Archive of Our Own

When his phone rings on a rainy Thursday afternoon, Jaemin is sprawled haphazardly across the couch in his living room watching the raindrops track their way down the glass windowpane and biting the end of his pencil as he tries to capture the still life realistically on his white sketch pad. On the floor surrounding him are scattered more than a few crumpled balls of torn paper covered with half-done and abandoned sketches, carelessly and frustratedly creased and littering the already cluttered floor. Jaemin groans, lazy to move from his position but a little relieved for the distraction, his hand reaching under his body to fumble in his jeans pocket for his phone.

It stops ringing before he finishes sifting through the various random odds and ends in his pocket, pricking his finger on a stray paperclip and suspiciously poking at something which feels disturbingly soft and damp. Finally, thankfully, he finds the cool metal of his phone and fishes it out, unlocking the screen with a dash of his thumb.

He's not surprised to see the words "1 Missed Call from Huang Renjun". Jaemin doesn't bother to press the button to call Renjun back, instead flippantly counting down the seconds till, as expected, his phone lights up and starts vibrating again. It thrums furiously in his hands, as if carrying Renjun's urgency and vigour. Jaemin sighs away the vestiges of his fatigue and braces himself as he resignedly answers Renjun's call.

"Jaemin?" Renjun's voice is muffled and slurred by background noise, as if he's outside. "Were you sleeping?" He sounds disapproving.

Jaemin places a hand over the phone and clears his throat sheepishly. "No," he replies, sounding a bit more normal. It's technically true, even if he did just wake up less than an hour ago. Renjun, who is obviously out and about working diligently, doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, okay," Renjun says a little skeptically. "Sorry if I woke you up," he mumbles absently, and Jaemin hastily and unconvincingly reassures him that he hadn't.

"Anyways," Renjun says, moving on without further ado, "I called because I have a new job for you."

Jaemin perks up, but feels a vague sinking feeling in his stomach that resembles dread. He's always excited and thankful to hear from Renjun about new projects, but deep inside, he knows what he's worried about this time. He hasn't told Renjun, but Jaemin hasn't had inspiration for more than a month now, since midway through his last project.

He had lost steam halfway through that piece, which was comissioned by a fashion design company, and half-assed the rest of it, but no one had seemed to notice his drop in quality. At least, he hoped. Judging from Renjun's call now with a new assignment, the freelance company hasn't picked up on it yet. However, Jaemin has the sinking feeling that it's only a matter of time before it shows.

Renjun is a middleman working at the company -- the person who facilitates the contacts and introduction between Jaemin and the client looking for an artwork, the one who matches artists to the right job according to their skills and experience. Jaemin has been working with him for two years now, and he has no complaints. Renjun is the best in his field.

Jaemin appreciates Renjun's hard work in looking for a steady stream of well-paying jobs for him, regular enough to maintain his income and keep him comfortably housed and fed, his monthly rent for the apartment-slash-studio he lives and works from never overdue. He knows that Renjun favours him over the other freelance artists under their company, not only because he admires Jaemin's talent but also because he sees Jaemin as a good friend. And Jaemin has always felt the responsibility to repay Renjun's care with top-notch art and results, so Renjun will look good in front of the clients.

But somewhere along the way, when Jaemin hadn't realized, pressure had started creeping in at the corners, weighing heavily on his shoulders. A sense of listlessness and sluggishness had began dragging at his ankles and hands like chains and Jaemin had started feeling more uninspired than enthusiastic. His work had become a chore.

Jaemin was afraid to disappoint himself and the company. But more than that, he was afraid to disappoint Renjun, who had always supported him and believed in him. So he had kept quiet and hoped that his inspiration would return with time.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Jaemin?" Renjun's voice filters in from a distance, and Jaemin snaps out of his reverie to hear Renjun calling him impatiently over the phone. "So can you?" Renjun is asking, sounding stressed and hopeful.

"Can I what?" Jaemin cringes, confused, and Renjun sighs but doesn't berate him for his inattentiveness as he dutifully repeats his query. "Can you go meet the client at his company?"

"Meet?" Jaemin repeats blankly, even though he shouldn't be surprised. It isn't the first time that the client has chosen to eschew communicating through the go-between and requested to meet the artist directly. It's uncommon, but not rare. Jaemin usually finds it a hassle but there's nothing to be done. It's part of the job. Some clients are just more picky than others and like to specifically detail and discuss the requested artwork with the artist personally.

"I know it's a drag," Renjun says sympathetically. "But I couldn't think of a better artist for this assignment than you. The moment I saw the client's request, I immediately thought, this is so Jaemin's style."

Renjun's voice is persuasive, encouraging through the phone. Jaemin feels a flattered rush of warmth swell in his heart, and feels the usual urge not to let Renjun down. After all, he trusts Renjun's taste unconditionally. In the time they've worked together, Renjun has yet to recommend him a job that didn't suit Jaemin.

"I don't mind," he says cheerfully, and is gratified to hear Renjun's sigh of relief.

"Thanks," he gushes, "You're a lifesaver."

"No, thank you for recommending me the job, Renjun-ah," Jaemin says earnestly, and Renjun laughs warmly.

“You got the job based on your own merits. I didn't do anything," he says humbly and sincerely, and Jaemin feels a wave of gratitude for him.

"I have to go," Renjun adds harriedly. "I'll catch up with you when I'm not so busy. Oh right, the appointment is this evening. I'll text you the address of the company and the name of the executive."

"This evening?" Jaemin blurts out, startled.

"Yeah, sorry it's such short notice," Renjun says apologetically. "He's only free tonight. Your schedule isn't already occupied... right?"

"I'm free," Jaemin reassures him. "Just text me. Talk to you soon."

"Cool, take care!" Renjun says quickly in farewell, and hangs up.



Jaemin tosses his phone onto the couch beside him after the call ends, dropping his sketch pad and burying his face in a throw pillow. Within a minute, his phone beeps again with Renjun's message. He doesn't bother to check it, instead burrowing deeper into his cocoon of cushions as if he can escape real life just by not looking at it.



Jaemin lazes on his couch, barely moving a muscle, until the shadows of the setting sun sink across the walls of his darkening living room and he finally senses that if he procrastinates any longer, he'll be late and cause unnecessary problems and a bad first impression with the client. He sighs and finally takes the pillow off his face, letting a shard of weak light in to pierce his drowsy eyes. He staggers to his feet, the sketch pad falling to the floor, not bothering to pick up the crumpled balls of paper as he trudges in his sweats to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

Ten minutes later, Jaemin is looking marginally more human and a lot more presentable, having run a comb through his hopelessly tousled bed hair and brushed his teeth. He knows he should take a shower but is too lazy to, instead spritzing a dash of cologne over his torso, hoping it will help to disguise any unwanted odours.

He opens his closet, mechanically stepping out of his sweats and pulling on his only suit and collared white shirt, the one he wears on such occasions. He clumsily knots the noose of the tie and buttons up the suit, running a nervous hand through his hair and down the front of the stiff navy fabric. He hates having to button himself into stuffy formalwear. In this way, he's the cliche starving artist, always dressing in clothes that wouldn't look out of place in the "bohemian chic" section of clothing stores.



It's five-fifteen when he finally finishes dressing up and opens Renjun's message. The address is a building in the business district about half an hour away from Jaemin's neighbourhood, and the meeting time is six. It's about time for him to leave the house.

On his way out the door, he grabs his wallet from the coffee table. It's depressingly light but Jaemin can't muster the energy to walk to the train station and take public transport, not at such a crowded peak hour. The rain has stopped but the weather is still too chilled to walk long distances. Instead, he steps onto the sidewalk and hails a cab, hoping Mr Lee Jeno -- the name mentioned in Renjun's message -- will not ask to talk over dinner.



He does.

Mr Lee Jeno is a statuesque, stern-looking man with eyebrows that give him a forbidding aura, thin unsmiling lips and penetrating eyes that make Jaemin shift his feet nervously. He introduces himself as the artistic director of the advertising company, which is one of the most reputable in the country. It's obviously a prestigious position and Jaemin feels slightly intimidated, hoping he won't look too unsophisticated in front of such a highly-ranking executive.

"Jaemin Na?" he ascertains, brow creasing the slightest bit as he gives Jaemin a discreet once-over, but his voice is polite and professional.

"That's me," Jaemin confirms just as politely, not taking offense. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Lee.” He extends a genial hand and puts on his most disarming smile.

Jeno looks genuinely surprised, his eyebrows lifting, but the eyes underneath them thaw a little as he takes Jaemin's hand after a beat. His handshake is firm, grip strong. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. Sorry," he adds unexpectedly, "it's just that you're younger than I thought you'd be."

Jaemin can't help the burst of laughter that escapes his lips, and Jeno looks mildly amused. "It's okay, I get that a lot," he replies honestly. It's true. People usually expect artists to be middle-aged, or at least in their thirties. Added to the fact that Jaemin looks younger than his age, he sometimes gets mistaken for a college student.

Sure enough, the next question Jeno asks is, "Are you a student?" He's surprisingly chatty for someone who looks like a man of few words, or maybe he's just making small talk to break the ice.

Jaemin resists the urge to roll his eyes and replies pleasantly, "Nope. I'm twenty-nine."

Jeno does a double take, blinking, and Jaemin mutters, "What?" He doesn't have to look that shocked.

"Oh no, I didn't mean..." Jeno quickly apologizes when he realizes how Jaemin has interpreted his reaction. "It's just that -- I'm twenty-nine too."

"We're the same age?" Jaemin exclaims, animated. "That's so cool!"

He is surprised to see Jeno breaking into a small smile, the ends of his lips curling up infinitesimally. "It's pretty awesome," he agrees.

Jaemin studies Jeno closely, admitting to himself that he's taken aback too by Jeno's age. He had looked in his early thirties, at least. Jaemin feels a faint pang of envy. It must be nice to look mature and adult, and not get mistaken as a university student all the time.

He silently admires Jeno's career accomplishments at such a youthful age.

They lapse into a momentary silence after this exchange, each mulling over the new information, but it's not as uncomfortable and stiff as the beginning.

"So," Jaemin starts awkwardly, and Jeno opens his mouth at the same time.

"Should we --"

They fall silent, and Jaemin gestures for Jeno to go ahead with a friendly smile. Jeno offers him that slight smile back. He actually has a really nice smile, teeth straight and even, perfectly white.

"Do you want to talk over dinner?" Jeno suggests, voicing out Jaemin's trepidated question.

"Uh... sure," Jaemin mumbles after a moment, not seeing how he can refuse.

"Great," Jeno says, his voice distinctly more enthusiastic. "Do you have a car?"

Jaemin shakes his head. "I cabbed here."

"Let's take mine then," Jeno says easily, picking up his briefcase from his desk and gallantly holding the door open to let Jaemin out of the office first. Jaemin shuffles out, tugging at the strap of his tattered sling bag and hears the heels of Jeno's suede shoes clicking on the marble tile as he trails at Jaemin's heels towards the elevator.

As they are standing in stilted silence in the lift moving down from the seventh storey, Jaemin's phone beeps. He fishes it out to see a new message in his ongoing chat with Renjun checking if he has met up with Jeno yet. There is a huge LINE sticker after the question Jaemin, bigger than the message itself, and unconsciously, Jaemin snorts a giggle at Renjun's irreverence.

He flushes as Jeno turns to look at him, typing out a quick reply and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Jeno is gazing at him curiously, his eyes unreadable. Just then, the doors slide open and Jeno turns back to the front, stepping out without further comment. Jaemin follows in his wake.

Jeno's car is a posh vintage SUV, obviously new and expensive. Jaemin admires its sleek finish discreetly and gets into the passenger seat. Jeno tosses his briefcase in the rear and slides into the driver's seat, revving the engine to life with a smooth, noiseless twist of the key.

As they exit the carpark into the night illuminated by amber streetlamps and traffic lights, Jaemin turns to Jeno, smiling tentatively. "Do you want to go to McDonald's?"

This time, Jeno is the one who snorts audibly, until he takes his eyes off the road to look at Jaemin with incredulous eyes. "Are you serious?"

Jaemin drops his gaze, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah..."

Jeno doesn't reply and Jaemin feels his gaze on him for a few beats, until it returns to the road. "I don't really feel like fast food tonight," Jeno says lightly. "I know a French restaurant nearby where we can reserve a private room. Do you like French?"

"Er..." Jaemin hedges. How does he say I haven't been able to afford it before in a courteous way? In the end, he wimps out and mumbles, "I'm easy."

"Good," Jeno just says, sounding pleased as they promptly speed towards the mentioned restaurant.

When they arrive and Jeno pulls into the parking lot, climbing out of the car and waiting patiently for Jaemin, he realizes that the restaurant is more classy than he had expected. It looks like one of those gourmet cuisine ones, with elaborately suited waiters and a hostess at the stand outside beaming welcomingly at them. Jaemin looks down in dismay at his clothes, forgetting what he is decked in for a moment and expecting to see his usual paint-spattered ratty t-shirts, faded distressed jeans and sneakers. He heaves a silent sigh of relief that he had had the good sense to wear a suit today. Hopefully no one notices it's not designer.

Jeno is smiling questioningly at him and Jaemin hurriedly climbs out, a little clumsily. He tugs gingerly at the hem of his suit tails and smooths his palm over his lapels as he follows Jeno towards the hostess stand. Jeno doesn't seem daunted by the grandeur as he strikes up a pleasant conversation with the hostess, who is almost immediately fluttering her eyelashes and smiling flirtatiously at him. "This way, sirs," she bows respectfully, guiding them into the restaurant and down the velvet carpeted corridor.

As Jeno promised, they are let into a private room and the hostess bows again, closing the sliding door behind her to give them privacy after leaving them to peruse the menus. Jaemin can't help studying Jeno inquisitively over the top of his, until Jeno looks up, raising one eyebrow. "What?"

Jaemin drops his gaze, face warming. He hadn't realized Jeno knew he was staring. "N-nothing," he stammers. "I was just thinking you probably come here a lot."

"I do," Jeno says simply, confirming Jaemin's suspicion with a brisk nod.

His eyes widen at the prices that greet them as he scans the menu. If Jeno is a frequent customer of this restaurant, it's apparent that he's pretty well-off, to say the least. Simply put, he's rich.

Not that it's any of Jaemin's business. He feels the difference in their statuses like an invisible but widening crevasse opening between them, and presses his lips together mutely as he flips the pages of the menu, searching for the cheapest item.

"Are you ready?" Jeno asks after a few minutes, and Jaemin nods. Jeno presses a button on the corner of the table and a different, but equally pretty waitress knocks and enters the room after no more than a few seconds. No doubt about it, the service is really different from McDonald's here.

Jeno orders a four-course set dinner, comprising appetizer, main course, dessert and coffee. In addition, he selects a bottle of wine from the wine list. Jaemin watches this with wide eyes but withholds judgement. At least Jeno will be paying for everything himself.

When the waitress looks expectantly at Jaemin, he feels a little sheepish as he shyly orders a lobster bisque and sparkling water. Both of them stare at him, as if waiting for him to continue, and Jeno frowns minutely when he stops.

