to chanyeol’s ear after everyone turns back to their tasks, “she understands strategic marketing. ‘krisyeol’ is the hype lately, and by releasing this photoshoot’s behind the scene, with you in it, they will sell more. you’re a good job, chanyeolla.”



▲▼



i want you to kiss me.

“i told ryeowook-sshi i want rainbow cake!” chanyeol sips on his hot chocolate, snorting at his wishful self.

kris nods, washing his hands on the kitchen’s sink.

“my appa hoped you’ll like his surprise,” kris then takes a seat next to chanyeol, snatching the mug from chanyeol’s hand and finishes the drink with a satisfied sigh.

chanyeol puffs out his cheeks, “you can always ask nicely!”

kris just smirks and jongin’s face is instantly on chanyeol’s mind. they sure like to smirk a lot, but jongin’s lips are thicker and drier; kris’ are—

“so how’s your piggy bank?” kris leans his head against the chair, exposing his throat and jutting adam’s apple, distracting chanyeol’s intense stare to his lips. “are you rich yet?”

“shut up,” chanyeol flushes, “you know i’m donating the money to wwf.”

kris holds out his thumb.

chanyeol scoffs, announcing that he’s going to sleep.

“good night, hyung,” but he can’t help to smile down at kris.

who stops him with a carefully phrased, “hey, when i—when i slept on your bed. i’m sorry,” and at chanyeol’s excessive blinking, he adds even more quietly, “i didn’t do anything out of your consent, right?”

“well...” in chanyeol’s kris wufan playbook level intermediate, it is encouraged to stay true to what’s in your mind—because chanyeol is aware that kris himself has his very own park chanyeol playbook level advanced.

and chanyeol’s mind; in between a few days ago and now, it doesn’t really have much difference.

“...you were really tired, right, hyung?” his brain, his mind, tells him to take kris’ cold hand and so he does, and kris holds on tight.

“how about today?” kris needs exactly a dozen superfast heartbeats to answer,

“very much so,” with a challenging glint in his eyes.

chanyeol appears nonchalant as he pulls kris to his feet, leading them to his bedroom, mumbling about winter is coming he can’t wait to see seoul covered in snow and kris lying stiff on his back next to him, listening to his ranting about gangwon’s snow that is thick and hurting when it hits your body and that he wonders how will tao throw a snowball with those muscly arms and hyung, how is canada’s sno—

before chanyeol is off completely to slumber island, he swears kris is stroking the hair off of his face, saying, “you’ll see it yourself.”



to be c o n t i n u e d


























<< master.list >> tumb.lr >> if you want to talk without having to come back to my fics >>

---

filler chapter liek a boss. questions of the day:

1. anyone can understand baekhyun's POV?

2. chanyeol's? (with all of the shock from dildo, walking on kaihun about to have thex and his sudden fondness to sleep in a same bed with krisus?)

3. how about the friendship from kaihun that makes chanyeol neglects baekhyun a little bit more?

tell me, friends, i like long comment(s) *that rhymes*

“i don’t usually ask for help, but when i do, it’s about my particular princess.”

“9gagger?”

“i have to polish my english skill, and 9gag is the right place to understand those americans’ inside jokes.”

“wait wait,” chanyeol finishes his banana milk, today there are only them because sehun has to absent from school due to a photoshoot in jeju island. “wait, you’re saying, you’re going to move to america?”

jongin smirks, “accepted at juilliard. new york, baby.” he adds with his accented english.

chanyeol smiles, somehow feeling proud that one of his seoul friends is going to study overseas, although he has no idea what kind of school juilliard is. he will google it later.

“you asked me why i’m not on tv. well, my friend park chanyeol, i will. america’s tv, for sure, is broadcasted all over the world. what do you say? not much of korean dancers out there. and then, i will come back home with more experiences. let the fame talks for me.”

“awesome!” chanyeol claps and jongin mocks a bow. “so what can i do for you, o, kim jongin?”

“you also asked about me and sehun, remember?” jongin crosses his arms behind his head, looking up to the ceiling of the deserted classroom on the fifth floor. the first snow just fell this morning, and again, jongin easily picked the lock of the classroom.

chanyeol hums, because it still feels like he’s intruding their love life for asking that.

“when we said we have our own problems to mend, we weren’t lying. we do, chanyeol-ah, and for me, mostly, it’s about sehun.” jongin pauses, breathing irregularly and chanyeol dares to assume that jongin is being emotional right now. he must love sehun very much.

“sehun always insists he doesn’t want us to be boyfriends. it’s ridiculous, because, well, after stolen kisses and shy, flirty texts between best friends, we started to have sex when we were fifteen. i just think that our physical and our soul’s bonds intensify as the years pass by. he can read me with ‘a glint in my eyes’ or the way i hesitate for a second when i know i’m wrong and he knows it too.

i’ve been doing nothing but treating him like the apple of my eyes. i really like him. i’m content enough with the way he sees our relationship as ‘mutual’. fine, i can live with that, but then i got accepted at juilliard and i just—”

chanyeol tries to process the information.

“have you talked to him about it?” he asks with a soft tone, knowing jongin is already clenching his fists.

“i did.”

“and sehun...?”

jongin laughs, but there’s no humor in his voice.

“we could be magnificent together, but he’s too scared. it will be too real, he said,” jongin shrugs, but he’s frowning. “what is ‘too real’ anyway?”

“well, mine’s fiction.”

“what?”

chanyeol scrunches his nose, he was too caught up by jongin’s rare, transparent frustration, and subconsciously blurting out his own. he shouldn’t, really, because it’s jongin’s time to seek for his advice, right—but eventhough he will eventually make peace with baekhyun, baekhyun won’t be as a good listener as jongin at the moment.

so.

“sorry,” he grins sheepishly, “go on, jongin-ah.”

jongin stares at him, and it’s unnerving after a while.

“i see,” jongin pats his back in a manly way, “it hurts all the same, huh?”

chanyeol snorts before he can’t help it.

“but i think your too real one is more devastating, i mean, it’s been years for you, jongin-ah, and you’re still holding on. give me some pointers!” he giggles at the end of his speech. jongin’s years versus his three months, sometimes chanyeol is too selfish when it comes to his own love life.

but jongin shakes his head though, “years of knowing sehun won’t change easily are making me used to it. i don’t have to prove anything. but you, chanyeol-ah, by the time your contract ends, you’re going to mourn about places you didn’t visit with kris wufan. you’re going to daydream about what you did at this time of hour when you were with him and you will feel something is missing when you don’t, after. i’m slowly healing because sehun has always been by my side, but you know kris won’t.”

chanyeol doesn’t even need a nanosecond to have an answer to that.

“then all i have to do is to make full of my limited time! no big deal,” he hides his shaking hands on the pockets of his school’s trousers.

“you should make a bucket list, like a dying patient,” jongin begins to pick on his lunch again, he seems to buy chanyeol’s sunshine-y remark. “anyway about what i said earlier.”

“oh yeah, what can i help you with?” chanyeol counts to thirty for his nerves to stop overreacting. too bad he’s finished his lunch so he can’t make his hands busy. he takes refugee to the weight of his iphone on his left pocket instead.

“i was thinking to make my princess jelly, just for the hell of it. it’ll be the first time i ever try to.”

“hahaha really? how come?!” at least he doesn’t sound too squeaky.

“because sehun never bothers to try to make me jealous. so i don’t either. but yesterday i took him to the airport, he did say he doesn’t like the way i look at you,” jongin smirks, and then he looks at chanyeol. “what the fuckery, right.”

“i’m irresistible, i know,” chanyeol flicks his hair, fluttering his eyelashes. “i’m in! anything for my dear friend!”



▼▲



it should’ve been a simple jealousy trigger thingy, but who knows that somehow, someone is paying attention to two teenagers making out (they don’t) on the crowded dancefloor of the newly opened club in seoul at one in the morning, before chanyeol and jongin return to their booth with sehun sulking over a bottle of beer, high from adrenalines and hormones.

it becomes a sensation, of course, especially after chanyeol’s eighteenth birthday that was celebrated in private with only MTV to film ‘the special moment’ and showing how krisyeol was being sickeningly sweet; kris dressed up as gigantic luffy character from one piece manhwa complete with the straw hat, the red vest, the hideous blue shorts and the sandals—despite that it’s winter—and the fact that chanyeol was sending a heartwarming message to his parents and his best friend in gangwon via national television is actually making some of both krisyeol and chanyeol’s enthusiasts to strongly voice their disappointments.

questions like who is the other boy and why are flooding the entertainment news, internet world, and, of course, chanyeol’s bullies are coming back alive after a short hiatus tormenting chanyeol’s school life, and what’s worse is chanyeol can’t—doesn’t have the right to tell kris, because kris has stopped sleeping in his bed ever since, and neither baekhyun or his parents or even ryeowook-sshi know about the unpleasant treatment.

maybe the only bright side of it all is how jongin appears almost painfully ignorant about everything. he never leaves chanyeol alone, and he, without being asked to, and probably due to his boomerang effect plan to make sehun jealous—he chases away chanyeol’s bullies, spats swearing words right in front of their faces and he makes sure he escorts chanyeol to the car where lee-sshi is waiting everyday.

almost, is the key word, because chanyeol, not quite accidentally, walks on jongin; thisclose to execute a punch to sehun’s pretty face, with despair on his trembling voice,

“i love you, goddammit, i love you so much.”

and there’s old saying that the third time is the charm.

chanyeol sandwiches himself in between the two loverboys, touching jongin’s chest in order to calm him down but then sehun screams at him, “DON’T YOU DARE!” and chanyeol is a little bit too late to grab jongin because jongin is already slamming sehun to the locked door of their school’s rooftop; where they usually have lunch together.

“it was you, wasn’t it, oh fucking sehun,” jongin hisses, pressing a chocolate arm against sehun’s milky throat. “are you jealous now? why do you think i’ve never tried that fucking low trick at you, huh? i have years to make you see that i only have my eyes on you.”

sehun is crying.

“you don’t yell at chanyeol like that ever again, do you hear me?” jongin lets chanyeol to secure his arms behind his back, and sehun wipes at his face, his reddening eyes are blinded by fiery jealousy.

“I’M GOING TO YELL ANYWAY! I HAVE MOUTH!” sehun flinches when jongin takes a step closer, but chanyeol wraps his own arms around jongin’s body now.

sehun sniffs at the display, and then,

“i didn’t sell his fake engagement contract to the media. I AM, DOING HIM, A. BIG. FAVOR.”

there’s a bucket of ice blocks numbing chanyeol’s head.

he’s scared. it’s a different kind of scared if it’s compared to the bullying, because chanyeol is the only one victim of it and that’s okay he’s not putting anyone in disadvantage, while the pink note will end kris’ career and it’s nobody’s fault anymore—this time it’ll be his.

his grip on jongin’s body is weakening, but he doesn’t want jongin to harm sehun in any way.

but.

sehun glares at him, answering his unvoiced question, “i scanned your note, okay?”

but.

“jesus christ sehun-ah,” jongin chokes, “it’s my fault.” he falls to his knees, bringing chanyeol to the floor with him.

“sehun-ah,” jongin shakes his head, gently removes chanyeol’s arms off of him, crawls to sehun’s legs to hug them as he continues, “please. don’t. chanyeol is—he’s a victim of my selfishness. we talked about it, remember? chanyeol was also a victim of whatever shit he had with his best friend and kris wufan. you said if you were in chanyeol’s place, you wouldn’t agree to the contract, hell, no you wouldn’t, because kris is nothing but a fucking stranger that thinks he can have just anyone to satisfy his hungry dick.

and after you returned chanyeol’s one piece manhwa, after a brief conversation you had with him, you said you admired chanyeol’s bravery to come to seoul, how honest chanyeol’s smile is even from afar and that you wanted to befriend him because we’d been too careless about the bullying—sehun-ah, look at me.”

sehun does, at jongin, then at chanyeol, again and again, until finally chanyeol finds the courage to smile in spite of the truth that sehun is the one delivering the bucket of ice blocks.

but sehun’s second tears invasion is for a whole different reason now.



▼▲



lu han-hyung personally takes sehun to the SM headquarter to apologize. jongin volunteers to give his best friend a moral support and chanyeol watches with a...happy heart as ryeowook-sshi ruffles sehun’s hair, his motherly smile is reducing sehun (and lu han-hyung) into an incoherent mess. no press conference is needed, jongin and sehun’s name will remain anonymous, and the rest will be taken care by sm.

chanyeol makes a silent request for sm to handle a certain exo leader too.



▼▲



off the record, jongin did kiss chanyeol, and chanyeol kissed him back. they pretend it never happened; jongin really thinks chanyeol is prettier than sehun, present tense, and chanyeol was, still is, craving for kris’ kiss(es).

because it was chanyeol’s first clubbing ever, he got excited. when jongin kissed him, the heavy bass thumping on the ground with a bunch of unknown people dancing around them, it was nothing compared to kris’ solitude kiss in a farthest corner of mbc building.

and jongin is a good kisser.



▼▲



“umma, slower,” chanyeol smiles to himself as he stirs a big mug of hot chocolate, his current antidote to have a dreamless sleep. “what? oh. it’s fine. i swear, i was just helping a friend! eh? it’s complicated, are you sure you want to hear all of it?—

—hehe...yes, i’m preparing to sleep. it’s okay. yes. ready?” and chanyeol does his best to summarize the ultimate jonghun’s love story for his umma, who obviously puts the phone on speaker because chanyeol can vaguely hear his appa’s question about minseok-hyung this minseok-hyung that.

chanyeol just doesn’t have the heart to break down the sensational news for his appa; he saw minseok-hyung kissed lu han-hyung when sehun went to apologize at SM headquarter a couple of days ago. minseok-hyung was most likely comforting lu han-hyung’s screwed dignity because of sehun’s behaviour; the older man hasn’t stopped apologizing to him via tons of foods ever since.

“your friend, sehun, sounds like a bratty princess to me,” chanyeol snorts loudly at his umma’s spontaneous comment, because that exactly is!

“oh my god i thought you’ve gotten rid of that hideous habit, park chanyeol!”

“waeee umma! kris-hyung does it too and you never complain!” he fakes a whine. his umma hates it when he does; it never suits his baritone voice, she always reminds him.

“eyyy he’s not my flesh and blood so i’m not embarrassed by his lameness,” his umma giggles, “tell me he’s been behaving, chanyeol-ah.”

she adds as chanyeol thinks of a carefully formed answer, “what was his reaction about jongin?”

ah, the inevitable.

“hyung was...shocked. but he didn’t say a word about it,” that’s not even a white lie, “umma, he’s busy with exo promotion. he couldn’t waste his time for something so minor like me helping a friend.”

that’s the truth.

“i see,” chanyeol’s umma sighs in relief. “stay away from more troubles, chanyeol-ah, umma and appa are waiting for you here.”

“i’m trying,” chanyeol smiles to his lap, “i will graduate with good grades, and then i’ll be back home.”



▼▲



baekhyun, surprisingly, is not interested.

“kim jongin and oh sehun, right? ulzzangs, you know, so much drama. and they’re not even official yet?” baekhyun snorts rather obnoxiously from the other line. “you’re friending the wrong crowd, wangja-yah.”

chanyeol pauses, because seriously?

“yo, you there?”

“baekhyun-ah, what the—” chanyeol sits up straighter on his bed, flinging the high cut magazine with sehun in it.

“what the what?” baekhyun asks, and chanyeol snorts rather obnoxiously, too.

“yah, it’s my business with whom i hang out! i don’t remember i ever scolded you when you were ‘friending’ with the wrong crowd! come on!”

baekhyun gasps, “excuse me emo kids aren’t ‘the wrong crowd’! they taught me how to put eyeliner like a flawless mangod, okay, shut up!”

“kim jongin and oh sehun don’t wear guyliner and they look like mangods anyway!” chanyeol laughs, and at least baekhyun is following suit, all the tension from his voice is no longer detectable.

“commoner-sshi, you’re still my number one sidekick,” chanyeol declares softly, “i’m your handsome wangja park chanyeol from gangwon, and we’ll rule gangwon again soon. hang in there.”

baekhyun clicks his tongue, pretty sure grinning like an idiot. it’s not that hard to win over his best friend for the -nth time in the past years; they’re such suckers for friendship’s typical ups and downs.

“sooooooooo we okay now? like, okay okay until the end of the world okay?” chanyeol leans back to the pillows, crossing his ankles.

“sure thing, bro, it’s never the same without you here,” baekhyun gags and chanyeol makes a vomiting backsound. “by the way like, recently, jongdae has been receiving hatemails and his locker is vandalized. he went to woohyun’s gig last week and suddenly there were bruises on his arms and nape. fangirls are so scary, so sneaky ninja style they’re able to hurt jongdae like that. damn. how about seoul’s fangirls?”

chanyeol grimaces.

“did jongdae tell you about that?” subconsciously, he folds his knees and hugs himself.

“are you kidding? he never says anything! but woohyun was not exactly silent and my—our lockers are near jongdae’s remember, so i saw and heard everything. woohyun is worried sick about him you know? he’s so sweet. rumor said there’s our classmate helping the operation, too.”

“that’s...yeah. that’s scary,” chanyeol clears his throat. “so baekhyun-ah, you’re still pursuing your journalist dream?”

“of course,” baekhyun answers with a sheer determination, too proud by his dream he doesn’t notice chanyeol changes the topic about scary fangirls.

“and you, chanyeol-ah? i can help persuading your parents to let you take short acting classes before you’re forever stuc—”

“it’s okay,” chanyeol is in a stalemate. “i’ll be richer than you’ll ever be in ten years. you can work for me if your journalism career is d-e-a-d.”

“as if,” baekhyun boos.

chanyeol laughs because thankfully baekhyun buys his avoidance again.

“okay i’m tired, commoner-ah, unlike you, a wangja needs his handsome sleep,” he lets baekhyun to mock an apology for wasting a wangja’s precious time. “talk to you later!” and they bid cheerful goodbyes to each other.

chanyeol can’t sleep later, his traitorous mind decides to remind him of his glorious days when he was on stage with thunderous clapping and shouted praises and schoolmates looking at him with wonders in their eyes. and then jongdae’s catlike smile is among them all, glowing with warm orangey color but jongdae’s body is bleeding; colorful, manicured nails are scratching and pulling, and chanyeol just stands there, watching, his own seoul version of humiliation is visible from his bare toes—where are his favorite converse shoes—and suddenly, he can’t breathe.

kris has his right hand half hanging in the air, and in between gasping and wheezing, chanyeol asks, “w-what—” and kris is leaning down to wipe chanyeol’s sweaty fringe off of his forehead.

“i’m sorry did i wake you?” his voice is hoarse, like he’s caught flu. his cold palm is even colder tonight. he’s dressed in an old sweatshirt and striped pajama pants. chanyeol forgot to turn off his bedroom’s lamp and kris is looking ash-pale.

“hyung,” chanyeol sniffs, sitting up. he brushes kris’ wrist. “hyung are you sick?”

kris doesn’t answer.

chanyeol pulls him to sit down.

there are dark circles under kris’ eyes, and thisclose chanyeol can see kris is not breathing with his nose but through his mouth instead.

“have you taken a med?” chanyeol cups kris’ damp but burning neck with both hands. kris mutely nods, closing his eyes and sagging underneath chanyeol’s touch.

on baekhyun’s girly manhwas, and his collections of k-j-c-dramas, too, the lead boy characters are often offering his girl-interest to share the influenza germ by kissing so the girl can be cheerful again and that, really, all the lead boy characters want is just to see the beautiful smile as their very own energy supply.

kris is not a girl. he smirks, not smiling.

chanyeol is not in a manhwa, although he’s in a fictional situation anyway, and he loves kris.

he doesn’t mind to catch the influenza germ. he doesn’t have to perform. kris has to entertain his fans and it must be a torture to be on stage with deteriorating stamina.

besides, his christmas and new year’s eve holiday is coming soon, it won’t affect his study.

“hyung,” chanyeol nuzzles his nose to kris’ left cheek. “hyung, you can transfer your flu to me.”

kris frowns.

chanyeol smiles briefly. it’s not exactly begging to be kissed, right?

kris opens his mouth, but chanyeol interrupts him in case he’s going to object,

“you know what to do.”



▼▲



kris’ kisses, they are always different each time. but the tenderness never fades even when chanyeol demands more. and he cradles chanyeol’s face or shoulders or hips or waist like he really cherishes chanyeol more than anything in the world.

that, or kris is still holding back, no matter how encouraging chanyeol is, every time, to let kris kiss him french style or to just take him right there, on their living room’s couch.

kris shakes his head as he breaks their heated lip locking, putting chanyeol’s legs back to the couch and running a hand through his hair, scooting away from chanyeol’s pout.

“hyung—”

“no,” kris shakes his head again, breathing heavily. “we should get some sleep.”

chanyeol moves to the other edge of the couch, crossing his arms.

“hyung, what are you afraid of?” he huffs. “i’m willing.”

kris actually gapes at him, still handsomely though, and chanyeol blushes.

“what?!” he snaps. “it’s just sex.”

a pause, then,

“do you even know what you’re saying?” kris asks coldly. “if i taste your body, and then you’re here 24/7 with me, do you think i will be able to hold back?” he looks angry, and his sudden grip on chanyeol’s left knee is strong.

but chanyeol is not going to back off. two months left, and the last thing on his imaginary bucket list is this. plus, kris says he can’t hold back his libido if they ever to have sex once—isn’t that saying something of just how much kris wants him? so why not have a taste, because chanyeol is more than glad to get closer to kris, all pun intended.

he swallows eagerly before he clears his throat and says in a hopefully confident tone,

“then don’t! use me. you just have to ask beforehand. maybe if you did so, we wouldn’t have to—”

kris shuts him up with a teeth clanking kiss, pulling at the back of chanyeol’s head while biting chanyeol’s bottom lip in the process. chanyeol is excited beyond belief, but he doesn’t know the slightest idea of how to respond to the stimulations. he clutches the front of kris’ black jumper and then finds out that it’s perfectly fine to let out a moan to the kiss, as kris’ wet tongue invading his stiff one and when kris sucks, chanyeol’s hardening erection is twitching.

kris yanks him off of the couch and drags him none too gently to his unused bedroom, locks the door, throws chanyeol to the bed, face down—and he makes sure chanyeol doesn’t move from that position as he spits, presses two moist fingers inside and stretches him wide, wider with an addition of his ring finger—their engagement ring is cold against his warm skin, and then spectacular fireworks are ignited on chanyeol’s fluttering eyelids as kris’ longest finger jabs on something solid in him.

chanyeol has a pool of saliva on kris’ flawless grey sheet, and he tries to get on his knees, but kris growls on top of him, yanking his hair and asking what does he want.

chanyeol can only whimper. his erection is trapped between his rilakkuma sweats and the bed, and it hurts, but it hurts a whole hell lot more when kris finally penetrates him, they’re still fully dressed and kris is sure leaving bruising fingerprints on chanyeol’s hips later.

kris finishes inside of him, biting the juncture of chanyeol’s neck and shoulder, his warm cum is gushing out of chanyeol and chanyeol himself shudders at the sensation as kris flips him to his back, quickly jerking him off, rubbing his (apparently) sensitive nipples and then chanyeol comes, sighing,

“hyung.”

kris kisses him tenderly before everything goes black.



▼▲



baekhyun knocks the door after he makes sure ‘the ulzzangs’—as he refers jongin and sehun—are asleep on chanyeol’s parents guest room just on the other side of the traditional house. chanyeol grins as baekhyun brings two mugs of hot chocolate with him.

