chanyeol is more than grateful that kris doesn’t say anything the whole ride home. about him quietly crying on the passenger seat, that is. or maybe it’s because chanyeol hides his face with the neck of his t-shirt, sniffing and giving up already. the tears just can’t stop streaming now that he admits he wants everything.

kris unbuckles his seatbelt for him, and by then chanyeol’s sobs are reduced into clamminess on his damp cheeks and a pair of badly reddened eyes. he glances at kris, who stares at him with an unreadable expression. or maybe it’s just their apartment complex’s parking lot’s dim lighting and chanyeol’s overreacting mind wanting kris to appear troubled or worried or guilty.

chanyeol stretches his dry mouth to form a wry smile because he can’t remember being this selfish before.

but maybe it’s because chanyeol—despite his painful naivety about his own feeling—understands that this is the problem with fiction; kris will never see him beyond an unfortunate kid from gangwon who becomes his only ticket out of his idol career’s hellish scandal, no matter how much in love that ticket is with the idol.

kris reaches for the tissue box on the dashboard and proceeds to clean chanyeol’s face. he spreads his left hand on chanyeol’s jawline while his right hand is gently wiping the remaining tears and snots.

kris’ hand feels so cold but chanyeol wants everything, right, and so he leans more into the touch and closes his eyes to greedily savor it.

kris pockets the used tissue and gets out of the car. he doesn’t offer his hand as chanyeol follows suit and they walk to the elevator side by side without words. chanyeol doesn’t understand, of course, why—but it doesn’t feel wrong anyway. he will live without kris’ hand entwined with his every single second possible. chanyeol keeps his head down as the elevator dings and brings them up to the fifth floor.

but then kris squeezes his wrist after he locks their apartment, and asks cruelly with his monotonous voice, “can i get your promised hug now?” and chanyeol is only seventeen he is not accustomed yet to quickly tame his jumbled emotions, okay, like, why does kris suddenly want the hug he’s promised a long time ago? does he really want it? or is he just using it now because oh my god.

it just comes crossing chanyeol’s mind that he is the one who needs a hug so bad right now.

surprise, surprise.

chanyeol gasps. he practically pounces on kris and kris steadies his stance as if he’s already expecting the force. the not-goes-unnoticed act is so sweet and chanyeol becomes more hopeless.

“i’m sorry,” kris inhales. “i’m so sorry.” exhales.

chanyeol chokes on a hasty, “it’s okay,” because it really is. in the end, kris has always been here and it’s enough as long as they stay this way, he will endure everything just like how he wants it. and as a ticket he will be expired in a matter of four months time.

chanyeol tightens his hug at his silly wishful thinking, laughing at himself. but.

four months, park chanyeol! let’s monopolize kris wufan for yourself he he fighting!!!

kris is stroking his spine, letting chanyeol to step on his cold feet. he sways their bodies to a nonexistent rhythm because apparently their proximity calm chanyeol’s frantic heartbeats.

they don’t even bother switching on the living room’s lamps.

after awhile, chanyeol sighs loudly to indicate that maybe they should separate but he makes no move to do so. kris just hums. he pulls his head back from the comfiness of kris’ neck, looks down—he’s taller than kris for once—and smiles.

“chinese takeout for dinner?” he says, just a breath away from kris’ lips. the darkness makes him losing his sense of distance. he blinks and pulls back even further nervously.

kris moves his hands to chanyeol’s hips and nods, “alright.” he half lifts chanyeol off of his feet and pushes at chanyeol’s sweaty fringe before he goes to make a call. chanyeol touches his forehead as he gets into his bedroom to change.

behind his closed bedroom, chanyeol kisses his palm and grins.

everything.





the next day chanyeol wakes up with a much, much lighter body and he feels like singing on top of his lungs. he does, muffling his totally off-tune muse’s unintended to his pillow.

so this is what musicians often wail about on their music and lyric. with jongdae it wasn’t like this when chanyeol first realized he liked him. jongdae was all trying to look cool and be a good friend (and then hopefully progressing into actual boyfriends), and most of the time challenging his patience because jongdae tended to reply to his texts―plural―with a dot or only a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘thanks’ but at the end of the day, jongdae’s pretty crow feet eyesmile made chanyeol’s knees budging anyway.

kris is not a man with words, and honestly chanyeol can’t say he prefers him otherwise. he’s all about the small things that brings chanyeol to the special place in the sky; his harsh push to chanyeol’s head to show that he is listening and is amused by chanyeol’s blabbering, a tap on his shoulder and a pat on his back and their seemingly always in autopilot mode hand holding business. and chanyeol is not quite familiar with romance, but kris has kissed his knee twice without any sensible reason goddammit.

it’s like jongdae hurts his knees and kris kisses the pain away.

or maybe chanyeol should just stop comparing his past and present tense.

kris is toweling his hair when he has showered and ready to make breakfast.

“good morning,” kris greets him with a small smile.

chanyeol doesn’t even care if he’s being too transparent because he greets back with baekhyun’s most favorite wangja sunshine edition smile. kris snorts as he leads them to the dining room.

chanyeol claps happily at the sight of toasts, scrambled eggs with bacons, steamed potatoes-broccoli-cheese and sliced apples on the table. he’s about to squeal and praise kris but kris stops him with a sheepish smirk (which is so cute by the way!) and says that kyungsoo cooked the breakfast, not him. chanyeol pouts but he is swooned anyway.

“i’ll drive you to school starting from today,” kris announces as they sit across each other. chanyeol gapes. “i’ll pick you up, too.” and his tone is final, so chanyeol just smiles and agrees.

he gapes again twenty minutes later when kris unlocks the sport car what’sthenameagain with an open top and just downright breathtaking design; exactly like those cars in racing movies baekhyun likes to rent.

kris’ last words before chanyeol gets in the car is, “i hope you bring a comb with you.”

“oh my god!” chanyeol doesn’t stop laughing even when kris finally parks on his school’s parking lot; doesn’t pay any mind about them because he is too busy finger combing his messy hair. kris also unnecessarily helps chanyeol grooming the ever so precious bob hair and he says, no, declares,

“let’s see if someone still dares to lay a fucking finger on you,” and then just like that, kris plants a lingering kiss to chanyeol’s temple.

“see you soon,” he pats chanyeol’s cheek and unbuckles the seatbelt for him. chanyeol stutters a goodbye before he bolts out of the car and practically half running to the main lobby; his skin prickles from the intensity of what kris just did―not from his bullies’ intense stares, no, not today.

he only starts hyperventilating when he walks down the vast corridor to his class. but no insults are being thrown at him. as he waits for the bell to ring he anticipates what kind of daily gay jokes his classmates (boys) will verbalize especially after what kris just did.

but nothing happens. in fact, not a single person dares to lay eyes on him like he’s oozing a blinding aura or.

or like, kris’ PDA! he was marking me!

chanyeol passes the first period of his school life in peace. and it’s weird. at lunch, he takes his time to enjoy the doshirak he and kris bought from a street vendor. the pine tree-ish disinfectant aroma in the boy restroom’s on the fifth floor doesn’t bother his appetite for once.

“na na na i like food~” chanyeol makes up a catchy tune to accompany him in the midst of comfortable silence.

“hm hm hm oh no paprika! chanyeolla no like pa―”

suddenly; a loud bang, with a hurried click afterward.

chanyeol freezes.

footsteps, and, “i. hate. you.”

a short but arrogant chuckle, then, “well you agreed, gongju-yah,” belts being unbuckled―wet kisses, rustling clothes, something is being teared (twice) and then a grunt―

chanyeol quietly folds his legs and sits cross legged on top of the closed toilet lid, balancing his lunchbox on his lap, swallowing the half munched rice and feeling his throat dry because―

“ah―” the whiny voice who hates the other (?) lets out a long moan. “ah, c-come on.”

chanyeol sighs inaudibly, relieved beyond belief that it’s not them; that he’s saved, his only sanctuary where he can have his lunch without girls looking at him eating with such sheer loathing is not discovered. not yet, right, because the fact that the two boys going at it just right on the washbasins area is telling chanyeol enough that he needs to move away from here like a good nomad.

“fuck,” the cocky voice growls, so pleased with himself since the whiny voice just urges him to go faster and harder and more.

chanyeol blinks, shivering at another stream of tiny moans with the provocative melodies of skin slapping against skin―

more wet kissing that muffles their mutual despair for release―

chanyeol tries to calm down, tries to block their sex voices, but they sure have stamina because it seems like forever before he decides to continue eating to distract himself.

he counts his every chews; one, two, three, four, “jongin!”, five, six, seven, eight, god is being cursed, nine, ten, eleven, swallow.

one, two, three, four, fivesixseveneight, “sehun-ah―”, swallow.

one, two, both are chuckling.

“what?” the cocky voice groans contentedly. the whiny voice of course whines some more and then the cocky voice murmurs an apology as―chanyeol honestly doesn’t want to know what he’s doing. he closes his eyes and prays for them to finish their business because the smell of c-c-cum is quite horrifying. he stares at his lunchbox blankly.