"Is that all?"

"Um, yeah. I'm not really hungry." Jaemin slides the menu over to the waitress, hoping Jeno will accept his flimsy excuse.

He doesn't. "Have you eaten dinner?" Jeno looks confused.

"No," Jaemin admits hesitantly, unable to lie for some reason even though it will make things easier.

At his words, Jeno's gaze moves dismissively from his face to the waitress'. "He'll have the same as me," he says, and she nods approvingly, collects their menus and exits.

Jaemin gapes at Jeno. "I..." he swallows, his throat dry. "I don't have enough money," he croaks, face burning as he steels himself for Jeno's pity.

"Don't worry about it," Jeno replies shortly, sure enough. "I'll take care of the bill."

"I can't -- I can't make you pay for my dinner. I'll pay you back," Jaemin blurts out, grimacing.

Jeno meets his eyes, scrutinizing. "I'm not paying for it." He leans forward, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm putting it on the company's tab."

"What?" Jaemin blinks. Up close, Jeno's eyes are dark and long-lashed, gleaming. He leans back again and laughs, throwing back his head.

"I can't afford such a pricey meal either," Jeno admits, a mischievous sparkle entering his eye.

"Then why did you bring me here?" Jaemin gasps.

Jeno shrugs. "I guess... I just thought someone like you deserves to eat in such a place. Instead of fast food restaurants, I can picture you in fancy Parisian cafes, sketching the passersby at a table by the window as you sip a latte."

"Someone like me?" Jaemin repeats, confounded.

Jeno gestures vaguely. "You know... an artist."

Jaemin cocks an eyebrow at him. "You haven't even seen my art."

Jeno leans forward on the table with a challenging glint in his eye. "Who says I haven't?"

Jaemin's mouth falls open. "You have?"

Jeno smiles, drumming his fingers on the table. "I always do my research before meeting anyone I work with."

Jaemin blushes, wanting to ask what Jeno thought of his work but not having the nerve to. Instead he babbles, "So when you said you come here often..."

"For work," Jeno clarifies, looking at Jaemin indulgently. "I wish I could say I dine here often -- but I'm just an ordinary salaryman struggling to make ends meet." He shrugs.

Could've fooled me, Jaemin thinks but doesn't say. He runs his eyes down Jeno's charcoal suit which could pass as Armani as the waitress enters again, bearing the wine in a bucket of ice. She opens the bottle and pours the burgundy liquid into two crystal glasses. Jeno favours her with a smile of thanks as she leaves again. Jaemin has noticed that he's noticeably more generous with his smiles towards ladies as opposed to men, but he supposes that's only natural.

As Jeno takes a small sip of his wine, tasting it delicately, Jaemin fumbles to open his bag and pulls out his portfolio of sketches. He places it on the table and Jeno's eyes are serious again as he puts his glass down and opens the file, donning a pair of wire-rimmed reading spectacles to browse through Jaemin's work.

Jaemin can't tell what he thinks as Jeno studies each sketch closely but inscrutably. But after a few minutes, his finger pauses on one of Jaemin's personal favourites -- a remarkably realistic and four-dimensional reproduction of his phone he had done in a rare burst of inspiration.

Jeno slides the piece of stiff paper out and looks at it thoughtfully. "We're looking for something similar to this," he says, meeting Jaemin's eyes again.

Jaemin quickly takes a sip of his wine to wet his lips and stall for time, hoping his fingers don't tremble. "That was done a few months ago... I don't know if I can.... do it again."

Jeno's brow creases, but his voice is gentle as he says, "It's alright. It doesn't have to be exactly the same. Just do whatever you feel comfortable with and interpret the concept your own way."

"But..."

"I have confidence in you," Jeno says quietly, his voice a few degrees warmer than it's been all night.

There's a knock and the waitress glides in, bearing their food. Jeno puts his spectacles and Jaemin's rough sketches away, aligning them with careful fingers back into the portfolio, as if they're precious and can't be damaged, and Jaemin is moved by the respect in his actions.

One side of his lips curves up in a playful smirk as he meets Jaemin's eyes over the delectable food. "Dig in," he urges, and Jaemin takes a deep breath and does.



Contrary to clients who usually request to meet up, Jeno doesn't seem to have very strict or specific expectations and guidelines. He does run through the basic idea of what the advertising campaign is about over leisurely-sipped cups of coffee and dessert after they finish their meal, briefing Jaemin on the steps they will have to take before the completed advertisement finally hits the big screen over the remaining dregs of wine in the bottle. Jaemin is only involved in the first, initial process, and he never thought that filming an advertisement was such a tedious and painstaking production.

"Are you in charge of the rest?" he asks, and Jeno inclines his head modestly. "I kind of oversee everything."

"Wow." Jaemin rounds his mouth in a silent 'o', awed. Jeno looks embarrassed. "It's not as complicated as it looks," he says self-deprecatingly. "Or maybe I'm just used to it."

Jaemin feels a renewed sense of purpose and determination. "I'll do my best to help you," he promises fervently. It's frankly the least he can do, with how much room for creativity and trust Jeno is giving him. Jaemin knows he's fortunate to get a client who is not nitpicky and allows him freedom to call the shots.

Jeno chuckles. "That's good," he says, voice deep. "But don't wear yourself out. I'm sure whatever you produce will be fantastic."

He's a surprisingly slick talker, making Jaemin blush with his smooth compliments, but then again he's not that surprised since Jeno works in advertising. It's practically a prerequisite for him to be glib.



When Jaemin has tipped the last drop of wine down his throat and his belly is more blissfully bloated than it has been in a while, he checks his phone under the table, startled to see that it's past nine. The hours have flown by unnoticed.

Jeno calls for the cheque, placing a black AmEx card onto the folder without glancing at the bill. Jaemin gulps. "You won't get in trouble for spending too much, will you?" he hesitates, wondering why he's so concerned.

Jeno laughs, looking amused. "Nah," he says. "I told you, I take our freelance artists here a lot."

Jaemin's stomach churns uncomfortably. He doesn't know why he feels slightly bitter that Jeno entertains other people he works with here, that this is merely routine for him and Jaemin is nothing special. What else did he expect?

Jeno picks up his suit jacket, draping it over his arm as they get up and leave. Jaemin stretches his stiff legs and joints, smiling shyly at their waitress and hostess as they make their way out. Jeno smiles charmingly at them too, smoothly replying their polite questions about whether the food was to their satisfaction.

When they step out into the chilly night air, a breeze lifts the edges of Jaemin's hair. He stifles a shiver at the sudden cold draft, and jumps a little when he feels a jacket being draped around his shoulder.

He turns around tentatively to look searchingly at Jeno, who is striding ahead to his car in only his white work shirt and tie. Is this part of the entertaining the artists thing, too? Jaemin can't tell, but he pulls Jeno's jacket closer over his shoulders as it slips precariously. It retains the slight temperature of Jeno's skin and smells pleasantly of expensive musky cologne.



"Where do you live?" Jeno asks conversationally once they're in the car and turning out of the carpark. "I'll take you home."

"There's no need! I can take the train or a cab," Jaemin hastily replies, unwilling to impose even more on Jeno than he already has.

Jeno laughs, but not unkindly. "You said you don't have much cash, right?" There's a teasing note in his voice. "It's alright. I can drop you off along the way home."

"How do you know my house is on your way?" Jaemin argues feebly, but gives Jeno his address without much protest.

Jeno turns the volume of the car stereo system up and they listen to classical orchestral music for the rest of the trip back. Jaemin is pleasantly drowsy and almost drifts into a shallow doze until Jeno pulls up outside the lobby of his apartment. He pulls the brake back and turns to face Jaemin, still unsmiling but eyes significantly warmer than they were when they met four hours earlier that evening. "I'll text you my number," he says by way of parting. "Call me anytime if you have any questions."

"You have my number?"

"I got it from Renjun-sshi."

The casual familiarity with which Jeno says Renjun's name makes Jaemin want to ask if they're friends, but he bites back the question. It's none of his business, and it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Renjun to be on friendly terms with the clients. Maybe it's not even the first time he's worked with Jeno's company.

Instead, he just nods wordlessly and climbs out of Jeno's car, resisting the urge to look back as he ambles into his apartment lobby and takes the elevator up to his studio.



He finds a reply in Renjun's LINE conversation when he gets back. "Good luck!" It reads. “Lee Jeno is notorious for being difficult to please. Don't take it too personally."

Jaemin's eyebrows shoot up, confused. Is Renjun talking about the same person he met? Because Jeno was the farthest from difficult that Jaemin has ever met. He has encountered difficult clients before, and they can be much more trying than this. He summarizes this in a few words, texting back to Renjun when his phone beeps as he sends it off.

It's from an unknown number, and simply reads, "Good night. Lee Jeno."

As he saves the number into his contact list Jaemin feels his lips tugging up at Jeno's distant tone, which translates coolly in message form. But even from his brief interaction with Jeno, he can tell that the frosty vibe stems in fact more from awkwardness than brusqueness. Even in real life, Jeno is unadept at expressing himself verbally. It contrasts enigmatically with his confident, glib speech and Jaemin ponders on this paradox as he tugs the noose of his tie loose and unbuttons his shirt lazily, crashing onto the pull-out couch. He's tired and the alcohol has only just seemed to hit, making his head swim in an addled daze of cottony inebriation.

As Jaemin drifts off to sleep in the moonlight, his last thoughts are of Jeno.



The next morning, he is woken by his noisy ringtone. It seems to be becoming a pattern and Renjun sounds equally judgmental as Jaemin answers the phone groggily, his mouth parched and his head throbbing with a hangover. "Are you still sleeping again?"

Jaemin pulls his phone back to glance at the time. "It's only ten," he counters defensively, avoiding Renjun's question.

Renjun sighs patiently. "I know you're pretty much nocturnal, but did you forget you just got a new assignment? Not that I want to give you pressure or anything, but this ad campaign is really important. It's actually one of the biggest jobs our company has gotten in awhile."

Jaemin sits up, stomach turning over. "Well, that's comforting information," he grouches, ignoring the familiar dread creeping into the back of his mind. Now is a worse time than ever to mention to Renjun that he has no confidence he can handle this successfully.

"Anyways," he continues, thankfully interrupting him so Jaemin doesn't have to reply, "I said I'd call you when I'm less busy. I have some time today, do you want to meet up? We can discuss what the client wanted when you met him yesterday."

“Lee Jeno?" Jaemin blurts out. Saying the name makes something flutter below his ribs, to his bewilderment.

Renjun hums in confirmation. "What was that message you sent me last night that I must've gotten the wrong person and he's a nice guy?" he teases, and Jaemin can practically hear his smirk over the phone. "You need to give me deets in real life," Renjun commands, and promptly hangs up. Jaemin has barely hung up his own phone when it buzzes again with the venue and time Renjun wants to meet. It's in less than an hour at a cafe they frequent and Jaemin groans as he hauls himself up from the couch and stumbles to the bathroom, tugging at his tight collar.



Renjun bursts out laughing in disbelief when Jaemin approaches the booth by the window where he's already nursing his favourite caramel macchiato with whipped cream.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" he screeches in a low voice.

Jaemin grumbles and pulls them off, Renjun's eyes widening at his red-rimmed eyes and panda-like eyebags. He squints as the sun rays pierce his retinas painfully. "I have a major hangover."

"Dude." Renjun shakes his head. "How much did you drink last night?"

"... Half a bottle?"

"Are you serious? With the client?"

Jaemin bites his lip. "Is that inappropriate?"

"Hell, yeah. You were supposed to be talking business, not entertaining him."

Jaemin shrugs helplessly. "He ordered it," he says in weak defense.

Renjun narrows his eyes at him. "You mean the most infamous pain in the ass in the advertising industry, Lee Jeno?"

"Pain in the ass?" Jaemin repeats, frowning. "Wait, do you know him?"

"We're acquaintances, but I don't know him that well," Renjun answers flippantly. "Of course, he's civil to me because we don't work together. But he's known for his punishing standards and sky-high expectations, so I was a little worried he'd put you over the grills."

Jaemin shakes his head, too lost for words to speak yet. "He didn't."

Renjun purses his lips thoughtfully. "Well, that's a relief."

"Why?" Jaemin rejoins inanely as Renjun gestures to the waiter to take Jaemin's order.

Renjun winks. "If he did, I'd have someone to hunt down."



Jaemin has fun over lunch, as he always does with Renjun. They discuss work and Renjun is his usual enthusiastic and professional self as he listens to Jaemin's recap of Jeno's briefing and offers suggestions and opinions, but they spend an equal amount of time chatting about everything and nothing at all. It's been awhile since he met Renjun, and Jaemin had forgotten what an entertaining and fascinating conversationalist Renjun is.

But as he takes the subway home, Jaemin is surprised to realize that his dinner with Jeno the previous night had been no less fun, even though it had been a business one. Jeno is much less chatty and verbose than Renjun, more droll and pensive. He doesn't display his sense of humour often, but Jaemin had sensed even from their short time together that Jeno definitely had one. More than that, the warmth in Jeno's eyes and his reassuring smile spoke more than any volume of words could say.

Jaemin looks down at his phone and finds his thumb scrolling mindlessly over Jeno's message in his inbox. Nostalgically... caressingly. Suddenly, his finger slips and Jaemin muffles a gasp to see that he has accidentally pressed the call button.

He hurriedly jabs at end call with clammy fingers, and the phone nearly jumps out his hands when it vibrates a minute later with Jeno's contact flashing across the screen.

Jaemin's heart thuds in his ears, frantically vacillating between answering and ignoring. Eventually, he lifts the phone to his ear with an unsteady hand.

"Jaemin-sshi?" Jeno's voice filters into his ear, and Jaemin gulps loudly. "H-hi, um... Sorry, I accidentally called you."

There is a pause, before Jeno echoes, "Accidentally?" It might be Jaemin's imagination but his voice sounds a little less warm than a second before, a little more... disappointed.

"Er... yeah," Jaemin stutters. "B-but!" he has no idea why he says the words he does next. "I was meaning to call you!"

There is another awkward pause, before Jeno says quietly, "Really?"

The undisguised hopefulness and pleasure in his voice makes Jaemin's heart leap into his throat.

"Why?" Jeno continues swiftly, eagerly, without waiting for his answer.

"Um..." Jaemin fumbles for a reason. "I have some questions regarding the... colouring," he finishes lamely.

"Colouring?" Jeno sounds confused. "You've finished the sketches so fast?"

"No!" Jaemin bites his tongue before he reveals that he hasn't even started brainstorming. "I just..." he trails off, unable to think of anything coherent to add.

Mercifully, Jeno doesn't seem to mind his transparent fabrication, instead taking over the conversation without missing a beat. "Do you want to meet up?"

"At McDonald's?" Jaemin blurts out before he can think. He has no idea what possessed him to say that, but a thrill runs up his spine as Jeno breaks into a peal of appreciative laughter.

"Why not?" he throws back, and Jaemin finds his face aching with a huge stupid grin as he hangs up.