“you’re the best, commoner-sshi,” chanyeol blows the fragrant drink, patting the space next to his stuffed siberian husky from a cute dongsaeng last year. baekhyun sits there, and the best friends are enjoying the silence.

“you okay?” baekhyun nudges chanyeol’s socked toes with his similar one. “i will help to search again tomorrow. it must be out there somewhere.”

“thanks,” chanyeol sniffs. “i think i caught flu.”

“do you want to take a med?” baekhyun asks.

“yeah, after breakfast tomorrow,” chanyeol sips on the hot chocolate, “baekhyun-ah, will anyone notice if i don’t wear it? i mean, i didn’t, the ring is like,” he laughs, “it’s always been there so i never really...you know? like, it’s there, all the time, so i...never pay any mind. it’s there, where it belongs.”

baekhyun is not the slightly surprised when chanyeol starts sobbing like a lost child, spilling the hot chocolate all over his pajama pants baekhyun has to take it over and coax chanyeol to stop crying, wangja-yah, you look the ugliest when you cry, and chanyeol punches him on the chest weakly and when he changes into a new pair of pajama pants, that’s when baekhyun goes rigid.

he waits until chanyeol is snuggled, safe and sound, in front of him. his tears streaked face is not glowing like how baekhyun remembers, and the smile on his best friend’s dry lips are still the most beautiful, alright, but the sadness reflected on chanyeol’s watery eyes is too visible even when the lamps are turned off.

“what?” chanyeol huffs, shoving baekhyun’s arm.

baekhyun shrugs.

“oh come on!”

“you slept with him, didn’t you?” baekhyun runs his fingers on chanyeol’s left hip.

chanyeol winces. the bruises linger, fading blue spots with yellowing edges.

“did he hurt you?” baekhyun’s voice is wavering. “because if he did, i swear, park chanyeol, i swear i will—”

“baekhyun-ah,” chanyeol hugs the trembling, smaller boy, “baekhyun-ah, i wanted it, he didn’t hurt me, and everything’s fine. honest.”

“promise?” baekhyun is crying.

“i promise,” chanyeol nods, pouting. “why are you crying you’re so ugly when you cry!”

“whatever we’re the ugly crying brothers, then!” baekhyun cries even harder. “stop crying you giant baby!”

“you too, filthy commoner!” chanyeol stretches baekhyun’s cheeks. baekhyun pulls at his nose. they fight like two little girls until chanyeol’s umma comes barging into the room giving them a nice slap to their heads. it’s late.



▼▲



when chanyeol wakes up, he has a headache.

he sneezes rather loudly but fortunately baekhyun doesn’t even budge from his koala position hugging the bolster.

chanyeol washes his face and brushes his teeth. it’s still early, just a little after his parents’ usual breakfast time but the dining room is empty. he eats the simple korean breakfast, ends up filling his bowl with rice and more kimchi jjigae again before he takes a pill for his flu.

then he goes out to his parents’ house backyard to search for his fallen engagement ring when he was playing snowball fight with baekhyun, jongin, and sehun last night.

there, in the middle of thickening snow, is kris, crouching down with a mini shovel, digging.

chanyeol decides to sit on the provided and snow free stone bench, observing kris frowning and working.

chanyeol counts. nine thousand won in just fifteen minutes. kris is frowning forty five times.

it’s time to save the idol from investing wrinkles in such a young age.

chanyeol tip toes to crouch down next to kris, and says,

“what did i say about bb cream won’t help you forever, hyung?” kris’ nose is rudolph the deer red. he looks cute wearing a pororo-esque beanie.

chanyeol smiles, “good morning!”

“hey,” kris greets him back, the first time he looks straight to chanyeol’s eyes after he left chanyeol alone on his own bedroom in seoul, tucked in fresh clothes and cleaned up, sore, satisfied, and sad. kris doesn’t talk to him. what is he doing here?

“i heard you lost your ring,” kris gently takes chanyeol’s right hand.

“i’m sorry.” chanyeol scrunches his nose. “when did you get here, hyung?”

“an hour ago? i took the earliest flight,” kris pulls chanyeol to his feet, not letting go of their entwined hands. “gangwon is a witch's tit. but the sceneries are so beautiful.”

chanyeol scoffs, “how could you! this is my hometown!”

kris smiles. he. smiles. and then he takes off his ring and throws it carelessly.

“HYUNG!” chanyeol gasps. their rings aren’t cheap. “HYUNG WHY?!”

but kris just laughs, annoyingly so, as he squeezes chanyeol’s cheeks so his lips are forming a fishy face.

“hyung!” chanyeol giggles, because kris is kissing him, hugging him, kissing him some more, and says,

“chanyeol-ah, let’s runaway together.”

to be c o n t i n u e d



























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---

QUESTIONs OF THE DAY;

1. sure i write this chapter in a fast paced timeline, but can’t you feel/don’t you think chanyeol is a little bit different here?

2. that he doesn’t over-analyzing every possibilities, every little things that happen?

3. that he’s just living his life?

4. why do you think i seem to purposefully not writing/explaining about chanyeol's feeling after he lost his virginity in such...not vanilla way?

it’s not his voice is so heavenly or he moves like a jagger kind of rumor spreading around regarding the newest trainee that seen strutting around the vocal lesson building for the past week, wearing skin tight black jeans and smiling politely to everyone.

no.

it’s, “you know, he’s a slut.”

and, “yeah, a friend of a friend slept with him. he said he’s a coy fox in bed.”

with, “he’s gay. i heard it’s contagious. so watch out, ha ha.”



▲ ▼



obviously, wu fan has heard of the rumor. while everybody else shoots the new trainee probing stare or blatantly trying to enjoy his quietly offered service (he gives the best bj in the world), wu fan prefers to stay out of it and, well, respects the boy. there’s also serious judging going on in between, and wu fan plays it safe because the boy must have some kind of emotion too, right, eventhough he’s—fine—a slut.

but his best friend yixing, laughs.

“come on. it’s been too long!” yixing wriggles his eyebrows at wu fan’s crotch. “swear he will satisfy you. don’t think about all the alpha male i’m not gay shit, ge. jongdae knows how to treat your kind.”

“shut it,” wu fan says, uninterested. “you’re too loud. he’s right behind you.”

jongdae really is, and his, huh, pleasant face is smiling.

wu fan pretends he doesn’t notice that the smile is slightly forced this time.

he doesn’t even act like he acknowledges jongdae, whom yixing invites to sit with them on the furthest table of SM’s recreation room.

“annyeonghaseyo, xing-hyung,” jongdae starts, putting down a bottle of soy milk, “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything.”

wu fan snorts. yixing kicks his shin under the table.

“don’t worry, jongdae-yah, you’re not,” yixing slings an arm around jongdae’s thin shoulders, “by the way you know wu fan, right? the godlike cold prince from canada?”

wu fan meets jongdae’s eyes, and the latter gives him a, what, very sweet smile with a head tilt—which causing wu fan to fight the urge to scoff, because he’s been proud of his neutral oh so composed self but. jesus that smile. don’t blame wu fan if he seriously believes that this jongdae kid was inviting him.

“annyeonghaseyo,” jongdae repeats, bowing at kris. “i’ve heard a lot about you, wu fan-hyung. this is our first meeting, my name is kim jongdae.”

and the first time wu fan really pays attention to kim fucking jongdae, he can’t sleep for days after.



▲ ▼



not only jongdae manages to debut in such short training period, but he also has the gut to ask lee sooman himself to be placed in the mandarin sub-group along with wu fan.

and yixing. and their three other friends who ignite wu fan’s curiosity.

have they tasted him?



▲ ▼



they use rock-paper-scissor to arrange their rooming sequence.

of course, wu fan is rooming with jongdae, or chen, his chinese stage name.

for the first weeks, wu fan manages to avoid the younger boy while jongdae himself seems to think that he’s scary 24/7. it’s on their second month of living together that minseok gathers them on the living room.

only to advise wu fan and jongdae to look into each other’s eyes and recite their good points while holding hands.

when wu fan frowns, minseok shrugs and says something about first lesson of skinship is to appear comfortable around your members. and then lu han slyly pecks his lips.

zitao does a mad protest.

yixing watches, raising an eyebrow at wu fan.

jongdae is flushing all the time they hold hands, stuttering that wu fan-ge is the handsomest person ever you’re so charismatic and tall and you can have the world, ge, because you speak english and chinese, but wu fan probably crushes jongdae’s way smaller hands on his while he braves his soul to finally look.

jongdae’s got noticeable crow’s feet eyes and his mouth is nicely shaped, like the joker character except that jongdae is not a villain.

he’s a mere slu—

“y-your turn, wu fan-ge,” his voice is a little bit too squeaky for a grown boy, but his smooth skin painted with attractive moles can never be missed when it comes to the whole package.

and then the infamous pair of slender legs which yixing, chanyeol, and baekhyun have admitted visiting their lust filled fantasies. plural, and right now those legs are clad in their usual skin tight black jeans.

somewhere, yixing laughs triumphantly.

inside, wu fan is having a battle.



▲ ▼



jongdae has a perfect chinese pronunciation of harder there oh my god and various other sex related exclaims that for a split second wu fan sees himself as the random v channel’s crew fucking jongdae against the wall of the deserted hallway of v channel’s headquarter just minutes before they record a program.

one thing wu fan understands well?

he is never good at sharing.



▲ ▼



lu han is busy molesting minseok with zitao trying to be his oppa’s savior and yixing is off somewhere writing songs so when jongdae knocks on their shared bedroom’s door, wu fan can’t say no to jongdae’s timid,

“wu fan-ge i have a question,” with a book of chinese conversation for beginner on his right hand.

the same hand that helped an older businessman jerking off on SM’s annual gala last week.

wu fan tells jongdae to lock the door.

“i will help if you allow me to give you a question in return,” jongdae sits across him on the bed, blinking excessively before nodding in hesitation.

“o-okay, ge, um, my first question is...”



▲ ▼



for the upcoming two hours, wu fan learns that it all started when jongdae was a freshman; a popular senior had smacked a soccer ball across his face and somehow, or, according to that senior, jongdae had the coyest eyes and he couldn’t help but to fulfil his growing curiosity about fucking a boy. he’d been threatened at first, if he wouldn’t comply to the senior’s request, but in the end the senior was always being sweet at him like buying him stuffs and treated him to eat—“like a date?” wu fan interrupts and jongdae tilts his reddening face—well maybe not ‘like a date’ because that senior had a girlfriend who refused to sleep with him since they were having emotional stress of university entrance exam and whatnots.

wu fan gulps when jongdae continues with a carefully hidden joyful (or smug?) tone, “he always came back to me anyway,” and apparently, unlike wu fan, that senior didn’t mind to share jongdae with his fellow popular jocks who were in the same position as him; their girlfriends preferred to study than to fuck, so,

“i started to believe that i’m actually desirable,” jongdae smiles, “when hyungnim graduated the cycle continued, ge, even my classmates came to me. and then it’s all natural for me like,” he bites his bottom lip, looks at wu fan from behind his fringe and lets his coy eyes—holy shit—to glow and when he giggles, covering his mouth with the back of his right hand and his whole face contracts, wu fan is thisclose to jump on him and take him right there and then.

“ge?” jongdae flushes, probably from his unconscious slutty side that appears naturally.

what the fuck is that.

wu fan grabs jongdae’s wrist, roughly, and jongdae’s delicious gasp is triggering him to propose, “can you promise to be mine? mine and only?”



▲ ▼



thanks to years of easily having someone kind enough to fuck him, jongdae has untamed sex drive.

wu fan watches as his—what, friend? soon-to-be-boyfriend?—as his jongdae struggles not to send signal to thankfully ever so oblivious yixing on their dressing room on kbs building. he never goes to the other three members simply because lu han and zitao have nobody else but minseok in their eyes. now, jongdae is fidgeting, breaking out in tiny cold sweats and wu fan keeps on watching even until they get to record individual interview and the cameraman handling jongdae is already dozing off when jongdae, pretty sure unconsciously, activating his coy materials; twinkling eyes, inviting tongue, breathtaking smile, and hearty giggle.

wu fan has had enough. he pats jongdae’s flat ass as a reminder, then he smiles to the camera, adding extra glare to the person behind it.

it’s been going like that for the next weeks; wu fan will interrupt jongdae’s uncontrollable pheromones, jongdae will grimace but thankful because they’re in this together, and wu fan will grant him a kiss to his collarbone where his weakest spot is.

it’s not easy to control his jealousy, either, to put up an act that he’s not ninety nine percent affected by jongdae’s naturally irresistible charm.

twice, jongdae tries to relieve them out of misery by climbing to wu fan’s bed and starts to untie wu fan’s pajama pants. once, he sleeps naked and accidentally kicks off his sheet for wu fan to see a sea of smooth skin painted with attractive moles. and lastly, he gives wu fan a free show.

“ah, ge,” jongdae’s eyelashes flutter, “ge, help me.”

he’s thrusting four wet fingers inside, his sinful legs quivering in the air, his right hand is sloppily yanking his leaking, cute cock.

wu fan smirks.

he spreads jongdae’s sweaty legs with one hand while the other moves away jongdae’s fingers from the throbbing entrance before cupping the balls and says, “i didn’t lock the door, you know how zitao likes to barge in anytime.”

jongdae whines as wu fan presses a strong thumb to his balls. hard.

“do you want to take a quiet ride?” he offers to the crook of jongdae’s neck, who shakes his head.

“i need to taste your cock, ge, please,” he chokes. “now.”

wu fan gladly unbuttons his jeans.



t h e e n d

































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---

bonus;
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
coy slut smiling coyly.

please remember i refer chen as slut in a ... good term.

yeah.

“but you sounded okay last night,” minseok gently closes the door, toeing off his shoes and gives his boyfriend a hug while chuckling. actually, it’s a decoy to his jackhammering heart, because he’s been worried as hell on his way to lu han’s apartment but right now, lu han looks so...different with white lips and dull eyes.

lu han whines at him to stop staring. no sharp comment, huh? definitely a different person beyond belief.

“how are you feeling though?” minseok follows lu han’s lead to the kitchen, obliging lu han’s request to make him a cup of tea.

“no sugar, please,” lu han sniffs, sitting on the clean floor. he doesn’t own a dining table because it’s useless for a college student with a modeling side job and more than average monthly allowance from his parents. “i threw up at like, four? i couldn’t sleep at all. my head hurts,” he folds his knees and plays with the long sleeves of his faded violet t-shirt. “baozi, don’t go anywhere please?”

minseok grimaces at the cute, pleading tone. he has two important quizzes today. but it is so rare for lu han to display such helplessness in an adorable way. lu han never does aegyo despite his doll-like face. he’s either a tyrant, forcing all the power in the whole universe to get whatever he wants; or he simply doesn’t take a ‘no’ as an answer (people fall to their knees for him anyway).

“min min-ah?” his voice is hoarse, minseok can tell from the way lu han’s breath hitches.

“i can’t, lu,” minseok pours the plain tea to an aries mug, then he crouches down in front of lu han, leaning forward to kiss him.

lu han turns his head.

minseok’s heart breaks.

“awww,” minseok puts the mug away, cupping lu han’s cold neck. “come on, lu! the tests are worth twenty percent of my final grades!”

lu han sighs, “you’ll catch the influenza virus, pabo. now leave.”

oh.

minseok laughs sheepishly, touched a little bit too giddily at how considerate lu han is. that’s just so damn sweet!

“don’t worry,” minseok plants an eskimo kiss to the tip of lu han’s nose, “my immune system is awesome, lu han-ah, you can ask zitao. he often cuddles me when he’s sick and i’ll be fine in the morning.”

“ew,” lu han sneers, but he’s wrapping his arms around minseok’s shoulders. “can you not? your ‘precious’ zitao has that lunatic boyfriend to kiss away his flu now. or something.” lu han is staring straight at minseok’s eyes, and then he continues,

“also, i threw up, remember?” it’s not a challenge. it’s more like lu han is embarrassed.

“well you brushed your teeth, right?” minseok squeezes lu han’s narrow hips, wriggling his eyebrows just because.

lu han smiles shyly, confirming minseok’s prediction about lu han’s out of character-ness and he doesn’t waste any second to steal the of course rare kind of smile from those alluring lips which usually spat cruel remarks. he bids goodbye with a promise to stop by after his classes later.



▲▼



but minseok is too preoccupied with the quizzes that he forgets to call lu han in between his break period; he’s busy rechecking and comparing his notes with joonmyun. the quizzes are exactly on his last two classes, and he has the time to facepalm as he writes his name on the second quiz’s paper for remembering a special someone just as important as his final grades, probably sulking and fighting the influenza virus all alone fifteen minutes walk from where minseok’s brain is bleeding thanks to new zealand’s international policy regarding diplomatic issues.

he finishes first, bolting out of the classroom with the backsound of his classmates gaping at him. he runs to the apothecary near lu han’s apartment to buy his umma’s most trusted brand of influenza pill and grabs lu han’s favourite toblerone along with a stuffed carrot keychain. it must be his country’s ministry of food, agriculture, forestry, and fisheries strategy to increase children’s interest on eating vegetab—

“nanana i like lu han so much~” minseok sings to himself as the cashier rings his stuffs. the inside of his chaotic mind is a mess like,

lu han won’t forgive him.

lu han is crying.

lu han goes back to his hometown in china—

horrified, minseok runs again.



▲▼



lu han’s sunken eyes and dark circles marring his ash-pale skin and even paler, dry lips are stirring something primal deep inside of minseok’s most basic need known in humankind.



▲▼



done with coaxing lu han to have a nice warm shower and ordering ginseng and chicken porridge for dinner, minseok can’t seem to stop gawking at his boyfriend as he feeds lu han on lu han’s unmade bed and lu han’s bed hair is sticking everywhere and lu han’s pink tongue darting out to lick the corners of his mouth and the little approval moans whenever lu han’s adam apple is bobbing down swallowing the food and how minseok notices lu han’s collarbones greeting him from behind lu han’s halfway zipped up black hoodie.

what.



▲▼



“is there something on my face?” lu han asks softly as they lie on their sides, tucked in two layers of blanket. minseok finally gives in to lu han’s pitiful, bloodshot doe eyes and stays.

“hmmm, no?” minseok pulls lu han closer by the tiny waist, hiding his face on the hollow of lu han’s neck. he can’t afford to have lu han find out that he’s...

it’s just so wrong. and sick and tainted and what, kinky?—that he takes stolen pleasure on lu han’s vulnerable state. he got hard sometime during the feeding frenzy he had to transfer his libido to pluto by rereading his quizzes’ neat notes as they snuggled on lu han’s very comfy light grey couch.

“lu?” minseok murmurs to check if lu han is asleep. but it’s just like lu han is being triggered, because suddenly he untangles himself to sit up and unzip his black hoodie, throws it somewhere, and minseok is (thankfully?) quick enough to catch lu han’s wrists before lu han can completely go naked.

“what are you doing?!” so much for trying to tame his cool even traveled to imaginary pluto. he did not just squeak like a bird.

lu han glares at him.

minseok panics.

he jumps off of the bed to snatch lu han’s black hoodie from the floor, practically manhandles lu han to wear it again but lu han refuses to uncross his arms and minseok is scared that lu han hates him for lusting over his prettily deteriorating face. he’s been doing fine ever since their very first sexual intercourse many weeks ago, so why now, oh god!?

“lu han-ah, please don’t be difficult,” minseok covers lu han’s bare upper body with the blankets, hugging him.

lu han weakly shoves minseok’s shoulders, “you are difficult.” he huffs. “you can ask, you know, don’t assume anything all alone inside your stupid brain, baozi-yah.”

“w-what?” minseok smartly blurts out, feeling the extra heat because lu han’s serpent tongue is back. lu han is thisclose to roll his eyes but minseok can’t make himself more foolish so he tackles lu han’s body and ends up hovering above the slowly smiling boy.

“b-but you’re not feeling well,” minseok kisses lu han’s jawline, rolling his boxer clad crotch against lu han’s pajama pants.

lu han’s contended sigh is more than enough for minseok to get rid of his—lu han’s—navy blue t-shirt.

“now ask,” lu han licks his lips, securing minseok’s hips on top of his using the heels of his socked feet.

minseok takes his time to shudder as his cock hardens, and he’s panting already when he manages to ask,

“lube?” he teases lu han’s erected nipples with his thumbs and lu han stutters where he keeps his chocolate flavored lube underneath the bed.

as minseok retrieves the bottle, lu han takes off his pajama pants and socks, props another pillow for his head, leans back, and spreads his legs.

minseok chuckles nervously.

“fuck, lu.”

“i know,” lu han replies smugly, and then his eyes soften when he beckons minseok to kiss him. “go on, have a taste,” he whispers to minseok’s mouth, and their teeth clank as minseok kisses him hard like never before.

minseok uncaps the lid, not breaking his hurried kisses as he takes the back of lu han’s left knee and folds it up until the kneecap nearly hurts lu han’s face. he coats his right hand’s fingers with the cool substance and inserts one finger, probes and pushes it, makes a circling motion inside the tight cavern, relishing the throbbing muscles as they part their mouths for oxygen, and then when lu han exposes his slender neck to the ceiling; both of his equally slender legs in the air, minseok adds two more fingers all at once, bruising the jut of lu han’s left hip as he pushespushespushes and stretches his fingers inside the slowly loosening cavern.

“ah!” lu han shouts when the tip of minseok’s middle finger grazes something solid deep down there, his cock bounces alive to point at his flat stomach.

minseok is drunk from the sight of lu han’s wantonness, absentmindedly rutting his own straining erection to the bed as he fingerfucks his boyfriend. sure, he absolutely has no idea on how to do it through the ass, not that he’s experienced with the other party no, but seriously he needs to get in, preferably now, because if he doesn’t and lu han keeps on responding to his ministration like this then he won’t last long at all and next time—if there will ever be since no one understands kim minseok but kim minseok—he might be too scared to ask for sex, next time. so.

subconsciously, he picks up a pace, rotating his wrist and hitting the jackpot everytime, without missing a beat.

“ah—m-minseok! slow down—” lu han’s previously pale lips are reddening now, and there are sweats decorating his tired but still the most beautiful face. what do they say about sex again? it burns how many calories? will lu han be okay tomorr—

lu han screams like a kitten as he cums, his cock is not even touched jesus h. christ, and minseok’s eyes flutter closed at the sensation engulfing his fingers; lu han’s muscles are clenching unclenching the digits but.

but.

lu han leans to his quivering elbows, his glassy eyes are telling minseok to proceed with the actual penetration.

minseok takes out his fingers obediently, slides off of his boxer and lets lu han to stroke his purpling cock once, twice, thrice with his sweaty, trembling hands before lu han pours a huge amount of lube there, smears the gel to minseok’s nape as he guides minseok down with him to the bed, puts his skinny ankles on minseok’s shoulders and when minseok slowly, excruciatingly, thrusts his cock inside the hothothotness, lu han cries.

it must be hurt, minseok gently pushes in more as he caresses lu han’s smooth thighs, rocking his hips ups and downs until he’s seated fully to the hilt. lu han gasps, blinks, and minseok almost cries himself at the display of pure happiness reflected on lu han’s dilating orbs. they are one now.

“minseok-ah,” lu han smiles, embarrassed, being adorable and perfect, “baozi-yah, i love you.” he moves his own hips and minseok follows suit, chanting the three words like a mantra as he kisses lu han’s lips, tears, neck, skin—and lu han is taking everything that minseok can offer.