“let’s have bubble milk tea later,” the cocky voice says with a slight, but surprisingly sweet, imploring tone after they’re done fixing their most likely wrinkled uniforms.

“of course we are,” the whiny voice grumbles with a slight lisp, a pause, and then he gasps. “oh my god it hurts, jongin-ah. i hate you.”

the cocky voice kisses the whiny voice once more before he jokes that should i carry my gongju bridal style? and the said boy doesn’t respond but he might hit the cocky voice in the head or face or somewhere and chanyeol only dares to move; to have a drink from his orange tupperware when the door is finally shut and by the sweats trickling down slowly on his nape he feels that the usually cold toilet is getting hotter...

....somehow.

chanyeol is no stranger to porn, he thinks maria ozawa is cute okay―but he’s never been a fan to watch people faking moans and and and stuffs let alone p-pleasuring himself and that was...

that was...

chanyeol counts to ten before he gathers his lunchbox hastily, holds his breath as he walks past the washbasins and runs out of the boy’s restroom on the fifth floor to finish his lunch at the other end of the corridor; his hands are shaking with kris smiling, laughing, frowning, talking, touching him somewhere in his head.

kris picks him up with the previous white audi, wearing only a thick black jacket, sweatpants, and his adidas. chanyeol doesn’t quite look at him in the eye as kris drives him home, but then kris teases at the first red light,

“you’re not immune to our deal, right?” chanyeol frowns. “that’s one.”

chanyeol frowns even harder. kris puts his cold thumb in the crease between his eyebrows and chuckles, “two.”

“what―” chanyeol blushes because oh.“aw, hyung!” he laughs. “ugh i totally forgot about our deal! not fair!”

kris just laughs heartily as the light turns green and chanyeol is left all warm on the inside.



chanyeol eats his lunch on the floor; just next to his desk which is at the back of his class, because kris’ marking method to banish his bullies is super effective. but chanyeol is still self conscious considering they are still staring-glaring-glancing every now and then at him, so he opts to sit cross legged; his back against the wall, with the strokes’ special DVD interview extras with korean subtitle on his iphone.

it’s ryeowook-sshi behind the driver’s seat of a red volkswagen with kris next to him. ryeowook-sshi is taking them to the MTV’s headquarter to get a briefing from the PD in charge for the ‘a day with...’ show.

upon first impression, chanyeol is sure that the boy wearing a donald duck hoodie is either a new child-actor happens to be in the same meeting room or he’s one of the staffs’ son.

“baby-yah this is lu han, the youngest PD in the history of korean’s entertainment industry. lu han-ah, this is my baby chanyeolla.”

lu han-hyung openly scowls hearing ryeowook-sshi’s nickname and shamelessly ravishing chanyeol from head to toe using his bambi-ish doe eyes. those chocolate orbs are not only dilating but also decorated with a hint of hunger plus obvious, professional predator quality that chanyeol opts to sit closer to kris and zip his hoodie up to his neck—just in case.

bambi is supposed to be a harmless deer, right?

“hyung,” chanyeol presses his forehead to the back of kris’ right shoulder. currently they’re reading the rundown sheet. kris shifts to face him a little bit.

“why is lu han-hyung looking at me like that?” chanyeol whispers because there are two noonas with super hi-tech DSLRs; they’ve been told to capture any of ‘krisyeol moments’ that can be posted later on MTV’s official twitter and website as teasers. chanyeol doesn’t want ryeowook-sshi to overhear his question as an insult about lu han-hyung, because of course the two peculiar older men are best friends. if he can’t survive another hour being in the same room with lu han-hyung, how will he live tomorrow when they’re going to shoot together from morning to—according to the rundown—dinnertime?

kris stealthily looks to the man in question. then he snorts softly and flicks chanyeol’s nose, “minseokkie wondered why the same a year ago. he still is.”

“really?” chanyeol huffs because thanks god he’s not the only one!

kris nods, whispering again without moving his lips, “he does it to the people he likes.”

chanyeol puts a hand to his cheek, feeling flattered, although surely lu han-hyung shows his affection in such extraordinarily abnormal way.

“kris,” ryeowook-sshi interrupts them with an apologetic smile, “any question?”

chanyeol shakes his head. kris just shrugs.

“i think we’re settled, lu han-ah.” ryeowook-sshi turns to lu han-hyung, who’s been sitting on the long table, legs crossed, busy with his shabby and creaking rubik cube. “yah.”

“i heard you,” lu han-hyung knocks down a donald duck water bottle to the floor as he swings his legs. chanyeol bites his bottom lip to prevent a smile.

but lu han-hyung with his creepy bambi eyes caught him anyway, and so he beams cutely at chanyeol who flushes and uses kris’ bigbigbig palm as a shield.

the two noonas wildly clicking their DSLRs.

“you’re scaring him, pabo!” ryeowook-sshi shrieks. lu han-hyung pouts.

“whatever. so, no question? are you sure?” kris nods in behalf of chanyeol, and so lu han-hyung, honest to god, leers as he claps his hands and announces that he can’t wait to work with chanyeol, my chan chan, and that he envies kris for claiming chanyeol first because it’s not fair how pretty you are completed with such alluring voice...

chanyeol feels kris tenses before he comments rather wryly, “i’ll make sure to let minseokkie know about that, hyung.”

lu han-hyung pleads on his knees at kris to not breathe a word to his precious bao zi please, kris, i’ll get you a free pass to insert a foreign name that chanyeol assumes a restaurant which actually one of the most prestigious club in seoul—but kris just pats the older man’s head before he grabs chanyeol by the waist and for the first time ever chanyeol feels pity for the scary lu han-hyung.

and oh. his appa needs to know that he has a competition regarding minseok-hyung.

ryeowook-sshi asks where does chanyeol want to have dinner and chanyeol asks if he can just eat with the other exo members, it doesn’t matter where because, “i miss them,” he confesses.

kris looks away with a smile and ryeowook-sshi is tearing up for real before he immediately calls (sobbing) joonmyun to meet at the previous fancy restaurant they visited when they were back from gangwon two months ago.

tao is clinging to minseok-hyung as they enter the restaurant, swiftly glancing at chanyeol who just winks in response.

“you know, dongsaeng,” chanyeol head locks tao with his scrawny arms after they’re done with the main course, “hyung will teach you how to handle them. what do you say?” tao’s bottom lip wavers but he nods in determination and together the sneak out of the vip room to go to the mini fountain where the colorful kois are. chanyeol whispers a ‘fighting!’ as he goes to take one fish with black and orange scales. he holds it up, and tao crouches down next to chanyeol, poking the body like a curious five year old.

chanyeol beams.

“since you’re a beginner, coat your palms with dirt,” tao protests, “eyyy it will reduce the fish’ slipperiness! come on!” chanyeol points at the ground enthusiastically and tao pouts but he does as he’s told. “cool! now get ready. don’t squish it too hard or it will get panicked. just hold it naturally.” he slowly passes the gaping fish to tao’s hands.

tao giggles at the first touch, but then the fish plunges back to the fountain. chanyeol goes awww but quickly he catches another with the white-orange-red scales. tao squares his shoulders and slowly grabs it. he exclaims in awe as the fish wiggles in his palms and chanyeol claps to encourage him to hold on a little longer.

“hyung hyung take a photo!” tao shrieks as he gets to his feet. chanyeol wipes his hands on his school’s yellow blazer and activates his iphone’s camera. tao poses, making a kissy face to the wide eyed fish and chanyeol takes a perfect picture of them together.

tao goes to his side, and of course it’s selca time. if chanyeol is baekhyun’s wangja then tao is the selca prince. he doesn’t forget to show off the very first fish i’ve ever caught!!! gomawo chanyeolla-hyung ^o^ as he writes and uploads to his three hundred thousand or so followers on his twitter.

chanyeol tells kris on their way back home about his and tao’s little shenanigan and kris bursts out laughing because apparently he and the rest of exo members lose a bet of ‘who will manage to make tao no longer scared of fish’. a sudden wave of pride hits chanyeol because if only baekhyun knows that he and his beloved exo are sharing an inside joke! imagine how many girls baekhyun will get if chanyeol spill every single random facts about exo just so baekhyun can use it to—what, date sulli, maybe? the prettiest girl in their school? or maybe gyuri-noona the local goddess?—chanyeol snorts at the memory of baekhyun’s rejected love confession to gyuri-noona a couple of years ago.

ah, my commoner! i’m going to call him!

“you’re happy,” kris smirks as chanyeol speed-dials his best friend.

“i am!” chanyeol does a mehrong and waits for baekhyun to pick up. “BAEKHYUN-AH!” he cries out. kris frowns but chanyeol lets that one to slide. “baekhyun-ah waddup!”

“my wangja,” baekhyun mocks a courteous tone, “what is it that i am graced by your call?”