At the rate he's dining out since he got this assignment, Jaemin thinks wryly as he drums his fingers over the linoleum table in the fast food restaurant nervously, he'll never get any work done by the deadline. He's a little amused at how his usually hopelessly dull social life has seemed to be looking up since the day before. He hadn't even had time to do some quick preliminary rough work when he got back from meeting Renjun before he had to leave the house again to meet Jeno. But he had wanted to get at least a little started, if only so he could tell Jeno without lying that he had begun.

Jeno dashes through the doors at a quarter past six, looking breathless and slightly out of place in the gaudy restaurant in his impeccable suit and tie, pitch black today. But when he comes closer, Jaemin feels a laugh bubbling in his throat to see that Jeno's tie is royal blue with tiny patterns of cats on it, which look like stripes from afar. His hair is windswept, a few wisps falling over his forehead from his styled and moussed coiffeure, his face flushed and eyes bright with exertion.

"Nice tie," Jaemin deadpans, and Jeno breaks into a smile, seeming inordinately pleased that Jaemin had noticed it. "It's my favourite," he reveals.

Jaemin motions to the queue at the counter. "Do you want to go order?"

"I'll go," Jeno says quickly, looking sheepish and apologetic. "Sorry I'm late. You must be famished. What would you like?"

His chivalry is no less disarming than the day before, and Jaemin tells himself sternly that this is merely Jeno's work ethic as he replies, "I'm easy. Just get me what you're getting."

Jeno nods and turns to weave gracefully between the maze of kid-sized tables and chairs towards the counter.

Jaemin takes out his phone to diguise the fact that he's discreetly watching Jeno with his hands shoved in his pockets as he scans the overhead menu, patiently waiting for his turn. Even in a fast food restaurant, Jeno's stately poise turns heads.

Gradually, he gets absorbed into a rapidfire exchange of messages with Renjun, who is spamming him with stickers on LINE simultaneously. The moment Jaemin had mentioned he was out with Jeno for dinner, Renjun had fired a successive stream of excited messages at him demanding details. Jaemin finds out why when he asks where Renjun is and gets the less enthusiastic reply that he's home alone and bored.

He is trying to cope with the influx of messages, replying all of Renjun's questions as best he can and even making the effort to select a few Rilakkuma stickers, knowing it will make Renjun smile. The click of a tray on the table makes him look up to see Jeno placing an overflowing tray laden with food before him and settling down on the chair opposite Jaemin.

"Playing a game?" Jeno remarks casually, smiling as he hands Jaemin a burger and unwraps one himself. Jaemin takes it gratefully and slides his phone to the side of the table for the moment.

He shakes his head. "Texting." His phone promptly buzzes with Renjun's reply. Two replies. Three.

"Your girlfriend?" Jeno quirks an eyebrow quizzically, and Jaemin hurriedly replies, blushing, "Nope, Renjun."

Jeno's smile slips a bit, and Jaemin wonders if he has something against Renjun he doesn't know about. But Jeno just says, "Oh." and looks down at the table, taking a big bite of his burger.

Jaemin nibbles on his own Quarter Pounder awkwardly, the texture of the buns chafing as it gets stuck in his throat. He takes a sip of Coke to soften it.

Jaemin had only asked for a basic meal with a drink and fries, but Jeno had ordered much more, nuggets and even a chocolate sundae. But strangely, Jaemin doesn't feel offended by his lavish spending. It's only McDonald's, after all. And Jeno had paid for everything again.

Abruptly remembering this, he puts down his burger and digs into his pocket, fishing out his tattered wallet, and tries to slip a few notes across the table to Jeno to pay for his share. But the corner of Jeno's mouth twists down with displeasure.

"Jaemin, please," he says, gently but firmly pushing the money back. "I can afford this."

The sound of his name in Jeno's voice, for the third time since they met but in an entirely different tone from the first two, makes something unidentifiable stir deep inside Jaemin. Not trusting himself to speak, he obediently tucks the cash back into his wallet and resumes eating.

After he's crumpled his burger wrapper and is leisurely dragging fries through a puddle of ketchup and popping them into his mouth, his phone vibrates again with a fourth message. This time, Jaemin feels slightly relieved because they've somehow sunken into a wordless silence and Renjun's message is a welcome interruption.

But when he picks up his phone, he finds that it is not from Renjun but his junior from art school, Jisung. "Hyung, can I stay over tonight?" it reads, with a cute pleading emoticon.

Jaemin chuckles before he can help it, and quickly silences himself as he rushes out a short reply to Jisung: "Sure, just let yourself in. I'll be back soon."

Jaemin is barely done sending the message when Jeno's hand flashes in front of him. He's still blinking, dazed and confused, before he registers that Jeno has snatched the phone from his hand and is staring at the screen, looking pissed for some reason.

Jaemin is still looking uncomprehendingly between his empty hand and Jeno holding his phone, unable to believe that Jeno would do something so downright rude and out of character, when they've only just met yesterday for work. It's inexplicable and incomprehensible, a total breach of protocol and acceptable behavior, especially for Jeno who has been nothing but exceedingly polite and professional since they met -- but for some mysterious reason, Jeno has.

Just when Jaemin has reached this realization, Jeno grabs his hand with rough fingers and shoves the phone back into his palm. Jaemin looks up to see Jeno getting to his feet, towering over him and picking up his tray, stalking over to the dustbin without a backward glance to dump the remains of his meal.

Jaemin is still clutching his phone, dumbfounded, when Jeno strides back to the table, his easy smile nowhere to be seen. He picks up his briefcase and looks down at Jaemin expressionlessly. "I won't keep you since you have somewhere to be. You can email me the questions you wanted to ask me. I'll text you my email address."

And with that, he swivels on his heel and leaves Jaemin sitting alone in McDonald's watching him walk out the doors.



But Jeno doesn't text him his email. Even after Jaemin reaches home and spends most of the night on the pull-out couch staring despondently at his phone while Jisung snores on his bed; even after Jisung has left with a happy-go-lucky goodbye and a promise to drop by again soon; even after Jaemin spends the rest of the afternoon working furiously on his steadily developing sketch and refusing to give in to the urge to check his sedate phone once.

It's not like Jeno to be forgetful. Everything he had told Jaemin he would do so far, he has done immediately. So Jaemin can only be left to conclude that Jeno is deliberately not texting him his email. Because he doesn't want Jaemin to email him.

The thought makes a cold disappointed shiver plunge down Jaemin's innards.

He feels rejected, humiliated, rebuffed. He feels patronized, like Jeno had just fed Jaemin a line to get him off his back because he couldn't stand Jaemin bothering him with dumb and ignorant questions a second longer. Jeno had probably found him pesky and annoying, interrupting his important work, but been too nice to say so. Jaemin flushes hotly as it dawns on him how shameless his pestering had been. He shouldn't have taken Jeno at his word when he said that Jaemin could ask him anything, anytime.

It was just that he had been so approachable -- so warm and friendly. He had genuinely seemed to like talking to Jaemin. But Jaemin should probably have realized that it was all a veneer, a mask put on to please clients and colleagues. It had felt too good to be true from the start that Jeno was so nice, especially when Renjun had told Jaemin of his reputation.



The thought vaguely flits through Jaemin's mind that he could text Jeno to remind him of his promise to send him his email address. Only for the briefest second, though. Jaemin can't bring himself to be so oblivious, more shameless than he's already been. His pride surges up fiercely inside him, along with a wave of something that feels like anger. If Jeno wants to, he'll contact him. No way in hell is Jaemin going to make the first move this time.

But as his sketch progresses, slowly but surely, inevitably questions arise. Jaemin has some doubts he needs to clarify and he doesn't want to make a misstep and ruin the piece he has been working on for so long and put so much effort into.

Eventually, he gives in and texts Renjun for help. He types out a list of his queries and asks Renjun to do him the favour of forwarding them to Jeno. To Renjun's credit, he doesn't ask too much about why Jaemin doesn't text Jeno directly and obligingly helps.



Jaemin is woken again by his phone buzzing -- but this time it's not in the morning but the middle of the night. The neon digits on the glow-in-the-dark clock on his bedside table read 3.51. Jaemin squints awake disorientedly, running a hand through his tangle of hair as he fumbles for his phone.

His heart skips a lurching beat, immediately wide awake when he sees Jeno's name on his screen. The message is short, just one line and he hasn't answered any of Jaemin's questions. It just says, "Dont ever ask anyone to help you talk to me again"

What the fuck? is Jaemin's first instinctive thought. Jeno had been the one who had irresponsibly not sent Jaemin his email as promised. What did he expect Jaemin to do? His heart is slamming against his ribs, his fingers tightening on the phone. He has no idea what to reply or even whether to reply. The words leap out at him from the screen, forboding and forbidding, making Jeno sound more furious than he probably is.

Jaemin's hands are shaking as the phone slips from them onto his covers, and he climbs out of bed, now restless and unable to sleep. His head is spinning, mind racing. He can't wrap it around the way Jeno is acting. It makes no sense because they've only met twice. They literally know nothing about each other. They're not even friends. What right does Jeno have to flare up, on two occasions, about Jaemin's other friends?

But the real question is: why is Jaemin's heartbeat hammering shallowly, his stomach twisted in knots, something in his chest flipping and flopping like a fish out of water?

Jaemin grabs his phone, latching on to the rise of his temper before he loses his nerve, ready to pound out a reply chastising Jeno for acting out of line and setting him back in his place. But when he unlocks the screen, the new message on it makes all his racing thoughts vanish from his mind.

Because it's Jeno again. But this time, it just reads, "Sorry. Ignore that. I'm drunk."



Jaemin spends the rest of the night reading and rereading Jeno's first message. It's kind of pathetic really because how many times can a person scrutinize and dissect a few words? But belatedly Jaemin realizes a few details he had neglected to notice. Jaemin should've known from the start that he wasn't in a sober frame of mind from the carelessness of the words.

He wonders how he could have in any way interpreted the message as livid or rude when it was obviously desperate. But even after hours, he still has absolutely no clue what to reply.

As the dawn slowly encroaches and the salmon shadows of the rising sun creep up his walls, Jaemin wonders if Jeno had managed to fall asleep after his second message or been up all night like him too, waiting for Jaemin's reply. Waiting for Jaemin's forgiveness.

At this thought, he sits up quickly, grabbing his phone. No matter how offended he was by Jeno's first message, he should've replied the second, evidently contrite one. Jaemin crosses his fingers as he regrets keeping Jeno in suspense about whether he had permanently soured their relationship as he hastily types with shaky and sweaty fingers, "It's OK."

After he sends the words out, Jaemin leans his head against the wall, sitting in bed and feels sapped of energy. He knows he should probably respond to the other things Jeno said but he can't find the words to and his brain seems to be temporarily blank. His phone doesn't buzz any more and Jaemin feels a strange and unfamiliar loneliness stealing up over him as he lays down stiffly on his pillow and tries to get some sleep.



When Jaemin checks his email that evening, his chest clenches to see a reply from Jeno. It is long and detailed, answering all of Jaemin's questions succintly and leaving nothing else unclarified. It is truthfully very illuminating, and Jaemin is relieved at least for the sake of his work as he diligently takes down notes.

He doesn't reply the email, closing it and putting all thoughts out of his mind for a few hours as he works on his artwork with Jeno's latest advice. But he is aware at the back of his mind that sooner or later, he has to face it and at least have the courtesy to thank Jeno for his email. They're still work partners and he doesn't want Jeno to think that Jaemin hates him or anything. He's just really confused right now and needs some time to sort out his feelings.

Jaemin isn't exactly the most sensitive person in the world, but he doesn't have to be to sense that the email is an olive branch Jeno is extending, an offer of peace. So as he's eating a microwave dinner, Jaemin taps out a short but polite text letting Jeno know that he received his email and thanking him for answering the questions.

Jeno replies almost instantly, making Jaemin's fork drop with a clink. "Where are you now?" his message reads, cryptically.

Jaemin hesitates -- but just for a second -- before he screws caution and impulsively replies, "At home."

He forces the rest of the food done his throat, feeling queasy, then does the dishes with his ears pricked up. But still, he jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings twenty minutes later.



When Jaemin opens the door, Jeno is standing outside, looking breathless and flushed and frustrated, panting slightly as if he's run all the way here.

Jeno's hands are braced on the doorframe, his powerful body filling it, blocking out everything behind him, and Jaemin feels a shiver run down his spine. He swallows, hard. "W...what are you doing here?" he rasps, barely above a whisper.

He can feel how wide and shocked his eyes are and he blinks rapidly, trying to recover. Jeno looks equally off-kilter and emotionally unstable as he runs a hand through his perfectly slicked-back hair, messing it up. "I don't know," he says, voice hoarse and pained. "I just... I've been a mess." His voice cracks. "A fucking mess since I met you and --" Without warning, his hands move to Jaemin's shoulders, gripping them tightly and shaking him as his blazing eyes drill into Jaemin. "Tell me, Jaemin-ah," Jeno pleads. "Tell me I'm not the only one feeling this."

Jeno's eyes burn into his, begging, imploring with a wordless plea. His fingertips dig painful bruises into Jaemin's shoulders and Jaemin feels himself being sucked into the depths of Jeno's dark, intense eyes, falling endlessly.

A lifetime of silence passes. Then Jaemin whispers, Jeno's hands slackening over his arms with each word, a sharp intake of breath hissing between his teeth: "You're not."

Jeno staggers a step back, his shoulders dipping into himself as if dealt a heavy blow. His eyes glimmer with something that makes Jaemin's breath catch in his throat -- something like agonizing hope, something like utter devastation.

Jaemin thinks of the rollercoaster ride the past few weeks have been since he met Jeno -- ups and downs, the highest highs and the lowest lows -- Jeno had taught him to feel all of them. He thinks of 2AM, staring helplessly at the screen of his phone in the dark, reading and obssessing over the same message again and again like an infatuated teenage girl. How one word could send him soaring to the skies or crashing down to painful reality. He thinks of the blunt tip of his pencil racing over the blank page of his sketchpad, so smoothly and effortlessly it seemed to glide like a knife through butter, with inspiration bursting like fireworks in his head and no sign of the artistic block he had been facing for months. Even though they had only met a few times, each of them, Jeno had never failed to manage to shake him so deeply.

He thinks of how he had known, for certain, that moment everything was illuminated in utter and crystalline clarity -- just minutes ago when Jeno had said his name, Jaemin-ah, in that husky, low voice of his, like melting honey, like molten sunshine. With such wistful and passionate desire that Jaemin's heart clenched into a fist.

It all makes sense now. Jaemin is very attracted to Jeno, both physically and emotionally. He likes Jeno. A lot.

But it's impossible because -- they're both guys, for fuck's sake. This is Seoul, fiercely conservative and traditional South Korea. Jeno probably isn't even gay. Neither is Jaemin.

Which is exactly what he says, breaking the silence between them along with the connection of their gazes as he drops his own to the floor, steadfastly refusing to meet Jeno's eyes again even as he feels them boring holes into the top of his head: "I'm not gay."