“good?” minseok asks, breathless after a series of endless i love you’s, circling lu han’s skinny ankles with his hands, thrusting in and out ever so slowly.

“the best,” lu han nods, and mewls when minseok’s cock hits his prostrate for the first time.



▲▼



lu han is so so so wet, minseok moans at the fact, and he buries his face to the crook of lu han’s vanilla scented neck as he pulls out almost all the way out and when he thrusts back in, a spurt of warm precum is wetting lu han even more and minseok has to grasp the sheet in order to last or else. when he releases his breath, another spurt of precum is betraying him.

god.

lu han has stopped crying, in fact, he’s snoring softly, mouth open, and minseok doesn’t have the heart to take advantage of him.

right. minseok flushes when he remembers the time. his stamina in bed is proved to be just as beastly as the usual. wow. yeah. okay. they need to do this again when lu han is fit enough to have like, maybe, two or three more rounds.

he pulls out, trying not to wake his boyfriend, tiptoes to lu han’s bathroom and jerks off with the image of lu han on his knees, looking up at him with dark circles under his sunken eyes and his ash-pale face is soon graced by minseok’s milky cum.

soon.



t h e e n d





























<< master.list >> tumb.lr >> if you want to talk without having to come back to my fics >>

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lu han i'm sorry. but you're just so. so.

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£ now writing : sudo + exo k as their children fic and TPWF.

“umma, why is baekhyunnie bringing his sea creatures book?”

kyungsoo looks up from the colourful tupperwares on the kitchen table, full with each of his kids’ favourite snacks. he smiles as he continues filling the biggest box with his homemade kimbap.

“he told me last night he’s going to collect seashells,” kyungsoo answers, “he needs the book to identify their names—oh wait, yeobo, does your ipad have that kind of application? take a picture and voila you get a lot of information?”

“not that i know of,” joonmyun washes his hands and helps his wife to pack the tupperwares into a picnic basket. “besides, a day without touching my ipad is good for him. your son is not playing outside enough, umma.”

“you’re right,” kyungsoo sighs. “well at least he’s our scholar.”

joonmyun nods proudly.

there’s a loud and very distinctive footsteps, followed by a cheerful, “father, mother! good morning!” it’s chanyeol, their second oldest son, beaming sunshine and rainbow as he enters the kitchen and gives his parents a hug.

“good morning, chanyeolla, are you ready to go to the beach today?” kyungsoo strokes chanyeol’s brunette locks, making a mental note to take chanyeol to the barber because the straight hair already reaches chanyeol’s nape.

“yes, mother!” thanks to the playlist of mainstream-indie international bands on kyungsoo’s ipod, chanyeol becomes so interested in drums, guitar, and the language. currently he’s taking extra courses for those subjects after school, and he will have an elementary school drummer competition in two months.

joonmyun silently watches as kyungsoo asks chanyeol (in english) if he’s taken a shower or not (he did) and the whereabouts of his baekhyunnie-hyung and his twin little brothers.

“baekhyunnie-hyung is showering. jongin and sehun are still sleeping,” he offers to wake them up, and bolts out upstairs humming a song from one direction.

both joonmyun and kyungsoo chuckle at chanyeol’s hyperactivity.

“remind me to bring him to the barber,” kyungsoo feeds his husband a piece of kimbap. “good?”

“always,” joonmyun chews, smiling. “but chanyeol looks so cute with his hair like that.”

“the last time i brought him to the mall a talent seeker asked for ‘this pretty girl’s age’,” kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “he thought chanyeol was a girl, perfectly fit for the role of his agency’s upcoming children clothes print-ad.”

joonmyun laughs, “really? why didn’t you accept it?”

“kim joonmyun,” kyungsoo puts his hands on his hips, “i’m not letting my androgynous son to crossdress in such early age!”

joonmyun mocks a surrender, “i get it, umma. forgive me?” he takes kyungsoo’s right hand.

kyungsoo huffs, glares at joonmyun some more, but then a nanosecond later he pounces on the older man to lock their lips; it’s been too long. they’re both busy with their jobs and plus, joonmyun was away in tokyo for two weeks.

“i miss you too,” joonmyun smiles, tightening his hold on kyungsoo’s waist. “let’s have fun and nothing else.”



▲ ▼



sehun is whining from the middle seat, complaining that chanyeolla-noona annoys him too much.

“appa!” sehun struggles with the seatbelt, seemingly wanting to what, hop onto joonmyun’s lap who is currently driving. “appa, bad chanyeolla-noona!”

“chanyeol-ah, please,” joonmyun glances to the rearview mirror, “don’t waste your energy yet, save it to play on the beach!” joonmyun reaches behind to pinch sehun’s thigh. “how many times should appa tell sehunnie? chanyeolla is your hyung. so don’t be mad at chanyeolla-hyung, ne?” and then the youngest smiles shyly and nods.

chanyeol grins, ruffles sehun’s hair for the last time before he changes his operation target to his baekhyunnie-hyung.

baekhyun groans after a series of poking to his stomach, “go bother jongin for once!” and then he goes back concentrating to the sea creatures book, ignoring chanyeol’s pout.

“but jonginnie is not cute at all! he doesn’t whine like sehunna and he doesn’t punch me like hyung do!” chanyeol huffs, a trait he inherits from kyungsoo. “umma, i’m so boring!”

kyungsoo giggles, “it’s i am bored, not i am boring, because that means you are boring, chanyeolla. you’re not, are you? you’re umma’s happy virus, right?”

chanyeol’s giggle is also similar to his umma’s.

joonmyun laughs, and then he turns his attention to the second youngest, jongin, who looks out to the window with his usual blank expression.

“where’s jongin?” he asks his family, playfully. “did we leave him?!” he feigns a panicked tone. jongin frowns. in between his siblings’ and umma’s snickering, he answers,

“i’m here, appa,” and he doesn’t even smile the slightest.

“ouch, where have you been?” joonmyun winks at jongin, who in the end just smirks and gives his appa a mocking thumb up. jongin is surely the manliest among the other three but he’s a little bit too impassive at times.

“how’s your ballet class, jonginnie?” kyungsoo turns his body to smile at jongin. because he and joonmyun were quite concerned about jongin’s future ability to show his emotions, they enrolled the black haired five year old to a dance academy.

so far, jongin is the best ballerino there, and after the family watched his first recital, sehun had asked to join his jonginnie-hyung.

“it’s okay,” jongin answers shortly.

“how about your hip hop class?” (chanyeol shouts a, “yo yo!” in the background, a sign that he’s listening to his younger brother’s story).

jongin nods, blinks, and adds, “sehunna wants to learn popping.”

“well, you should teach him,” kyungsoo smiles encouragingly; the twin is tight, sehun never fails to want everything that jongin have, but jongin never says anything about it—not an objection or a consent. sehun is not yet to understand if his jonginnie-hyung likes or dislikes his clinginess, so it is joonmyun and kyungsoo’s job to make sure there will be no quarrel over that matter.

“sehunna wants jongin-hyung to teach him, right?” joonmyun pipes in.

sehun himself doesn’t talk much, but he whines a lot, and sometimes he smiles his pretty eyesmile, and that’s better than jongin’s chronic poker face.

like right now, sehun shows his pretty eyesmile to confirm that yes; he wants to learn popping with his older twin—and chanyeol coos while baekhyun smiles, his eyes have stopped moving although they are still glued to his book.

“kkamjong promise?” sehun eagerly asks jongin with a new nickname due to jongin’s darker skin.

jongin holds out his pinky, and sehun doesn’t let go until they arrive at the beach.



▲ ▼



they get a nice spot where joonmyun and kyungsoo can laze around with the children still in their line of sight.

“babies, let’s apply sunblock first!” kyungsoo pours a good amount on his children’s tiny palms. he inspects them spreading the lotion to their arms and legs, and giggles when jongin finally asks if he can go shirtless.

“of course! come here,” kyungsoo helps jongin to take off his decepticon tee and applies the lotion all over jongin’s body. sehun watches while sucking on his little thumb, but whines at the bitter taste.

“aigooo, go to appa and wash your hand with water, all of you!” kyungsoo pats jongin’s belly. “use hand sanitizer before you guys want to eat something later, understand?” his children chorus a yes.

after they’re done with their children’s preparation, joonmyun says that he’s so going to get a tan today. he takes off his polo shirt and wriggles his eyebrows at kyungsoo to apply the sunblock. kyungsoo slaps his husband’s chest.

“appa, umma, i am about to explore,” baekhyun gives them a salute, ready with his goggles. “chanyeol-ah, don’t follow me,” he kicks the sand near chanyeol’s ankles as a warning.

“aw!” chanyeol pouts, but nodding nonetheless. joonmyun stretches his cheeks and explains that baekhyun needs to be alone sometimes as jongin and sehun are pulling out the sand castle equipments from their matching transformers backpack.

“chanyeolla-hyung, wanna play with sehunna?” sehun tugs at chanyeol’s pink tee, smiling his pretty eyesmile, probably feeling bad for his dejected hyung.

“yayyy!” chanyeol crushes sehun in a bear hug, leading them a couple of meters away from their parents’ nice spot. sehun comes back a moment later, still smiling prettily, grabbing jongin’s hand and saying, “c’mon, jonginnie!”

jongin beams.



▲ ▼



baekhyun loves chanyeol, his two years younger brother, but he’s been determined to collect his own seashells after he watched a documentary of a little girl in australia showing off her impressive seashells collection. she spoke like a pro, too, about them, and baekhyun googled her and got her home’s address. he wants to share stories with her; being pen-pals seem great. or email-pals. ugh, seashells are just cool! no one is collecting it in his class so that means he’ll be the first to! plus, he likes it so so so much when taeyeon-songsaenim compliments him.

firstly, he scans the area for any small seashells, gathering them on his goggles then he comes back to his parents to put them on a small jar. he’s been coming back and forth thrice, and caught his parents kissing, lying on their sides, with appa’s hand inside of umma’s t-shirt and umma giggling-breathing like a kitten.

“my eyes,” baekhyun crouches next to umma to get a new small jar and umma gasps, sitting up, his hair is a mess. “umma, my brothers are right there. how could you,” baekhyun smiles slyly, “if you and appa are going to make babies again, try a girl this time or chanyeol is going to be jongin and sehun’s permanent noona.”

“kim baekhyun!” kyungsoo flushes. “appa! what have you done to my baekhyun!”

joonmyun hides his amused smile—because honestly? baekhyun’s got a point! also, his sense of humor is so priceless for a twelve year old!

“umma, calm down. and how is this my fault?” he leans against kyungsoo’s body to ruffle baekhyun’s hair. “so you’re saying you want to have a new dongsaeng? preferably a girl? i’ll work on it.” baekhyun does a fistbump with him while kyungsoo covers his own ears with his hands, shaking his head fervently.

baekhyun leaves again as his umma wails about his career, already picturing how would his baby sister look like if she’s ever going to born.



▲ ▼



chanyeol’s superiority doesn’t last as long as he imagines him to be jongin and sehun’s awesomest hyung (and to slowly convince them that he’s indeed, their hyung, not noona) because suddenly an...oval-shaped ball is crushing his carefully built sandcastle.

he tastes sand on his tongue as he yells to the direction of two boys approaching them,

“YAH!” sehun is pouting, looking upset. jongin remains indifferent, but he lets sehun to hold his hand again.

the two approaching boys are showing their sorry expressions, the taller one has...dark yellow hair like those foreigners on television and chanyeol’s heart is screaming dugeun dugeun as they start to talk in a hushed cing cong cing cong language and then the shorter one with the deepest dimple on his cheek is pushing the taller boy to, uh, what did he say?

“WHAT?!” before chanyeol can’t help himself he’s raising his voice to the taaaaaaall boy. he must be a real foreigner!

chanyeol is yelling in english, by the way. his instinct told him to.

“easy there, missy,” the foreigner smirks and his friend is giggling secretively while waving at jongin and sehun, cooing.

“i said, i’m sorry.” oh, he’s apologizing. good. chanyeol crosses his arms. “now can we please have our football back?” he’s bowing a little bit, holding out his right hand, posing like a man in ancient outfit on television about to ask a woman also in ancient outfit for a dance but instead of smiling charmingly, the foreigner keeps on smirking and chanyeol decides he doesn’t find it convincing.

so he takes the weird, oval ball, smiles to the foreigner and acts as if he’s returning it willingly. when the foreigner reaches for it, chanyeol tosses the weird ball away to the sea.

“hey!” the foreigner glares but chanyeol just fakes a gasp, complete with wonder girls’ sohee ‘omona’ pose. the dimple boy is laughing openly now, patting the foreigner’s shoulder as he goes to fetch the weird ball.

“evil girl,” the foreigner mutters under his breath as he turns to leave, but chanyeol’s pointy ears are sharp so before he can think twice, he throws a handful of sand to the foreigner’s shirtless and freckled back, screaming,

“I’M NOT A GIRL!”

the foreigner clenches his fists and strides menacingly like an angry terminator to chanyeol, and chanyeol whimpers when the termi—foreigner tugs at the end of his bob cut hair, leering,

“are you sure? this is telling me otherwise,” what is he talking about chanyeol’s english is not that—and then the foreigner picks at chanyeol’s pink t-shirt, his eyes are raking down to chanyeol’s very short black shorts.

chanyeol blushes.

“boys don’t wear pink and hotpants to the beach. look at you. you’re too pretty to be a boy,” the foreigner snorts, “do you even understand what i’m saying?”

“kris, 我们去,” the dimple boy is back, smiling genuinely at chanyeol. he says in his accented english, “we’re very sorry. your brothers are so cute. have a nice day!” he drags the foreigner away, but the foreigner walks backward in order to smirk some more at chanyeol, who, to cover his redredred face, does a mehrong.

the foreigner laughs and chanyeol smiles shyly, still staring at where the foreigner boy playing catch with the weird ball until sehun whines loudly that he wants appa.

jongin makes a heart with his tiny fingers, wiggling his eyebrows exactly the way appa does, when chanyeol puts the sand castle building equipments to the transformers’ backpacks. chanyeol is so stunned at how cute jongin acts he violently stretches jongin’s cheeks. sehun wails that chanyeolla-noona can’t hurt jonginnie and chanyeol lets the maknae to call him noona, just this once.



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baekhyun finds a necklace underwater.

the pendant has a somehow familiar symbol. it looks cool with the black chain. baekhyun is aware of the idea of taking what’s not his, but who knows, right? maybe the necklace is meant to be found, maybe someone dropped it a year ago and the necklace has been wandering around the sea for months and maybe it is from japan? or russia? he puts it around his neck and continues diving. he sets his eyes on a ponderous ark just now.

“victory!” he shouts as he emerges, with the small shell on his palm.

he shudders though, as if he’s being watched.

maybe it’s because of his loud celebration that he attracts people so whatever. he walks back to his parents’ spot to have lunch.



▲ ▼



sehun is fed by appa, while jongin eats clumsily on his own. umma is listening to chanyeolla-noona’s blabbering about the handsome yellow haired boy who ruined the sand castle from before, and baekhyunnie-hyung is glancing every now and then to their surrounding, frowning like whenever he reads his thick books.

as appa fills the violet tupperware with more food, sehun hears squealing from the two boys on his not too far left; and he is instantly fascinated with the one who has the chubbiest cheeks ever exists on kim sehun’s five years of living. the cheeks bounce and they’re so round like tennis balls when the boy smiles cutely because his friend just kisses his nose. the chubby boy is so squishy like sehun’s favorite white teddy bear and now sehun is pouting because he misses mister tedted so bad. ugh!

“what is it, sehunnie?” appa offers him to drink, gently cupping sehun’s chin to prevent the mineral water from dripping out of his tiny mouth.

“sehunna wants mister tedted!” sehun flails his arms, actually referring to the chubby boy and not his doll. “appa!” he climbs to appa’s lap, making a fuss.

“umma, is it sehun’s nap time?” appa asks and sehun whines that he doesn’t want to sleep no no no! he wants mister tedted a.k.a that chubby boy!

jongin follows sehun’s not so secretive glance to the chubby boy, his gaze collides with the chubby boy’s friend—who narrows his big doe eyes at him.

“sehunna wants him?” jongin points to the oblivious chubby boy, and after receiving a slight, tearful nod from his little brother he gets up, ignoring umma’s concerned calling and proceeds to walk confidently towards sehun’s new infatuation.

“annyeong,” jongin starts, monotonously, also ignoring the glaring pretty-but-sehun-is-still-prettier boy. he takes the chubby boy’s pudgy hand, “my name is kim jongin. my brother wants you.”

the chubby boy tilts his head, gaping for a second while staring at jongin (whoa, cute, jongin thinks), and then he finally smiles and nods enthusiastically.

“my name is kim minseok!” the chubby boy lets jongin to pull him to his feet. “nice to meet you!”

jongin smiles.

“yah, what are you doing? minseokkie is mine!” minseok’s friend kicks his shin.

jongin shakes his head, shielding minseok away from the pretty boy.

“no. minseok is sehun’s.”

“sehun?! my name is lu han you—” the pretty boy lurches forward, his blunt nails are clawing jongin’s bare arms and chest. jongin soon fights back by hitting lu han’s stomach. minseok yelps, he runs to a snoring glasses hyung who doesn’t budge even as minseok repeatedly shakes the hyung’s body to wake up to help help help!

jongin growls, umma’s faint yelling is not stopping him from squeezing and grabbing every inch of lu han’s skin. lu han himself, despite being pretty, packs a good aim with his fists.

“that’s enough,” it’s appa. he easily parts them by their skinny armpits, shaking his head disappointedly at jongin as he kneels in front of him and then smiles handsomely to lu han and minseok. he gently wipes the tears off of minseok’s pinkish face.

“what’s going on here?” he asks jongin, rubbing comforting circles on jongin’s left wrist. jongin shrugs, because there’s a lump on his throat; he fails to get what sehun wants.

lu han is helping, more or less, by telling appa, “he wants to take minseok away from me, ahjusshi!” complete with an accusing finger. jongin’s face twitches.

“why would you do tha—”

“ahjusshi, jongin wanna play with minseok,” minseok sniffs from behind lu han, and lu han gasps in disbelief. appa chuckles and pinches minseok’s chin.

“is that so, minseok-ah?” minseok bites his bottom lip, smiling shyly.

“and what’s your name, fighter?” appa asks lu han, patting lu han’s butt. lu han answers appa with a grumble. “lu han? that’s a very cool name!” appa smiles. “now, lu han-ah, jongin is going to apologize, but you have to apologize to him, too. he just wants to play with minseok. it’s more fun to have a lot of friends, right? please don’t fight again.” appa does his weird aegyo he often does to umma whenever umma is mad at him. apparently it works for lu han, too, because lu han is grinning so wide and poking appa’s dimple.

“don’t touch my appa,” jongin shoves lu han’s hand off of appa’s face. lu han hisses. appa scolds him for doing so.

jongin doesn’t understand.



▲ ▼



done playing with minseok’s cheeks and taking selcas with lu han using umma’s phone, baekhyun is off again to explore.

about five minutes later, chanyeol is following him.

“what?” baekhyun lazily asks his brother.

“what?” chanyeol parrots him. but at baekhyun’s glare chanyeol pouts and waves the ten thousand won’s bill on his hand.

“umma said to buy ice creams.”

oh.

“let’s go then,” baekhyun takes away the money because he’s more responsible than ten year old chanyeol. they walk side by side in silence, that is, until chanyeol clutches his arm tightly and giggles/gasps/fanboying over a tall foreigner boy queueing at the ice cream stall.

baekhyun grins, “do you like him?”

“what? no!” chanyeol’s eyes are twinkling. “he’s so rude, remember? he thought i’m a girl!”

“you like him rude,” baekhyun comments, “what’s his name?”

“how should i know!”

“well ask him.”

“no way!”

“fine,” baekhyun wrenches his arm off of chanyeol’s clutch, and races him to queue behind the foreigner. he taps the foreigner’s shoulder, interrupting the tall boy’s conversation with a dimple boy and...a scary looking, black haired boy.

chanyeol hides behind baekhyun. but it’s no use, since they’re the same height despite that baekhyun is older by two years.

“isn’t it evil girl,” the foreigner smirks, then he notices baekhyun. “oh. your boyfriend?”

baekhyun sighs. they’re so in love with each other.

“no, dude. i’m his brother. my name is kim baekhyun, this is chanyeol,” baekhyun’s grin gets wider at the way the foreigner furrows his bushy eyebrows, like maybe he’s reciting chanyeol’s name in his mind.

“aaaaand he’s a boy. trust me.”

the foreigner laughs, the dimple boy is high five-ing him.

“nice to meet you, bacon, i’m kris. this is my cousin yixing and zi—” kris pauses as zi-who whispers something at him, his dark eyes are focusing on baekhyun’s neck.

baekhyun shudders.

“may i?” kris doesn’t wait for baekhyun’s permission and chanyeol yelps at the size of kris’ hand gently untucking the necklace from baekhyun’s red dragon’s t-shirt.

the three boys are conversing in chinese and everything clicks.

“i’m sorry, is this yours?” baekhyun takes off the necklace and smiles to zi-who. “found it under the sea. here, it’s a taurus sign, right?”

kris takes it and says that zitao doesn’t really speak english. he helps zitao to wear the necklace again.

“thanks,” he holds up his fist and baekhyun bumps it with his. then, as yixing flirts with the ice cream man to order, kris taunts chanyeol some more about his hair and his face, and baekhyun stealthily stepping aside to give his brother a privacy of first love.

zitao is suddenly standing next to him, giving him the creep.

“s-sorry,” zitao stutters in english. he looks like a lost puppy. baekhyun smiles at him and pats his hand to reassure that it’s perfectly fine to—

“eh,” baekhyun blinks when zitao opens his palm and presenting the necklace to him. when did he take it off? “for me?”

“yes,” aw!

“thanks a lot,” baekhyun wears it again then, patting the pendant on his chest. “i’m a taurus, too.”

zitao is just like an open book. he giggles shyly and covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

yixing makes a kissy face to the flustered ice cream man, nudging zitao to take his strawberry cone and smiles at baekhyun before he goes to kris and chanyeol; who are now...thisclose to...kiss?

by the way, chanyeol is supposed to help him bringing the ice creams back.

“yah! chanyeol-ah!” baekhyun screams with his pre-pubescent voice. “i only have two hands!” he ignores his flailing brother to greet the still flustered ice cream man.

“annyeonghaseyo, hyung,” well, he looks young, maybe a part timer. “two vanillas, three chocolates, one vanilla chocolate chip, one vanilla soda, and one mocca.”

the ice cream man answers with a high pitched tone, “w-wait, can you repeat it? wait. here, let me write it down. oh my god that kid is a criminal.”

baekhyun laughs. “i think he’s chinese? what did he say to you...” he squints to read the nametag, “jongdae-hyung?”

jongdae-hyung takes a piece of paper and a pen, sniffing.

“i dunno. some cheap english pick up lines from movies. does it hurt? when you fell from heav—wait! why am i telling you this?!”

“eyyy hyung. don’t you know kids are growing up much faster these days?” baekhyun snorts as he writes the order. when jongdae-hyung prepares the ice creams, baekhyun finds chanyeol is apparently busy chasing after kris, shouting about his hair; with yixing holding two cones now, also watching in amusement.

kris is handsome, alright, but he’s kinda lame, in baekhyun's totally humble opinion; like, classic move, huh? planting sticky ice cream to your love interest’s hair?