“not funny okay,” chanyeol huffs, “but whatever! i’m going to shoot a variety show tomorrow! i’m so excited! how are you? how’s jongdae?”

kris clears his throat.

baekhyun grumbles that chanyeol really should create a twitter account because that way, the whole world can see that @lordbacon is a best friend of park chanyeol—kris wufan’s fiancee—and therefore he will get a little bit of the spotlight too and, you know, girls.

chanyeol and baekhyun bicker about how dare a commoner changing a crucial topic about jongdae and baekhyun just clicks his tongue and says that jongdae is finally going public with woohyun—

chanyeol pauses.

“oy are you listening?” baekhyun asks. “bro? you there? wangja-yah?”

“chanyeol-ah what’s wrong?” kris puts his right hand on top chanyeol’s head as he stops on the red light. chanyeol frowns.

“chanyeol-ah?”

“hey.”

chanyeol blinks only because of the honking from impatient cars and kris curses under his breath as he drives again.

“chanyeol-ah?” baekhyun is still sounding puzzled. “okay then i’ll just call you la—”

“what do you mean,” chanyeol can’t feel his tongue, “what are you talking about?”

“don’t tell me you didn’t know all along!” baekhyun chuckles. “yeah anyway it was last week i guess. as usual our woohyun got asked on a date by a girl from sunghwa high—she’s too tall though—and woohyun was like, ‘i already have jongdae, sorry,’ and the rest is history.” chanyeol is about to express his doubt (fear?) but then baekhyun adds,

“wait, chanyeol-ah. didn’t we discuss it with sungjong? how woohyun always turns off his greasiness in front of jongdae? i remember you were objecting about the idea of jongdae dating anyone and now that i think about it, heh. why, dude? did jongdae say something to you?”

“chanyeol-ah we’re here.” kris cuts off softly, unbuckling his seatbelt. chanyeol just nods and gets out of the car and takes kris’ offered hand as he tries to verbalize anything.

“ha ha why are you so stunned, weirdo! what, did you have a crush on jongdae? or was it woohyun?” baekhyun is loud, and he and kris are inside the elevator already.

chanyeol forces to say, “eyyy~ i just never thought jongdae would be a pretty little liar to us! tsk tsk we’re his friends!” he bites his bottom lip. “um. so...so do you know how they happened?” he whispers it then, because he’s not sure kris is willing to kiss his knee this time; and plus, how is he supposed to ask for such silly symbolic gesture?

but.

actually, chanyeol doesn’t feel anything. nothing. he’s not even hurt by the fact that jongdae had lied to him. maybe jongdae lied because he didn’t want to hurt chanyeol’s feeling? then why didn’t he just say that he’s dating woohyun? it’s not like woohyun is a bad boy, woohyun is the most popular boy in their school who gets daily gifts from his fans; he’s an ulzzang, a vocalist of an indie band, and the last time he had a girlfriend she was treated unfairly by his fans.

right.

“that’s enough,” kris takes chanyeol’s iphone and apologizes to baekhyun that chanyeol really needs more energy for the shooting tomorrow and baekhyun is too mesmerized by kris’ voice transmitted via electronic device anyway that he hangs up with an energetic,

“annyeong, kris-hyungnim! we are one, we are exo!”

to be c o n t i n u e d

when a pretty boy calls me annyeonghaseyo hyung could you please help me getting my best friend’s bag from them somehow i immediately stuff out my half burnt cigarette and look where the little finger pointing at.

hm, i say, clapping my hands to get rid of the nicotine smell. i stand up from the wooden bench, and the pretty boy takes my left hand and puts a happy face.

huh.

there’s a chubby boy, sniffing quietly, and three other boys are currently mocking him; raising a doraemon bag in the air and singing some children song i can’t quite recall. the pretty boy tightens his grip on mine before he yells cheerily,

“’alo minseokkie!” then a milisecond later he frowns, “omo why are you crying!?” and the three boys instantly gasp, staring at me wide eyed, while the chubby boy runs to my companion’s side and hugs him.

“uh,” i accidentally let out.

the pretty boy once again takes control after he consoles his best friend, “hyung, we can’t go to lotte world yet,” he tip toes so i bend down, “minseok needs his bag, but hyung, look, they’re stealing it!”

what a clever kid.

“annyeong,” i grin sheepishly to the three little rascals, “ng, give back min-minsuk’s bag or i will tell your parents on monday?” today is saturday, i was just taking a walk around my new neighborhood when i found a park and decided to have a smoking break.

the pretty boy lets go of our entwined hands and bravely moves forward to take the probably minsuk’s treasure, smiling sweetly like an angel but suddenly he trips on his own feet and in the process of falling to his knees he grabs the biggest boy’s red shorts and.

i shouldn’t be laughing at other’s misery, but what the hell, okay? it is too brilliant! and what’s more awesome is, how the pretty boy sincerely apologizes; he even looks panicked but of course there’s a hint of smirk that i will never miss from his bow shaped lips.

the unfortunate boy wails and runs, followed by his two sidekicks, and then i glance at the chubby boy—minsuk, right?—whose tears are drying on his white, bouncy, and just freaking adorable cheeks. i kneel down in front of him, and his shy smile injects instant ecstasy into my veins.

i smile and ruffle his hair. i might hear the pretty boy’s cry of protest when the chubby boy pecks me on the lips.

“min min!” the pretty boy stretches minsuk’s cheeks so wide i’m afraid minsuk will cry again.

“but lulu said min should kiss the person he likes!” minsuk pouts, huffing his bloated cheeks and crossing his arms.

“what! so you like this hyung?!” oy oy why do i feel scandalized? the way pretty boy said ‘this’ hurts. kind of.

“yes min likes glasses hyung!” minsuk lurches to kiss me again. i’m so taken aback i fall to my butt, holding onto minsuk’s warm body by instinct.

the pretty boy yanks minsuk by his hair, and minsuk bites my bottom lip.

“yah,” i manage my most charismatic voice because shit is getting serious; the pretty boy is crying.

“yah,” i repeat, softer this time, and let minsuk wraps his fat arms around my shoulder, let minsuk steps on my freshly laundered jeans as i reach out to hold the pretty boy’s bony wrist.

“why are you crying...” the pretty boy mouths his name, “lu han-ah? minsuk—”

“MINSEOK!” lu han yells right to my face, he smells like milk and cookies.

“—minseok can kiss whoever he likes, okay? you said so yourself. you can’t pull minseok’s hair like that, you’re hurting him.”

minseok whines, looking at anywhere but lu han.

if it’s any other kid i might think there should be a law to ban kids from crying open mouthed like lu han does right now, but. huh. lu han is still the prettiest kid i’ve ever seen in my nineteen years of loneliness.

i contemplate to ask my umma to get me a little brother. but what if i’ve taken all the good genes from my parents and leave my pretty much nonexistent little brother the secondhand genes? damn, lu han, thanks to you i have a too high standard for a sibling now.

“what?” lu han was saying something unintelligible. with my free hand that is not savoring minseok’s round butt i wipe the tears off of lu han’s face.

he sobs, “i-i-i like min min, h-hyung, i like him so much could you please give him back to me?”

i’m a thug alpha male, so i don’t do ‘awww’.

but yes, i don’t have enough self restraint to stop my chin from quivering.

“of course!” i hope no one hears my squeaking nor misunderstands my bear hug to both boys as an act of pedo-ism. “hyung will never interfere such young love!” i hop to squat and arrange minseok and lu han to face each other, they’re tilting their heads cutely, probably puzzled by my ‘big’ word.

“i meant,” holy shit i’m excited, “minseokkie, hyung likes you, but lu han here,” i pat lu han’s slumped back with unneccesary power that lu han stumbles and minseok holds him. eh. good. “i’m sorry, lu han here, minseokkie, he likes you sooooooooooooooo much much much more he will always, uh, he will always treat you, uh, steamed bun!” i’m sorry i’m uncreative, but that’s the best thing i can come up looking at minseok’s cheeks.

“really?” thanks god minseok’s eyes are gleaming.

lu han squares his narrow shoulders and kisses minseok on the lips. i tell myself that i’m not peeping a very sweet moment between the two lovesick puppies.

minseok giggles and hugs lu han, and i get to my feet, dusting off my jeans. lu han kisses minseok once more before he rummages through the doraemon bag. is this the end? what do i do now? you know i don’t want to leave yet. but i don’t want to get too attached.

“glasses hyung,” lu han says, “kamsahamnida.” he’s holding a bag of melon flavored marshmallow, and when i take it he bows deeply at me.

minseok gives me his doraemon hand towel and i swear i’m either wanting to make babies on my own or busy melting while planning to kidnap hanmin (yes, i just made up their couple name and i’m proud of my brain).

too overwhelmed by everything, i bear hug them again and inhaling their distinctive milk, powder, cookies, lotion, and fabric concentrate scent before i sprint out of the park; never looking back.