Jeno flinches, looking like he's been slapped, his face colouring visibly, and Jaemin immediately feels guilty for his bluntness. For all he knows Jeno is a homosexual and he's just offended him.

A mixture of relief and something else he can't identify floods him as Jeno says quietly, "Me neither."

Unnerved and disquieted, Jaemin rushes on ahead, babbling, "And the timing is all wrong."

Jeno stares at him, his eyes looking like a wounded dog's, before he reluctantly agrees. "I know. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and it's against the company rules to date colleagues. We might get fired... and this is my biggest project yet. My promotion is resting on it and I can't... We can't..." He breaks off, looking anguished.

Jaemin puts a hand up, unable to listen any longer. "That's enough," he says, more sharply than he meant to. He softens his voice. "I understand."

Jeno is still gazing at him entreatingly, but Jaemin edges the door shut a centimetre. "This is dumb and crazy and fucked up," he says roughly, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "I'll forget this conversation ever happened. You should go," he says firmly, moving towards Jeno as he takes a step back as if repelled.

As Jeno lets down his guard, Jaemin takes the chance to push the door closed. The moment it's shut, he collapses against it and wraps his arms around his shoulders, hugging himself tightly. He sinks down bonelessly to the ground and pulls his knees to his chest, this short of curling up into a fetal position. Distantly, he hears Jeno pounding on the door above him, but all he wants and cares about is being left alone so he can nurse and lick his wounds in privacy.

He ignores the loud knocking which seems to go on for what feels like a lifetime but is probably only minutes until Jeno slams a final heavy palm onto Jaemin's door and gives up.

I just broke up with my girlfriend, Jeno's words echo in Jaemin's head like a broken tape on repeat. Jaemin grits his teeth as he buries his face in his hands. His blood boils and he feels like hitting someone, breaking something.

Who is he kidding? Compared to Jeno, he's a novice at handling jealousy.



Sometime in the night, Jaemin dozes off from sheer exhaustion. He wakes up with a parched mouth and dry, cracked lips to find himself sprawled ungracefully over the pull-out couch which he had thankfully managed to stumble to before he crashed the previous night. The house is tranquil, serene, in ironic contrast to Jaemin's tumultous and heartbroken mood.

He finds his phone hidden beneath some cushions. There is a text sent an hour ago, which didn't wake him up this time. His heart drops before he realizes it's from Renjun.

"What happened?" it says, uncharacteristically serious without Renjun's usual emoticons galore. "Jeno-sshi passed your case to someone else."

Jaemin's heart plunges to his feet this time. He hadn't expected it was possible to feel worse than he already did. So this is how it is. Jeno wants nothing to do with him. Jaemin knows that it's probably the better, less painful and awkward choice for everybody, but it still stings.

"I don't know," he replies back carelessly, feeling hollow as he lets his phone fall.

His phone buzzes almost instantaneously, making him start. "Did you do or say anything to offend him?" Renjun is demanding, panic palpable even through the phone.

Jaemin takes pity on him. "I think he mentioned that he's busy. It's probably no big deal."

Renjun doesn't reply, and Jaemin hopes that his reassurance is convincing. He spends the rest of the day dazedly staring into blank space and telling himself that he'll get off the couch and finish his sketch in an hour's time. But the hours wear on till evening without him moving a muscle.

When Renjun replies, it's evening and Jaemin still hasn't had the energy to even go fix dinner. Renjun has texted him the name and number of the new person handling his project. Jaemin barely scans it before tossing the phone aside.

In the initial days, the heartbreak seems like a mountain that has settled over him, making it impossible to move, impossible to pick himself up and do anything. Everything seems meaningless and Jaemin just wants to wallow in the memory of Jeno's equally heartbroken eyes, finding some perverse measure of comfort in his pain.

But gradually, out of lack of choice more than anything else, he starts moving on. Renjun nags him until he agrees to arrange an appointment with the new executive he'll be collaborating with, one of Jeno's subordinates no doubt. Jeno had mentioned that this project was helmed by him.

Against his lacklustre reservations, Jaemin is pleasantly surprised to gruffly find the new guy likeable and easy to work with, imperceptibly growing on him. Chenle has narrow eyes, an infectious laugh and smile almost as charming as Jeno's. Almost. Jaemin meets him together with Renjun the first time, as Renjun is casual acquaintances with him (he seems to know everyone in some way) but they meet up alone subsequent times and Chenle quickly diffuses any awkwardness with his cold jokes and lame puns. Jaemin feels a special fondness for him because Chenle reminds him of a foreigner in a country far away from home, displaced but hopeful for the future.



"I'm glad you've taken Chenle under your wing," Renjun tells him affectionately via Kakaotalk. "He really needs more friends in Korea."

"Sorry I can't help," Jaemin replies. "My only other friend here is Jisung."

"Introduce them then!!!!" Renjun volleys back enthusiastically, making Jaemin laugh at the number of exclamation marks. Honestly, Renjun is such a mother hen.

"If he drops by," he answers vaguely. "I don't even know where he is most of the time."



Coincidentally, Jisung swings by his house the following week, crashing onto Jaemin's couch with his usual style without any prior notice. Jaemin's standing agreement to put him up spontaneously is convenient for him because Jaemin is the only one of his friends who doesn't live with family. Jaemin doesn't mind because Jisung's friendship has been a great and irreplaceable source of warmth and comfort to him. Besides, no one can say no to Jisung, who is like a giant puppy dog, all liquid brown eyes, lanky frame and gangly sprawling legs. He had been the junior who worshipped Jaemin most in art school and never stopped.

Jisung's visits to his apartment are sporadic and unpredictable, but every time he stops by Jaemin takes the opportunity to collaborate with him on a canvas -- sometimes it's splashes of colour, a collage of graffiti; others it's slashes of wildly unplanned brushstrokes, abstract but exhilarating. Occasionally when they need to practice their sketching skills they pose for each other, the only ones who are willing to stay still long enough to model for a portrait.

Jaemin doesn't really have a concrete idea of what Jisung does for work except that he's a travelling artist, trekking from town to town, sometimes doing caricatures for a few stray pennies, others holing up in a cabin on a cliffside or mountaintop and spending long months painting the unpeopled scenery and wilderness. According to his tall tales, he has been to France, Italy, Europe and North America, but Jaemin knows well enough to take his bragging with a pinch of salt.

Jaemin is always happy to see Jisung, despite his already cramped house becoming smaller and even more cluttered than it already is for awhile. Jisung livens up his home, his life, bringing with him bright vivid technicolour and loud, almost audible rainbow shades.



"I made another friend," he tells Jisung offhandedly as they sprawl like couch potatoes on the sofa watching TV one evening, stuffing themselves with crisps. He can't hide the pride in his voice. Even after almost a decade, Jaemin still considers it a miracle when people here want to be friends with awkward, boring, monosyllabic him.

"Really? Cool. Let's see him," Jisung replies like a doting father, not taking his eyes off the TV, and that's that. Jaemin asks Chenle to come over to his apartment the next day for their discussion and Chenle agrees readily.

To his amusement, for the first time, they don't get any work done. It's surprising because Chenle is kind of a workaholic. He's immensely hardworking and always eager to prove himself, as passionate about advertising as Jaemin is about art. But that evening, he's so dazzled by Jisung that he forgets why he came to Jaemin's house in the first place.



By the time the evening is over, Jisung has gotten Chenle drunk on some sort of dodgy rice liquor that Jaemin had refused to touch but Chenle had gamely taken big swigs of, made Chenle pose for a half-nude (topless) self-portrait (which was remarkably well-drawn considering Jisung was falling down drunk), and charmed the pants off Chenle (literally, since he ended up snoring on Jaemin's couch in only pink flamingo boxers).

Jaemin texts the events of the day and updates Renjun on their rapidly and heartwarmingly blossoming friendship, feeling like a proud parent. Renjun coos like he's just given birth to a litter of beautiful kittens, even though he's not even present.

"Take a picture for me," Renjun pleads, and Jaemin obligingly snaps a less-than-flattering selca of the two brats sprawled over each other in a tangle of limbs on his couch, snoring with their mouths open.

"That is the cutest thing I have ever seen!" Renjun screams at him through Facetime the moment he sees the photo. "I'm coming over right now."

"Wait, what?" Jaemin yelps too late, as the call ends.

He sighs and halfheartedly tries to clear up some of the torn canvases and various food wrappers littered over the floor, cans of beer (Chenle's) and fake crystal glass (Jisung's, who pretentiously refused to drink anything but champagne but had slurped the beer right up when Jaemin poured it into the glass and lied that it was Chardonnay). The dubious bottle of rice liquor is alarmingly empty and emitting a questionable odour, but they look more asleep than unconscious from alcohol poisoning so Jaemin doesn't bother to worry.

He is dragging the half-filled garbage bag into the small nook of his kitchen when the doorbell rings. Jisung stirs, disturbed by the noise and frowns as he mutters something indecipherable. Jaemin passes him as he stumbles through the living room towards the front door.

The doorbell rings again as he hurries to open it. As Jaemin places his hand on the doorknob, he is knocked off balance by a heavy weight and turns, gasping to see that Jisung has gotten up, drawn by the noise and is teetering against him, arm hooked around Jaemin's shoulder. He hadn't realized Jisung had taken off his shirt too, probably because it was too hot.

Jaemin sighs in exasperation but doesn't bother to peel Jisung off him, assuming it's Renjun outside. His jaw drops when he opens it to find Jeno standing in the hallway, uncertain expression hardening and eyes narrowing dangerously when he sees Jisung hanging off Jaemin's shoulder, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.

Jaemin gapes at him, speechless, unable to reconcile Lee Jeno and his front door. What on earth could he possibly be doing here? Before Jaemin can spit out the words, Jeno is pushing roughly past him, knocking him off his feet and sending both him and Jisung sprawling precariously. At the last minute, Jaemin manages to regain both their balances, but he feels his toes curling in anger at how Jeno had just literally barged into his house and rudely shoved him.

Jaemin maneuvres Jisung onto the loveseat as gently as he can, leaving him slumped there before storming after Jeno, who is striding across his living room like he owns the place.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jaemin's voice is a pitch higher than he intended it to come out, sounding even more shrill as compared to Jeno's which is an octave lower as he turns around and levels a blank stare at Jaemin. "Chenle texted me to get him."

Jaemin flounders, stupefied for a moment before he gathers his wits and feels a tinge of relief. Being the considerate kid he is, Chenle must've taken to heart Jaemin's joke about his apartment being too small for three people to spend the night. It was understandable that he assumed Jaemin and Jeno were friends since they had worked on the project together before he took over. At least Jeno is aware that Chenle is here too, which means he knows Jaemin isn't alone with Jisung. "So you know who --" he starts, but Jeno cuts him off sharply.

"I don't want to know who that sleazebag is, and I don't give a fuck. It's none of my business who you want to sleep around with. I'm just sorry I believed your lie."

"What - what lie?" Jaemin manages, the ground slipping out from beneath his feet.

"That you're not gay," Jeno spits out, peeling off his jacket to drape over Chenle's bare torso and hoisting his arm over his shoulder with a gentleness that is undetectable in his words.

"I'm not! Jisung is my --" Jaemin protests hotly, but Jeno just gives him a withering look that makes the rest of the sentence die on his lips. He half-drags, half-carries Chenle to the door and leaves without a backward glance, dismissing Jaemin callously.

Jaemin stares after their retreating figures, stunned. He's still reeling from what just transpired and his mind is clouded by alcohol and anger and frustration and confusion but there's only one thing he knows for certain: It's been nearly a month since he last met Jeno, but Jaemin is still terrifyingly drawn to him.



When Renjun finds him ten minutes later, Jaemin is curled up against the wall with the door still hanging open, the breeze drafting in drying the teartracks on his cheeks as he breaks down noiselessly and Jisung slumbers obliviously on the loveseat.



"What the fuck?" Renjun's shriek rings out through the apartment past midnight, jolting Jisung from his restless doze and making Jaemin hurriedly shush him from waking the neighbours.

Renjun is outraged and implacable. "What the --" he hisses again, quieter but still sounding like a spitting wildcat. "How could you keep all this from me till now? I told you, didn't I? To tell me if anyone bullied you."

Renjun's face is drawn and pale with worry and sympathy, and Jaemin feels a lump in his throat. He had never appreciated Renjun's loyalty, always taking him for granted.

"You're my best friend," he blurts out passionately, grabbing Renjun's hand as he brushes Jaemin's damp lashes with the pads of his fingers.

Renjun's face finally softens at the words into his usual warm, kindly self. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asks softly, pulling Jaemin into a forgiving hug.

"I knew he was an asshole," Jaemin thinks he hears Renjun mutter grimly by his ear as he surrenders to the soothing rhythm of Renjun rubbing concentric circles into his back and coaxing him into a drained and mildly drunken slumber.



He wakes up with an epic hangover the next day to find Renjun gone, Jisung still comatose, the house looking like the aftermath of a hurricane, and only one new text on his phone from Chenle. He sounds uncharacteristically subdued, unlike his usual boisterous self and Jaemin wonders with dread if Jeno has said something to him. He swears grimly under his breath. If Jeno tries to sow discord between him and Chenle, it's war.

Chenle apologizes in his message for getting drunk in Jaemin's house the previous night, leaving his clothes there and not getting any of the work they had planned done. But since they're running on a tight schedule and can't afford to skip one session, he asks if Jaemin can come to the office today and catch up on what they missed out after he gets off work.

Jaemin replies immediately, reassuring him that it's totally fine and that both him and Jisung had a good time the previous night. He adds that he has no schedules planned today and can drop by Chenle's office in the evening. He had thrown Chenle's clothes in the dryer because they reeked of beer and could bring it over then.

Chenle replies promptly too, his relief touchingly apparent. He effusively insists that Jaemin doesn't have to go to the trouble of lugging the laundry to the office and he'll follow him home after the meeting to pick it up instead. It's heartwarming to know that Chenle treasures this friendship as much as Jaemin does. He also asks if Jisung is okay, and Jaemin stifles a chuckle at that. Renjun was right, those two brats are seriously adorable.



At half past five, Jaemin cabs to the office building Chenle's advertising company is in. He tries to forget the last time he had been here, which was merely a few months ago but seems like a past lifetime now. His hands tighten on the straps of his bag as the lift moves up to seventh floor, thankfully empty. He had entertained the horrifying possibility of coincidentally meeting Jeno here, but dismissed the likelihood as too low to be a concern. He can't wait to sequester himself in the conference room he arranged to meet Chenle in and finally relax.

To his dismay, on the fifth floor, the doors open. And Jaemin's heart sinks to see, standing outside, none other than Lee Jeno, looking like his worst nightmare come true.

Okay, maybe Jaemin is being overdramatic. There are worse things than this, but Jaemin can't think of anything more excruciatingly awkward as Jeno steps into the lift, looking like he just swallowed a lemon too. He's probably too prideful to admit that Jaemin affects him and back down from entering the lift. As prideful as Jaemin.