“jongdae-hyung, here’s the money. i’ll take the ready ones to my parents then i’ll come back. my brother's got a crush and he's being useless.” jongdae-hyung nods, grimacing at baekhyun’s unfortunate state, and handing the three chocolate cones.

baekhyun jumps because zitao is still standing quietly next to him.

“zitao h-help?” zitao smiles, and why even baekhyun thought zitao is scary? he’s sooooooooooooo adorable!

“you’re the best!” baekhyun urges jongdae-hyung to hurry up.



▲ ▼



sehun wants to bite minseokkie’s cheeks.

but. lu han.

“kkamjong-ah,” sehun whines, shaking his twin brother’s body. jongin has been lying down for a while now, ignoring everyone else ever since lu han and minseok join their family.

“kkamjong-ah, hu hu hu~” sehun doesn’t like it when jongin doesn’t pay attention to him so he pretends to cry. it works like a charm, like usual, because jongin is instantly apologizing.

“kkamjong-ah, lu han is scary!” he whispers, still rubbing his tearless eyes for a show. “sehunna wants to play with minseokkie hu hu hu~” he’s not exaggerating! because lu han is monopolizing cute minseok and appa and umma are too absorbed on coddling over their new friends.

jongin crosses his arms.

sehun pouts because usually jongin will take immediate action.

“kkamjong-ah dun love sehunna anymore?” now that thought is way scarier than lu han’s perfectly hidden snarl earlier.

jongin stays silent and he stares at appa playing rock-paper-scissor-ttakbam with lu han instead.

“kkamjo—”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” jongin roars. sehun flinches, drops his vanilla chocolate chip ice cream, and then he sobs pitifully, calling for appa.

“kim jongin!” umma puts minseok off of his lap to hug sehun. “why did you yell to your brother?!”

jongin looks away. he didn’t mean to make sehun cry.

“kim jongin answer your umma,” appa says with his scary voice just like whenever chanyeol-noona is being uncontrollable, but he still has lu han on his arms.

“kim jongin.”

jongin doesn’t respond.

sehun cries harder.



▲ ▼



“isn’t that your brother?”

chanyeol turns his head to look at where kris is pointing at.

and kris kisses his cheek. his tall nose (everything about him is either tall or gigantic) collides heavily with chanyeol’s soft skin. it hurts.

“yah!” chanyeol’s whole face burns, but then he smiles giddily when kris squeezes their hands.

“that looks serious,” kris comments, looking at appa holding jongin on his arms, seemingly trying his best to coax jongin to talk to him.

chanyeol nods mutely, his chest feels heavy at the sight. appa is tired, he knows from appa’s carefully concealed heave of sigh because he’s the one, most of the time, being in jongin’s position. but jongin is different. he’s not ‘kim chanyeol’.

he’s not loud.

jongin looks angry. that’s for sure. whenever his lips are formed in a thin line and his thumbs are rubbing against his index fingers, that means jongin is angry.

with himself.

“hey,” kris flicks his forehead, “you wanna go?”

“ah...” chanyeol smiles despite his conflicted mind; he wants to go to appa and help him, but he still wants to play with kris, especially after knowing that kris is from canada and only visits south korea because his uncle and aunt from china (yixing’s parents) are taking him here on a holiday. tonight kris will fly back to china, and suddenly chanyeol wants to cry.

he likes kris very much.

“why are you crying?” kris laughs heartlessly at chanyeol’s watering eyes. “you’re such a girl.”

“pabo,” chanyeol wrenches off their clasped hands and hastily wipes at his face while walking away. kris calls his name, but chanyeol runs to appa’s direction, doesn’t look back.

later, he will regret it.



▲ ▼



baekhyun learns that zitao is ten years old, and kris and yixing are twelve. kris who lives in canada is on a summer break, so he visits yixing and zitao in china, and yixing’s parents are taking the cousins to south korea for a holiday.

with difficulties, he manages to ask when will zitao fly back to china, and zitao writes on the sand 19:10 pm.

“today?! do you have an email?” baekhyun’s gut is telling him not to lose a precious friend.

zitao tilts his head.

“i have an idea,” baekhyun tells zitao to wait on their special spot while he runs back to his backpack (he brought his notebook and pencil case), noticing that appa, jongin, lu han, and minseok are missing.

“umma,” baekhyun also grabs one of his small and full with seashells jars. “umma, where are appa and jongin?” umma has his trendy sunglasses perched on his nose, and sehun is sleeping on his lap.

“what?” umma’s chin is quivering, and his voice breaks.

baekhyun drops his backpack and immediately takes umma’s hands.

“umma, what’s going on?” umma shakes his head, sniffing.

“are you sure?” baekhyun moves his hands to touch umma’s cheeks. “do you need anything?”

“i’ll be okay, baekhyun-ah,” kyungsoo strokes baekhyun’s left wrist. “but come back here soon if you’ve done playing, hmmm?”

baekhyun lightly clicks his tongue. zitao is waiting. he’s leaving. but. umma.

“go,” umma pats his back. “i’m fine.”

baekhyun reluctantly nods, from the corner of his eyes he sees chanyeol is talking with appa and jongin. he gives umma a bear hug, and he runs back just in time as kris and yixing are helping zitao to stand up.

“zitao! wait!” baekhyun speeds up his legs. “i have something for you!”

the three cousins are frowning. right. english.

“wait,” baekhyun smiles as zitao smiles. he never likes running. he prefers badminton or table tennis. ugh. “wait, here,” he's heaving because of his poor, unfit lungs. he likes reading and browsing the internet the best.

“please keep it, zitao-yah, a friendship token from me.”

zitao gasps cutely, asking kris and yixing if he can really take baekhyun’s seashells jar using the chinese language. kris nods briefly while yixing wiggles his eyebrows, signaling something that might be the exact opposite of innocence.

“gege!” zitao pounces on baekhyun, and his skin is warm and when he kisses baekhyun’s left cheek his eyes are sparkling like the sea and baekhyun thinks zitao is the most beautiful person on earth, like, taeyeon-songsaenim who?

“wait!” baekhyun wakes up from his reverie, hurriedly writing his home address and rips off the paper from his notebook, telling zitao to send him a letter. and to kris and yixing to help zitao to create an email account. yixing easily agrees and then he’s narrowing his eyes, glancing to the ice cream stall a couple of feet away, while kris asks if he can email baekhyun.

“what why?” baekhyun asks back as he writes down his email. “i can teach chanyeol to make one for himself, you know?”

kris just smirks and says that he will explain it later via email. he holds up his fist for the last time and baekhyun shrugs, colliding his fist against kris’, and zitao hugs him again. baekhyun pinches zitao’s cheeks and he bids goodbye at yixing, who doesn’t even bother to look at him; too busy admiring jongdae-hyung the ice cream man from afar.



▲ ▼



joonmyun, sometimes, declares himself as the best dad in the world.

he doesn’t have a favorite, it’s bad for his children’s mentality while growing up, but he’s willing to admit that jongin is the most difficult of them all.

“jongin is not going to tell appa anything?” he pokes jongin’s tummy. jongin is ticklish. “hmmm?” he nuzzles jongin’s ear but jongin just keeps on building a sandy pyramid.

joonmyun reads it on one of kyungsoo’s parenting 101 books, that you never never never sighs in front of your children because that action makes a bad impression in your children’s mind; it will make your children to think that they’re a disappointment.

right now, joonmyun fights not to, and wonders if jongin even realizes that he does.

he takes a deep breath, swallows, and steals a quick refugee at where his family is gathering, baekhyun and chanyeol are on kyungsoo’s sides, probably telling jokes, and any minute now sehun should be awakened by his hyungs’ antics.

kyungsoo looks up after he giggles to whatever that chanyeol is sprouting about, and their eyes meet.

joonmyun offers a smile, kyungsoo smiles too, and soon his children are smiling at him. a burst of happiness is flooding joonmyun’s system, and he lifts jongin’s chin and says,

“jongin-ah, look,” he lets his family to see that he uses jongin’s arms to make a heart, like a puppet master. jongin grins timidly at his family’s encouraging reaction, and he finally stands up and blows kisses to each of his hyungs. especially to his worrying umma.

it’s a progress.

but then, suddenly, a flash of something akin to fear is reflected on jongin’s eyes, just before he steps on joonmyun’s lap and hugs him tight; clawing his tiny fingers to joonmyun’s bare skin.

“jongin-ah?” joonmyun pulls at jongin’s waist but jongin won’t budge. “hey, it’s okay, don’t be scared.” because clearly, jongin finds something is so frightening at two in the afternoon.

“jongin-ah?”

“ahjusshi!” that’s a mix of lu han and minseok’s voice. they’ve changed their clothes and a teenage boy wearing thick glasses is trailing behind them, with a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“ahjusshi!” lu han smiles brightly, holding minseok’s pudgy hand like always. they’re just so cute together!

“ahjusshi we’re going home,” lu han leans to kiss joonmyun on the cheek which jongin doesn’t occupy, while minseok kisses him square on the lips.

joonmyun laughs at how lu han stomps his foot at his best friend's action.

“whyyyyy?” joonmyun speaks with his aegyo, ruffling lu han’s hair. “it was nice playing with you two! see you again, okay? who’s that hyung?”

“annyeonghaseyo, ahjusshi,” the glasses boy bows at him, “i’m their, uh, friend? i just got my first paycheck so i took them here. thank you for playing with them. i was dead tired.”

“well, work harder, young man!” joonmyun likes the boy’s awkward charm. “oh, jongin-ah, say goodbye to lu han and minseok.”

jongin practically chokes joonmyun by now.

lu han and minseok exchange a glance.

joonmyun smiles nervously at the two kids just as minseok walks to face jongin, and a second later joonmyun hears a smooching sound.

jongin slumps to joonmyun’s lap, holding his left cheek, blushing, and his eyes are so wide. oh how joonmyun wishes he has his phone with him!

“jonginnie bai bai!” minseok pats jongin’s hair and giggles on his way to hold lu han’s hand again. lu han, looking apologetic himself, takes out a bag of melon flavored marshmallow from his donald duck’s shorts and gives it to jongin. joonmyun encourages jongin to take the gift, but jongin shakes his head and lu han pouts slightly.

“okay thank you lu han-ah,” joonmyun decides to speak in behalf of jongin as he takes the gift. he’s got a hunch of what’s been happening. “go say goodbye to sehunnie over there?”

lu han and minseok nod and leave, with the glasses boy obediently following them.



▲ ▼



“umma, i think i need to spend more time with jongin,” joonmyun says as kyungsoo is tucked safely next to him on their king sized bed. “he was jealous with lu han.”

kyungsoo doesn’t answer for a moment, and when he does, he voices it out carefully, “took you long enough.”

“i know, right?” joonmyun strokes kyungsoo’s left hip. he continues with a secretive tone, “was i too affectionate with that pretty kid?”

“you acted like you were in love with him,” kyungsoo pinches joonmyun’s nose. “thank god i’m not five.”

“oh you,” joonmyun presses a quick kiss to kyungsoo’s minty lips, wriggling his eyebrows when they pull apart. “sooooooo today was fun! heard chanyeol met his first love.”

kyungsoo laughs out loud at that and then he covers his mouth, embarrassed by his own cuteness. “chanyeol is heartbroken! the foreigner boy made him cry. our chanyeol cried, yeobo, can you believe that?!”

ah. everything clicks.

“is that why his eyes were red when he asked if i needed a help?” joonmyun chuckles, knowing too well that chanyeol is the sweetest ten year old ever exists. “while he was having a heartbreak? i must be a saint on my previous life...”

kyungsoo fakes a scoff, but nodding his agreement nonetheless. chanyeol is never a selfish kid.

“we still need to learn a lot,” kyungsoo pushes joonmyun to lie on his back, and he shifts to rest his head on joonmyun’s firm chest. joonmyun inhales his wife’s coconut shampooed hair. it’s calming him.

“yeobo?” kyungsoo whispers, tracing patterns on joonmyun’s battered white t-shirt.

“yes?”

“should we give it a try?”

“hm?”

“a-about baekhyun’s idea earlier?”

joonmyun frowns to the ceiling. he crosses his arms behind his head.

“sorry, what?”

“nevermind. what do you want for breakfast?”

“you,” joonmyun is in the mood of being greasy tonight. it’s late, but whatever. teasing kyungsoo is one of his very powerful antidotes anyway. he waits for a very kim kyungsoo flustered retort.

he gets none.

“umma?”

kyungsoo bites the center of his chest, hard, and plasters his whole body on top of joonmyun, mumbling something about joonmyun and insensitive and bastard and then nothing. joonmyun shrugs and hugs kyungsoo so his wife won’t fall, and closes his eyes.

what a day, indeed.



t h e e n d (?)



































<< master.list >> tumb.lr >> if you want to talk without having to come back to my fics >>

---

possible sequel possible prequel. nods.
appa suho likes my awkward charm hehe.

“you’re just as frustrated as woogyu shippers,” woohyun smiles against sunggyu’s nape, taking his time to inhale his boyfriend’s sweat and vanilla scented skin.

sunggyu moans. he’s that desperate.

woohyun chuckles, rubbing his crotch against the swell of sunggyu’s bare ass.

“how are you holding up?” he resumes his casual talk as his hands finally slip into sunggyu’s thin t-shirt, palming the dampened skin with his hot palms. “does it hurt?”

“i’m numb in weird places,” sunggyu bites his bottom lip, his elbows are hurting because of woohyun’s weight on his back. but he doesn’t want to press his cheek to the toilet cubicle’s wall of kbs building. it’s cold. and he will probably ruin his makeup.

sunggyu’s whole body shudders when a second later woohyun’s thumbs are grazing his hardened nipples.

“oh god, take it off,” he automatically sobs. woohyun adds more pressure.

“but we only have...” and woohyun actually sounds sad. he trails off on purpose, hooking his chin on sunggyu’s left shoulder and now his skillful hands are massaging sunggyu’s trembling thighs, rocking their lower bodies. sunggyu’s belt is clinking on the floor.

“...hmmm...fifteen minutes?” woohyun traces a finger on sunggyu’s ass crack and sunggyu hates himself for proposing the idea to break ‘woogyu moments’ for indefinite time until they’re back promoting a new album.

because woohyun only agrees if sunggyu is willing to put in a prostrate stimulator whenever they have a schedule together, which is quite rare nowadays so sunggyu easily says yes and look at him now.

“what is it, sunggyu-hyung?” woohyun especially presses the juts of his hipbones, knowing they’re sunggyu’s most sensitive spot.

sunggyu squirts precum as an answer.

“i mean, you know i’ll definitely last longer than fifteen minutes,” woohyun fakes a sigh. “fourteen now. think you can wait until we get back home?”

“i can’t,” sunggyu wheezes. “the other members—wait,” he sniffs and he scowls, “i didn’t ask you to fuck me, god, just take it off!”

“ah, my poor heart,” woohyun bites the juncture of sunggyu’s neck and shoulder, earning another moan.

“woohyun-ah!” sunggyu wails as woohyun stealthily clicks the button to activate the stimulator’s vibration. now even the slightest squirm will cause the arrow-like head to stroke his prostrate dead on. the familiar boiling on the pit of his stomach is increasing and woohyun patiently kneading his stomach is not helping at all.

“i should take a picture,” woohyun comments as he spreads sunggyu’s ass cheeks, “the combination of your sweating pale skin and the t-shirt’s color is just...” sunggyu closes his eyes, feeling the flush of embarrassment and lust taints his face. “your cute pinkish hole, too, hyung, you should see it for yourself—”

“idiot—!”

“—you look so, so, so beautiful.”

“ah,” sunggyu arches his spine and his toes curl as he shoots his load messily to his t-shirt and stomach and to the wall. his hips stutter for some more and he shouts when woohyun pulls the toy off of his hole, the warmed up lube is squelching out as his muscles clench around nothing.

“you know what i’m going to film you next time,” woohyun throws the toy to a tiny box full with white hearts and teddy bears. “do you know your curve is my second biggest turn on?” he kisses sunggyu’s left ear. “i nearly came when you arched your back like that, hyung, goddamn,” he’s grinning when he turns sunggyu over to face him.

“idiot,” sunggyu gulps, letting woohyun to make him lean to his firmer chest. “that better be a compliment.”

woohyun smirks and raises a challenging eyebrow.

“now would you help me? please do wonder with your mouth, sunggyu-hyung,” he glances to his obvious erection. thankfully, sunggyu is too worn out to protest. but he’s so going to mock woohyun though. what time is it now; only ten minutes left, huh, whatever happened to his please-i-don’t-orgasm-in-less-than-fifteen?

sunggyu doesn’t even whine for once, when woohyun slyly pushes his to his knees. he volunteers to unbuckle woohyun’s belt and, equally slyly, grants the bulge a long and wet lick while looking straight to woohyun’s grinning stupid greasy face.

“come on hyung,” woohyun grabs the back of sunggyu’s hair, “we don’t have much time.”

indeed.



t h e e n d






























<< master.list >> tumb.lr >> if you want to talk without having to come back to my fics >>

---

orgasm on national television, sunggyu style;
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from bro yesunggyu's post.

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“hey, congratulations on graduating, jongin-ah,” chanyeol-hyung says with a grin, as they meet on their way to go out. he’s dressed nicely with a plain white t-shirt and tight maroon pants. jongin nods back, and chanyeol-hyung holds up his thumb.

jongin watches as chanyeol-hyung’s longlonglong legs are walking in front of him, how the material accentuates chanyeol-hyung’s honey thighs, and he licks his lips when chanyeol-hyung flicks his brunette hair off of his face.

they arrive at the bus station, jongin sits at the other corner and he counts to thirty until chanyeol-hyung asks,

“so where are you going?”

“now? or?”

chanyeol-hyung blinks repeatedly, cutely, and then he laughs.

“well, okay. both?” he asks again.

“myeongdong. and i’m going to your school,” and it’s time to move his face muscles to appear like smiling.

“really?” chanyeol-hyung’s eyes widen. “that’s great! i’ll take good care of you, don’t worry!”





a couple of years ago, his family moved next to the park’s, and chanyeol-hyung could’ve been his best friend forever except that he didn’t pass the childish requirements of how should a cool big brother act, according to kim jongin, age nine.

now that he’s sixteen, the sad fact could’ve been pushed off to the side as jongin’s biggest failure because he can only appreciate chanyeol-hyung’s beauty from afar.

and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to be beautiful.

he watches as chanyeol-hyung’s rather small, but long column of neck is contracting when he laughs over his classmate’s joke. he watches when chanyeol-hyung clumsily dribbles the basketball and passes it to his teammate and how he heaves at the sideline after the game only rolls for a solid ten minutes. he watches until his math teacher calls his name and the whole class is looking at him; kim jongin, the dance prodigy who is mostly silent and simply unapproachable.

“i’m sorry, songsaenim,” he says for formality. his math grade is alright, so that old teacher doesn’t really need to scold him.

when he turns his head back to the field, chanyeol-hyung’s gym class is already dismissed.





chanyeol-hyung likes to keep his sky blue curtain open and jongin has been watching the older boy laughing when he reads manhwas, tugs his hair at his frustrating homework, but never a crying park chanyeol. of course jongin is curious. the closest of him to witness a sadness reflected on chanyeol-hyung’s big brown eyes was, past tense, the days, plural, he stayed silent at chanyeol-hyung’s kind questionings and advances in hope of them to become unrelated-by-blood-brothers because jongin had (has) two giggly noonas.

it doesn’t matter. because whenever chanyeol-hyung’s head is lolling to the sides, left to right ups and downs, as sleep overtakes his hyperactive system; that moment looks so vulnerable, so natural, so perfect and it never lasts forever because chanyeol-hyung has to get up from his bed and finally closes the curtain.

that’s jongin most favorite sight, by the way.





today, chanyeol-hyung wears his favorite, faded, green snoopy t-shirt to sleep. he’s rubbing his eyes as jongin sits up straighter on his own bed in his own room, hugging his pillow, and the baggy t-shirt is dropping on chanyeol-hyung’s left shoulder, showing more skin covering his thin bone.

jongin sighs dreamily.

sometimes, he often wonders what it feels like waking up to chanyeol-hyung’s perfect face—friends do sleepover, right—but it will only lead him to the what ifs; what if he had accepted chanyeol-hyung’s friendship offer what if they were just normal neighbors hanging out what if chanyeol-hyung was still the ever so persistent eleven year old what if his nine year old self wasn’t being difficult back then.

that’d be too much to ask. the last what if, that is. he understands he can’t have everything he wants. he’s been doing good not owning chanyeol-hyung for seven whole years, besides, chanyeol-hyung never dates anyone. he politely rejects every single love confessions he’s had for ever since puberty does wonder to him, so why the melancholy now?





chanyeol-hyung yawns to his fist as he wakes up from his long slumber. “have we arrived?” he sniffs, looking around groggily.

jongin clears his throat, “hyung, it’s quarter to nine.”

“hm,” chanyeol-hyung is searching his backpack, probably for his bus e-card. then, he blinks, pauses, and gapes before he practically squeaks in such unmanly way that the whole bus falls silent and glances suspiciously at them.

“oh my god?!” chanyeol-hyung is laughing. a cool big brother isn’t supposed to lose his composure in public. but.

“oh my god! so—so we’re—where are we?!” chanyeol-hyung fans his face using his left hand.

the corner of jongin’s lips twitch to fight back a smile, “somewhere in hongdae.” and at chanyeol-hyung’s frantic giggle he decides to hell with it.

“hyung, i’m hungry,” he says, because it’s not everyday he braves himself to take a seat next to chanyeol-hyung on their way to school, and the look on chanyeol-hyung was so fucking flattering; his big brown eyes were, jongin solemnly swears, twinkling.

why is it again he never bothers to try, before?

“right!” chanyeol-hyung switches to a serious mode in a flash, but still he looks so comical and pretty up close like this. “right right right let me think first,” he puts a finger on his temple, closing his eyes.

jongin shamelessly stares.





they don’t go all special buddy-ish after their impromptu escapade, no, but he has chanyeol-hyung’s number on his phone now. the night after, chanyeol-hyung sends a simple text consisting this funny emoticon; (｡◕‿◕✿ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ'✿ ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ and a cool big brother isn’t supposed to decorate a text with—but jongin replies it with a good night, hyung anyway.

life’s good.



to be c o n t i n u e d

















“that’s your childhood friend, right? that freshman,” baekhyun points out to jongin, who only wears his undershirt, playing basketball on lunchtime with his classmates. a couple group of girls are cheering for them.

“yeah,” chanyeol nods, slurps his banana milk as he watches jongin’s tanned skin glimmer with sweats. “what’s up?”

“nothing,” baekhyun shrugs, “just realized that i never really see you guys interacting? you used to blabber about him when we were in elementary.”

i don’t even have his number, baek. you do the math.

chanyeol grins but he doesn’t answer. he deceives his same age best friend’s attention with a bar of snickers instead.

to be honest, chanyeol has been wondering too, for the past years—as he slowly understands that maybe, just maybe, jongin hates him—what had he done wrong. all he wanted (wants) was (is) to have a familiar face that he can see everyday and close enough for him to pet to hug to spoil. his noona is still too busy with her life and he’s so done being the baby of the family.

and jongin lives just next door. he’s the perfect candidate to be park chanyeol’s unrelated-by-blood-dongsaeng.

not.

because jongin never appeared to be enthusiastic of him coming over, the younger boy looked bored all the time and preferred to watch soccer over spongebob squarepants; playing basketball over sharing interesting stories, taking a nap over painting...

the funny thing is, their ummas are sort-of-best-friend. they tell each other about their only sons, and jongin is always accepted at the school chanyeol goes to, although they don’t even make small talks every morning when they take the bus or at the end of the day when they usually meet again at the bus shelter.

because chanyeol stopped trying, no matter how much it pained his hyung instinct to watch jongin grow up still with the same stoic expression everyday. being thisclose yet so far.

well at least, there’s a positive side of it all! jongin seems to be cold to everyone else, too. okay, that sounds cruel but still! it’s a maybe, remember? maybe jongin doesn’t hate him. maybe he does. who knows?