▲ ▼



except that two weeks later, as i sleepily trudge inside the minimarket near my new apartment i hear footsteps. and then my legs are brutally attacked that i’m stood rooted in the middle of instant noodle aisle while the energetic chorus, “GLASSES HYUNG!!!” is waking me up.

that’s it. i toss them to my shoulders like two potato sacks and i regret nothing as i lock them in my room and feed them snickers and take their pictures and nap with them as my personal heater and play uno until minseok whines that he’s hungry and i take them to the mc donald’s and safely walk them back home.

(we make a promise to always play together on saturday, at the park, and minseok kisses my nose while lu han punches my chest as a goodbye).

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

“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

“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?

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.

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*

after some impatient coaxing, minseok finally, timidly, licks lu han’s tongue and squeezes lu han’s hips tighter before he tilts his head to deepen their kiss. lu han almost rolls his eyes, almost, but minseok is too warm and soft he has to fight back a moan instead.

“lu,” minseok hums, bites and tugs at lu han’s bottom lip, “lu, hey, ng.”

“what,” lu han closes his eyes, tightening his grip on minseok’s relaxed shoulders. if minseok is going to complain about his weight he already has a sulking ammo for his chubby baby fat munchkin boyfriend to worry later. there’s a midnight sale at uniqlo this weekend.

minseok rearranges lu han’s knees on either side of his waist while sneaking both hands to grip lu han’s hips and grins, “much better!”

lu han agrees. he pinches minseok’s cheeks and gurgles incoherently because the overwhelming warm sensation flooding his system is hitting him full force.

completing his very own way to express his undying, endless, unconditional, and-other-heartbreaking-objective love, lu han squishes those mouthwatering cheeks so minseok forms a fish face.

“augh,” minseok chuckles, “where were we?”

lu han smiles his pretty smile, as minseok always says with an awed expression, and presses his front to fully embrace minseok.

they continue with their considerably heavy for minseok’s standard making out session, with tongues and all. not long thanks to lu han’s experience with his old dates, minseok is enjoying the feeling of lu han’s lips moving smoothly against his and he’s already producing tiny, satisfied-can-i-ask-for-more-but-i’m-not-sure-oh!-do-that-again sounds by the time lu han slides his palms to map minseok’s quivering abs.

but minseok’s lips stutter when lu han swiftly unbuckles his belt.

“nggghwateryoudoing?” minseok’s eyes are wide. he looks so virgin it hurts.

lu han’s brain works. “second base?” he pries off minseok’s fingers from trying to stop his advanced move. but who is he kidding? minseok easily grabs his hands and secures them away from his crotch.

“aw you’re hurting me!” lu han protests although in reality minseok is just squeezing his wrists and both know that minseok will never ever hurt lu han.

still.

minseok’s heartbeats are thundering against lu han’s elbows, and lu han leans to kiss minseok again because sure, he is minseok’s first boyfriend and minseok probably doesn’t even understand what the heck second base is let alone how to make love to lu han properly but it’s been three months. okay? and lu han has needs like any sane person in a relationship.

so lu han repeats his failed mission to take minseok’s battered jeans off by pressing their crotches together that there is no space for minseok’s hands to interfere.

when he gets to the zipper he goes down to his knees, tugs the jeans to minseok’s ankles, and minseok’s eyes are glassy he has to kiss the annoyingly tamed cock clad in a plain grey brief.

“lu,” minseok calls, “lu, stop.”

“no,” lu han peels away the last material separating him from his prize slowly, not wanting minseok who plays soccer like a pro to kick his face in case he’s freaked out by his sudden lower half nudity.

“oh my god look at your cock, baozi,” lu han takes the limp length with his right hand, stroking it thrice and minseok’s whole body jerks. lu han licks the tip while palming his own erection and when he moans, minseok relaxes onto the couch.

good.

“baozi, i’m here,” he blows warm air to minseok’s balls and minseok’s eyes flutter closed, “baozi-yah look at me.”

minseok complies, and lu han smiles his pretty smile before he opens his mouth wide and takes his boyfriend’s quite hung yet cute cock whole to the hilt; never breaking their eye contact.

minseok’s hand flies to grasp the side of lu han’s head.

lu han moans, his throat is constricting, and minseok groans; unconsciously moving his hips. lu han hollows his cheeks and a milisecond later minseok’s cock is waking up and hitting the back of lu han’s throat in the process, warm and salty and a perfect weight for his hungry tongue.

lu han looks up as he grazes the under and outerside with his teeth to see minseok is throwing one arm to cover his eyes and his other arm is abusing the couch. lu han sucks once more before he pulls off with a smack and pouts,

“why won’t you look at me, minseok-ah?” and cue minseok’s pained expression when he opens his eyes to find lu han smiling prettily at him next to his leaking cock.

“lu,” he breathes out, “lu, is-is this okay?”

lu han tilts his head, takes the base of minseok’s cock and squeezes. minseok punches the innocent couch and bites his bottom lip until it turns white. he looks so fucking hot.

“min-min,” lu han coos, “please touch me.”

“what,” minseok blinks and bites back his disapproving moan because lu han is leaving his cock and stripping off his skinny black jeans instead.

“what,” minseok says smartly and throws his neck to the ceiling when lu han sits on his lap again and thrusts his erected, dry cock against minseok’s wet one.

using one hand to stroke them, lu han maximizes his other to hold onto minseok’s shoulder so he can moves his body mercilessly.

minseok is a moaning mess by the time lu han’s precome merges with his; his sweaty hands sure as hell will leave fingerprint marks on lu han’s bony hips. he’s got stamina, too, because even after lu han’s tired hand is no longer stroking their cocks and lu han himself already feeling the familiar bubble in his gut minseok is still thrusting his hips to get all the addictive frictions.

overwhelmed by minseok’s musky scent, lu han kisses minseok sweetly as a sign for his boyfriend to pay attention to what he’s going to say.

“hey,” he bites minseok’s bottom lip, “let’s lie down.”

minseok lays lu han’s skinny body to the couch gently, and soon he’s peppering kisses to lu han’s neck. lu han smiles to nothing in particular as he wraps his arms and legs around minseok’s strong body, rocking his hips and loving the sounds of their skin slapping against each other.

“kiss me,” he licks the shell of minseok’s ear, and happily allows minseok’s tongue to enter his mouth.

minseok’s kiss is shy, at first, synchronized with his shallow hips’ movements. lu han is okay with that, really, and this is his boyfriend’s first time, right, but he needs to come. so bad. preferably now.

so his hands travel down to smack minseok’s ass, the meaty body parts are bouncing everytime lu han’s palms make harsh contact. minseok accidentally bites lu han’s tongue, but that only turns him on even more.

“fuck,” he curses as he tastes copper, “fuck yes.”

“lu han,” minseok chokes, his hips are moving erratically, ups and downs ups and downs ups and downs along with the rhythm lu han sets on his ass. a fresh spurt of precome is hitting lu han’s stomach, and lu han giggles as minseok cutely asks if he can come.

he answers jokingly, “please shoot your cum on my face,” but that’s enough for minseok to inhale sharply and helplessly comes. he doesn’t scream or moan lu han’s name, and lu han swears he has a holy job to change that sad fact so minseok can only pronounce lu fucking han on every single orgasm he will have.

minseok is slumped to lu han’s front, his warm cum creating a sticky pattern on their stomaches; his spent cock is pressed to lu han’s still throbbing one and as if on fire, minseok sits on his knees and looks at lu han’s purpling, cum-oozing cock worriedly.

“i’m so sorry did i hurt you?” he takes off his navy blue shirt to wipe at lu han’s face.

lu han blushes at the simple but mindblowing act and pouts, “help me?” in which minseok also blushes and asks how can he help.

lu han guides minseok’s actually smaller hand to wrap it around his cock, and tells him with encouraging words how he likes to pleasure himself; when to squeeze and where to press his thumb harder. minseok’s concentrated look is so adorable lu han gives in to his natural urge by approximately a dozen of wonderful strokes with minseok’s name hanging in the air.





t h e e n d

▲ ▼

lu han-hyung is missing with chanyeol’s appa most favorite exo member for almost an hour and chanyeol uses the opportunity to read the pink note again, lying upside down on his neatly made bed. he makes a random volume of his one piece manhwa as a decoy in case someone comes without knocking first.

▲ ▼

they have to postpone the shooting for awhile because lu han-hyung collapses when he sees chanyeol’s complete to the latest volume one piece collection. they’re engaged in a heated pleading-please-i-need-to-borrow-them! versus chanyeol’s resentment-no!-i-can’t-they-are-my-treasure!

▲ ▼

on take eight, lu han-hyung the PD gives them a mission.

chanyeol reads it, “cook lunch with the money you will obtain from games.”

▲ ▼

“five,” chanyeol does a mehrong and kris frowns for the second the time before a realization dawns on his, huh, really handsome face.

“la la la back to one~you owe me a thousand won, hyung!” chanyeol grips kris’ wrists and acts as a puppet master by moving them above their heads in a weird arm dance.

kris raises an eyebrow, “fine, you sly little giant baby.” he brings down their arms and squeezes them close.

like, thisclose.