The two floors that ensue feel like a tiny lifetime. Jeno steps in, standing beside Jaemin, an arm's length away, his sleeve momentarily brushing Jaemin's bare arm as they cross paths. The hairs on Jaemin's arms stand up, gooseflesh rising and Jaemin bites down a shudder.

The first moment the lift doors had opened, Jaemin had vaguely registered something, and puzzled, he sneaks a stealthy glance from the corner of his eye to confirm it. Nope, he's not mistaken -- there's a bruise at the corner of Jeno's lip. It looks painful.

Jaemin shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tells himself sternly that it's none of his business. If someone hit Jeno, he probably deserved it. There's no way that Jaemin is going to feel the slightest bit sorry for him. Neither does he care a single bit about who Jeno was in a brawl with or why.

The lift arrives on the seventh storey, doors opening with a ding. Jaemin hangs back, waiting for Jeno to step out first, not wanting to brush against him accidentally again, but as Jeno walks out he turns around abruptly to face Jaemin. Jaemin feels his eyes widen as Jeno extracts his hand from his pocket where it was tucked. He instinctively shrinks away from the sheer size of Jeno's hand, the leashed strength in the breadth of his knuckles and coarseness of his palm.

Hurt flashes across Jeno's eyes for an unguarded nanosecond, but his hand doesn't pause its ascent towards Jaemin's face. It settles on the slope of Jaemin's jaw and to Jaemin's utter mortification and shock Jeno brushes his thumb gently, caressingly over Jaemin's cheek, grazing the corner of his lip briefly.

Jaemin jerks away reflexively, his heart slamming like a sledgehammer. Jeno's hand falls away to reveal a smudge of emerald green paint on his finger, and Jaemin recalls with horror and abject embarrassment that he had tripped and fallen over the garbage bag while rushing out of the house and landed in a stray palette of drying watercolours. He thought he had wiped everything off his cheek. Apparently not.

Jaemin groans inwardly, the only response he can think of or muster to glare at Jeno with hostile and reproachful eyes as he turns away coldly and forces himself to walk to the conference room without looking back.



The ensuing hour of overtime work with Chenle is rather productive, but Jaemin's thoughts as they leave the office are far away. Chenle snaps a finger in front of his unfocused eyes, getting his attention. "Hyung, are you okay?" he looks concerned.

"U-um, yeah. Sorry," Jaemin smiles sheepishly, flushing, and Chenle repeats his question. "Can I drop by your apartment to check on Jis— I mean, pick up my clothes?"

"Sure, no problem," Jaemin covers his smile, "Although he's probably still out like a log."

Chenle smiles mischievously. "Don't worry. I know exactly how to wake him up."

"Uhh... okay." Jaemin laughs, rolling his eyes and wisely choosing not to ask. "But play nice, kids." He ruffles Chenle's hair and squeaks with laughter when Chenle blows his top.

"Oh right, that reminds me," Jaemin exclaims. "Renjun said he wanted to meet you guys last night, but by the time he came over you were gone and Jisung was asleep."

Chenle lights up. "I wanna see Renjun-hyung too!" he clamours.

Jaemin grins, foisting him off. "Okay, okay. Let's drop by his office on the way back and surprise him."

"No, hyung!" Chenle pouts, stamping his foot. "I want to see Jisungie, now. He must be lonely at home by himself. You go pick up Renjun-hyung and bring him back," he orders imperiously.

Jaemin gapes at him, but Chenle looks unapologetic in contrast to his usual impeccable manners. There's a devilish glint in his eye that makes Jaemin think that he might've misjudged his innocence.

"Ugh," he groans unwillingly, grumbling under his breath. "Fine."

Chenle whoops loudly and flings his arms around Jaemin in a bear hug. "Thanks, hyung! I'll wait for you at your apartment, then!" They part ways at the station, since they're heading in different directions. "Oh, and --" Chenle calls after a few steps, and Jaemin turns eagerly, thinking he'll offer to come along, but Chenle only smirks, batting his eyelashes. "Can you bring some pizza home?"



When Jaemin strolls into Renjun's office without knocking, he's not surprised that Renjun is still sitting at his desk, working overtime with his glasses perched on his nose. What makes him inhale softly is seeing an unmistakable purplish swelling at the corner of Renjun's right eye, too obvious to hide even behind his glasses.

Jaemin takes a step forward, and Renjun jumps visibly when he looks up to see him. "Shit," he says, hand flying up to cover his eye too late.

"You..." Jaemin breathes. "You hit Jeno?"

"N-no," Renjun lies unconvincingly, looking faint, "It was someone else."

Jaemin scoffs. "Come off it." He slams his palms down on Renjun's table, making him start and leans forward to stare evenly down at Renjun, who averts his gaze guiltily. "You know someone else who just got into a fight?” he challenges.

Renjun swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and finally gives up the pretense, taking up another tack.

"He punched me," he whimpers grumpily, lowering his hand to show Jaemin his injured eye.

"Who started it?" Jaemin fires back without sympathy, folding his arms and finding his answer in Renjun's sullen look.

After a minute of loaded silence, Renjun bursts out, full of righteous indignation, "What else was I supposed to do? He hurt my best friend!"

The words stop Jaemin's tirade cold. He doesn't know why he's being so harsh on Renjun, when he knows full well that Renjun was only acting in defense of him. But all Jaemin can think of is the painful-looking bruise on Jeno's mouth, the way he winced almost imperceptibly as he tried and failed to scowl back at Jaemin after wiping away the paint. He can only imagine what Jeno thinks about his and Renjun's relationship now. He probably thinks that Jaemin is a slut, a cocktease who leads men on and leaves them hanging.

But why should he care about what Jeno thinks at all? It's immaterial. He isn't duty-bound to have any more interactions with Jeno, now that Chenle has replaced him. And in the short time they've known each other, Jeno has jumped to conclusions way too often and insufferably. Good riddance to bad rubbish, Jaemin knows Renjun would say bluntly if he asked him.

"Jaemin?" Renjun pipes up tentatively, rousing him from his daze. Jaemin snaps out of it to see Renjun gazing plaintively at him.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks in a small voice, and Jaemin's anger melts away.

"No," he says heavily, brushing a tender thumb over Renjun's bruise. "I know you did it for me. But next time, don't resort to violence, okay?"

Renjun nods obediently, looking relieved and anxious as he leans his cheek into Jaemin's palm. "Why are you here? Is there a problem with the sketch?" he looks concerned suddenly.

Jaemin laughs. "No, chill. You're such a workaholic," he teases. "I just wanted to pick you up from work. Chenle and Jisung are waiting for you at my house."

Renjun leaps to his feet, his face illuminating like a lightbulb at his favourite dongsaengs' names. "Seriously?" he gushes. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Chenle's favourite pizza place closes at seven!" he admonishes, blowing past Jaemin and out the door, ignoring his wheezing laughter.



It's kind of ridiculous, Jaemin thinks later, lying in his bed next to Renjun and staring at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan as the muffled noises of Jisung and Chenle watching cartoons in the living room drift through the walls, how Jeno can fluster him into a wreck with just one gesture, his touch still burning on Jaemin's cheek like a fingerprint tattooed to his face, even hours later. The blistering sensation doesn't seem to be fading, only growing stronger the more Jaemin reminisces about it.

Why had Jeno done that? Jaemin has realized that the reason why he can't stop thinking about Jeno is that almost all his actions stump Jaemin, that he can never predict what Jeno is going to say next or what he is going to do. It's breathtakingly thrilling, dizzyingly unnerving, how Jeno is the most frustratingly enigmatic person Jaemin has ever met. He compels Jaemin like a magnet, like a moth drawn uncontrollably to a lovelight.

And the fact that Jeno has all but admitted that Jaemin affects him too, shakes him up -- it's overwhelmingly heady, to say the least. Jaemin thinks of the intensity of Jeno's dark, soulful eyes, the iron of his grip, the gentleness of his fingertips and the heat of his skin. He thinks of the way Jeno makes his name sound like a caress, like something sacred and sacrosanct.

Without being aware of it, the tears are falling again, soundlessly, unstoppably. Jaemin presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and tries to stem them to no avail. As if there's an endless reservoir behind his eyes, it continues its relentless flow, seeping through his fingers.

He doesn't dare to make a noise, afraid to wake Renjun up. Minutes later, though, he feels gentle fingers firmly prying them off his face and Renjun looking tenderly down at him, his eyes glimmering in the dark.

“Nana,” he says quietly, stroking Jaemin's damp hair back from his forehead. "What's wrong?"

Jaemin bites his lip but his chin trembles anyway. He feels like an emotionally overwrought adolescent or hormonal pregnant woman -- has been behaving exactly like one ever since he met Lee Jeno. It's disgraceful.

Renjun waits, tilting his head, until Jaemin can't hold back the dam anymore and blurts out, "Everything."

In incoherent rambling punctuated by breathless hiccups, Jaemin finally confides in Renjun how this has magnified beyond his control, beyond his wildest imagination, into something unspeakable, unimaginably colossal. He has only met Jeno a handful of times, but the depth of his feeling for him is something that is inexplicable and unbelievable. And it terrifies Jaemin beyond measure because he has never, in his twenty-nine years of life, ever felt this way before.

It scares the shit out of Jaemin to admit it -- but it appears that he's desperately, madly and blindly in love with Jeno.

Renjun's face is pale in the moonlight. "Jaemin, you hardly know him," he argues reasonably. "He could be anyone -- a pervert, a creep, an asshole."

"I know," Jaemin says grimly.

"He's a guy."

"I know."

"He's probably, ninety-nine point nine percent, straight."

"I know."

"He's actually a certified asshole," Renjun states calmly.

Jaemin snorts a humourless laugh. "I know."

"But still...?" Renjun's voice is pitying.

"I can't control it, Renjun. I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't fight it anymore." The words in his voice feel and sound like broken glass.

Renjun falls silent for a few moments as he rubs Jaemin's back absently, apparently pondering the predicament pensively. Then Jaemin feels the bed dip, springs creaking as he rolls nimbly off. "Be right back. I'm gonna get you a cup of warm soy milk. It'll be easier to sleep if you drink some."

"Thanks," Jaemin murmurs, squeezing Renjun's hand gratefully. Renjun squeezes his fingers back reassuringly, creaking the door open and slipping into the slice of light slanting through for a second before he closes it behind him again.

Jaemin lies in the dark, his eyelids fluttering drowsily until he senses the passage of about ten minutes and Renjun finally enters the room again.

Jaemin sits up on his elbows. "What took you so long?" he says petulantly. Renjun sits down beside him and switches on the table lamp as he carefully places the mug of milk on the bedside table.

"I had to heat it up." In the dim lamplight, Renjun looks truimphant for some reason, probably a trick of Jaemin's imagination.

Renjun fusses over him like he's an incapacitated patient, lifting the cup to Jaemin's lips and instructing him to sip it slowly. Jaemin obeys, content to leave himself in Renjun's skilful hands.

He has finished almost all the milk when they hear a crash outside which Jaemin dimly identifies as the front door slamming. Their heads both swivel to the bedroom door, startled, and Jaemin jerks up so abruptly he would've spilled the drink if the cup were still full.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, his wide eyes meeting Renjun's alarmed ones. "I think I forgot to lock the front door. Do you think it's a burglar? The kids!" Jaemin flings aside the blanket, about to swing his legs off the bed and rush out to rescue Chenle and Jisung when the door of his bedroom bursts open.

Jaemin's world tilts precariously on its axis for a moment to see Jeno standing in his doorway, breathing hard, his eyes tight and frantic as they run swiftly down Jaemin's body and attire, then move suspiciously between him and Renjun and back. It's a scene that makes no sense at all and Jaemin momentarily wonders if this is a bizarre dream.

Renjun sets the cup back on the bedside table, looking irritated but oddly more resigned than surprised, and Jaemin realizes what's so strange about the whole situation -- Renjun doesn't seem to find Jeno's sudden appearance as unexpected as it is. Which could only mean...

Jaemin swings his accusing, panicked gaze on Renjun, but before he can say anything Jeno takes a few brisk steps towards them, glowering at Renjun with undisguised dislike. If looks could kill, Jaemin thinks Renjun would be cut to ribbons by Jeno's bladelike glare by now.

However, Renjun seems barely daunted, staring right back defiantly, his chin tilted up in silent challenge. His lip curls in a sneer of barely-concealed disdain too, showing how much he thinks of Jeno. If Jaemin didn't know better he'd say Renjun was deliberately trying to provoke Jeno into losing his temper, but that can't be. He had just promised Jaemin only this eveniing to abstain from violence from now on.

Jaemin places a warning and placating hand on Renjun's arm, trying not to show his fear and shock at Jeno barging into his house again at a time when Jaemin is most vulnerable and unprepared. Jeno's eyes snap instantly towards Jaemin's hand on Renjun's arm, white hot rage flashing across them. Jaemin feels even more befuddled at how Jeno seems to be overreacting.

Jeno doesn't seem to notice Jaemin's presence, instead spearing Renjun with both his eyes. "You lied to me," he fumes, voice threateningly low, and Jaemin shudders as he realizes the full extent of Jeno's mood. He's seriously pissed this time. Like, livid.

Jaemin blinks in confusion, unable to understand Jeno's accusation. He nudges Renjun, shooting him a questioning glare but Renjun seems to understand Jeno with no problems as he replies coolly, "I didn't."

Jeno inhales audibly at this, taking another step forward that makes Jaemin shrink back. His fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, knuckles on his trembling fists pale. "You dare to?" he intones, and all Jaemin can think is Holy shit because this is starting to seem like the beginning of another round of fisticuffs and it does not look good.

He is too distracted by his anxiety to notice Renjun's fingers closing over the nape of his neck, pulling Jaemin's face closer as he leans in -- but not before a large hand comes down between them like an erected wall and before he knows what's happening Jeno has grabbed Renjun by the scruff of his collar and hauled him to his feet. "What's going on?" Jaemin yells, stumbling up too and physically shoving between them, placing either hands on both their chests and pushing them apart with difficulty. "I said no more fighting!" He turns on Renjun fiercely. "You promised me."

At the words, the fire in Renjun's eyes subsides and he reluctantly drops his drawn-back fist but not his seething stare into Jeno's equally smouldering eyes. This is starting to get ridiculous and Jaemin feels like the only adult amidst a bunch of kindergarteners.

"Please tell me what's going on," he implores Renjun, because he's too cowardly to face Jeno's darkening gaze. But he can feel the quickening of Jeno's heartbeat beneath his palm resting lightly on Jeno's chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt. Jeno is dressed down in casual sweats today, hair disheveled, like he had rushed out of the house without bothering to change into streetwear. It's the first time Jaemin has seen him out of a suit, and he looks startlingly younger than usual.

Renjun smirks, one side of his lips lifting. "I texted him that I was going to kiss you in ten minutes if he didn't appear."

"You what?" Jaemin shrieks, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

"You played me for a fool," Jeno growls, voice still sounding unappeased, spoiling for a fight.