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---

jongin might be a stalker.

open ending.
the chanyeol part is like, flashback-ish.



edited:
will write/finish the sequel soon featuring kris and sehun.
oh that rhymes?

jongin damn nearly screams his lungs out as he watches chanyeol-hyung blushes furiously after the gigantic, black haired, fancy car driver guy kisses his plump lips and proceeds to stroke his hip like—

this is not happening. not now when jongin is finally making peace with his stupid nine year old self and trying to indulge the luxury that is having an older brother; a particular park chanyeol that is supposed to have undivided attention only for him.





the name is wu yifan, a canadian-chinese exchange student from canada, currently enrolled in seoul national university majoring in asia studies.

also, “he’s my boyfriend!” chanyeol-hyung shyly concludes the information as they ride the bus back from school.

jongin wants to die.





according to his umma, he finds out that chanyeol-hyung is aiming to get a scholarship to canada and she thinks it’s time for jongin to join an english course to sharpen his english and maybe to follow chanyeol-hyung’s excellent step.

jongin easily agrees.

he gets into the same english course where chanyeol-hyung goes every weekend. because chanyeol-hyung is a senior and therefore he has cram school on weekdays, jongin uses his leisure time as an idle freshman to watch how chanyeol-hyung clings to wu yifan as they go on a date to the cinema, to a fancy cafe full with foreigners and expensive foods, to a cinema again, and when jongin is thisclose to hurt wu yifan’s handsome face a pair of skinny hands are holding onto his trembling ones from behind.

“don’t,” a tiny voice says.

jongin is never good with words. his emotion doesn’t show that much. he shoves the intruder off of his body and meets a pale boy; short, wearing jongin’s middle school uniform, and the first thing jongin notices is how the puckering lips are pinker than any girls’.

jongin walks away to the opposite side when the boy doesn’t elaborate. chanyeol-hyung and wu yifan are hugging now.

“which one?” the same tiny voice asks. “jongin-hyung, which one.”

jongin halts. what the actual fuck.

“it’s the girly looking one, right?” he’s lisping. “because no way you would go for yifan-ge.”

what the actual fucking fuck.

“i mean, i’ve been suspicious that yifan-ge is finally seeing someone. he sure smiles a lot like a fool in love. he’s so popular, you know? i just didn’t know that he swings both ways. well, that boy is pretty, i guess. hyung, do you like him?”

jongin’s answer is, “who the fuck are you.”

“annyeonghaseyo, oh sehun imnida,” the boy bows, not even looking hurt the slightest by jongin’s harsh words. “i’m your hobae. see?” he fucking twirls for jongin in that white shirt and dark blue slacks.

jongin remains indifferent.

oh sehun pouts.

“i’m actually your fan. and you have to do what i want or i will tell the lovebirds that you’ve been stalking them,” he smiles cheekily. he has a pretty eyesmile and he holds up his phone for jongin to see.

see what?

“what—”

“nope, don’t speak. i have evidences, okay, i’ve been videotaping you for a couple of weeks. yifan-ge lives with me because my hyung lives with his family in canada. you know, due to the exchange program.”

of course.





“hey, jongin-ah,” it’s a miracle. wu yifan is not picking up chanyeol-hyung for once.

was he being sarcastic?

jongin shrugs as a greeting, eyeing the quite packed bus shelter. it’s raining. chanyeol-hyung gets up from his seat to stand next to jongin.

“how is it going?” they’ve only run to each other twice at the english course building. chanyeol-hyung had treated him jjangmyun on their first meeting, and texted him later that night that he promised he will treat jongin again and again and again.

“it’s alright,” jongin frowns when their clothed arms brush.

chanyeol-hyung grins, “where’s your little boyfriend though?” jongin’s frown deepens. “awww, that short pale boy? isn’t he yours? he seems pretty sweet.”

right. sehun makes a habit to sweetly cling to jongin every single day; be it via his constant texts or ‘visiting’ jongin on the english course place. fortunately, today sehun has to accompany his umma to go shopping and he’s been whining every half an hour or so sending jongin his—fine—cute selcas and the photos of foods he eats and a very cool the joker t-shirt that i think will suit you, jonginnie-hyung!!! >__<

“he’s not mine,” jongin almost sneers. but sehun said he looks ugly when he does. he doesn’t want chanyeol-hyung to see it. so he tries to calm down. “he’s just a friend.”

“oh really? my bad,” chanyeol-hyung wriggles his eyebrows, “he’s kinda pretty~”

jongin also almost laughs out loud at that remark.

“what’s so funny?” chanyeol-hyung tilts his head with in his cute very-chanyeol-way, nudges jongin’s side with his elbow, and jongin is sure there’s something missing from the whole picture.





“jonginnie-hyung!” sehun throws himself to jongin’s chest on monday. “i’ve got you a present!” he’s attracting attention. jongin drags him to start walking to the bus shelter.

“wait, it won’t be special if i just give it to you like this,” sehun whines. “hyung, treat me bubble tea. you will like what i’m going to give you. i swear. come on, hyung.”

they take the farthest table on the small but popular bubble tea cafe, and sehun is bouncing on his seat, his cheeks are flushing an interesting shade of pink.

“what,” jongin opts to at least entertain sehun by asking.

“jjang!” sehun fishes out two pair of the joker t-shirts from his backpack. “i got us matching t-shirts! tell me you like it, jonginnie-hyung!”

“yeah,” it’s true, the t-shirt is is so cool. even better than in the jpeg format. “thanks, sehun-ah.”

and then sehun is making that face which never fails to reduce jongin’s prideful self to have an uncharacteristically fastfastfaster beating heart as he sees some kind of white light radiates from—no, all over sehun, and when sehun looks up and meets his eyes, jongin forgets to breathe.





it’s weird.

sehun doesn’t tilt his head the way chanyeol-hyung cutely does. sehun’s lips are way pinker than chanyeol-hyung’s already girly lips. usually, jongin has to look up to talk to chanyeol-hyung, but with sehun, he’s the one looking down. instead of laughing out loud like chanyeol-hyung, sehun giggles. and it’s jongin who gets to be called ‘hyung’ by sehun. whatever that is chanyeol-hyung, sehun is not.

yet, the blinding white light is still there even after jongin neglects the younger boy for almost two weeks.

sehun is noticeably calmer. he doesn’t cling to jongin’s arm when they cross the red light. he had refused jongin’s offer to pay for his bubble tea, but jongin paid anyway because that’s the right thing a hyung like him should do. sehun asks boring things like homework and doesn’t blabber about his fourteen days without jonginnie-hyung in his life.

it’s so fucking weird.

“um, thanks for walking me,” sehun pouts to his gloved hands. “hyung doesn’t have to wait for my bus to come! if your bus comes first, you can go home!”

jongin frowns.

“why?” he asks before he can help himself. it’s not a big deal to let his bus pass just so he can accompany sehun at the bus shelter. besides, it’s quite late already. jongin has to take responsibility.

sehun sniffs, crosses his arms, and looks away.

jongin scoots closer to him, but sehun hops to stand up. jongin doesn’t understand.

“hey, what’s wrong,” jongin pulls at the krong keychain hanging on sehun’s backpack (sehun pleaded to buy it for him), but sehun doesn’t budge.

wow okay this is not good.

“sehun-ah, did i do something?” jongin moves to stand up too, just as sehun’s bus comes. then, sehun pushes at jongin’s chest before he boards the bus, and jongin doesn’t need to think twice before he too steps inside the warm bus.

sehun bursts into tears when jongin sits next to him.





they end up on the swings near sehun’s home; jongin sacrifices the sleeves of his yellow blazer to clean the remaining snow and his backpack for sehun to sit on. sehun’s eyes and nose are red, but the blinding white light surrounding his hunched body never fades.

words are not jongin’s plus point. silently, he pushes at sehun’s swing, and for a while, there’s only creaking chains to fill the awkwardness.

“umma’s been calling nonstop,” sehun turns his head to look up at jongin. jongin offers a smile. “jonginnie-hyung, i’m sorry.”

jongin wants to ask why but he decides to say, “it’s alright.”

“really?” sehun uses his feet to stop the swing. “but—but you didn’t want to meet me for two weeks!”

jongin doesn’t want sehun to cry again, so he does what people on television and movies do; he envelops sehun in an embrace. of course it’s weird how sehun’s body fits perfectly on his, but jongin learns that everything about sehun is weird beyond belief anyway he just needs to learn some more to live with it.

“do you want to sleepover?” sehun mumbles. “i can ask appa to pump an air mattress for you.”

“okay,” jongin pats sehun’s cold cheeks. “next time, do you want to sleepover in my house? i’ll have my noonas to buy you everything.”

sehun giggles, and jongin thinks it’s way cuter than chanyeol-hyung’s head tilt.



t h e e n d

















“your not that cute neighbor is here,” yifan laughs at chanyeol’s loud shriek. “calm down, sugar chanchan. shrieking is not manly, remember?”

yifan lets his boyfriend to protest for a full two minutes before he continues, “he’s having a sleepover. i think he made sehuna cry. but they’ve probably made up already. your neighbor—” yifan pauses, listens, and scoffs playfully.

“—your jongin looks at sehuna like sehuna is the center of his universe. it’s, what, kiyopta?”

chanyeol says that it’s about time for his ‘kiyo dongsaeng’ to admit that sehun is his.

“don’t make me laugh, sugar, sehuna is mine,” yifan falls back to the bed for laughing so hard he has to muffle his disturbing noise with a pillow. his boyfriend is just too precious.

“oy oy i’m sorry okay? you’re mine, and don’t you forget that.” he fights the urge to coo at the stuffed red dragon chanyeol gave him as an early birthday present next to his head, because he can totally imagine how pretty chanyeol is at the moment; spluttering nonsense at his authentically wu yifan greasy words. he can’t help it. his greasiness instinct is sharpening whenever chanyeol is around, and it’s such a contradiction because up until now chanyeol still believes that he’s the coolest guy ever.

“huh? sure, sure we should watch joseph gordon-levitt tomorrow. but tell me, i’m more handsome than him, right?” yifan smirks at chanyeol’s too honest answer. “good. i gotta go, sugar, i want to taunt your neighbor—”

more protesting and even threats that if yifan ever to hurt jonginnie in any way—

“—ssh shh. just gotta make sure he won’t make sehuna cry again, okay? let’s meet in our dreams. i sarang you, sugar, mwah!”

“jongupie-hyung!” junhong pouts because jongup is messing up their dance dynamic again, “jongupie-hyung, please pay attention.”

“okay obviously we all need a break,” yongguk eases a gummy smile to jongup’s direction. “jongup-ah, come with me to get drinks.”

jongup catches the two oldest hyungs exchange a glance, with himchan’s hand linger on yongguk’s wrist a little bit longer than necessary. junhong is staring at him, still pouting.

“jongup-ah,” yongguk calls from the sliding doors.

“coming, hyung.”







“what’s going on?” yongguk ruffles his sweaty hair and jongup grimaces sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he offers, because it’s too embarrassing.

“hyung can’t help if you’re like this,” yongguk drags him to the farthest vending machine that is outside TS building, his grip on jongup’s bicep is calming. “hm?”

“i just get distracted,” jongup whispers, too paranoid that the empty hallway will hear him.

yongguk continues when they’re in the elevator, “it’s junhongie, right?” and jongup covers his face with both hands.

“is it time?” yongguk pats his slumped shoulders in a reassuring, totally not judging way. everyone is well aware about jongup’s reason on delaying to have sex with junhong, and they never talk about it anymore.

apparently, jongup’s self restraint is crumbling. the kid’s persistence lasts(ed?) for about six months. that’s amazing.

“so what are you going to do about it?” yongguk leads the way, bowing slightly to the receptionist behind the front desk.

“i don’t know how to tell junhong that i want him,” jongup looks down to his sneakers. “i mean, hyung, i was the one rejecting his advances. i feel stupid now. i can’t fight the temptation. have you seen him, yongguk-hyung? like, really really see him?”

“i have your himchannie-hyung for that,” yongguk laughs, selecting daehyun and youngjae’s drinks. “but i think i understand, jongup-ah, i—”

“what do you mean you have himchan-hyung?” jongup frowns.

“aaaaaa,” yongguk’s left eye twitches. he doesn’t meet jongup’s scrutinizing stare. “what? nothing. himchan is our visual after all. but like i said, i understand what you’re implying. you need to talk to junhong though, take it nice and slow. i’m sure junhong himself is happy that you...you know.” his grin is slightly forced.

“hyung can arrange everything so you’ll be left alone with junhong. you just have to tell me when.”

whenever yongguk is nervous, he blabbers. just like now. and jongup might not be the sharpest kid but he’s never one to ask further about anything that’s not qualified as his business.

“okay,” he punches the button to get junhong’s favorite energy drink brand. “thank you, yongguk-hyung, i really appreciate it.”

yongguk ruffles his hair again, seemingly more thankful than he does.



₪ ₪ ₪



the ‘talk’ with junhong goes surprisingly easy and junhong even kisses him as an apology for losing his temper at jongup earlier.

“i can’t wait,” junhong sneakily pecks jongup’s cheek before he runs out of their shared room, the tips of his ears are reddening.



₪ ₪ ₪



the problem is, jongup didn’t tell his giant baby bbuing bbuing boyfriend everything. like, how can he tell junhong to stop smiling because your smile turns me on or stop dancing because your body makes me want to jump on you right here right now or stop doing literally everything because—

jongup lets out a subconscious, loud sigh, and daehyun smirks next to him.

“rough day?” he asks with a playful tone. “or should i say...rough days?”

jongup shoves a random stuffed toy to daehyun’s laughing face.

“should we go now? but it’s a rule not to do it in our room,” daehyun yells at yongguk, “yongguk-hyung! are you giving them another special treatment?”

yongguk makes sure junhong is too preoccupied with youngjae’s ipad before he holds up a thumb and mouthing,

“now?”

daehyun turns to jongup and jongup splutters.

“yep. definitely now.” daehyun gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen to fetch himchan and youngjae. yongguk gives jongup an encouraging fatherly smile and talks to junhong.

himchan and youngjae are wriggling their eyebrows when they enter the living room, along with forever smirking daehyun. without further ado they take their coats and waits for yongguk to join them. yongguk is pulling junhong to sit on jongup’s lap as he proceeds to leave. when the front door is clicked shut, junhong instantly hides his face at the crook of jongup’s neck; hugging jongup’s tense shoulders and jongup swallows as he inhales junhong’s milky body wash.

“uh,” he smartly says. “um.”

“i always want jongupie-hyung to carry me like i’m a koala,” junhong whispers shyly. “will you, jongupie-hyung?”

“w-where to?” jongup’s throat feels too dry.

“bedroom, please,” junhong nuzzles his nose to jongup’s nape and jongup can do nothing but to surrender to his bodily instinct. with a grunt, he lifts the back of junhong’s knees and pushes his feet to stand up. when he’s steady enough junhong is looking down at him with a very cute smile and he looks proud of his cheetos boyfriend’s strength and jongup tightens his hold on junhong’s waist as he licks junhong’s lips.

he’s wobbling to their shared room, and he sits on his bunk, careful not to hurt junhong’s head. they both smile shyly.

“hi.”

“hey.”

a pause.

“i—”

“can i—”

more shy smiles.

now what.



₪ ₪ ₪



“thankfully we don’t have any schedule tomorrow,” youngjae comments as the hyungs are enjoying dinner at a pasta restaurant in hongdae.

“well it’s not like jongup will hurt junhongie,” himchan pipes in, wiping the left corner of yongguk’s mouth. “yongguk-ah you’re eating like a barbarian. anyway, there’s a possibility that jongupie will back off at the last minute.”

“himchan’s right,” yongguk sniffs. “i eat just fine, umma, shut up.”

“let’s go shopping then,” daehyun is finished with his spaghetti, and now he’s eyeing youngjae’s risotto. “it’s been awhile.”



₪ ₪ ₪



they’re lying side by side, kissing noisily, with junhong’s pajama pants on his ankles and his briefs on his thighs. jongup is stroking junhong’s throbbing cock, his hand is slicked by the previously unused water based lube from youngjae many months ago, while junhong is scrunching his face, gasping, moaning, effortlessly making jongup’s erection hurts as his blunt nails paint half crescents on jongup’s naked bicep and chest.

“a-ah,” junhong bites jongup’s bottom lip as he comes messily to their stomachs, his pale cheeks flushing fiery red down to his sweaty neck. junhong didn’t want to go completely naked so his transformers t-shirt stays. but he asked jongup to go shirtless and jongup is never to deny anything junhong wants.

he resumes his kissing festive, cupping junhong’s soft jawline and lets gravity do its job so now he’s on top of a very needy junhong with his tongue tracing the inside of junhong’s warm mouth. junhong sighs happily into their kiss, and jongup is not feeling guilty anymore as he ruts his erection against junhong’s right thigh.

jongup’s left hand sneaks into junhong’s t-shirt to map the smooth skin underneath, and junhong throws his head back abruptly when jongup’s fingers graze his nipple.

“hyung,” junhong blinksblinksblinks, awed, and then he does the same to jongup’s nipple.

jongup groans.

“hyung,” junhong kisses his chin, giggling. “hyung you’re feeling good, right?”

“y-yeah,” jongup doesn’t know why he’s stuttering. “you too, right?”

“you’re just simply the best,” junhong beams and jongup thinks he’s the most beautiful human in the whole world. “i love you so much.”

jongup lets junhong hug him. he hasn’t come, but it’s not a big deal he’ll take a cold shower after this. he shifts so his erection won’t be pressed anywhere near his younger boyfriend, but it does anyway and junhong gasps,

“oh my god jongupie-hyung,” he scratches jongup’s back as he flails like a baby sea lion, “oh my god i’m so sorry! come on get in me!”

jongup laughs like a hyena, half amused half more turned on than ever. remembering his hyungs’ generous consideration to go out of the dorm so they can have sex, he decides to mentally cross his fingers praying that he won’t screw up his first time with his super ultra cute giant baby bbuing bbuing boyfriend.

“okay,” jongup leans back to retrieve the bottle of lube, opens the cap and squirts tons of the gel to his fingers. “okay, junhong-ah,” he wants to cry at junhong’s hopeful, awaiting face.

he says, “promise to tell me if i hurt you.”

“you won’t,” junhong does a mehrong, “but yes, hyung, i promise.” he closes his eyes, and spreads his longlonglong legs.

he squirms when jongup slowly pushes in his middle finger, his chest heaving at the actually-not-so-foreign intrusion; jongup’s finger is just thinner and longer, and it’s a different sensation than his own, so junhong takes a deep breath and tries to relax. using the heels of his feet on jongup’s shoulder blades, he urges jongup to scoot closer to him.

“grab my thigh, hyung,” junhong moans when jongup slides his finger out and then slides it back in quickly.

jongup does as he’s told, but somehow, junhong is getting more impatient.

“more, hyung,” he whines, “more, now.”

jongup swallows bitter saliva once, twice, and he adds his index finger and junhong smiles in content; puckering his lips as jongup finally stretches him.

jongup’s mind is working hard to recall all of the preparing information from the booklet youngjae gave him. at this point, he can start the scissoring motion before adding the third finger. if it’s necessary, he can try to add in the fourth just so he will fit in there. jongup squirts more lube straight to junhong’s spasming hole, and junhong’s whole body jerks because of its coldness.

“s-sorry,” jongup slides in his third finger, and junhong just moans louder.

jongup carelessly wipes the sweat on his eyes, his vision is now cleared, and the sight welcoming him is, hands down, so goddamn arousing even yongguk’s stash of porn that he watches on occasion can’t compare. junhong is positively trembling and making erotic faces and jongup is already leaking precum he’s not so sure he will last long if he doesn’t—

junhong accidentally kicks his chest when his fingers touch a solid spot and jongup moans at how junhong tightens around his poor fingers.

he aims for that spot again, and junhong’s eyes snapped open in pure ecstasy.

“hyung!” his refilling cock is slapping against his stomach, also leaking precum, and jongup pulls out his shaking fingers to try putting on the slippery condom. junhong leans to his elbows, looking dazed and sososo fuckable jongup successfully tears up the condom.

“w-what the,” he growls and reaches for another, but junhong just giggles and shakes his head, telling him to fuck the condom.

“hey,” jongup chokes back a moan when junhong spits to his palms and begins stroking jongup’s purpling cock with messy strokes. “hey, you c-cursed,” jongup grips the bed sheet until his knuckles turn white. junhong’s hands feel like heaven.

“i did,” junhong whispers as he cruelly squeezes jongup’s cock, and then he turns to his hands and knees. “and i will. fuck me, jongupie-hyung, fuck me hard. don’t think, just do it.”

okay.

jongup puts his hands on junhong’s wide hips, bites junhong’s nape as he presses his erection in between junhong’s ass cheeks. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, one arm around junhong’s abdomen because he needs some kind of anchor or a restrai—oh my god what is this?

it’s too good oh my god.

he pushespushespushes until junhong sobs and he realizes that he’s seated to the hilt; nowhere to move but thrusting in and out like the pornstars do so jongup does, slowly, slowly, slowly, and then, somehow, everything becomes so wet and too hot he has to stop. his cock is spurting so many precum and everything becomes even wetter.

and way hotter.

and jongup pulls out until he can see the tip of his cock. the thick whitey substance is oozing out from junhong’s stretched, pink hole, and when jongup’s pelvis meets junhong’s ass, it creates a very very very obscure squelching sound.

jongup likes it.

“move,” junhong stutters, “jongupie-hyung, please.”

junhong is so tight, and jongup is actually scared that he’s hurting junhong; because the pleasure he’s feeling as junhong’s inner muscles clamping around his cock is indescribable is the best is so fucking addictive he can’t help but to speed up. he presses his chest to junhong’s clothed back, biting the collar as his hips pistoning into junhong and junhong is clawing the sheet, too, clenching unclenching clenching unclenching clenching unclenching and meeting jongup’s thrusts with his own; mewling cutely whenever jongup reaches the solid spot but not really, and he shouts jongup’s name at one particular hard thrust.

“hyung...” junhong wheezes, “jongupie-hyung, kiss me.”

jongup wastes no time to pull out, gently flips junhong over to face him and takes the back of junhong’s knees as he slides in to the tight heat. but he waits for junhong to adjust to the new angle, waits for junhong to open his eyes and beckons him to lean down and then he kisses junhong’s salty lips, rocking his hips forward.