“doing okay? sure you are. even tao had his camera shy fiasco before he’s being exo’s camwhore.” his peppermint gum breath is tickling chanyeol’s eyes and chanyeol butts his head to kris’ neck, pouting,

“you are so mean today!” he throws the bait. kris hugs him, chuckling while patting his back and chanyeol sneakily returns the hug.

“seriously though,” kris’ hands move to rest on chanyeol’s lower back, and chanyeol rests the side of his face on kris’ left shoulder. “are you a narcissist, park chanyeol?”

▲ ▼

candid shots of exo members entering and being transformed in a beauty salon are posed as today’s headline. chanyeol eagerly clicks on the slideshow mode, and giggles at the commentaries of each high definition pictures. exo’s comeback is this saturday, it is bound for them to change their looks. he recalls exo is going to shoot the music video later today, kris said that exo might not coming home.

“fighting, hyung,” chanyeol whispers to kris who sports a shorter black hair, smirking to the whoever took that photo.

▲ ▼

“sooooo,” chanyeol takes off his earphones, “did you enjoy one piece?”

“yes, thank you. gege said you can keep the bag,” sehun licks his lips, “um, uh.” he licks his lips again, and chanyeol can see how tiny sehun’s tongue is.

he waits because it looks like sehun has something more to say.

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

s t a y t u n e d, friends

---

any of you have psychic mind? tell me what's your predict.
610 words taken from 7, 300ish and still ongoing.

p.s. because this is my LJ and i tend to promote,
check out having part of no one like you (standalone) : my angsty holy shit i broke krisyeol and,
xiuhan NC-17 and kiddo!xiuhan - told from my delusional experience with them on a small park near my new and totally fictional apartment.

remember comments are food. motivate me to finish writing, too, okay.

when a pretty boy calls me annyeonghaseyo hyung could you please help me getting my best friend’s bag from them somehow i immediately stuff out my half burnt cigarette and look where the little finger pointing at.

hm, i say, clapping my hands to get rid of the nicotine smell. i stand up from the wooden bench, and the pretty boy takes my left hand and puts a happy face.

huh.

there’s a chubby boy, sniffing quietly, and three other boys are currently mocking him; raising a doraemon bag in the air and singing some children song i can’t quite recall. the pretty boy tightens his grip on mine before he yells cheerily,

“’alo minseokkie!” then a milisecond later he frowns, “omo why are you crying!?” and the three boys instantly gasp, staring at me wide eyed, while the chubby boy runs to my companion’s side and hugs him.

“uh,” i accidentally let out.

the pretty boy once again takes control after he consoles his best friend, “hyung, we can’t go to lotte world yet,” he tip toes so i bend down, “minseok needs his bag, but hyung, look, they’re stealing it!”

what a clever kid.

“annyeong,” i grin sheepishly to the three little rascals, “ng, give back min-minsuk’s bag or i will tell your parents on monday?” today is saturday, i was just taking a walk around my new neighborhood when i found a park and decided to have a smoking break.

the pretty boy lets go of our entwined hands and bravely moves forward to take the probably minsuk’s treasure, smiling sweetly like an angel but suddenly he trips on his own feet and in the process of falling to his knees he grabs the biggest boy’s red shorts and.

i shouldn’t be laughing at other’s misery, but what the hell, okay? it is too brilliant! and what’s more awesome is, how the pretty boy sincerely apologizes; he even looks panicked but of course there’s a hint of smirk that i will never miss from his bow shaped lips.

the unfortunate boy wails and runs, followed by his two sidekicks, and then i glance at the chubby boy—minsuk, right?—whose tears are drying on his white, bouncy, and just freaking adorable cheeks. i kneel down in front of him, and his shy smile injects instant ecstasy into my veins.

i smile and ruffle his hair. i might hear the pretty boy’s cry of protest when the chubby boy pecks me on the lips.

“min min!” the pretty boy stretches minsuk’s cheeks so wide i’m afraid minsuk will cry again.

“but lulu said min should kiss the person he likes!” minsuk pouts, huffing his bloated cheeks and crossing his arms.

“what! so you like this hyung?!” oy oy why do i feel scandalized? the way pretty boy said ‘this’ hurts. kind of.

“yes min likes glasses hyung!” minsuk lurches to kiss me again. i’m so taken aback i fall to my butt, holding onto minsuk’s warm body by instinct.

the pretty boy yanks minsuk by his hair, and minsuk bites my bottom lip.

“yah,” i manage my most charismatic voice because shit is getting serious; the pretty boy is crying.

“yah,” i repeat, softer this time, and let minsuk wraps his fat arms around my shoulder, let minsuk steps on my freshly laundered jeans as i reach out to hold the pretty boy’s bony wrist.

“why are you crying...” the pretty boy mouths his name, “lu han-ah? minsuk—”

“MINSEOK!” lu han yells right to my face, he smells like milk and cookies.

“—minseok can kiss whoever he likes, okay? you said so yourself. you can’t pull minseok’s hair like that, you’re hurting him.”

minseok whines, looking at anywhere but lu han.

if it’s any other kid i might think there should be a law to ban kids from crying open mouthed like lu han does right now, but. huh. lu han is still the prettiest kid i’ve ever seen in my nineteen years of loneliness.

i contemplate to ask my umma to get me a little brother. but what if i’ve taken all the good genes from my parents and leave my pretty much nonexistent little brother the secondhand genes? damn, lu han, thanks to you i have a too high standard for a sibling now.

“what?” lu han was saying something unintelligible. with my free hand that is not savoring minseok’s round butt i wipe the tears off of lu han’s face.

he sobs, “i-i-i like min min, h-hyung, i like him so much could you please give him back to me?”

i’m a thug alpha male, so i don’t do ‘awww’.

but yes, i don’t have enough self restraint to stop my chin from quivering.

“of course!” i hope no one hears my squeaking nor misunderstands my bear hug to both boys as an act of pedo-ism. “hyung will never interfere such young love!” i hop to squat and arrange minseok and lu han to face each other, they’re tilting their heads cutely, probably puzzled by my ‘big’ word.

“i meant,” holy shit i’m excited, “minseokkie, hyung likes you, but lu han here,” i pat lu han’s slumped back with unneccesary power that lu han stumbles and minseok holds him. eh. good. “i’m sorry, lu han here, minseokkie, he likes you sooooooooooooooo much much much more he will always, uh, he will always treat you, uh, steamed bun!” i’m sorry i’m uncreative, but that’s the best thing i can come up looking at minseok’s cheeks.

“really?” thanks god minseok’s eyes are gleaming.

lu han squares his narrow shoulders and kisses minseok on the lips. i tell myself that i’m not peeping a very sweet moment between the two lovesick puppies.

minseok giggles and hugs lu han, and i get to my feet, dusting off my jeans. lu han kisses minseok once more before he rummages through the doraemon bag. is this the end? what do i do now? you know i don’t want to leave yet. but i don’t want to get too attached.

“glasses hyung,” lu han says, “kamsahamnida.” he’s holding a bag of melon flavored marshmallow, and when i take it he bows deeply at me.

minseok gives me his doraemon hand towel and i swear i’m either wanting to make babies on my own or busy melting while planning to kidnap hanmin (yes, i just made up their couple name and i’m proud of my brain).

too overwhelmed by everything, i bear hug them again and inhaling their distinctive milk, powder, cookies, lotion, and fabric concentrate scent before i sprint out of the park; never looking back.



▲ ▼



except that two weeks later, as i sleepily trudge inside the minimarket near my new apartment i hear footsteps. and then my legs are brutally attacked that i’m stood rooted in the middle of instant noodle aisle while the energetic chorus, “GLASSES HYUNG!!!” is waking me up.

that’s it. i toss them to my shoulders like two potato sacks and i regret nothing as i lock them in my room and feed them snickers and take their pictures and nap with them as my personal heater and play uno until minseok whines that he’s hungry and i take them to the mc donald’s and safely walk them back home.

(we make a promise to always play together on saturday, at the park, and minseok kisses my nose while lu han punches my chest as a goodbye).

wufan has always been fascinated by women who are tying knots of their beautiful hair; those skinny elbows jutting out, the way they run their slender and manicured fingers around their small heads and how they gather every single strands to make a sometimes messy sometimes neat bun—everything.

except that this time it’s not a woman at all.

wufan meets him on a rainy saturday. he also leaves for good on the same day, almost a year from now, but of course wufan doesn’t know it yet because right at this moment his world seems to be stopped spinning.

and that’s what matter the most.

he is frozen to his spot, the last in queueing line of a very crowded starbucks near his apartment complex, and because he doesn’t make any sound the ma—boy—who causes him to freeze in the first place turns around and successfully spills his mint hot chocolate all over wufan’s tailored dark grey suit.

god, is what in wufan’s mind witnessing the boy’s big brown orbs widening in shock, then,

“pardon me, i didn’t move out of your way,” and the boy’s immediate reply—voice—kills wufan.

“i should be the one apologizing!” the boy grimaces. “i will pay for the laundry fee, i’m so sorry!” they shift to the side, knowing that a couple of new customers are coming. wufan holds the boy’s wrist as the boy rummages through his trendy postman bag.