"I was serious, you prick," Renjun shoots back antagonistically, unfazed by Jeno's temper. "I don't think there's anybody in the world who would say no to kissing Jaemin." There's a teasing lilt to Renjun's voice, but he doesn't sound like he's lying entirely. Jaemin gapes at him but Renjun doesn't glance back, still looking at Jeno. "But I think the question here is, why do you care? You don't... like Jaemin, do you?"

Jeno flushes hotly, his face splotchy even in the light of the table lamp. "Of course not," he snaps, making Jaemin flinch, and Renjun's lips curve into a feline smile like a cat watching a mouse walking into a trap.

"Then what business is it of yours who Jaemin kisses?" He enunciates the words coolly, letting them hang in the air, making Jeno look foolish with his own declaration.

For the first time since Jaemin met him, Jeno looks flustered, his collected and composed exterior slipping. Jaemin almost feels sorry for him as Jeno swallows, seeming at a loss for words to retaliate and justify his presence. But only for a second before he bitterly remembers Jeno's swift and certain denial. And besides, he's too preoccupied by his own swirling emotions, spiralling through him like a whirlwind.

Renjun makes infuriating sense, as usual. Hadn't Jeno been the one who said the words We can't? Where was that resolve now? The problem is that he's acting so irrationally, blowing hot then cold, aloof and then territorial, so fast it gives Jaemin whiplash, that he doesn't even have time to figure out how to respond and it's not fair. But Jaemin is starting to learn that Lee Jeno doesn't play fair.

Even though he's pissed at Renjun for blindsiding him with Jeno's arrival, butting into his affairs and not informing him about the text, Jaemin has no other choice than to take his side. "He's right," he hears himself blurting out harshly. "You wanted to sever our ties, and we have nothing more to do with each other. What me and Renjun do now doesn't concern you."

This time, he grabs Renjun's shoulder, feeling a dim stab of guilt for using him to spite Jeno, but Renjun doesn't seem to mind as he unresistingly leans closer too. Jaemin feels a surprising lack of revulsion as their faces move closer, just a sense of comfort that is the polar opposite of what Jeno's proximity makes him feel. Maybe he is less heterosexual than he had always thought.

"It does!" Jeno explodes as his arm moves between them again like a steel bar, this time landing on Jaemin's shoulder. Jaemin shudders as Jeno's hand locks around his upper arm painfully, wrenching Jaemin away to face him. Jeno looks broken down, defeated and furious with himself, like the two words had been forced out of him.

The thudding of Jaemin's heart is so deafening in his ears as he looks at Jeno that he is sure both Jeno and Renjun can hear it too. Jeno runs a shaking hand through his hair and Jaemin licks his dry lips, wondering if they had gone too far. Jeno looks terrified, his face pale and eyes stark and wild.

"Why?" Renjun pipes up from beside him, and Jaemin nearly forgives his actions for that alone. Trust Renjun to wordlessly intuit what Jaemin is dying to say but doesn't have the guts to. Jaemin feels gratitude flooding him along with sheer terror of the next word that will fall from Jeno's lips like a guillotine.

But Jeno doesn't spare Renjun a glance, still gazing hypnotically into Jaemin's eyes, unblinking. "Get out," he mutters under his breath, shooting Renjun a wilting glare that could level mountains, and Jaemin quivers on Renjun's behalf.

"I'm not going to ask twice," Jeno says curtly, louder, and Renjun jerks into motion, surprisingly obedient. Maybe Jeno's frostiness is finally wearing him down. Or maybe this had been his plan from the start and he has achieved his aim of sending Jeno that damned message. Probably the latter, if Jaemin knows Renjun well enough. They had played right into his ruse, Jaemin as much as Jeno, but Jaemin doesn't really care as Renjun meekly trudges to the bedroom door and pulls it open.

There is a tumult of squeaks and muffled Ows and both Jaemin and Jeno spin around to see Jisung and Chenle tumblng over each other into an ungraceful heap through the open door. They quickly get to their feet, looking shamefaced and shifty, but more for being caught than the act of eavesdropping. Chenle's mouth falls open as his avid eyes land on Renjun's face. "Hyung, did you and Jeno-hyung fight?"

Jisung rolls his eyes incredulously and raps Chenle's head with a knuckle. "Idiot. Even I noticed that they already had the bruises when they came, and I was the one who was sleeping like a pig all day."

"What?!" Chenle gasps, saucer-eyed, as if this is brand new information, and Renjun loses his patience with both of them as he elbows them bodily out of the room and follows, slamming the door shut with a bang that sounds like a wordless warning.

Jaemin inhales softly as he abruptly finds himself alone with Jeno in the room -- Jeno whose mere presence feels like a physical blow; who towers over Jaemin, so powerfully-built that it makes Jaemin's knees buckle; whose undivided attention makes Jaemin feel like he's freefalling into a bottomless abyss and whose eyes make him feel like he's hit the nonexistent bottom hard and all the air is battered out of his lungs, asphyxiating.

Jeno is looking at him reproachfully, the blush on his cheeks fading into a delicious tinge of pink, looking helpless and vulnerable as if his defenses have been stripped from him. As if Jaemin has stripped his defenses from him and left him exposed and raw and naked.

There's something mutely beseeching about his eyes that makes Jaemin feel the responsibility to muster the courage to break the silence, even though he's shaking in his boots.

"What did you mean...?" he breathes hushedly, trying to read something in Jeno's inscrutable eyes. "I thought you said we can't. You said we were breaking the rules." His voice comes out in a pained whisper, with shamefully undisguised anguish.

Jeno lowers his gaze as if humbled by Jaemin's intensity, his throat working as he swallows and says hoarsely. "I don't know," he admits, and the burn of Jaemin's shame recedes a little at the way Jeno sounds as undone as him. "All I know is that when I saw that message, it was like I was blinded by a flash of white. I don't even know how I got here. And..." he says, reaching out apprehensively to tuck Jaemin's hair gently behind his ear, "We're not colleagues anymore."

The four unremarkable words sound like a release in Jeno's voice, a ray of hope and possibility.

"Was that why you..." Jaemin trails off hopefully, unable to continue his question, but Jeno understands his meaning thankfully.

He chuckles drily and shakily. "I wish I could say that, but it would be a lie," he admits eventually. "The truth is that I was a mess, and still am. I did it out of selfishness. I couldn't face you. I tried to run away. I tried to stay away, God knows I did, but -- it didn't work."

Jeno is shaking his head at Jaemin, his eyes tight and worried like he's trying to warn Jaemin not to come any closer, but his hands speak a different meaning entirely as they tighten in the back of Jaemin's shirt, crushing him into his arms.

Jeno is so contrary, so undisciplined, so feckless and out-of-control, but that's exactly what Jaemin finds so exhilaratingly breathtaking about him. The disparity between his actions and feelings speaks to something deep inside Jaemin, stirs his heartstrings with the adrenaline of hotblooded impulse.

Deep down inside, like him, Jeno is a risk-taker as well, someone who follows his instincts and trusts his heart over his mind. And this time, Jaemin isn't alone. He has finally found someone willing to take this leap of reckless faith together.

"What about you?" Jeno whispers, combing his eyes urgently, and Jaemin realizes that he hasn't been as verbose and forthcoming about his feelings. Because of their intensity, he had assumed they would be apparent on his face with glasslike clarity, that he could leave the embarrassing confessions unspoken. But as Jeno waits for his answer, looking like he's staring down a precipice, Jaemin fleetingly entertains the possibility that Jeno might just find him as unreadable as he is to Jaemin.

Quickly, he puts Jeno out of his suspense. "Me too," is all he can force out shyly. The two meagre words are a starkly lacking attempt to describe the enormity of what Jeno makes him feel, but they are literally all Jaemin can say before his throat closes up and refuses to make another peep. He wonders how the both of them will cope in future, sharing the same introvertedness and undemonstrative woodenness, mulishly stubborn. Will they be able to get past this incompatibility?

Jeno looks like having this conversation feels like swallowing glass for him too, but he demonstrates a greater willpower than Jaemin as he forces himself to continue, "You'd be willing to... make that sacrifice... for me?"

When Jaemin nods slightly, the way Jeno's face lights up robs him of breath for a moment. He's never seen Jeno's face soften in pure childish delight like this before and it throws Jaemin in a way that Jeno's maturity and overbearing authority have failed to do before from the start. It makes his heart tremble and Jaemin immediately wishes Jeno wouldn't show his adorably boyish side because Jaemin can just tell that that is going to be his greatest weakness and undoing.

"I thought you weren't gay," he blurts haplessly, regretting the words the moment they are out as Jeno's face falls.

His lips are set in a terse line as he replies, "I'm not. But... there's no doubt that I'm attracted to you." His eyes blaze into Jaemin with a desire that makes Jaemin's face heats up and seems to set his entire body alight, even though Jeno isn't even touching him. He shrinks away infinitesimally, shaken by the power of the sensation.

"Are you?" Jeno asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, a hint of pleading. Jaemin isn't sure whether he's asking if Jaemin is gay or attracted to him, but either way it doesn't matter because the answer is an irrevocable yes, judging from the way his body is responding right now. Jaemin can confidently say that he has never felt such a primal and animal attraction to any human being, male or female, as he feels towards Jeno. He doesn't want to think about the implications of this fact.

So instead, he just nods again with the same paralyzing and pathetic inability to speak. But the relief that washes over Jeno's face, restoring its colour makes Jaemin feel impossibly like he's just written an entire love letter to Jeno, bared his heart and soul in an impassioned and heartfelt confession. He feels inexpressibly grateful to Jeno for instinctively understanding Jaemin's difficulty with speech, with expressing his emotions verbally. He has far more sensitivity than Jaemin had given him credit for.

Finally, relievingly, Jeno breaks their gaze, and Jaemin sags and heaves a muted sigh of relief. His body is damp with cold sweat, clothes sticking to his back and he feels short of breath like he's just run a marathon or had a full-body workout. It's been the most nerve-wracking confrontation of his life, and that's saying a lot because Jaemin hates confrontations.

He realizes that Jeno is fishing his phone out of his pants pocket and stares, puzzled. Maybe he's calling a cab to go home.

"Are you... leaving?" Jaemin says timidly, and Jeno looks up, eyes darkening with amusement for some reason. "Hell no," he says emphatically, then looks embarrassed. "I mean..." he amends shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Unless you want me to."

"No!" This time, Jaemin is the one who blurts it out vehemently, and he blushes violently as Jeno's eyes widen, then glitter in comprehension. "I mean, y-you can stay as long as you want," Jaemin stammers, unable to meet his warm burning gaze.

He hears Jeno's breathless laugh. "I'm texting Chenle to leave and take the other two lightbulbs with him," Jeno says, voice soft and deep, and Jaemin inhales sharply as he looks up to see Jeno's face now transformed by a full-blown smirk as he finishes typing and tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied look.

Jaemin's heart skips a beat. He had known -- he had just known Jeno had a wicked sense of humour hidden behind that stern adult front. It was something about the way he caught himself before he smiled with his teeth, the way his eyes couldn't help dancing with mirth even so.

Sure enough, within less than a minute, Jaemin hears three pairs of retreating footsteps and the latch of his front door sliding closed with a crisp click. The house plunges into a thick, opaque silence in which Jaemin can hear his pulse roaring in his ears again. The air between them is crackling with a tension that is almost electric.

"How... how did you get them to leave so fast?" Jaemin sounds breathless, voice rubbed raw.

Jeno's eyes smoulder like it's an aphrodisiac to him. He clears his throat and replies, voice sounding as tight, "I bribed him with a payrise."

Jaemin laughs, and in vast contrast all traces of laughter fade from Jeno's eyes. He takes a step towards Jaemin, and suddenly Jaemin finds himself staring up into Jeno's noir orbs and dilated, unfocused pupils.

"Jaemin," Jeno breathes, and it sounds like a plea, a prayer, an agonized gulp of air Jeno has been drowning and dying to take.

"Jeno," Jaemin replies instinctively, and he inhales audibly, stopping cold in his tracks as he looks down at Jaemin in disbelief. "It's..." his voice is husky in a way that sends a ripple down Jaemin's spine. "It's the first time you've said my name."

Jaemin is shocked to see that Jeno's eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

"Please," he begs, desperation and need colouring his voice. "Say it again?"

Jeno closes his eyes, waiting, and Jaemin chokes the word out over the lump suddenly blocking his throat. "Jeno-yah."

Jeno's eyes fly open, filled with wonder and emotion, and his fingers don't tremble this time as he takes Jaemin's chin with disconcerting gentleness and tilts his face up, leaning down to claim his lips. Jeno tastes like too many bottles of wine, like missing and unendurable longing.

And Jaemin feels nothing like what he had felt when he almost kissed Renjun. There is nothing comfortable or secure about kissing Jeno. It feels risky and dangerous and lethal, hot and wet and filthy and perverse. Jeno kisses Jaemin in a way he has never been kissed before, that makes him feel utterly debauched and desecrated, gasping for breath when Jeno pulls away, teeth catching Jaemin's tongue and lower lip with a lingering nip as they break apart to drag much-needed air into their lungs.

Jaemin gapes up at Jeno, eyes shocked and round as Jeno runs a hand through his hair, panting, then abruptly crushes Jaemin to his chest. Jaemin can actually feel and hear Jeno's heartbeat, hammering against his own chest like a tattoo that makes him suddenly painfully aware of Jeno's feverish, muscled body pressed against the length of his and the hardness of his groin digging into Jaemin's thigh.

Jeno lets out a low, uncontrolled groan at the contact, grinding his crotch against Jaemin's roughly, and Jaemin feels a cold fear ripple down his spine. He's not ready. For whatever Jeno wants to do. Whatever two men do... together.

Jaemin struggles weakly in the cage of Jeno's arms, partly because of this and partly because he doesn't want Jeno to sense his own arousal, his cock stirring in his pants with a hunger that is alien and foreign and terrifyingly unfamiliar to Jaemin. The truth is that, with any of the girls he's ever slept with, he's never felt so turned on before.

Jeno growls low in his throat at Jaemin's rebuff, sounding frustrated and wounded. Jaemin recalls what he had said the day he came to pick Chenle up -- what he thought about Jaemin and Jisung's relationship, and feels slightly less confused about why Jeno is pushing him so urgently. He must think that this isn't Jaemin's first time.

When Jaemin places his hands on Jeno's chest and pushes him away gently, the betrayal in Jeno's flashing eyes confirms this, but he doesn't say anything or make any accusations and Jaemin doesn't have a chance to clarify the misunderstanding. He's way too spineless to bring it up himself.

Jeno is glaring at him with spurned desire in his eyes, looking as confused and messed up as Jaemin feels, but his hands fall from Jaemin's body back to his sides when Jaemin says quietly, shakily, "I'm not ready."

Jaemin can see the struggle in Jeno's eyes, the impulse to throw out vicious and cutting words, but with an effort Jeno regains control of his emotions. "It's okay," he says, voice low and gravelly, addressing Jaemin's dick directly. "We'll take it slowly," Jeno says comfortingly, caressingly. There is none of the impatience in his eyes in the honeyed velvet of his words.