“ah,” junhong sobs to jongup’s mouth, furrowing his eyebrows. “ngh,” he hikes his legs higher to lock them around jongup’s torso, inhales deeply, and lets the overwhelming stimulation consuming all of his senses.

he whispers wantonly, “give it to me, jongupie-hyung,” just as jongup picks up a pace. jongup falls to the pillow next to junhong’s head, his tendons are flexing due to his erratic movement and junhong’s blunt nails are on his head; tugging sharply at his hair and then moves to mark his skin with bruises everytime he hits that one spot inside. jongup feels the pit of his stomach is about to burst anytime soon, he’s soclosethisclose, so he gets to his knees, folds junhong’s body into two, and enjoys the real definition of fucking at its finest as he fucks junhong to the mattress, the bed frame is creaking wildly along with him and junhong is crying and jongup sees stars behind his eyelids when he releases his seeds into junhong’s quivering hole.

“holy shit,” jongup mutters, hips seeking for an afterglow friction. he’s boneless and sated, crushing junhong underneath him.

junhong is quietly sniffling, petting jongup’s nape with groggy fingers. his legs on jongup’s waist are slackening, and he bucks up his hips to search for any contact for his erection, which happens to meet with jongup’s abs.

“hyung,” junhong whines, “hyung.”

jongup kisses junhong’s button nose, grinning apologetically as he pulls out, and grabs junhong’s cock.

they end up doing it again not much later, with junhong bouncing on top of jongup, and jongup is thankful for his phone that he always puts on his bed, because junhong’s whiny moans and swollen lips are way much hotter than any of yongguk’s porn.



₪ ₪ ₪



the hyungs find the two maknaes sleeping soundly on the couch, junhong’s favorite spiderman blanket is draped over their bodies. their shared room is apparently clean, but the smell from himchan’s rose oil air refresher is too strong even with the air con on its lowest temperature.

in the end, all of them are sleeping on the makeshift beds in the living room. it’s been a good day.





























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the three different brand of pregnancy tests he purchased at the apothecary two hours bus ride from his home are all stating green stripes. that color, according to the usage information, means whoever pees on the stick is pregnant.

he washes the sticks, stuffs them to the white plastic bag with the apothecary logo and hides it under his bed. he will have to burn those tiny boxes stating 99% accuracy level later tonight when his parents and hyungie are sleeping. the sticks stay, they’re proofs. but for now, he’s just going to freak out.

(like, there’s this fond memory of accompanying joonmyun-hyung to babysit pretty giant baby sulli which will be forever engraved in do kyungsoo’s twelve year old’s mind.

sulli had blatantly showed off her favoritism towards kyungsoo whenever he’s tagging along, saying that kyungsoo-oppa is the cutest so squishy et cetera et cetera; and it was joonmyun-hyung’s playful jealous pout that triggered something weird in his stomach everytime.

especially that one incident when sulli fell over and skinned her knees at the playground near her kindergarten, bawling pitifully and joonmyun-hyung calmly, confidently, handsomely if kyungsoo might add, took care of the wound with his mineral water and a pack of tissue kyungsoo always carried around in his backpack.

at that time, as kyungsoo watched sulli use her deadly aegyo to get joonmyun-hyung to buy her ice cream, the idea of joonmyun-hyung being a great appa for their very own children was flooding his mind; and his dugeun dugeun heartbeats when he pictured joonmyun-hyung carrying their faceless—but still cute nonetheless!—first child instead of sulli on his arms wasn’t really helping the surge of instant excitement that he felt. joonmyun-hyung asked him why was he blushing when he flicked kyungsoo’s forehead, and kyungsoo blamed the hot summer’s sun.)

it’s only been four years.





▲ ▼





his body is changing, that’s for sure. he’s got this weird cycle going on; he eats too little at breakfast, pigs out at lunch—which makes him really sleepy on his next classes—and barely eats dinner but for snacking on cherry tomatoes. that happens for almost two weeks. next, he begins to feel nauseous at godawful hour in the mornings. he gives up waiting the bile after three consecutive days sitting on the cold bathroom floor, and so he ends up tossing and turning on his bed until it’s time to get up. he cringes at the smell of butter and milk, but he doesn’t feel like having rice or other side dishes either. he pretends not to notice his umma’s suspicious slash saddened expression, and nibbles on the american style omelette to appear...alright.

at school, he gets tired easily. he sweats too much from running a lap around the school’s soccer field, heaving on his knees. kangin-songsaenim is observant enough to tell him to take a rest at the infirmary, and kyungsoo is more than thankful to skip gym class. he’s pregnant, remember?





today, kangin-songsaenim approaches him with a set of furrowed eyebrows, because kyungsoo just collapses when the class is doing basic stretching for the upcoming leapfrog test. and they’re inside the basketball indoor court, so.

“do kyungsoo,” the bulky teacher pats kyungsoo’s slumped back none too gently, just the way he is. “what is happening to you? it’s your fifth week in a row, buddy, it’s not funny if you fail gym, right?” he uses the red clipboard with absent attendee to fan kyungsoo’s sweaty face.

“i-i’m sorry, songsaenim,” kyungsoo cowers on his spot, but liking the breeze anyway. “i’ll eat more breakfast next week, i promise!” he squeaks none too manly, just the way he is, and kangin-songsaenim seems to buy it because he exclaims that he misses kyungsoo’s chubby cheeks. kyungsoo giggles half heartedly because that’s what his umma asked this morning. he’s losing weight, nevermind that he’s got another new cycle that is eating whatever within his reach.

the next week, kyungsoo feels perfectly fit for a baseball game. even kangin-songsaenim ruffles his hair when he shows up as bright as ever.

but then he cries when his classmate, a sporty girl who runs faster than him, scolds him for messing up their team’s last chance on scoring. he’s hurting from her not-that-venomous words, and the girl, being a prideful little witch, she defenses herself with,

“why are you so sensitive these days?! you’re acting like a pregnant woman!”—which is...true, by the way, kyungsoo cried yesterday on english class, because hwang-songsaenim made them watch a movie called ‘dead poets society’ and one of the main characters committed suicide. the scene where the strict appa wailing was too heartbreaking and suddenly kyungsoo ran off of tissues that he always has with him.

“yah!” she stomps and shakes kyungsoo’s shoulders violently.

kyungsoo slaps her. he’s so angry he can only gasp in horror as she glares at him; fingerprints are visible on her left cheek. he lets her to attack his body. he bends down to protect his stomach. she gets to punch his unprotected waistline before their classmates are crowding and separating the girl from him.

kyungsoo can’t stop crying even after he apologizes and she actually looks concerned for his sanity. his waist hurts, his heart hurts, and joonmyun-hyung is in seoul, probably surviving only on coffees and greasy takeouts for his daily nutrition because the life as a freshman majoring in business and management at the seoul national university is different than being a freshman at a local high school, right?





▲ ▼





joonmyun-hyung’s parents like to tease him, deeming him as their son’s caring wife ever since kyungsoo knew he wanted to have joonmyun-hyung’s babies, and therefore, he began to act like joonmyun-hyung’s devoted wife indeed by reminding the older boy to do his homework to eat his vegetables to stop procrastinating and other daily stuffs only...well, only a wife would do. kyungsoo’s out of the blue’s interest in cooking simple doshirak was because joonmyun-hyung praised his kimchi fried rice once that he had craved for more praises so badly he begged his umma to assist him in the kitchen and asked kim-ahjumma all about joonmyun-hyung’s favorite foods.

“you want to visit joonmyun?” kim-ahjumma wriggles her eyebrows. “wait here i’ll write down how to get to his apartment and whatnots. have a seat!”

kyungsoo fidgets with the hem of his baggy t-shirt. he has to manage his posture whenever he’s sitting down or else his protruding stomach will show.

“so are you going to seoul with your hyung?” kim-ahjumma asks as he gives kyungsoo a piece of paper with what buses to take and the complete address. kyungsoo studies the note for a second, promising himself to google it first.

“not really, hyungie’s busy,” kyungsoo answers with a smile, but kim-ahjumma gapes.

“you’re going by yourself?! i can’t allow that! what if you’re lost? seoul is a scary place, soo soo-yah!” she shakes her head. “no no no, ask your hyung to go with you!”

kyungsoo blows his cheeks. “but i want to surprise joonmyun-hyung, ahjumma...” he whines, only slightly though. gotta save the last weapon if all else fails. “i’m a big boy, now, pleaseeeee?” he clasps his hands together, blinking purposefully.

“does your umma know about this?” kim-ahjumma frowns.

“not yet, but i promise i will tell her later, but please please let me go there by myself please?” he’s widening his eyes by now. he never plans to tell his umma anything. his backpack is ready with clothes, underwear, his emergency money (225,000 won), homemade cupcakes, kimchi jiggae, and of course the pregnancy tests.

he’s going to seoul tonight. it’s friday.

kim-ahjumma gives him more pocket money and puts tons of foods to her colorful tupperwares, reluctantly letting kyungsoo to go out of her sight with a dramatic slow motion kind of adieu. kyungsoo decides to hug her, to ease her doubt and fear.





he safely arrives right in front of joonmyun-hyung’s apartment door a little bit after eleven, and he’s so tired he doesn’t waste any more second to ring the doorbell.

steady footsteps, and then it’s joonmyun-hyung tilting his head, dark bags under his equally lifeless eyes, and kyungsoo grimaces at his own meek greeting,

“h-hyung.” i miss you.

joonmyun-hyung guides him in without a word, silently shutting the front door and locking it. kyungsoo meets a fairly neat living room with a sofa bed covered by horizontal patterned sheet, a 42-inch HD television, and a blue folding table with books, notes, and a laptop. to his left, a small kitchen; a modern refrigerator with a single stove and dirty dishes. there’s a door next to the sofa bed, and it must be joonmyun-hyung’s bedroom.

“hey,” kyungsoo jumps when joonmyun-hyung’s tickles his nape with warm fingers. “hey, you,” and then joonmyun-hyung hugs him tight, pressing their bodies from head to toe, clutching kyungsoo’s shoulders and inhaling kyungsoo’s hair.

kyungsoo drops his backpack and the extra handbag to the floor, stepping on joonmyun-hyung’s bare toes, totally forgetting about his stomach because this is the boy he hasn’t seen for almost four months; the one whom he gave his virginity to, the father of the baby inside of him.

do kyungsoo’s first love.

“hyung,” he’s crying, it’s the hormones, he reads it from pregnancy 101 online. his hormones are turning him into an overly emotional human being and it’s normal to cry over simple things, like hugging. yeah.

“hyung,” kyungsoo sobs, “hyung i’m pregnant.”

“okay,” joonmyun-hyung slides his hands to palm kyungsoo’s spine. “okay.”

joonmyun-hyung lays him on his unmade bed that smells like dove’s moisturizing cream body wash, undresses him bare for his curious eyes to see. he touches kyungsoo’s stomach, adds a pressure right below the belly button and smiles as he kisses the bump. but kyungsoo’s stopped crying when joonmyun-hyung reclaims him for the...whatisit time, he’s too busy muffling his moans because the walls are thin, joonmyun-hyung chuckles as he pushes and pulls with a scary rhythm.

“you’re so cute,” joonmyun-hyung murmurs to his nape, rubbing his stomach as he’s spooned from behind. “we’ll talk more tomorrow, alright?”

kyungsoo sighs to the pillow and closes his eyes.





joonmyun-hyung finishes the second serving of kyungsoo’s kimchi jiggae with kim-ahjumma’s daeji bulgogi in a record time, leaving kyungsoo somehow happy at the sight of color coming back to joonmyun-hyung’s pale face.

“good?” kyungsoo refills joonmyun-hyung’s glass of orange juice, patiently waiting for a response.

“the best,” joonmyun-hyung pokes kyungsoo’s nose with the chopsticks. they hold their eye contact and kyungsoo blurts out,

“i am keeping it,” it’s not want, because that sounds like he’s a kid wanting to possess a toy or something equally childish. no. he’s stating that he will take care of a life he created with joonmyun-hyung, and nobody will ever change his mind. first, he can just go homeschooling in order to graduate high school. second, his parents are probably ecstatic that it’s joonmyun-hyung’s seed growing in him. third, when he’s legal, he will enroll in the most well-known cooking school to provide money for the baby. fourth, if it’s not too much to ask, he’d like joonmyun-hyung to be by his side on each phase.

“okay,” joonmyun-hyung puts down his eating utensils, looks at kyungsoo with his gentle eyes, and nods reassuringly. “i’ll support you,” he says, “you’re so brave, kyungsoo-yah.”

the heavy, invisible weight on kyungsoo’s shoulders is gone, and kyungsoo bites his bottom lip or else his widening grin will appear unattractive.

“have you told your parents?” joonmyun-hyung asks as he turns off the television. he moves to face kyungsoo and begins massaging the heels of kyungsoo’s feet.

giddy is the correct term to express the bubbly, unstoppable feeling inside of kyungsoo as he enjoys joonmyun-hyung’s massage.

“i haven’t told anyone anything,” he lets out a quiet sigh.

“then i’ll go with you, maybe tonight?” kyungsoo gasps before he can’t help it. “what? i’m responsible too, kyungsoo-yah, it’s mine too,” joonmyun-hyung chuckles with a wink. “my parents will be so thrilled to be grandparents on their forties he he.”

“i’m-i’m sorry,” kyungsoo blushes.

“no need,” joonmyun-hyung leisurely kisses kyungsoo’s right knee and kyungsoo yelps. “anyway, while you’re here, do you want to go somewhere? i’ll be your tour guide for the day.”

subconsciously, kyungsoo rubs his knee. “can we go shopping?” he proposes. “i want to see the mall like in running man.”

they go to the coex mall, joonmyun-hyung pays for the sea world tickets and entwines their fingers after some guys shamelessly ogling kyungsoo from head to toe. or so, because joonmyun-hyung doesn’t elaborate further.

he asks every half an hour if kyungsoo needs to sit down, and kyungsoo likes the not annoying attention it a little bit too much than necessary.

then, joonmyun-hyung takes him to the food court and says that he can have anything he wants.

“but we just ate,” kyungsoo scrunches his nose at the smell of oil and cigarette smoke. his body is quick to react. “um, i think i’m going to puke.”

joonmyun-hyung maneuvers them out of the area, apologizing.

“it’s—i’m sorry hyung, are you hungry? you can go eat and i’ll be in the...bookstore or—”

“don’t even think about it,” joonmyun-hyung cups his cheeks and rubs the tips of their noses. they’re in public.

oh my god.

“but please eat something?” joonmyun-hyung’s vanilla mint mouthwash is making kyungsoo nervous.

“can i have salad?” he grips the lapel of joonmyun-hyung’s black hoodie. “i saw pizza hut somewhere on the third floor, hyung.”

after they have their brunch, kyungsoo proceeds to do the shopping spree. joonmyun-hyung shows him the best stores with cheap but awesome t-shirts, and kyungsoo has to insist that joonmyun-hyung doesn’t have to pay for him again. he buys them a matching sky blue t-shirts that compliment their complexions well. will their baby have the same skin tone?

kyungsoo tugs at joonmyun-hyung’s hand as they walk out of the store and asks, “hyung, do you want a boy or a girl?”

instead of answering right away, joonmyun-hyung makes a gurgling sound effect as he pinches kyungsoo’s chin.

“it doesn’t matter. i bet they will be just as cute as you he he,” why is kyungsoo dying to snuggle joonmyun-hyung while they’re in public?!

ugh.

hormones.

“so!” joonmyun-hyung is looking down at him with an amused glint in his eyes. “do you want to go somewhere else?”

when kyungsoo says that he wants to nap, he is definitely not whining.





▲ ▼





they’re gathered at the kim’s spacious living room to bear the news. so far, the ummas are shedding tears, kyungsoo’s hyungie is still staring-glaring-staring at joonmyun-hyung, and kyungsoo’s appa is silent.

until he asks with a hoarse voice, “h-how long, kyungsoo-yah?” that crumbles kyungsoo’s tough facade.

“about three to four months, appa,” he’s already bawling. “appa please don’t hate me...”

his appa looks scared beyond belief himself, and rushes to envelop him in a suffocating but desperately needed hug, shushing him and telling him that he is still his baby boy forever.

“my baby is having a baby, right,” his appa tells the whole room, and they burst into a laughter. “it’s joonmyun’s, you’ll be fine, kyungsoo-yah.”

“that’s right,” joonmyun-hyung’s appa pipes in, “it’s bound to happen, sooner or later. congratulations, joonmyun-ah.” he sounds genuinely welcoming the idea of his one and only son knocking up an underage boy without a marriage bond. or any kind of bond, really.





later, they go to the nearest restaurant to celebrate. when the owner, lee-ahjumma who is both families’ friend, asks about the special occasion, kyungsoo hides behind joonmyun-hyung.

“we’re welcoming a new family member,” kim-ahjusshi sends a meaningful look to lee-ahjumma, and she glances at kyungsoo who squeaks. her whole wrinkled face is lighting up because of course, even she is aware about kyungsoo’s not-so-secretive lifetime admiration for a certain kim joonmyun.

joonmyun-hyung excuses himself from the table not long after he touches his share of the ultimate wagyu beef. kyungsoo’s legs jiggle under the table. he counts to a hundred and forty one before he announces that he’s going to the restroom.

but joonmyun-hyung is not there.

kyungsoo is mildly panicked because he left his cellphone at home. he goes out of the crowded restaurant, and finds joonmyun-hyung sitting on a canopied swing by the koi pond, a slim cigarette stick is hanging from his mouth.

“hyung,” kyungsoo approaches the said boy slowly, unsurely, because of the smoke and because joonmyun-hyung smokes. “hyung, hi,” he smiles awkwardly, holding his breath.

joonmyun-hyung tosses the remaining cigarette to the wet ground, it hisses under his converse. “hey, come here,” he pats the empty space next to him. “but it’s kinda damp though.”

kyungsoo sits down anyway, telling himself not to puke. or cry because why is joonmyun-hyung smoking? how come he didn’t know it?

“hyung, it’s cold,” kyungsoo takes joonmyun-hyung’s icy left hand to his, the hand that didn’t hold the cigarette. “what are you doing?” he scoots closer despite the reeking tobacco smell from joonmyun-hyung’s clothes.

kyungsoo squeezes their hands when joonmyun-hyung doesn’t answer.

“hyung are you okay?”

voila.

“fuck,” there is no humor on joonmyun-hyung’s chuckle/snort. he doesn’t squeeze kyungsoo’s hand back, and kyungsoo is confused.

and scared.

“fuck, kyungsoo-yah,” joonmyun-hyung’s eyes are glassy, “fuck i’m so fucking stupid. it’s nothing, really. i’m sorry. let’s go back. it’s cold, right? come on.”

but kyungsoo won’t have any of it. he yanks joonmyun-hyung down with an unknown strength, his chin is quivering as he stutters angrily, “it’s not nothing, don’t lie to me! it’s about the ba—” kyungsoo’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “oh my god,” he chokes, “oh my god, hyung, you don’t want it anymore do you?!”

“wha—” joonmyun-hyung pauses. “what?”

“don’t touch me!” kyungsoo’s protest is muffled by joonmyun-hyung’s chest. which is like an epitome of human ashtray. kyungsoo’s head is spinning while joonmyun-hyung explains about silly misunderstanding; that he’s just been thinking how he’s wasted both of their upcoming teenage years, especially for you, kyungsoo-yah, raising a baby is different than feeding your tamagotchi, okay, you won’t be—hey—

kyungsoo sees stars when he blinks, and graciously vomits on joonmyun-hyung’s expensive polo shirt.





“how’s your feeling?” joonmyun-hyung is spooning him from behind again, this time on kyungsoo’s bed, where they first had sex. it always brings memories; from joonmyun-hyung’s timid surrender (to kyungsoo’s advances) to his pleasured sigh when he came to the condom as a sign that he’d lost his virginity. questioning how the hell kyungsoo’s been surviving lonely nights without joonmyun-hyung is totally appropriate.

“i’m sorry i overreacted,” kyungsoo pulls joonmyun-hyung’s arms tighter around his torso, curling his shoulders to get joonmyun-hyung even impossibly closer to him.

“it’s okay,” joonmyun-hyung nuzzles his hair, and they fall in a silence. kyungsoo refuses to acknowledge that in a matter of minute, they’re going to continue that interrupted talk from earlier.

(like, obviously, kyungsoo understands it well that raising a baby is so much different than feeding tamagotchi or like, taking care of puppies or kittens. what was joonmyun-hyung thinking?!)

kyungsoo grunts, intentionally elbowing joonmyun-hyung’s chest so he can turn to glare at the oblivious boy.

“what’s going on?” joonmyun-hyung seems alerted.

“i am perfectly capable to raise a baby,” kyungsoo scoffs to the darkness, “i don’t like you thinking that i’m not!”

“i wasn’t—” joonmyun-hyung and his habit to have a brain freeze mid-sentence. “i didn’t—listen, kyungsoo-yah, i never doubt you’ll be a good parent for our child, i was just making a point that raising a baby will cost you your teenage life.” kyungsoo huffs. “are you following me?”

“yes,” kyungsoo answers almost inaudibly. “but so what?”

joonmyun-hyung is actually staring at him like he’s either a freak show or something sweeter than marshmallow; the dim lighting from streetlamp seeping through the curtains are illuminating joonmyun-hyung’s twinkling eyes.

kyungsoo feels shy.

“if you say so,” joonmyun-hyung’s laugh is restrained at first, but then it escalates into near hysterical as he shoves his face to the pillow. kyungsoo pouts, still shy, but now he doesn’t understand what’s happening. he throws half-hearted punches to joonmyun-hyung’s chest, aiming to the same spot his elbow had marked.

“i can’t even—” joonmyun-hyung grabs his wrists and easily pins them down next to his head. “can i call you ‘umma’?”

kyungsoo blushes.

“well...” he chews his bottom lip, and joonmyun-hyung’s eyes are instantly drawn there. “i guess? i m-mean i’m—but won’t it be weird?”

joonmyun-hyung leans down to take kyungsoo’s bottom lip in between his teeth. grinning, he whispers provokingly, “nope. kyungsoo-umma. i like the sound of that. kyungsoo-umma.”

eventually, they relive their lovemaking memory and everything’s good.





▲ ▼





“how’s your homeschooling going?” joonmyun-hyung helps kyungsoo to buckle the seatbelt of his appa’s toyota.

“it’s boring,” kyungsoo reaches to run his fingers on joonmyun-hyung’s grown hair. “at least i don’t have gym class. hyung, i couldn’t sleep last night. did you sleep well last night?”

they’re going to find out their baby’s sex today, on kyungsoo’s eighteenth week. he could’ve known it last week, but joonmyun-hyung didn’t have the time to come home because of his group project assignment.

joonmyun-hyung took the earliest bus from seoul, and it’s just a little past lunch for their appointment with doctor ryeowook-sshi.

“i’m so excited,” joonmyun-hyung says, “i can’t wait to see my baby.”

kyungsoo giggles at the twinkle on joonmyun-hyung’s eyes.

“it looks like an alien, to be honest,” he answers, “you can print the ultrasound photo of the baby. hyung, let’s get us each, ne?”

joonmyun-hyung kisses him and they have to wait thirty minutes before the nurse calls kyungsoo’s name. doctor ryeowook-sshi is the youngest obstetrician at the hospital, and he was recommended by kyungsoo umma’s older obstetrician because the old man thought it’d be nicer to have a young doctor for such a young couple.

“kyungsoo-yah!” ryeowook-sshi is a friendly person, he’s got this vivacious personality that invites kyungsoo to ask absolutely everything all about pregnancy. the man had screeched when he found out kyungsoo’s age though.

“oh, the father?” ryeowook-sshi shakes hands with him and he tells joonmyun-hyung about his and kyungsoo’s previous sessions, while checking kyungsoo’s heart and blood rate.