“it’s okay, really,” wufan says, whisper-like, somehow doesn’t want everyone else to see that he’s talking to a very gorgeous person. “can i buy another cup for you?” he offers, telling himself that he’s not savoring the thin bone underneath his fingers.

the boy frowns.

“it’s not a code, i swear,” wufan rubs his nape sheepishly with his previously occupied hand. it smells like apricot and other sweet stuffs. “i’m so sorry if it came out wrong,” he is pushing his luck, but the boy’s embarrassed face is totally worth it.

after a few awkward, staring contest in silence, the boy speaks with a softer tone, “okay,” and then he smiles while wufan dies a little bit more. “with a chocolate muffin, pretty please?”

wufan almost says, anything, but he’s in a very vulnerable state; which anyone can tell that he is falling because it isn’t easy for kris wufan to fall—and when he does, all of his being practically screams yes, i am in love.

so he settles for a simple introduction, and the boy becomes park chanyeol now, the one and only.



▲ ▼



they heat up wufan’s king sized bed on their fifth meeting (date?), with chanyeol’s hair spreading on wufan’s satin dark grey sheet and his lighter skin glistening with salty sweats and the redness of his swollen lips are, as always, killing wufan who can’t say no when chanyeol, still panting after their very first orgasms together, climbs his crotch and slides back in with one smooth movement and soon rides wufan like a pro.

wufan comes, declaring his love while spurting his seed deep inside, and chanyeol shudders on top of him, kisses him with a laugh.

the next day, chanyeol is gone, not even his apricot-ness can be found on wufan’s clothes or pillows; no matter how hard our protagonist try to inhale everything.

nothing.



▲ ▼



it’s in a train heading to incheon because wufan has to catch a flight for a business meeting in japan where chanyeol finally appears, about two months later, with apricot air and nape length hair.

chanyeol doesn’t smile when their eyes meet, but still wufan is in love.

“annyeonghaseyo,” chanyeol says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to see him talking to wufan. but still.

“chanyeol-ah,” wufan lets the name grace his tongue, “how—” have you been?—but that will be lame. so, “where are you going?”

“anywhere,” chanyeol shrugs, tightening his grip on the ring holder.

wufan, at this point, can’t afford to lose chanyeol anymore—he, as yixing his best friend affectionately mocks him, present tense, is blinded because he asks (pleads?) if chanyeol wants to go to japan with him.

chanyeol doesn’t exactly say yes, but he’s not refusing either, and wufan is hopeful for the rest of the ride, openly staring at chanyeol and doesn’t care that his ear splitting smile crumbles his supposedly composed adult aura when chanyeol entwines their fingers together and boards the plane.

they end up staying in japan for a week, because chanyeol has never been outside south korea before and wufan can never say no for everything that is park chanyeol related, including witnessing the younger boy’s breathtaking smile again (and hopefully, forever).

on their last day in hokkaido, chanyeol knocks on wufan’s hotel room and kisses him silly on the hallway, then he apologizes but says nothing more as he unbuckles wufan’s jeans and gets to his knees; swallowing wufan whole in one go, moaning wufan’s name like a prayer when he spreads his legs, eyes glossing and wufan is nothing but a fool man in love that he forgets it is the godforsaken l word which had scared chanyeol away.

this time, chanyeol stays, snuggling to wufan’s chest. during the short plane ride, wufan holds chanyeol’s hand. when they’re in the train chanyeol hooks his arm on wufan’s and follows wufan home.

he apologizes again, typing his new number to wufan’s mobile, and wearing wufan’s old and frayed t-shirts for the next three days until he remembers he has classes, leaving with the most stunning smile so far.



▲ ▼



chanyeol moves in one friday evening, bringing boxes full with colorful clothes and a guitar which he plays whenever wufan has exceptionally tiring days.

his favorite song is about she who had the world, who could get anything she wanted but his love. he himself doesn’t love her because of some unexplainable reason from the lyric. he doesn’t see anything else but the sky when he look into her eyes anyway.

wufan goes to google and no, it’s not like that, chanyeol-ah, look at me and tell me if you only see the sky. i could love you, jesus christ, i worship you.

chanyeol stops playing the day wufan hums along.



▲ ▼



it’s chanyeol’s twentieth birthday and because he can’t take such expensive present he tells wufan to return it back.

(he gave wufan a signed stereophonics’ language, sex, violence, other? CD which is also not cheap, purchased from the internet, so why?).



▲ ▼



when wufan asks for a break, chanyeol throws his mobile at wufan and leaves for weeks.

at that time, wufan barely sleeps. he tries to call the names on chanyeol’s contact list—thirty three people—but none of them know chanyeol’s whereabout.

when he shows up, wufan has stopped counting the days, and he’s too worn out to comment on chanyeol’s newest haircut; he is still the most beautiful nevertheless with boyish, side fringe style.

“why do you love me?” chanyeol asks as wufan massages his ever so skinny legs, almost inaudibly as if he doesn’t really really want wufan to hear him.

wufan is about to answer but chanyeol interrupts coldly, “it’s not enough if you’re going to say that you just do,” he folds his flawless legs, “hm?”

wufan leans to kiss him, but chanyeol turns his head.

“why don’t you love me?”

“who said i don’t?”



▲ ▼



on a rainy saturday with his shoulder length hair sometimes falling to his face as he packs up his colorful belongings, chanyeol decides he doesn’t want to hurt wufan anymore.

wufan doesn’t protest, at all, doesn’t even try to correct chanyeol’s piercing excuse (it’s fine, i understand i can’t force anything, but please stay?) that maybe causing chanyeol to feel scandalized for a split second because.

because what?

“will you do me a favor?” wufan says from where he sits on the bed. chanyeol waits.

wufan fishes out his mobile, activating the video mode. he presses record, zooming in on chanyeol’s watering eyes.

“can you turn around and tie your hair?”

t h e e n d

chanyeol is more than grateful that kris doesn’t say anything the whole ride home. about him quietly crying on the passenger seat, that is. or maybe it’s because chanyeol hides his face with the neck of his t-shirt, sniffing and giving up already. the tears just can’t stop streaming now that he admits he wants everything.

kris unbuckles his seatbelt for him, and by then chanyeol’s sobs are reduced into clamminess of his damp cheeks and a pair of badly reddened eyes. he glances at kris, who stares at him with an unreadable expression. or maybe it’s just their apartment complex’s parking lot dim lighting and chanyeol’s overreacting mind wanting kris to appear troubled or worried or guilty.

chanyeol stretches his dry mouth to form a wry smile because he can’t remember being this selfish before.

but maybe it’s because chanyeol—despite his painful naivety about his own feeling—understands that this is the problem with fiction; kris will never see him beyond an unfortunate kid from gangwon who becomes his only ticket out of his idol career’s hellish scandal, no matter how much in love that ticket is with the idol.

kris reaches for the tissue box on the dashboard and proceeds to clean chanyeol’s face. he spreads his left hand on chanyeol’s jawline while his right hand is gently wiping the remaining tears and snots.

kris’ hand feels so cold but chanyeol wants everything, right, and so he leans more into the touch and closes his eyes to greedily savor it.

kris puts the used tissue in his jeans pocket and gets out of the car. chanyeol follows suit and they walk to the elevator side by side without words, without kris offering his hand for chanyeol to take. chanyeol doesn’t understand, of course, why—but it doesn’t feel wrong anyway. he will live without kris’ hand entwined with his. he keeps his head down as the elevator dings and brings them up to the fifth floor.

but then kris squeezes his wrist after he locks their apartment, and asks cruelly with his monotonous voice, “can i get your promised hug now?” and chanyeol is only seventeen he is not accustomed to quickly tame his jumbled emotions, okay, like, why does kris suddenly want the hug he’s promised a long time ago? does kris really want it? or is he just using it now because oh my god.

it just comes crossing chanyeol’s mind that he is the one who needs a hug so bad right now.

chanyeol gasps. he practically pounces on kris and kris steadies his stance as if he’s already expecting the force. the not-goes-unnoticed act is so sweet and chanyeol becomes more hopeless.

“i’m sorry,” kris inhales. “i’m so sorry.” exhales.

chanyeol chokes on a hasty, “it’s okay,” because it really is. in the end, kris has always been here and it’s enough as long as they stay this way, he will endure everything just like how he wants it. and as a ticket he will be expired in a matter of four months time.

chanyeol tightens his hug at his silly wishful thinking, laughing at himself. but.

four months, park chanyeol! let’s monopolize kris wufan for yourself hehehe fighting!!!

kris is stroking his spine, letting chanyeol to step on his cold feet. he sways their bodies to a nonexistent rhythm because apparently their proximity calm chanyeol’s frantic heartbeats.

they don’t even bother switching on the living room’s lamps.

after awhile, chanyeol sighs loudly to indicate that maybe they should separate but he makes no move to do so. kris just hums. chanyeol pulls his head back from the comfiness of kris’ neck, looks down—he’s taller than kris for once—and smiles.