Jeno touches his lips, skimming his fingertip over them, eyes dreamy and nostalgic like he's already reliving their kiss five minutes ago. Jaemin doesn't know why he looks so faraway when Jaemin is right in front of him, but then Jeno takes his thumb off his lips and brings it without warning to Jaemin's, tracing Jaemin's swollen, moist and sensitized lips with utmost gentleness. A smile enters his eyes, as soft as the caress of a summer breeze.

"I'd... better go," Jeno says, dropping his finger from Jaemin's mouth and tearing his gaze away with difficulty. "I don't want to force you into doing anything you feel uncomfortable with."

"Stay," Jaemin blurts out, driven by the startling stab of loneliness that pierces him at the thought of Jeno leaving. "I mean --" he quickly stammers out damage control, "It's late, too dark to drive. You can stay the night."

Jeno looks tempted for a moment, but shakes his head regretfully with a small smile. "I don't think I can control myself if I do."

Jaemin's eyes involuntarily flicker down to the crotch of Jeno's sweatpants. Because of the colour and material, Jeno's unabating erection is doubly obvious and Jaemin snaps his eyes away from the blatant evidence of Jeno's desire for him, embarrassed. He's not used to his partner's physical want for him being so obvious and visible. He's used to the soft bodies of girls and their shy blushes and muffled whimpers underneath him. He's not accustomed to his partner taking the lead.

Jeno catches the direction of his glance and colours too, but he looks less ashamed than defiant about his twisted need for Jaemin as his eyes seek Jaemin's challengingly. For someone heterosexual up till a few weeks ago, Jeno seems to be embracing his homoerotic tendencies much more calmly than Jaemin.

When Jaemin doesn't say anything, Jeno doesn't make any move towards him either, respecting his unconsent. Instead, his fingers stroke Jaemin's hair and graze the nape of his neck lightly as he bends to press a brief but searing kiss to Jaemin's forehead, too transient for Jaemin to savour it.

Then he is gone, his footsteps light as a cat's as he opens the bedroom door and steps into the puddle of light that momentarily falls into Jaemin's room. "Get some sleep," Jeno throws over his shoulder quietly, his voice mildly apologetic in a way that makes Jaemin sense he feels sorry for how roughly he had handled Jaemin. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Then the door creaks closed and he doesn't hear Jeno's footsteps but only his front door latching shut again a few minutes later. Jaemin presses a hand to his racing heart as his knees finally give out as they have threatened to all night and he sinks down weakly onto the edge of his bed.

He is woken up by the buzzing of a new text the next morning. Jaemin blinks awake groggily, thinking it's another day like all the others, before he remembers the events of the previous night and it hits him that today is entirely different. Today, he's in love with Jeno -- at least it's the first day he can admit it, and this simple fact changes everything.

It's like he's put on one of those 3D glasses you wear in a simulator -- everything seems to sparkle with a new dimension and definition, a fresh vividness with a clarity so sharp it almost hurts to look. Jaemin wants to shout it from the rooftops, to let the whole world know -- Jeno is now his boyfriend. The word sounds so wrong, taboo when he tentatively whispers it, looking around furtively and feeling immediately guilty, for obvious reasons, but Jaemin doesn't know why it makes him smile so giddily his face doesn't stop aching all day. He feels like a ditzy schoolgirl with her first crush and Jeno is the most popular and good-looking jock on campus who has finally noticed him after a lifetime.

His own transformation is frightening to Jaemin because Jaemin has never been the hearts and flowers type. Even with his ex-girlfriends, Jaemin had seldom been the one to take the initiative, always coasting by on his good looks and superior genetics. The girls didn't seem to mind his passivity and Jaemin had never felt the urge to be proactive, never felt the desire to fight for anything or anyone. Until now.

Jaemin has always been confident in relationships, if less so in social interaction. So far, no one who had caught his eye had ever rejected his pursuit. Things and people he wanted had mostly fallen into his lap easily, without too much effort or angst. So these feelings of uncertainty and inferiority, the gnawing feeling that Jeno is out of his league is new to him. Jaemin doesn't like feeling this way, like he doesn't deserve Jeno, like he needs Jeno more than Jeno needs him.

His phone vibrates again in his slack hand and he realizes he has been staring at Jeno's message for nearly an hour, lost in thought and rumination. It's ridiculous and embarrassing because Jeno's message is just two words: "Good morning." He probably hadn't even spent a hundredth of the time Jaemin had spent obsessing over it giving it a second thought, probably just idly sent it out of boredom on his way to work, already forgetting it by the next minute. Jaemin feels like a lovesick fool.

He resolutely closes Jeno's message and forces it out of his mind, opening the new one. It's from Jisung. He says, "Chenle's house is much nicer and neater and bigger than yours, hyung! He said I can crash here from now on. I'll be by to take my stuff in the afternoon, kay. Later!"

Jaemin chortles at the series of emoticons at the end, which soften the tone of Jisung's words. He knows that Jisung is more considerate and sensitive than he pretends to be, and that he probably took the hint that Jeno wouldn't like him staying at Jaemin's and decided not to put Jaemin in a difficult position. Even if he had been too dense to notice, Renjun would've sorted that out pronto.

That, or maybe he's just smitten with Chenle at first sight.



He drops off Jisung's backpack on his way downtown to buy art supplies. Chenle is at work but Jisung is lounging on the couch, looking right at home already. His ability to adapt to living anywhere is really amazing. Jisung thanks him cutely, popping his bubble gum and waving a hand generously as he tells Jaemin to make himself at home, almost as if he's the host and not a guest too.

Jaemin has never been to Chenle's house and is impressed to see that it's indeed bigger than his own as Jisung had claimed. He realizes that Chenle probably earns more and has a more stable salary than him, even though he's only a rookie advertising trainee working up the ranks. At least he has a much more official-sounding job than Jaemin.

This train of thought depresses Jaemin vaguely, so he stops wandering around Chenle's house and tells Jisung he still has to make a stop at the art supplies shop before it closes. Jisung waves goodbye breezily as he leaves, calling, "Visit me again when you're free, hyung!" He seems to be making a much longer stopover this time than he does normally. Maybe, just maybe, Jaemin thinks with surprise, even flighty Jisung is finally settling down a little, setting down roots and finding a place he can call home.

Jaemin is on the subway back in the late afternoon, arms laden with paper bags filled with pots of bright paints with that fresh turpentine smell that he inhales deeply with anticipation; a few of his usual cheap brushes with stiff strawlike bristles and one with the softest hair that feels like the fur of a fluffy cat slinking past when he strokes it across his skin. He had been unable to resist splurging on it when he saw it, even though he knew it was a designer brand he couldn't afford and would cost him a week of his food allowance. He also stocked up on a pile of sketchbooks and drawing pads, the rich and creamy paper just thick enough to make that satisfying rustling sound when he flipped a page.

The thought suddenly occurs to him, popping into his mind out of nowhere that he hadn't replied Jeno's message this morning. He had zoned out staring at it and trying to think of what to say until Jisung's arrived and he hastily closed it, then left the house, in the end slipping his mind. Jaemin bites his lip, hoping that Jeno hadn't noticed or better yet, hadn't been expecting a reply. He would type one out now, but his arms are too full and overloaded to reach his phone.

Jaemin's thoughts are still on Jeno, the surprising softness of his chapped lips the previous night as he trudges home, arms aching and looking forward to setting his load down and resting. And when he looks up, a few paces away from his apartment, to see Jeno standing outside, ringing the doorbell, eyes solemn, Jaemin thinks for a moment that it's a hallucination.

"Jeno?" he calls uncertainly, shuffling closer, and Jeno turns in his direction, startled. He looks from the door to Jaemin, confused, as if expecting Jaemin to emerge from inside the house. His mouth hangs open for a moment, dazed, before he snaps into action, hurrying to relieve Jaemin of one of his overflowing bags. He hoists it easily into the crook of his arm, biceps rippling beneath the linen of his work shirt and Jaemin blushes, looking away quickly. He isn't wearing a suit jacket today and looks casual and handsome, a sleek ebony briefcase dangling from his other hand.

"Where did you go?" Jeno frowns, as Jaemin fumbles for his key and opens the door.

Jaemin lets himself in and heaves the bags onto the coffee table, gesturing to Jeno to just drop the one he's carrying anywhere on the couch.

"I had to buy some stuff in town," he replies casually, leaning awkwardly against the wall. "Why?"

Jeno presses his lips together. "I... I was worried. You didn't reply my text this morning." His voice is soft, hesitant.

Jaemin feels a pang of guilt that Jeno had evidently been waiting for his reply. "S-sorry," he stammers. "I forgot."

Jeno looks slightly hurt and Jaemin's guilt deepens. "I read it, though!" he quickly adds. "It made me... really happy."

Jeno's eyes widen, flickering up to his, and Jaemin cringes in embarrassment. What had possessed him to say something so cheesy and gross? It was just... the look in Jeno's eyes at that moment, his face falling like a little boy's. It had gone straight to Jaemin's heart.

Jeno clears his throat, and Jaemin realizes that the tips of his ears are blushing. Is this... how Jeno looks when he's pleased? Jaemin sees Jeno looking up at him bashfully through his eyelashes, and feels a surge of laughter bubbling in his throat. Jeno really is too adorable for his own good.

"I didn't mean to make you worry," Jaemin says softly, moving towards Jeno on impulse. Jeno doesn't back away or approach, just watching Jaemin with hopeful speculation as Jaemin closes the distance between them.

"It's alright," Jeno says quietly when Jaemin is standing before him, rewarding Jaemin with a rare smile. "I was just... insecure... wondering if you had changed your mind." He shifts his weight nervously to the other foot, studying the ground.

"Changed my mind?" Jaemin echoes, startled. It's so inconceivable that Jeno could even entertain that notion. Did he have any idea how lucky Jaemin felt to have the chance to be with Jeno? "Never," he blurts out vehemently, making Jeno look up again with that stricken expression, as if Jaemin has taken his breath away.

"Did you come here because of that?" Jaemin whispers, suddenly breathless too. Jeno's hair is falling out of his slicked-back do again, into his eyes and Jaemin wants to push it back with an intimate gesture but doesn't dare to. "You could've just called me."

Jeno looks embarrassed. "Yeah," he mutters. "And I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to have dinner."

Jaemin feels a stupidly huge grin splitting his face. "Dinner? Where?"

"I don't know," Jeno looks up at him, a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips. A familiar glimmer of mischief enters his eye. "Are you in the mood for McDonald's or French cuisine?"



In the end, they decide to cook a simple meal at home, since Jaemin has already bought the ingredients for dinner at the supermarket. He unloads groceries and stows cartons of milk into his mini refrigerator as he watches Jeno cracking eggs into the bowl of samgyetang he is brewing on the stove. Jeno's forehead is creased in concentration, his eyes adorably serious as he carefully stirs the broth.

Jaemin closes the fridge and slouches against it, continuing to watch Jeno adding spices and condiments as the soup bubbles to completion. He ladles out a spoonful and tentatively tastes it, looking thoughtful, then satisfied.

Jeno notices Jaemin's gaze and looks up, his smile beckoning. "Want a taste?" he offers, and Jaemin feels his feet leading him towards Jeno without thinking, pulled in by that familiar gravitational force. Jeno looks pleased by Jaemin's increasing proximity, and scoops up another spoonful of the fragrant soup. He blows on it this time, like he's worried Jaemin will burn his tongue, and delivers it carefully into Jaemin's open mouth. Jaemin tries not to blush at the startling intimacy of Jeno feeding him, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

The soup warms his mouth and slides down his dry throat, into his stomach which he has just realized is ravenous. "It's really good!" he gasps, unable to hide his impressed awe, and Jeno can't contain his beaming grin of pride.

"I had no idea you were such a good cook," Jaemin mutters as he slurps down his second bowl of Jeno's soup later. Jeno's culinary skills could seriously rival his.

Jeno arches an amused eyebrow at him. "I have many hidden talents," he quips, not knowing how true it is, and how marvelous Jaemin finds the way Jeno constantly surprises him.



When they are washing the dishes together, Jeno rinsing and Jaemin drying, their fingertips brush as Jeno hands Jaemin a plate absently. Both of them immediately pull away as though burnt, and Jaemin sees his wariness and consternation reflected in Jeno's anxious eyes. They have been careful not to touch each other all night, all too aware of the awkward tension crackling in the air between them, charged and electrifying. Now, Jeno shifts, setting a distance between them, his eyes cautious and guarded.

"It's late," he says quietly, setting down the last clean plate in the rack. "I should go."

As with the previous night, Jaemin doesn't say anything, struck dumb. He clutches Jeno's shoulders as Jeno kisses him chastely goodnight at the door, lips cool as they brush Jaemin's briefly. Jaemin's fingers tighten, grabbing a fistful of Jeno's shirt for one heartstopping second, before he reluctantly lets go. Jeno is looking intently at him, breathing seeming a little quicker than usual. But his manners remain faultlessly gentlemanly as he wishes Jaemin good night and steps out the front door, leaving Jaemin feeling unfulfilled and left hanging as he stares morosely at the back of the closed door.

He feels slightly anticlimactic as he recalls fondly Jeno's breathtaking passion the night before, his demanding lips on Jaemin, urgent and bruising, possessing. If he didn't know that Jeno was capable of such fierce intensity, of losing control like that, Jaemin wouldn't have believed it. Jeno could've fooled him with his bland, nice-guy exterior.



Days become weeks, and weeks cumulate into a fortnight, then almost a month, but the feeling of surreality never completely fades. It never stops feeling like a fairytale or a dream in that first moment every morning when Jaemin wakes up and his breath catches as he remembers that he's dating someone now. He's dating Jeno.

He's starting to suspect he'll never tire of this novelty, never be able to contain the shit-eating grin on his face when he daydreams foolishly of Jeno, sends him playful texts with emoticons that Jeno never uses in return, which makes Jaemin have even more fun spamming him with stickers and smileys, enjoying teasing Jeno and trying to ruffle his poker face.

On Jaemin's thirtieth birthday, he spends the evening putting the finishing touches on his almost completed sketch. He has invested months of effort into it and it's more personal than any project he has ever worked on. He had never dared to hope that this assignment would be this successful, that he would manage to overcome his loss of inspiration and produce such an outstanding work of art. But his wildest dreams had come true, and Jaemin hardly dares to believe his luck, the unreal fact that he now possesses both career and love. His happiness has skyrocketed compared to his dull and monotonous existence a few months ago, and it was all thanks to Jeno walking into his life like a fairytale prince and banishing the darkness in it, supporting him, inspiring him indescribably. Jaemin knows that he owes Jeno more than he can say for altering his life so positively.

He wonders how he could possibly express his innermost thoughts and feelings to Jeno, convey his gratitude and the extent and depth of his love in another form besides language. Jaemin has already acknowledged that he is hopeless at weaving pretty words and sweet nothings, and the only way he has ever been able to come close to expressing himself is through art. And when Jaemin realizes this, it dawns on him that he has found the perfect birthday present for Jeno. He had been racking his brains over what to get Jeno on his birthday, which is a few months after Jaemin, and when the idea strikes Jaemin, he's so excited that he abandons his nearly-finished work and immediately starts on the portrait of Jeno.