“you’re still lacking on vitamin c,” ryeowook-sshi is writing a prescription and puts it in an envelope. “please don’t forget to consume more fruits and finish the multivitamin i’m prescribing, okay?” after kyungsoo nods, he claps his hands.

“shall we?” he leads them to the examination bed. kyungsoo lies down with joonmyun-hyung’s help, stealthily watching joonmyun-hyung’s reaction for his bulging stomach as he raises his peach colored maternal shirt.

joonmyun-hyung is holding back his smile.

“ready?” joonmyun-hyung makes a room for ryeowook-sshi to squirt the blue gel on top of kyungsoo’s stomach, smears it with his gloved hand and takes the roll on like stick.

“joonmyun-sshi, look here,” he presses the stick to kyungsoo’s lower stomach. “that’s the head,” he points to the screen where a tiny circle is shown. joonmyun-hyung is clearing his throat. “that line is your baby’s slowly developing spine, aaand...” ryeowook-sshi moves the stick around until he stops at one area underneath kyungsoo’s left chest, squints to the screen, and announces with a cheerful tone,

“it’s a boy!”





both of their parents are frantically discussing names for the baby boy while kyungsoo’s hyungie is telling them an information he’d read from the internet that kyungsoo can start to listen to classical songs so his baby boy will be a genius.

“don’t listen with earbuds, though, like, play it on a stereo,” the twenty year old says, “i can lend you mine. in fact, i’ve bought three CDs of chopin and watisit.”

kyungsoo’s eyes are watering, he is so touched and happy! it’s ridiculous because usually, whenever his hyungie is doing something heroic for him, kyungsoo is comparing it to joonmyun-hyung’s act—which is really bad, he admits.

“are you crying?” his hyungie snorts as he repeatedly jabs kyungsoo’s cheeks. “wow, you sure are so hormonal! please don’t cry!” he hugs kyungsoo and kyungsoo whines but refuses to let go even after joonmyun-hyung is hinting at him to hug him instead.

| part t w o |

joonmyun-hyung is making the i-dunno-what-to-say face as he takes in kyungsoo’s twenty third week body.

but before kyungsoo can throw a tantrum he kisses kyungsoo until kyungsoo’s knees turn into jelly.

“do you know that you glow?” joonmyun-hyung inhales the slope of kyungsoo’s nose, leaving warm breath all over kyungsoo’s tingling skin. “you look,” he caresses kyungsoo’s bloated cheeks and smiles, “so beautiful.”

kyungsoo stretches joonmyun-hyung’s own cheeks because he’s bursting in joy.

“i miss you,” joonmyun-hyung laughs, but then grimaces because maybe his cheeks’ muscles are stinging. “how’s baby?” he raises an eyebrow to indicate that he wants kyungsoo to show him his stomach. kyungsoo leans back further to his bed and lets joonmyun-hyung to lift his pajama top.

he sighs when joonmyun-hyung’s sweaty palm makes a contact with the bump.

“he woke me up this morning,” he plays with joonmyun-hyung’s newly cut hair. “i felt vain movements.”

“seriously?” joonmyun-hyung smartly presses his palm harder. kyungsoo slaps his eager hand away. “oh, i’m so sorry,” joonmyun-hyung is rotating his wrists in the air, like doing an awkward hand dance, clearly high from the newest discovery.

“he’s probably napping right now,” kyungsoo tugs at joonmyun-hyung’s nape, “here,” he offers his left thigh and joonmyun-hyung obediently rests his head there, smiling goofily.

“how’s college, hyung?” kyungsoo massages joonmyun-hyung’s temple. “met pretty girls already?”

“there’s this jessica-noona,” joonmyun-hyung is immediately talking in a serious mode, “gyuri-noona, yoona-noona...they’re so pretty and treated me foods a couple of times.”

“that’s awesome,” kyungsoo snorts in disbelief. the girls are pretty but they’re not carrying joonmyun-hyung’s baby, so all is well. he just wants to entertain joonmyun-hyung by asking nonchalantly, because before they became intimate joonmyun-hyung had always wanted to have a pretty and petite girlfriend that he could flaunt to his friends.

but.

will joonmyun-hyung want to flaunt him to his friends?

“...kyuhyun-hyung is pretty too.”

they never talk about it before. it’s not fair, kind of, because everyone at his school knows the reason why he left school (some of the girls are so envious of him), even the colleagues of his and joonmyun-hyung’s parents do, too.

“...soo-yah?” joonmyun-hyung is snapping his fingers to get kyungsoo’s attention.

nowadays, kyungsoo feels like a diva that even he gets irritated by his own behavior. he’s promised himself he won’t get cranky over petty things anymore. one step at a time, right? for now he puts a hand on joonmyun-hyung’s jawline and decides to tell his not-boyfriend-nothing-but-a-neighbor the truth.

“i was just wondering,” he starts slowly, “if we ever meet your college friends and they ask you about me, what will you tell them?”

not a milisecond later joonmyun-hyung’s poised yet spontaneous answer—therefore it might be how joonmyun-hyung really sees their situation—has left kyungsoo hopeful.

“do you mean it hyung?” he moves his trembling hands to cover joonmyun-hyung’s vision. “do you?”

i love you so much.

“yes, kyungsoo-yah,” joonmyun-hyung relaxes to the bed, after he tenses up a little at kyungsoo’s sudden stunt. he smiles, “you and baby are my people of forever.”





▲ ▼





kyungsoo is waiting for his umma to pick him up from yoga short course when a group of his classmates shout his name. there’s the girl that he slapped ages ago, and she actually looks almost sad as her giggly friends coo over kyungsoo’s stomach.

“yah, amber, here’s your crush having someone else’s baby!” jonghyun exclaims loudly with an obvious intention to piss off the tomboy girl. “feel the love!”

“shut up dammit,” amber wears a basketball shorts underneath her skirt, it’s shown as she kicks jonghyun’s left shin. and it’s kyungsoo who’s blushing instead of her.

but she doesn’t quite meet kyungsoo in the eye when she mutters, “don’t listen to his brainless mouth. i don’t have a crush on y—”

“you liar! you have a big fat girly crush on kyungsoo! because you said kyungsoo issooo gentle and ladylike he certainly needs a girl that can protect him!” jonghyun asks a high five from minho but minho glares at him. the other girls are awww-ing nonstop, joining jonghyun to tease amber and kyungsoo is torn between to thank amber for her feeling or to—what?

wait, wait, amber is crying!

“omo,” kyungsoo hurriedly fetches a bunch of tissue from his brand new handbag (can’t afford more backache if he uses a backpack) and dabs them gently at amber’s face. their eyes meet this time, and kyungsoo doesn’t mean to brag about the sheer adoration from amber’s glassy dark brown orbs, but it’s there, exactly like how he looks at joonmyun-hyung according to kim-ahjumma.

it’s so flattering.

jonghyun is cackling without care that he’s attracting passersby’s to glance at their group and amber has long eyelashes thisclose.

amber snatches the tissues and violently wipes off her seemingly endless tears, gradually distancing herself from them. kyungsoo pouts at jonghyun, who has a dumbstruck expression himself.





after consulting to joonmyun-hyung about the interesting disclosure, kyungsoo asks jonghyun for amber’s number and then he texts her, hoping that she’s calmed down.

to: Amber
Annyeong :)
This is Kyungsoo. How are you?

from: Amber
Hi., im good. U?

to: Amber
My ankles are swollen T-T Have you had dinner??

from: Amber
Wow,. My auntie said sme thng when she had her 1st daughtr. U ok? Im on diet *sigh*

to: Amber
ᆿᆿᆿ you saw me right??? I looked like a whale... Wae you on diet youre skinnny!!

from: Amber
Just training progrm from kangin-songsae,. basketball comptn soon remmber? Yeah dude y r even cuter liek that.,

from: Amber
Btw is it true junmyun oppa the father?

to: Amber
Amber-sshi FIGHTING!!! yes ｡◕‿◕✿ it’s him \o/ and its a baby boy!

amber is not replying until kyungsoo falls asleep with his phone under his pillow. he reads these when he wakes up in the morning:

from: Amber
Whats so good abt junmyun Oppa?

from: Amber
Miahne i didnt mean it like that.,

from: Amber
Kyungsoo ya,. Youll make a good father..., or mother??? I will root for you n_n sorry its so late..,.

the replies were sent hours after kyungsoo’s last text, and no matter how kyungsoo tries to see the positive side of texting with amber—making a new friend, communicating with a girl (so rare!)—it’s still ‘pity’ overflowing kyungsoo’s senses.

all his life, it’s always been joonmyun-hyung, so kyungsoo can’t say that if the baby’s not inside of him, well, he wouldn’t know if he would accept amber—that is, if she ever had a plan to confess. if it’s not because of jonghyun, he would’ve always thought amber hated him.

to: Amber
Joonmyun-hyung? I feel happy whenever im with him—

what about you? to me?

to: Amber
Joonmyun-hyung? I feel happy whenever im with him
Thats enough reason to love , right??? >___<

amber’s reply is buzzing a minute later. she says she’s happy for kyungsoo.





“which one is amber?” joonmyun-hyung asks again just to be sure as he stares to kyungsoo’s phone; to amber’s duck face actually, as she-photo stands among the school’s basketball team. currently, the basketball team is celebrating on the mc donald’s near their school, because the girl team passed to the semifinal round from what kyungsoo heard thanks to jonghyun.

meanwhile on his lap is a box of cupcakes for the whole team, but he made two especially for amber; with a be happy decoration and a tiny orange basketball and number 1 plus jjang! as a final touch. he had it planned for about a week, and luckily joonmyun-hyung agreed to be his messenger because the basketball match is on saturday anyway. so there they are, observing from the parking space, john mayer’s daughters is playing on kim-ahjusshi’s toyota stereo.

“okay i’m ready,” joonmyun-hyung takes the cupcake box, smiling as he gets off of the car. the plan is to have joonmyun-hyung giving the treat to amber, and tells her that kyungsoo says hi. from what kyungsoo can assume, amber will recognize joonmyun-hyung.

kim-ahjusshi’s car windows are tinted heavily, but kyungsoo can still observe from afar. right now joonmyun-hyung and amber are talking; just briefly, because then amber hangs her head and joonmyun-hyung takes that as a cue for him to leave. he pats amber’s arm and bids farewell to the rest of the basketball team, who are most likely remember kim joonmyun; the student council president two years above them, with lots of debating competitions and essay writings (that got him into SNU) trophies on their school’s hall of fame in the main lobby.

“how did it go?” kyungsoo crosses his fingers in anticipation.

“she’s a cool girl, handsomer than you,” joonmyun-hyung chuckles when kyungsoo pouts. he bangs his converse to the car’s footer to get rid of the snow. “she was shocked. can’t really tell if she’s delightful or like, too shocked to have a proper reaction? she said thanks.”

kyungsoo’s pout doesn’t leave his face.

“hey,” joonmyun-hyung pokes his nose, “you tried. that’s all that matter.”

and that’s all kyungsoo need to hear.





▲ ▼





kyungsoo celebrates his seventeenth birthday with his favorite black forest cake but he can only eat two slices and no more. his parents give him a baby crib along with toys that they set up in kyungsoo’s bedroom. his hyungie buys five pieces cute animal print hoodies and a huge tube of slimming cream. joonmyun-hyung’s parents’ present is a dark blue stroller with printed stars and moons and a couple of shoes plus cute socks.

joonmyun-hyung gets to his knees and proposes and kyungsoo has a mini mental breakdown. his hyungie is handling two different video recorders the whole time and kyungsoo shrieks,

“you all knew about this!” he sobs in glee to his hands. his family (families?) bursts out laughing and kyungsoo is surprisingly doing a great job holding his tears because joonmyun-hyung beams when he pries kyungsoo’s hands off of his face.

joonmyun-hyung maintains their eye contact as he slides the simple band of white gold to kyungsoo’s right ring finger and kyungsoo chokes on his lame joke,

“did i even say yes?”

joonmyun-hyung’s pabo gape is so so so priceless kyungsoo yells at his hyungie to zoom in!

“this is my dream come true!” kyungsoo pulls joonmyun-hyung to his feet and plants a wet kiss to his fiancee’s still opened mouth. “so yes, kim joonmyun, i will marry you!” he declares as he squishes joonmyun-hyung’s reddened cheeks.

what a best birthday ever!





▲ ▼





kyungsoo hears the same thing from joonmyun-hyung when he’s finally admitted to the hospital for the labor.

“remember i’m counting on you to get me my best birthday present ever,” joonmyun-hyung kisses his temple. “i’ll have umma to text me when it’s time, and i will be there with you okay? don’t be scared.” kyungsoo is not familiar with needles, and in approximately two days, his stomach will be sliced open. of course kyungsoo is scared.

“p-promise?” kyungsoo doesn’t want joonmyun-hyung to go back to seoul to his stupid business and management classes.

“i promise,” joonmyun-hyung kisses his temple again and leaves.





kyungsoo spends his time lying on the bed, watching variety shows and dramas, drinking juices and water and consuming oatmeal with berries. he felt contractions a couple of times yesterday, but ryeowook-sshi said it’s not time yet. today, he doesn’t feel anything.

on his fourth days, as kyungsoo flushes the toilet after taking a leak, he feels water running down his thighs. his umma who has been staying the night is telling him to exercise his breathing while they wait for the nurses.

“please call joonmyun-hyung!” kyungsoo clutches his umma’s hand.

“it won’t take that long for you to deliver the b—”

“he promised me, umma!” kyungsoo sniffs. “please?”

his umma apologizes and calls joonmyun-hyung, who thankfully just finished his class.

“he’ll be here when you’re done, kyungsoo-yah,” his umma strokes kyungsoo’s sweaty hair, “oh waiiit how about your baby’s name?”

“i—” but kyungsoo is soon dragged to the operation room. ryeowook-sshi smiling encouragingly as he puts on his gloves, and kyungsoo can only rely on his belief that his baby boy will be joonmyun-hyung’s unforgettable birthday present ever before his lower abdomen is numbed by the anesthesia.





kyungsoo wakes up to a dark hospital room with a sleeping figure on the lone sofa next to his bed.

his voice cracks as he calls joonmyun-hyung’s name, so he tries again.

“hyung?” he takes a deep breath and winces at the stinging and throbbing sensation near his pelvis.

joonmyun-hyung rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, and kyungsoo’s heart skips a beat.

“hey,” joonmyun-hyung switches on the lamps and that smile is so wide kyungsoo can’t help but to squirm under the proud gaze.

“hey, you’re out for...” joonmyun-hyung checks his phone, “six hours! feeling better, now?”

“six hours?!” kyungsoo winces. “ouch, it hurts, hyung.”

joonmyun-hyung is making kissy face at him as he takes kyungsoo’s IV-ed left hand to his.

“he’s so perfect,” joonmyun-hyung says, “our baekhyun is so perfect. thank you so much, kyungsoo-yah. please be healthy soon.”

“baekhyun?” he asks shyly. “that your final choice?”

“yeah,” joonmyun-hyung kisses his knuckles. “baekhyun, our virtuous first son.”

“i like it,” kyungsoo laughs softly, “i really like it. can i see him? is he sleeping?”

joonmyun-hyung leaves the room for about ten minutes and he comes back with baby baekhyun on a wheeled bed. kyungsoo clenches his teeth as he tries to sit up straighter.

“careful,” joonmyun-hyung’s posture while he’s transferring the baby to kyungsoo’s arms is so stiff kyungsoo will tease him for that later.

baby baekhyun is tiny; rounded head, small nose, pink lips, almost nonexistent eyebrows, moving eyeballs behind his closed eyelids. the mop of black hair. his cute chin. his calming body heat.

the steady heartbeats.

“there you go,” joonmyun-hyung sits down by the headboard, “he just had his milk. you should burp him.”

kyungsoo wants to swing baby baekhyun and joonmyun-hyung chuckles. and so kyungsoo rocks his son, softly calling his name over and over again. he likes the distinctive baby powder scent as he kisses baby baekhyun’s left cheek.

“hyung!” kyungsoo squeals when baby baekhyun’s eyes flutter open oh so very slowly. he gapes as baby baekhyun adjusts his vision to the room’s light, and he squeals again when baby baekhyun’s eyes fall on him.

“omo omo,” kyungsoo laughs, “annyeeeooooong baby baekhyunnie, this is your
umma~~~” he lifts baby baekhyun towards his appa. “and that’s joonmyun-appa~” joonmyun-hyung makes bunny ears with his fingers.

kyungsoo cradles his son’s head to his chest, forgetting about his pain and starts doing overly executed aegyo talking he’s mastered whenever he’s too lazy to finish his homeschooling’s homework.





▲ ▼





“oh my god,” kyungsoo can’t help the tears from falling as he stares at the stick with a green stripe. “oh, god.”

he’s pregnant again, and it’s either he’s happy or he’s angry; either at himself or at his fiancee.

this must have happened when joonmyun was too drunk on his weekly assignments and kyungsoo himself was too high from the amazing sex to tell joonmyun he shouldn’t climax inside; not without a condom that they failed to remember.

fortunately, baekhyun is having his nap, so kyungsoo can cry his heart out in the bathroom; sometimes patting his stomach, telling himself that he’s not disappointed, not at all, eventhough it’s only been two years and he barely graduates from the homeschooling program. now that he’s carrying another baby, his plan to enroll in a cooking school will have to wait, and nonononono it’s not the baby’s fault!

“i love you, baby,” kyungsoo mumbles, “but...”



to be c o n t i n u e d





































<< master.list >> if you want to talk without having to come back to my fics >>

---

* baby bacon photo not mine.
* reference for baekhyun's name here.
* y know gulls i have a tumb.lr

have a nice saturday *breakdance*

chanyeol wakes up with a start.

he searches for his phone groggily, and it’s only five fifty five. the particular number confuses him though, so he closes his eyes again.

just half an hour more and then he swears he will get out of the bed.

but who is he kidding. the moment he snuggles to his pillow; the sequence of what happened yesterday floods his mind in technicolor, as if he’s there for the second time. he hears the footsteps of two faceless girls running away while cursing. he sees kris kneeling behind his moving eyelids. he feels kris’ comfortable but loose shoes as he wriggles his bare toes. how kris’ everlasting frown accompanies their short drive home and how kris gently takes his wrist and says with a small voice that they’re going to have to talk about it before he drives back to practice.

chanyeol blinks, caressing his left wrist unconsciously.

what, now?

he sighs loudly, blinks some more to adjust his eyes to the semi darkness of his bedroom. he didn’t eat anything last night due to the truckloads of jumbled emotions and the paranoid questions with equally paranoid answers he made up were practically screaming loudly in his head.

what will kris do—

is he going to report to—

will ryeowook-sshi offer to change sch—

do i want to chang—

how about appa and umma—

maybe he can feign sickness today, so kris will go soft on him and delay the talk and after that he will have to think about new excuses to escape from it completely. because honestly there’s nothing to talk about. it is what it is. he’s bullied, no big deal, poverty in africa and greece’s bankruptcy are the real problems. exo will have their comeback next week, and that’s what kris should really invest all of his attention to, not to waste his time worrying over chanyeol’s unfortunate being.

aside from the fact that that was the second time his shoes disappeared mysteriously, chanyeol’s FIGHTING PARK CHANYEOL!!1! ONLY FOUR MONTHS LEFT!!! mantra has been working well enough for his mental stability whenever he looks at his iphone (he set it as a wallpaper).

or maybe, chanyeol is on his accepting phase already. he’s a grateful boy, remember? he can’t whine forever just because he’s a victim of bullying. the idea of his revelation is this; bullied is considered nothing if he compares it to what happens to kids his age in conflicted countries like, say, middle east and africa ones where there are kid soldiers carrying weapons and killing and killed everyday. from then on, chanyeol never fails to thank god before he goes to sleep in his air-conditioned bedroom for his blessed condition; for he gets proper meal three times a day and for his status as a student in one the most prestigious high schools in south korea—what else does he need in life?

although, yes. fine, yesterday he did break his own vow about absolutely-no-more-crying-park-chanyeol-fighting! the moment kris made a halt and stared to the ground with both hands on his jeans pocket; his body language didn’t only scream, i don’t understand— but it also shrunk into almost invisibility.

chanyeol never likes it when kris is on that state. so insecure. so heartbreaking. so wrong.

it’s ironic, kind of, because chanyeol is painfully aware that he’s the one causing all the insecurity and heartbreak in the first place.

and kris doesn’t deserve any of it.

“i have to be stronger than this...” chanyeol slaps his cheeks, once, twice, thrice until they sting and reddened and he’s fully awake now. he hops off the bed, does ten messy squats that he almost face plants himself to the floor, laughs, and goes to open the baby blue curtain to reveal seoul’s chilly october morning. he stops for a moment to go outside to the balcony, inhaling the air deeply, smiling to the sky before he gets back inside again; shivering slightly. he makes his bed, and then he prepares wednesday’s textbooks and notebooks and takes out his uniform and underwear from the walk-in closet. note to self; tidy your clothes this weekend, park chanyeol! fighting!

he bounces to the kitchen; a big bowl of koko krunch sounds yummy for a breakfast and maybe he’ll ask lee-sshi to drive him to buy a lunchbox near the—

chanyeol widens his eyes, because kris is slumped on the dining table; his head on his arms, a mug of cooling, untouched coffee is abandoned within his reach. chanyeol then tiptoes to get to the cabinets, not wanting to make any sound, but is kris seriously wearing the same t-shirt from yesterday?

and the steady ups and downs of kris’ body—

chanyeol gasps rather loudly, and then kris jerks awake, frowning, squinting his eyes at chanyeol who has both hands covering his mouth because a) he regrets his action just now and b) because kris looks so cute somehow, with hair sticking out everywhere that chanyeol needs to tame his incoming squeal.

he giggles anyway, when kris rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, grumbling in english.

“good morning, hyung!” chanyeol chirps loudly also in english, just because. he smiles as kris pours the stale coffee to the sink. “i’m going to make a cereal, do you want some?” he watches kris washing his hands then face and the slight nod of affirmation. “i think we have koko krunch and...fruity loops. or do you want me to cook you a simple breakfast?”

kris frowns, a drop of water falling from the tip of his nose and it feels like watching a movie when the handsome protagonist is revealed as a not morning person.

chanyeol’s smile widens. kris really suits the role.

“any cornflakes?” kris asks then, taking out the bowls and spoons for them.

chanyeol goes to check their cereal stashes on a different cabinet, “yup!” he exclaims before he takes a carton of milk from the refrigerator. kris says he wants a glass of orange juice so chanyeol also gets it for him. they sit across each other, with chanyeol humming spongebob squarepants opening theme song while he prepares their simple breakfast and kris frowning to his lap.

they eat in silence, at first. chanyeol fights the urge to just run and bring his bowl to his room and watches nickelodeon or the morning news, because kris only stirs his cereal blankly, frowning and frowning and frowning.

and chanyeol’s tongue works faster than his brain, “hyung do you wish to have wrinkles so early?” he grimaces as kris frowns.

“bb cream can’t help you forever!” he does a mehrong to break off the awkward atmosphere; who knows if kris really isn’t a morning person?

kris snorts, “well.”

“well...” chanyeol raises both eyebrows.

kris mimics him; his eyes get exceptionally big and his nostrils flare. he. looks. so. cute!

“oh my god no!” chanyeol shrieks as kris adds a smirk to his presumably-aegyo. “stop it! hyung!”