“chinese takeout for dinner?” he says, just a breath away from kris’ lips. the darkness makes him losing his sense of distance. he blinks and pulls back even further nervously.

kris moves his hands to chanyeol’s hips and nods, “alright.” he half lifts chanyeol off of his feet and pushes at chanyeol’s sweaty fringe before he goes to make a call. chanyeol touches his forehead as he gets into his bedroom to change.

behind his closed bedroom, chanyeol kisses his palm and grins.

everything.







the next day chanyeol wakes up with a much, much lighter body and he feels like singing on top of his lungs. he does, muffling his totally off-tune muse’s unintended to his pillow.

so this time, this is what musicians often wail about on their music and lyric. with jongdae it wasn’t like this when chanyeol first realised that he liked his classmate. jongdae was all trying to look cool and be a good friend (and then hopefully progressing into actual boyfriends), and most of the time it's a challenge to his patience, because jongdae tended to reply to his texts―plural―with a dot or only a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘thanks’ but at the end of the day, jongdae’s pretty crow feet eyesmile made chanyeol’s knees budging anyway.

kris is not a man with words, and honestly chanyeol can’t say he prefers him otherwise. he’s all about the small things that brings chanyeol to the special place in the sky; his harsh push to chanyeol’s head to show that he is listening and is amused by chanyeol’s blabbering, a tap on his shoulder and a pat on his back and their seemingly always in autopilot mode hand holding business. and chanyeol is not quite familiar with romance, but kris has kissed his knee twice without any sensible reason goddammit.

it’s like jongdae hurts his knees and kris kisses the pain away.

or maybe chanyeol should just stop comparing his past and present tense.



▲ ▼



“good morning,” kris greets him with a small smile, towelling his hair.

chanyeol doesn’t even care if he’s being too transparent, because he greets back with baekhyun’s most favorite wangja sunshine edition smile. kris snorts as he leads them to the dining room.

chanyeol claps happily at the sight of toasts, scrambled eggs with bacons, steamed potatoes-broccoli-cheese and sliced apples on the table. he’s about to squeal and praise kris but kris stops him with a sheepish smirk (which is so cute by the way!) and says that kyungsoo cooked the breakfast, not him. chanyeol pouts but he is swooned anyway.

“i’ll drive you to school starting from today,” kris announces as they sit across each other. chanyeol gapes. “i’ll pick you up, too.” and his tone is final, so chanyeol just smiles and agrees.

he gapes again twenty minutes later when kris unlocks the convertible sports car what’sthenameagain with a breathtaking design; exactly like those cars in racing movies baekhyun likes to rent.

kris’ last words before chanyeol gets in the car is, “i hope you bring a comb with you.”

“oh my god!” chanyeol doesn’t stop laughing even when kris finally parks on his school’s parking lot; doesn’t pay any mind about them because he is too busy finger combing his messy hair. kris also unnecessarily helps chanyeol grooming the ever so precious bob hair and he says, no, declares,

“let’s see if someone still dares to lay a fucking finger on you,” and then just like that, kris plants a lingering kiss to chanyeol’s temple.

“see you soon,” he pats chanyeol’s cheek and unbuckles the seatbelt for him. chanyeol stutters a goodbye before he bolts out of the car and practically half running to the main lobby; his skin prickles from the intensity of what kris just did―not from his bullies’ intense stares, no, not today.

he only starts hyperventilating when he walks down the vast corridor to his class. but no insults are being thrown at him. as he waits for the bell to ring he anticipates what kind of daily gay jokes his classmates (boys) will verbalise, especially after what kris just did.

but nothing happens. in fact, not a single person dares to lay eyes on him like he’s oozing a blinding aura or.

or like, kris’ PDA! he was marking me!

chanyeol passes the first period of his school life in peace. and it’s weird. at lunch, he takes his time to enjoy the doshirak he and kris bought from a street vendor. the pine tree-ish disinfectant aroma in the boy restroom’s on the fifth floor doesn’t bother his appetite for once.

“na na na i like food~” chanyeol makes up a catchy tune to accompany him in the midst of comfortable silence.

“hm hm hm oh no paprika! chanyeolla no like pa―”

suddenly there's a loud bang, followed quickly with a hurried click.

chanyeol freezes.

footsteps, and, “i. hate. you.”

a short but arrogant chuckle, then, “well you agreed, gongju-yah,” belts being unbuckled―wet kisses, rustling clothes, something is being teared (twice) and then a grunt―

chanyeol quietly folds his legs and sits cross legged on top of the closed toilet lid, balancing his lunchbox on his lap, swallowing the half munched rice and feeling his throat dry because―

“ah―” the whiny voice who hates the other (?) lets out a long moan. “ah, c-come on.”

chanyeol sighs inaudibly, relieved beyond belief that it’s not them; that he’s saved, his only sanctuary where he can have his lunch without girls looking at him eating with such sheer loathing is not discovered. not yet, right, because the fact that the two boys going at it just right on the washbasins area is telling chanyeol enough that he needs to move away from here like a good nomad.

“fuck,” the cocky voice growls, so pleased with himself since the whiny voice just urges him to go faster and harder and more.

chanyeol blinks, shivering at another stream of tiny moans with the provocative melodies of skin slapping against skin―

more wet kissing that muffles their mutual despair for release―

chanyeol tries to calm down, tries to block their sex voices, but they sure have stamina because it seems like forever before he decides to continue eating to distract himself.

he counts his every chews; one, two, three, four, “jongin!”, five, six, seven, eight, god is being cursed, nine, ten, eleven, swallow.

one, two, three, four, fivesixseveneight, “sehun-ah―”, swallow.

one, two, and both are chuckling.

“what?” the cocky voice groans contentedly. the whiny voice of course whines some more and then the cocky voice murmurs an apology as―chanyeol honestly doesn’t want to know what he’s doing. he closes his eyes and prays for them to finish their business because the smell of c-c-cum is quite horrifying. he stares at his lunchbox blankly.

“let’s have bubble milk tea later,” the cocky voice says with a slight, but surprisingly sweet, imploring tone after they’re done fixing their most likely wrinkled uniforms.

“of course we are,” the whiny voice grumbles with a slight lisp, a pause, and then he gasps. “oh my god it hurts, jongin-ah. i hate you.”

the cocky voice kisses the whiny voice once more before he jokes that should i carry my gongju bridal style? and the said boy doesn’t respond but he might hit the cocky voice in the head or face or somewhere and chanyeol only dares to move; to have a drink from his orange tupperware when the door is finally shut and by the sweats trickling down slowly on his nape he feels that the usually cold toilet is getting hotter...

....somehow.

chanyeol is no stranger to porn, he thinks maria ozawa is cute okay―but he’s never been a fan to watch people faking moans and and and stuffs let alone p-pleasuring himself and that was...

that was...

chanyeol counts to ten before he gathers his lunchbox hastily, holds his breath as he walks past the washbasins and runs out of the boy’s restroom on the fifth floor to finish his lunch at the other end of the corridor; his hands are shaking with kris smiling, laughing, frowning, talking, touching him somewhere in his head.



▲ ▼



kris picks him up with the previous white audi, wearing a thick black jacket, sweatpants, and his adidas. chanyeol doesn’t quite look at him in the eye as kris drives him home, but then kris teases at the first red light,

“you’re not immune to our deal, right?” chanyeol frowns. “that’s one.”

chanyeol frowns even harder. kris puts his cold thumb in the crease between his eyebrows and chuckles, “two.”

“what―” chanyeol blushes because oh.“aw, hyung!” he laughs. “ugh i totally forgot about our deal! not fair!”

kris just laughs heartily as the light turns green and chanyeol is left all warm on the inside.






chanyeol eats his lunch on the floor; just next to his desk which is at the back of his class, because kris’ marking method to banish his bullies is super effective. but chanyeol is still self conscious considering they are still staring-glaring-glancing every now and then at him, so he opts to sit cross legged; his back against the wall, with the strokes’ special DVD interview extras with korean subtitle on his phone.

it’s ryeowook-sshi behind the driver’s seat of a red volkswagen with kris next to him. ryeowook-sshi is taking them to the MTV’s headquarter to get a briefing from the PD in charge for the ‘a day with...’ show.

upon first impression, chanyeol is sure that the boy wearing a donald duck hoodie is either a new child-actor happens to be in the same meeting room or he’s one of the staffs’ son.

“baby-yah this is lu han, the youngest PD in the history of korean’s entertainment industry. lu han-ah, this is my baby chanyeolla.”

lu han-hyung openly scowls hearing ryeowook-sshi’s nickname and shamelessly ravishing chanyeol from head to toe using his bambi-ish doe eyes. those chocolate orbs are not only dilating but also decorated with a hint of hunger plus obvious, professional predator quality that chanyeol opts to sit closer to kris and zip his hoodie up to his neck—just in case.

bambi is supposed to be a harmless deer, right?

“hyung,” chanyeol presses his forehead to the back of kris’ right shoulder. currently they’re reading the rundown sheet. kris shifts to face him a little bit.