“fine,” kris clicks his tongue, scooping the cereal to his mouth, frowning at the stuffy taste, and tossing in more crunchy cornflakes.

chanyeol happily finishes his own cereal, stealing glances every now and then at kris who chews with unnecessary seriousness. their eyes meet a few times, and chanyeol makes funny faces everytime they do; which kris just replies with his usual hint of smile from the right corner of his mouth.

kris says after he takes his empty bowl and glass to the sink, “you’re not going to school today.”

chanyeol swallows down an unidentified lump.

“um,” he bites his bottom lip.

“i already told wookie-hyung to get you an absence letter.” kris’ tone is final, and chanyeol loses his appetite. “i didn’t tell anyone anything, chanyeol-ah,” kris continues carefully, as if he understands that chanyeol will appreciate it if he doesn’t make the issue as everybody’s business.

“promise?” chanyeol whispers and it’s full of raw hope and obviously, gratefulness.

kris frowns, leaning back against the sink. “i will try my best, chanyeol-ah,” he runs a hand through his hair, pauses, and then he looks straight at chanyeol, “i’m here.”

this is jongdae-just-smiles-at-me-because-i-solve-a-math-problem!-i-think-i’m-melting-in-a-puddle-of-goo all over again.

except that in front of chanyeol right now is not a textbook but a bowl of cereal, and jongdae is in gangwon; probably smiling to his parents and kris is not jongdae, but it’s the same.

“they—” chanyeol’s heart throbs. “they never touch me.” (lies, because there was a boy with glasses from class C who pinned him to the wall, groped his butt and then the boy’s friends threw money at him; and three sophomore girls crowding him and pulling, plucking at his hair that his scalp had bled).

kris stands still.

“i—” chanyeol puffs his cheeks because really, what should he say—they bully me because of you, hyung—of course he can’t, right?

“i’m okay, hyung.” he puts up a smile, not quite a hundred percent, and kris shakes his head.

“i can’t if you’re like this, chanyeol-ah,” he goes to sit again, “please.”

“what?” chanyeol blinks back his stupid tears, and kris just looks at him; his bare face is unreadable but still as handsome as ever. “what,” chanyeol chuckles wryly because of course kris wufan is handsome; he won’t be an idol if he’s not handsome!—he’s getting hysterical so in the end he breathes shakily, “h-hyung.”

kris grasps his clammy hands into his own cold ones, hides his face to the space between the edge of the table and his chest, squeezes, and says—

no, he pleads,

“i’m so sorry.”

this is not a math problem.

the hands are not jongdae’s.

but.

“what are you talking about,” chanyeol’s voice creaks although he succeeds in holding back his tears. he squeezes kris’ hands too and adds desperately, “h-hyung, it’s okay. i’m okay. i promise,” in order to reassure kris that he’s really, really okay so kris canshouldmust stop whatever he’s doing—because if kris continues then jongdae is past tense and chanyeol furiously tells himself, i don’t want that.

that as in jongdae becomes a past tense and that as in kris is his now.

“i’m okay, hyung!” chanyeol tugs at their entwined hands and when kris looks up (with a frown) he makes sure he scrunches his nose as he does his usual smile/mehrong thingy to appear more convincing.

there are extra tenderness reflected on kris’ veiled eyes, but they’re enough for chanyeol to repeat furiously; i don’t want that.

his eyes are watery, good, because he uses it as an excuse to wipe his face with the sleeves of his frayed the smurfs t-shirt.

actually, he just wants to cut the body contact with kris.

kris nods to himself, nods and nods and then there’s the round two of awkward silence. chanyeol starts to count, while trying to imagine happy times with jongdae and baekhyun after school; walking side by side throwing insults (for baekhyun) and compliments (for jongdae). chanyeol gets to the eighty mark when his heart beats slowing down, and kris is already looking like his usual stoic, exo’s leader self.

chanyeol grins, “hi, hyung, guess what? i’m hungry again!”

kris smiles and for a split second chanyeol forgets who is supposed to be his present tense.

“we have a whole day off, take your time,” kris tells him as he gets up, frowns, and reaches to swipe his thumb to chanyeol’s right eye before he disappears to his bedroom.

chanyeol needs two hundred and thirty to calm down.



▲▼



‘we’ consist of chanyeol and kris because kris also skips his comeback practice.

“we’re going to record a variety show on saturday,” kris says as they watch a re-run of kill bill volume ii on the living room; refreshed and more relaxed from showering. “it’s MTV’s ‘a day with...’” he frowns when a sound of bones cracking hyperbolically via speakers.

chanyeol puts his index and middle fingers to the space between kris’ bushy eyebrows, and he narrows his eyes as kris turns his head.

“no frowning,” chanyeol manages a straight face. kris tries to get away but chanyeol protests, moving closer to kris’ side and sitting on his knees, japanese style.

“what’s the deal?” kris asks, a crease is forming, and chanyeol has to press his fingers to make kris surrender.

“hmmm...” chanyeol mumbles, changing his fingers with his thumb. “hmmm...oh! for every frown, you have to put a thousand won to my old shoebox!”

“that’s mean,” kris comments, “what’s the money for?”

“we can give it for charity on christmas!” chanyeol bounces, accidentally pushing kris’ head. “omo! i’m sorry!”

kris snorts, he grabs chanyeol’s wrist and secures him in a headlock. they struggle for awhile but kris easily manhandles him and chanyeol is no longer battling with his inner fear that kris might do anything nonconsensual to him—it’s a jongdae who’s not here versus kris who probably only touches him because of the contract battle—and chanyeol is only seventeen. he has the right to avoid skinship anytime he wants, and vice versa, so he giggles and struggles some more as he’s now pressed tightly against kris’ broad chest; liking kris’ adult-ish and manly cologne’s scent.

kris growls and proposes, “a thousand won for every five frowns that you see,” he stretches his left leg to the coffee table, “how about that?”

“deal!” chanyeol pretends to wheeze as kris loosens his hold, and he finds himself lying uncomfortably sideway on the couch; uma thurman flying with her sword on the plasma screen.

kris pulls his arms off of chanyeol, spreading them to the back of the couch, clearing his throat as he does so.

chanyeol wriggles to find a more comfortable position, and without thinking twice he takes kris’ right arm and snakes it around his shoulders, holding kris’ warm hand as he lies his head on kris’ lap.

kris doesn’t say anything.

chanyeol smoothes out his palm against kris. he’s awed by their distinctive difference, size-wise; because although chanyeol is only two centimeters shorter than kris, the older boy’s hand is way, way bigger than his.

“so! MTV ‘a day with...’? i watched exo, B.A.P. and miss A’s episodes.” chanyeol plays with kris’ spidery fingers; bending and flicking them. “is the show scripted, hyung?”

“not everything,” kris snatches his right hand and pinches chanyeol’s nose. chanyeol whines but kris continues as if nothing happens, “i asked you to skip school because wookie-hyung said we need to arrange my room to look like we’ve been sleeping together.”

“oh,” chanyeol blinks, feeling his face grows hotter. “okay. what else, hyung?”

“we have to crosscheck our background story again, synchronizing it with what we’ve told the public on the press conference.” kris’ left hand lands itself on chanyeol’s hair. “wookie-hyung recorded it, he said we should watch it and take notes. but when he gave me the tape he also gave me two neat notes. we just need to memorize.”

chanyeol smiles fondly at exo’s eccentric manager.

“rearranging room and memorizing notes, i can do that!” chanyeol bails a fist and nearly punches kris on the face. kris frowns. “ah! ding!” he grins widely. “that’s one.”

kris frowns again, and then he snorts, shrugging.

“two~~~” chanyeol sings. kris pinches his cheeks. “aw! that hurts!” chanyeol pouts, sitting up and crossing his legs.

chanyeol is still pouting when kris’ iphone rings. kris smiles as he looks at the caller id.

“my umma,” he says off-handedly before he presses the speakerphone mode and begins to have a conversation in english.

then, “you know what, ma. chanyeol is with me right now.”

kris’ umma exclaims and faintly calling kris’ father to join. after a bit of rustling, “annyeong baby yeol! how are you!” she asks enthusiastically. chanyeol claps for no reason before answering,

“halo umma halo appa! no school today!”

“whaaaaat why, baby?” kris’ umma giggles and chanyeol needs a second to form a proper answer,

“um, kris and i’m going to have variety show.” he looks up at kris and kris nods in approval. “umma appa how are yuuuuu?” chanyeol changes the subject because kris will surely explain everything later.

“we’re good, baby, gomawo...” kris’ umma is half chinese and half korean, and kris told chanyeol that she’s been taking korean class just so she can understand chanyeol even just for a little.

“chanyeol-ah, kris’ appa wants to say something.” another rustling and chanyeol waits in anticipation; kris’ appa is a canadian native and from the photo kris saves on his wallet, the man looks like a quiet type with graying brown hair. this will be the second time chanyeol talks to him; their first time was so short because kris’ appa had been shocked by chanyeol’s loud and sloppy english.

kris’ appa clears his throat, and even kris smiles at his appa’s obvious nervousness.

“uh, annyeong, chanyeol-ah,” kris’ appa greets, “i added your facebook.”

“dad are you serious,” kris interrups with a teasing tone, and kris’ appa splutters. chanyeol slaps kris’ knee and kris frowns at him.

chanyeol holds up his three fingers. kris makes an ‘aish’ face then he lets chanyeol takes his iphone.

kris’ appa is muttering something about ‘...brat’ and ‘son’ in a same sentence and chanyeol can hear kris’ umma melodic laugh. chanyeol wonders what’s so funny though, but he just announces his acknowledgment with, “appa you have facebook? i will approve don’t worry!”

kris’ appa chuckles, and chanyeol gapes because he thinks he hears kris from across the wire. kris raises an eyebrow but carelessly focuses back to the movie, pulling at chanyeol’s arm so chanyeol is snuggled back to his chest.

“do you want anything from canada, pup? dad—appa will send it for you.” kris’ appa stumbles on his korean, and chanyeol can’t help but to coo. and what did the old man call him?

“‘pup’?” chanyeol whispers to kris.

kris’ smile makes his eyes crinkle and chanyeol chants the i don’t want that mantra no matter how burning both of his face and heart are looking at the sight thisclose.

“my dad’s nickname for me, pup. puppy.” kris whispers back and chanyeol places a hand to his cheek, feeling flattered. kris snorts. “what do you have in mind, dad?” he takes over.

“well i was thinking about some jumpers and maybe chocolates for souvenirs. does chanyeol like any sport?” kris translates it to korean for chanyeol, and chanyeol shyly says that he’s not familiar with western sport. but he likes soccer. but canada’s national soccer team is...

“justin bieber?” chanyeol tilts his head, and kris laughs as he translates it to english for his parents.

“i can buy his album for you here, chanyeol-ah,” kris flicks his forehead, and chanyeol fakes a scoff as he tries to keep up with kris’ english. “i’ll email what chanyeol wants, dad. hm. yes. hey dad, wait. after he approves your friend request you can post him something, a link to some gift’s website maybe. yes. on his facebook. of course, dad, i’m your son. what?” kris pauses to look down at chanyeol and then he laughs again. “chanyeol doesn’t have a sister. i’m positive. it must be him on his profile picture. i know. yes. why are you—didn’t mama cut off his pictures from a magazine? what? ah, okay. yeah well you have to see him in person, dad, he’s so pretty.”

chanyeol gives up trying to decode what kris is talking about, so he’s staring at kris the whole time. kris glances at him, and then he tucks a strand of hair behind chanyeol’s left ear, smiling fondly for the -nth time ever since his parents' call.

and it’s chanyeol’s turn to frown because he’s not used to kris’ very rare smile, and to be bombarded by it in such short period of time—

whoa, what’s with this overwhelmingly giddy sensation crowding all of his senses?

“okay dad. thank you,” kris frowns, “i am. yes, sir. i love you too.”

chanyeol lets that one frown slip from his hawk-like inspection because he’s too busy trying to conceal his giddy and most likely dreamy smile from kris.

“appa?” chanyeol asks cheerily, fanning his face. luckily, kris is still frowning to uma thurman. but kris’ appa says that he has to go. “ng? awwwww you going? okay! bye bye appa! umma bye bye! i will study good i promise!” and then, because chanyeol likes the way kris said i love you just now, he says it too; making kris’ appa laughs—and it amazes chanyeol very much so, how the father and son share the same treat.

kris is closing his eyes when chanyeol settles back to the couch; although not exactly back to kris’ chest. hesitantly, he touches the particular space on kris’ forehead and declares, “i’m going to ask you what’s wrong, but you’re not going to frown.”

kris opens his eyes, answers the question with both eyebrows raised high, “nothing. see? not frowning.”

“cheater,” chanyeol pouts because he should’ve known; a brief session of cordiality can’t just make kris magically letting chanyeol to read him like an open book.

kris snorts and motions to him to get closer. chanyeol’s giddiness is acting up again so he just buries his face to kris’ chest, sneakily hugging kris’ narrow waist.

and so they watch the epic movie in silence, with kris stroking his hair absentmindedly and faltering everytime blood spurting red and chanyeol wants to ask if kris has a haemaphobia or he’s just not that into action movie which if he is, chanyeol will totally use the tidbit information to tease him. but chanyeol is too lazy to verbalize the question. the yellow of what’shername track suit is blurring and when chanyeol opens his eyes the credit rolls while kris is talking to ryeowook-sshi.

“...hyung. we’re going to be fine.”

chanyeol sighs, nuzzles his nose to kris’ clothed stomach. the muscle tenses. chanyeol opts to butt his head further rather than thinking negatively that kris-hyung doesn’t want to touch me.

chanyeol grins to ryeowook-sshi who sits on the love seat.

“baby-yah did i wake you?” ryeowook-sshi asks for a hug. chanyeol pounces on the older man, shaking his head. “phew! alright then. take care, okay? ask kris for the note i’ve prepared for you to memorize. saturday is gonna be fun!” and with that he hugs chanyeol once again, pats kris’ head and leaves in a hurry.

chanyeol pounces back to kris’ side, fluttering his eyelashes as his way to ask what’s their next schedule is.

kris laughs and makes monotonous gurgling baby sound as he pokes chanyeol’s cheeks repeatedly before he announces that they have a crucial job waiting ahead.

dang, that could be another great blackmail material if only chanyeol is not too delighted by kris’ spontaneous display of aegyo!



▲▼



kris’ bedroom is eerily empty.

no sign of any human being is occupying it. the room is mostly in shades of grey; dark grey sheet, light grey curtain, even lighter grey wall, and grey-whitey bedside tables.

“what,” kris sweeps chanyeol’s fringe to get his attention. chanyeol makes a duck face.

“i don’t understand,” he throws his arms to emphasize his point, “we can’t make this bedroom a—no, domestic-ish! are you sure you sleep here?”

kris frowns—“four!” chanyeol yells—but kris just dismisses it, looks around, and shrugs.

“i do, everyday. what’s wrong?” he asks nonchalantly.

“what’s wrong?!” chanyeol stomps. “we’re going to take hours to move my stuffs here, hyung! i haven’t done my english homework yet!”

“...okay?”

“ugh,” chanyeol butts his head to kris’ chest. kris frowns. “five! give me the money and where do you put your phone charger?”

“there,” kris gestures to the left side table, fishing out a cash from his jeans pocket. chanyeol tries again as he takes the money,

“where are your dirty clothes?”

“i keep them in a basket in the bathroom,” kris frowns but he quickly raises both eyebrows before chanyeol can yell at him. “what is it, chanyeol-ah.”

chanyeol mentally praises kris’ cute attempt to play their game. he bites his bottom lip or else his giddy and dreamy smile will pop up. he drags kris to his bedroom next door and although he’s not supposed to be proud about the chaotic condition, at least this time his argument is valid.

kris just goes, “aaah,” after he inspects the whole mess. then he checks chanyeol’s walk in closet, frowns (but chanyeol doesn’t see it), and finally he nods.

“i get it,” he smirks as he pulls at chanyeol’s nose, “we just need to move some of my clothes to your closet and we’re done.”

“right,” chanyeol does a mehrong and a moment later he hypothetically loses his jaw as kris opens his own walk in closet.

rows and rows of expensive shirts from any color available are hung; arranged from the darkest to lightest. the same applies for t-shirts and jackets and suits and even his jeans. kris has his collection of shiny jewelries—watches, necklaces, rings, bracelets and sunglasses—stacked perfectly in order in see through drawers. two corners of the closet are used for kris’ hats and ties. kris’ shoes, from the hip hop adidas edition to the formal dress shoes are lined at the bottom and there’s a body length three way mirrors behind the twin doors.

kris doesn’t wait for chanyeol to recover from his speechless state as he takes a handful of t-shirts and places them to chanyeol’s arms.

chanyeol huffs but kris just raises an eyebrow.

chanyeol brings the t-shirts carefully to his bedroom, hangs them next to his new but unused backpacks (plural, yes, they’re from ryeowook-sshi) and belts and two days pajama pants (how did it get up there!). he stares in horror at his surrounding and flails and decides to take care of his less fantastic clothes to make room for kris’. he tells kris to maybe please stay away from the closet and he promises to help kris to move his clothes later. kris smirks and hangs another handful of jeans before he retreats. the last thing chanyeol sees before he busies himself inside the closet is kris frowning in front of his bookshelves.

“THAT’S ONE, PABO HYUNG! AND DON’T TOUCH MY ONE PIECE MANHWAS PLEASE!”



▲▼



after exactly one hour—five minutes longer because chanyeol is sulking about kris touching and stacking his one piece manhwas in a neat order (the older man also scoring another three frowns)—kris is taking chanyeol to have their late lunch on a cozy italian cafe about two blocks from their apartment. on the whole short ride, chanyeol reads ryeowook-sshi’s note; especially the font-size-18 skinship section.

he snorts. that’s easy.

the waitress who takes their order is blushing prettily as she hands out the menu. she asks if they want to have their special, and chanyeol doesn’t understand the language on the menu anyway—it’s on italian and english—so he reaches and taps kris’ slowly creasing forehead; presses his index finger there and says,

“hyung?” and with that kris asks the amused waitress about today’s special menu.

while kris is being indifferent with chanyeol’s finger on his forehead, the waitress loses it and she’s giggling in between explaining about creamy pasta and whatisitnoodles with free appetizer the customer can choose; red bean ice cream or mango frozen yoghurt—chanyeol squeals that he wants the red bean ice cream.

“alright, one today’s special for me with the ice cream,” kris gently removes chanyeol’s wrist off of his face, holds it, and leans forward to flip the menu page. “here, spaghetti puttanesca. you like anchovies, right?”

chanyeol nods and shrugs, smiling. he’s ready to devour anything by now.

“what do you want to drink?” kris closes their menus and gives them back to the waitress.

“one vanilla milkshake please,” chanyeol directs his smile to the waitress and kris says make it two. she bows at them and skips to her awaiting friends by the cashier.

“she’s pretty,” chanyeol whispers, “oh! she’s looking!” he waves at her, she and her friends giggling loudly, and kris snorts. “aw what is it!” chanyeol pinches the back of kris’ massive hand on the table.

“what,” kris’ said hand is suddenly stretching his chin and chanyeol whines. kris smiles and rubs the spot, apologizes, and says in english, “you’re too much, park chanyeol.”

chanyeol leans back to his chair, crossing his arms. what’s about him that’s too much? he’s not fat isn’t he?!

“did you just call me fat?” he hisses. kris frowns. “five!”

kris’ laugh is a little bit too obnoxious that three businessmen ahjusshis sitting across their table are giving them the nasty look. but that only makes chanyeol laugh even louder and they end up muffling their cackles; kris biting on the lapel of his maroon jacket and chanyeol using his palms.

“holy shit, chanyeol-ah, you’re not fucking fat okay,” kris rasps, still high from their impromptu comedy show, “you’re perfect.”

one of the businessmen makes a dying animal sound.

jongdae who’s not here versus kris who probably only touches (flatters) him because of the contract battle current result;

0 : 1.



▲▼



“you didn’t pay your penalty from the—” kris cuts him off by playfully slapping a thousand won to his cheek. “you’re so rude...” chanyeol grumbles as he pockets the money. but he swings their entwined hands anyway, because honestly who the heck is in a bad mood while strolling in a mall about to buy a pair of new black shoes? not chanyeol, no, and did he mention that kris is paying?

“hyung do you think your fans won’t recognize you?” chanyeol holds onto kris’ left arm tightly as they make their way to the escalator; his eyes dart around, curious about how fans usually work. will they approach kris and ask for autographs and selcas? how about those with the scary zoom zoom thingies like ryeowook-sshi had told him? do they really bring sophisticated cameras everywhere even in a mall?

what is it like to be surrounded by fans?

kris fixes the grey beanie layered by the hood of his maroon hoodie hastily, and chanyeol giggles.

kris takes the step up on the escalator first, gripping chanyeol’s hand tighter and frowning as chanyeol follows suit. chanyeol pretends he doesn’t see the frown, because, what?

“actually, there’s a policy. no cameras are allowed inside the mall,” kris says, “school is not over yet either.”

“he he,” chanyeol does a mehrong. kris snorts. “can i have a pair of hi-top black converse?”

“anything,” kris answers with a small voice as he steers them to the first shoes outlet they can find. and suddenly it’s 0 : 2.

now, it’s not i don’t want that but can i have it—no question mark, because if chanyeol puts a question mark at the end of that sentence then it will evolve into something more and chanyeol really shouldn’t—couldn’t want more; remember the world’s economic recess? global warming? kid soldiers?

“what’s your shoe size?” kris asks as he calls for the shopkeeper.

chanyeol spreads his ten fingers, smiling, because he’s in the middle of counting; of trying to get jongdae back to be his present tense.

kris gives the detail of chanyeol’s dream shoes to the shopkeeper and chanyeol sits down to the small seat provided. thirty one, thirty two, thirty three—

“he’s looking for your size,” kris takes a seat next to him—forty, forty one, forty two, forty three—kris frowns—one!—and asks,

“you okay?”

“of course,” chanyeol blurts out. “you frowned, hyung.”

kris snorts, flicking his forehead. forty what?

“excuse me,” the shopkeeper returns with a converse’s shoebox; behind him, his co-workers are whispering hotly. kris nods to him, takes the shoebox and kneels before chanyeol; untying chanyeol’s bright green-black-yellow-orange nike and putting the converse, and why is kris always looking so serious in every. single. thing. he. does?

“you’re just tying a shoe,” chanyeol presses his thumb to the established spot where he’s being soft with their little game. kris just smirks, continues his task, and from the corner of his eyes chanyeol sees most of the shopkeepers (noonas) have their phones in the air; obviously taking photos or recording fancams. chanyeol licks his lips, suddenly feeling self-conscious and turns his head away from the cameras but there are a small group of young girls outside the outlet. they gasp collectively when chanyeol makes eye contact with one of them, and chanyeol almost kicks kris right on the face after that.

kris is quick to catch on as he frowns to the now blatantly screaming fans and he lets chanyeol practically clawing at his shoulders.

he whispers, “hey hey, it’s okay. i’m here.”

chanyeol swallows, blinks, swallows, nods, and whimpers, “pleasedon’tleaveme,” before he can’t help it. kris kisses his right knee and that’s when the shopkeepers are uniting to politely ask those fans to go.

0 : 3, and it’s not because of the kiss, no, it’s because of how kris bows to the shopkeepers later before they leave the shoe outlet; kris refusing to hold hand until he washes his own on the restroom and then he buys chanyeol a lion plushie from toys r’ us.



▲▼



can i really have it?





to be c o n t i n u e d