“why is lu han-hyung looking at me like that?” chanyeol whispers because there are two noonas with super hi-tech DSLRs; they’ve been told to capture any of ‘krisyeol moments’ that can be posted later on MTV’s official twitter and website as teasers. chanyeol doesn’t want ryeowook-sshi to overhear his question as an insult about lu han-hyung, because of course the two peculiar older men are best friends. if he can’t survive another hour being in the same room with lu han-hyung, how will he live tomorrow when they’re going to shoot together from morning to—according to the rundown—dinnertime?

kris stealthily looks to the man in question. then he snorts softly and flicks chanyeol’s nose, “minseokkie wondered why the same a year ago. he still is.”

“really?” chanyeol huffs because thanks god he’s not the only one!

kris nods, whispering again without moving his lips, “he does it to the people he likes.”

chanyeol puts a hand to his cheek, feeling flattered, although surely lu han-hyung shows his affection in such extraordinarily abnormal way.

“kris,” ryeowook-sshi interrupts them with an apologetic smile, “any question?”

chanyeol shakes his head. kris just shrugs.

“i think we’re settled, lu han-ah.” ryeowook-sshi turns to lu han-hyung, who’s been sitting on the long table, legs crossed, busy with his shabby and creaking rubik cube. “yah.”

“i heard you,” lu han-hyung knocks down a donald duck water bottle to the floor as he swings his legs. chanyeol bites his bottom lip to prevent a smile.

but lu han-hyung with his creepy bambi eyes caught him anyway, and so he beams cutely at chanyeol who flushes and uses kris’ bigbigbig palm as a shield.

the two noonas wildly clicking their DSLRs.

“you’re scaring him, pabo!” ryeowook-sshi shrieks. lu han-hyung pouts.

“whatever. so, no question? are you sure?” kris nods in behalf of chanyeol, and so lu han-hyung, honest to god, leers as he claps his hands and announces that he can’t wait to work with chanyeol, my chan chan, and that he envies kris for claiming chanyeol first because it’s not fair how pretty you are completed with such alluring voice...

chanyeol feels kris tenses before he comments rather wryly, “i’ll make sure to let minseokkie know about that, hyung.”

lu han-hyung pleads on his knees at kris to not breathe a word to his precious bao zi please, kris, i’ll get you a free pass to insert a foreign name that chanyeol assumes a restaurant which actually one of the most prestigious club in seoul—but kris just pats the older man’s head before he grabs chanyeol by the waist and for the first time ever chanyeol feels pity for the scary lu han-hyung.

and oh. his appa needs to know that he has a competition regarding minseok-hyung.

ryeowook-sshi asks where does chanyeol want to have dinner and chanyeol asks if he can just eat with the other exo members, it doesn’t matter where because, “i miss them,” he confesses.

kris looks away with a smile and ryeowook-sshi is tearing up for real before he immediately calls (sobbing) joonmyun to meet at the previous fancy restaurant they visited when they were back from gangwon two months ago.

tao is clinging to minseok-hyung as they enter the restaurant, swiftly glancing at chanyeol who just winks in response.

“you know, dongsaeng,” chanyeol head locks tao with his scrawny arms after they’re done with the main course, “hyung will teach you how to handle them. what do you say?” tao’s bottom lip wavers but he nods in determination and together they sneak out of the vip room to go to the mini fountain where the colorful kois are. chanyeol whispers a ‘fighting!’ as he goes to take one fish with black and orange scales. he holds it up, and tao crouches down next to chanyeol, poking the body like a curious five year old.

chanyeol beams.

“since you’re a beginner, coat your palms with dirt,” tao protests, “eyyyyy it will reduce the fish’ slipperiness! come on!” chanyeol points at the ground enthusiastically and tao pouts but he does as he’s told. “cool! now get ready. don’t squish it too hard or it will get panicked. just hold it naturally.” he slowly passes the gaping fish to tao’s hands.

tao giggles at the first touch, but then the fish plunges back to the fountain. chanyeol goes awww but quickly he catches another with the white-orange-red scales. tao squares his shoulders and slowly grabs it. he exclaims in awe as the fish wiggles in his palms and chanyeol claps to encourage him to hold on a little longer.

“hyung hyung take a photo!” tao shrieks as he gets to his feet. chanyeol wipes his hands on his school’s yellow blazer and activates his iphone’s camera. tao poses, making a kissy face to the wide eyed fish and chanyeol takes a perfect picture of them together.

tao goes to his side, and of course it’s selca time. if chanyeol is baekhyun’s wangja then tao is the selca prince. he doesn’t forget to show off the very first fish i’ve ever caught!!! gomawo chanyeolla-hyung ^o^ as he writes and uploads to his three hundred thousand or so followers on his twitter.

chanyeol tells kris on their way back home about his and tao’s little shenanigan and kris bursts out laughing because apparently he and the rest of exo members lose a bet of ‘who will manage to make tao no longer scared of fish’. a sudden wave of pride hits chanyeol because if only baekhyun knows that he and his beloved exo are sharing an inside joke! imagine how many girls baekhyun will get if chanyeol spill every single random facts about exo just so baekhyun can use it to—what, date sulli, maybe? the prettiest girl in their school? or maybe gyuri-noona the local goddess?—chanyeol snorts at the memory of baekhyun’s rejected love confession to gyuri-noona a couple of years ago.

ah, my commoner! i’m going to call him!

“you’re happy,” kris smirks as chanyeol speed-dials his best friend.

“i am!” chanyeol does a mehrong and waits for baekhyun to pick up. “BAEKHYUN-AH!” he cries out. kris frowns but chanyeol lets that one to slide. “baekhyun-ah waddup!”

“my wangja,” baekhyun mocks a courteous tone, “what is it that i am graced by your call?”

“not funny okay,” chanyeol huffs, “but whatever! i’m going to shoot a variety show tomorrow! i’m so excited! how are you? how’s jongdae?”

kris clears his throat.

baekhyun grumbles that chanyeol really should create a twitter account because that way, the whole world can see that @lordbacon (his new twitter) is a best friend of park chanyeol—kris wufan’s fiancee—and therefore he will get a little bit of the spotlight too and, you know, girls.

chanyeol and baekhyun bicker about how dare a commoner changing a crucial topic about jongdae and baekhyun just clicks his tongue and says that jongdae is finally going public with woohyun—

chanyeol pauses.

“oy are you listening?” baekhyun asks. “bro? you there? wangja-yah?”

“chanyeol-ah what’s wrong?” kris puts his right hand on top chanyeol’s head as he stops on the red light. chanyeol frowns.

“chanyeol-ah?”

“hey.”

chanyeol blinks only because of the honking from impatient cars and kris curses under his breath as he drives again.

“chanyeol-ah?” baekhyun is still sounding puzzled. “okay then i’ll just call you la—”

“what do you mean...” chanyeol can’t feel his tongue, “what are you talking about?”

“don’t tell me you didn’t know all along!” baekhyun chuckles. “yeah anyway it was last week i guess. as usual our woohyun got asked on a date by a girl from sunghwa high—she’s too tall though—and woohyun was like, ‘i already have jongdae, sorry,’ and the rest is history.” chanyeol is about to express his doubt (fear?) but then baekhyun adds,

“wait, chanyeol-ah. didn’t we discuss it with sungjongie? how woohyun always turns off his greasiness in front of jongdae? i remember you were objecting about the idea of jongdae dating anyone and now that i think about it, heh. why, dude? did jongdae say something to you?”

“chanyeol-ah we’re here.” kris cuts off softly, unbuckling his seatbelt. chanyeol just nods and gets out of the car and takes kris’ offered hand as he tries to verbalize anything.

“ha ha ha why are you so stunned, weirdo! what, did you have a crush on jongdae? or was it woohyun?” baekhyun is loud, and he and kris are inside the elevator already.

chanyeol forces to say, “eyyy~ i just never thought jongdae would be a pretty little liar to us! tsk tsk we’re his friends!” he bites his bottom lip. “um. so...so do you know how they happened?” he whispers it then, because he’s not sure kris is willing to kiss his knee this time; and plus, how is he supposed to ask for such silly symbolic gesture?

but.

actually, chanyeol doesn’t feel anything. nothing. he’s not even hurt by the fact that jongdae had lied to him. maybe jongdae lied because he didn’t want to hurt chanyeol’s feeling? then why didn’t he just say that he’s dating woohyun? it’s not like woohyun is a bad boy, woohyun is the most popular boy in their school who gets daily gifts from his fans; he’s an ulzzang, a vocalist of an indie band, and the last time he had a girlfriend she was treated unfairly by his fans.

right.

“that’s enough,” kris takes chanyeol’s phone and apologizes to baekhyun that chanyeol really needs more energy for the shooting tomorrow and baekhyun is too mesmerized by kris’ voice transmitted via electronic device anyway that he hangs up with an energetic,

“annyeong, kris-hyungnim! we are one, we are exo!”

to be c o n t i n u e d