Before Jaemin puts the tip of his pencil to paper, he closes his eyes and visualizes Jeno in his mind's eye -- Jeno on his doorstep every night, eyes longing and reserved at the same time, brooding and pensive as he sweetly kisses Jaemin goodbye; the way sometimes when he's tired his eyes flutter closed as if indulging in the brief moment and his lips linger on Jaemin's, a degree warmer than usual. Jeno had been as good as his word, never making any further advances towards Jaemin or trying to get fresh with him after that day, almost stubbornly restrained. Sometimes Jaemin wonders if he's doing it on purpose, to get back at Jaemin for pushing him away, but then he feels bad for thinking so negatively of Jeno who has given him nothing but utmost respect and space.

Gradually, Jeno's passivity combined with Jaemin's characteristic reserve had led them to arrive at an impasse, unable to progress forward in terms of intimacy and starting to fall into the comfort, the predictability of the same habits every day. Sometimes the gestures varied -- occasionally Jeno gave him a forehead kiss or a backhug instead, but they were always still safe and sedate, more friendly than loverlike.

And maybe this languid pace isn't so bad either, Jaemin comforts himself thinking. There's no stress and less tension even though Jeno's touch still sets his skin alight every time they accidentally graze each other's bodies. The fire that consumes Jaemin on those occasions makes him relieved and even more convinced that they shouldn't explore unchartered territory, for fear of being burnt and badly scalded.

Occasionally, he wonders if Jeno is waiting for him to make the first move, since Jaemin had been the one who had set the boundaries initially, drawn the lines. But Jaemin dismisses the thought quickly. Jeno should know that Jaemin doesn't have the courage to. He should know better than to expect Jaemin to do something so reckless, something so stupidly brave. Jaemin has always been content to let Jeno take the navigation of their relationship, satisfied to follow Jeno as he guided.

After he does the rough preliminary sketch with blunt, careless lines in faint pencil, Jaemin digs into his supplies for a piece of charcoal, just the right size to fit into the palm of his hand. It powders his fingertips with coal dust as he uses the sharp end to describe a row of curved lines, capturing the exact curl of Jeno's long eyelashes casting shadows over his high cheekbones as he presses his lips to Jaemin's forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, square on the lips. Jaemin shades and smudges diligently, applying pressure to evoke shadow in darker areas and lightening his touch to a feather's weight as he captures light. He loses himself in swift charcoal strokes across canvas and when the brassy ringing of the doorbell jolts him back to reality the portrait is half-done and twilight has fallen.

Jaemin blinks, quickly fumbling for a cloth and throwing it over the easel clumsily. He looks at the clock, breaking into a smile. Jeno is early. He must've specially arrived earlier to take Jaemin out for a birthday dinner.

Jaemin hurriedly undoes his paint-spattered apron, bustling eagerly to the door, briefly considering throwing himself daringly into Jeno's arms. Would that make him laugh in that way that echoed in Jaemin's bones? Would he pick Jaemin up, lifting him effortlessly off his feet and swing him around in a joyful circle, no longer waiting for each other to initiate skinship first?

But when Jaemin flings open the door, his grin slips to see not Jeno but Renjun, Jisung and Chenle standing outside with megawatt smiles, balloons, gaudily-wrapped presents and a bakery cake in a box. "SURPRISE!"

Jaemin recovers quickly, pasting his elated smile back on. It's not difficult because he is genuinely delighted and immensely moved by his friends' impromptu party for him. It's just that he had been expecting to spend a solitary romantic night with Jeno.

But looking at their guileless, loving smiles, Jaemin can't bring himself to tell his hapless, well-meaning friends to leave. Besides, Jeno isn't due back for another hour. Maybe the party will be finished by then. So he opens his door widely and graciously invites them in, and the three of them pile into his apartment in a bundle of cheer and excitement. Jaemin is soon buoyed by their wave of upbeat celebration too, really starting to enjoy his birthday.

Chenle has bought these ridiculous party hats and headwear from the party supplies store, but Jaemin refuses to wear the clownlike conical hats. They let him choose since he's the birthday boy and he reluctantly picks the least embarrassing one, a headband with furry black cat ears. Renjun puts it on for him. “You look so cute!" he fanboys, flailing his hands as he snaps a selca for commemoration. Chenle has next dibs since he bought the accessories and picks a pair of fluffy white bunny ears, and Renjun chooses a bulky baby pink peach head which is cute but looks heavy and stuffy inside. Jisung is left with the ridiculous party hat and he pouts, whining grumpily as Renjun snaps pictures, uploading them onto his Instagram while laughing his ass off.

Once they are suitably attired, the three of them go to the kitchen and huddle over the birthday cake, bickering over how many candles to stick in. Jaemin laughs as their muffled but furious argument drifts out and finally the lights flicker off and they carry the enormous cake into the living room, their faces looking so beautiful and precious illuminated in the orange glow of the candles that Jaemin feels a prickle at the backs of his eyes. He blinks away the tears rapidly, thankful for the darkness as they walk slowly closer, singing the birthday song off-tune, in Korean, then English, then a butchered Chinese version which makes Jaemin howl until his stomach hurts.

At least he can claim the tears oozing from his eyes are from laughing too hard as Jaemin takes a deep breath and blows out the candles, making three wishes. I wish Renjun, Jisung and Chenle will always be happy. I wish for more inspiration in my art this year. I wish that on my thirty-first birthday, Jeno and I will still be together.

Jaemin opens his eyes to the other three's rousing cheers. They pop open cans of beer to go with the cake, which is chocolate fudge with Happy birthday Jaemin-hyung written on it in pink icing. Jisung proudly informs Jaemin that it was his contribution.

"What about yours?" Jaemin turns expectantly to Renjun, who points to the bunch of more than ten colourful balloons which has floated up to the ceiling and is now hovering in a corner of the room like an awkward visitor. "What am I going to do with that?" Jaemin shakes his head, laughing, and Renjun shrugs, licking cream off his fingers. "We can set them free later. It's pretty when they go up in the sky."

"I can paint that!" Jaemin exclaims, and they all agree excitedly that it's a good idea.

Jaemin is already imagining the contrast of pastel balloons silhouetted against the night sky, their tails like the vapour trails of shooting stars arcing across the dark in a beautiful trajectory of light. They finish up their slices of cake, chattering casually and have seconds. The cake is so big that there's still half left over after they can't eat a bite more. Renjun packs it up and stuffs the box into Jaemin's fridge. "You can serve it to other guests," he mumbles cryptically, and Jaemin senses that he's talking about Jeno but doesn't want to say his name outright. It's just like Renjun to remember all his friends, even those who aren't around.

Next, they whip out the lavishly-wrapped presents Jaemin had caught a glimpse of when they arrived, all of them pestering him to open theirs first. Jaemin laughs, unable to resist all their aegyos, and decides in the end to pull one end of all three ribbons simultaneously. He's thrilled and not surprised to find out Jisung has given him drawing supplies, and of the best quality too. It must've cost him a small fortune, but he just laughs dismissively and winks, "Only the best for my Jaemin-hyung," when Jaemin berates him for splurging.

Chenle has given him an eclectic selection of the latest album releases, both Western and Korean pop which he reassured Jaemin he had gotten almost free-of-charge since their advertising company got lots of samples. "These are really cool, thanks," Jaemin gushes, eyes starry as he sifts through the albums, touched that Chenle had noticed his passion for music only secondary to art.

Renjun has gotten him the full saga of Fifty Shades of Grey. "Oh my god," Jaemin groans, blushing and exasperated at the same time. "I'm not really into reading, especially erotica, Renjun-ah."

"Trust me, you'll like them," Renjun leers greasily, and Jaemin rolls his eyes.

They are gathering the gift wrappers and clearing the used plates up when the doorbell rings again. Jaemin looks up, stricken and ecstatic at the same time. He had been having so much fun that he forgot Jeno was due back soon. Renjun leaps to his feet, bounding towards the door before Jaemin has a chance to get up. "It's okay, I'll get it!" he beams at Jaemin helpfully.

When Jaemin has straggled to his feet and stumbled after Renjun, skidding to a breathless halt behind him, he is just in time to see the way Jeno's face crumples when he sees Renjun in Jaemin's doorway, his smile faltering as he takes in the cat ears on Jaemin's head. The bouquet of red roses in his hand drops to his side, and his other hand tightens over the handle of the cake box he's holding, knuckles pale as he slides it behind his back.

Jaemin abruptly realizes how this looks, since Jeno can't see Jisung and Chenle and has no idea they're in the house too. He probably thinks Jaemin is celebrating alone with Renjun. But before Jaemin can open his mouth to explain, Jeno has pivoted on his heel and is marching towards the elevator, jabbing the button and getting in stormily.

"What's his deal?" Renjun turns to him, lifting an eyebrow, obviously finding Jeno's reaction bizarre. Jaemin sighs in distress and doesn't bother to explain to Renjun how he had never cleared up the existing misunderstanding Jeno had developed over that text message a few months ago Renjun had sent about kissing Jaemin. Jeno had never asked and Jaemin hadn't known how to broach the subject, instead choosing to avoid the issue.

Jaemin gives Renjun a hasty pat on the shoulder, promising to clarify the situation later, and asks Renjun if he would mind terribly if Jaemin left first.

“Nana,” Renjun sighs, giving him a one-armed hug. "It's your birthday, remember? You can do anything you like. Go crazy!" he urges, nudging Jaemin. "But don't do anything I wouldn't do," he jokes as Jaemin shoots him a grateful smile, tears off the ears and pulls on his shoes haphazardly, breaking into a run after Jeno.

"Thanks, Renjun-ah," Jaemin types out a quick text to him in the downward hurtling lift. "I'll make your birthday unforgettable too." Renjun's birthday is coming up and Jaemin vows that he will plan for Renjun as amazing a surprise as his three friends have given him today.



Jaemin feels himself sagging palpably in relief when he spies Jeno's car still in the garage of the apartment building. He wanders out of the lobby, wondering where Jeno would head at this time of the night. He can't have gone far on foot and besides, he would never make Jaemin search for him on his birthday. Jaemin is confident of that. He just wanted to throw a small temper tantrum, to get Jaemin on his own. Jeno could be petulant about hogging Jaemin's attention this way.

Sure enough, Jaemin spots a familiar pair of shoulders in a pool of ochre light sitting at a solitary bench in the deserted park nearby, the cake box and bouquet of flowers on either side of him. From the rear, Jeno's shoulders look broad but fragile, and Jaemin feels a pang of tenderness for him as he walks slowly up behind Jeno and leans down to drape his arms around his shoulders.

Jeno jumps a little, startled, relaxing when he senses it's Jaemin but his body still remaining stiff, unwilling to admit his soft-heartedness. Jaemin knows better than to be intimidated, nuzzling into his neck at the spot he's found out Jeno is most sensitive until Jeno turns his head, capturing Jaemin's lips with his own and Jaemin's chin with his fingers.

The kiss is chaste, soft, gentle and sweet as usual. But today Jeno's mouth feels feverishly warm against Jaemin's, unsatisfied, seeking for more. Jaemin's heart skips an erratic beat. However, Jeno eventually pulls away with an effort, struggling to regain control of his breathing as he peers into Jaemin's eyes. "What was he doing there?" he demands unceremoniously, voice low.

Jaemin hesitates. "Renjun came to give me a surprise party with --" But his words are cut off by Jeno's lips on his again, now hot and savage as his tongue darts out to lick the seam of Jaemin's lips, coaxing them open and delving into Jaemin's unresisting warmth, finding Jaemin's tongue and tangling them together. Strong fingers close over the nape of Jaemin's neck and hold him immobile. Jeno doesn't stop kissing Jaemin even when Jaemin starts gasping for breath, squirming away and trying to suck air in. He seems to wants to kiss Jaemin to the point of suffocation, biting the corner of Jaemin's lip deliberately until he draws blood. Jeno seems to want to leave a visible mark on him today, one that will stake his claim and Jaemin wonders what had brought this sudden dominance on.

"You're mine," Jeno breathes fiercely, breaking away finally just when Jaemin thinks he is about to faint from lack of oxygen. Jeno cradles his face in his hands, his eyes telling Jaemin that he is safe with him. "Do you understand?" his hands tighten over Jaemin's shoulders. "I'm never going to give you to anyone else."

Jaemin can only nod dumbly, dragging huge gasps of air into his lungs, his heart still pumping overtime. Jeno is breathing raggedly too, face flushed and pupils blown so wide his irises are almost entirely black. "Jaemin," Jeno groans, sounding desperate and helpless and pleading, like he's deathly afraid of losing Jaemin. He detaches himself for a brief moment to stride around the bench towards Jaemin, wrenching him into his arms and engulfing him in his embrace, so tightly that Jaemin can't breathe. Jeno's heart is slamming shallowly against his chest and his hot breath is jagged against Jaemin's neck, the ridge of his erection pressing against Jaemin's thigh.

And for the first time, three months after they first met, Jaemin finally feels like he's ready. Ready for more than innocent kisses and teddy bear hugs. He wants this relationship to gain a sense of reality, an opacity that is currently lacking. A bond that can only be achieved through unrestrained intimacy. It's taken them so much time and patience to get here, but he's now fully prepared to move to the next step.

"I'm yours," Jaemin murmurs into Jeno's ear, feeling him tremble. He wraps his arms around Jeno and squeezes just as tightly, wanting to give Jeno physical reassurance, to allay his fears and put him at ease. "Don't worry."

Jeno pulls back to look into Jaemin's eyes, not looking convinced. "Prove it," he demands, eyes gleaming with challenge and unbearable hope.

"Okay," Jaemin says simply, smiling at Jeno and smoothing his hair back.

"Okay?" Jeno repeats, mouth falling open in shock. "Are you serious, Jaemin-ah?" his voice trembles. "You'll finally let me... touch you?"

Jaemin lowers his eyes and nods shyly, feeling Jeno's hands wander boldly and disbelievingly down to his hips to settle there, then cup his ass proprietarily. Jeno pushes a knee between Jaemin's legs, crowding between them and grinding his crotch against Jaemin's roughly. Jaemin's head spins dizzily, sparks shooting up his groin as he grips Jeno's shoulders and hangs on weakly.

"Not here," he manages to choke out, before Jeno devours him whole. "W-when we reach home."

At his words, Jeno stills as if by magic, letting Jaemin go obediently. Jaemin's heart contracts at the trust in Jeno's eyes, the sheer happiness that shines from him because of Jaemin's promise.

"You have no idea..." Jeno breathes, caressing Jaemin's cheek with his knuckles. "How long I've been waiting. I was going crazy. I didn't think I'd be able to stand another day. Leaving you every night with a stupid kid's kiss, going home to jerk myself off to sleep, thinking of you... it was hell. You were driving me insane."

Jaemin can't help the gasp that escapes his lips. Jeno had always seemed so calm, so controlled and nonchalant and impassive. Jaemin had no clue that he was in such turmoil all the time. "I'm sorry," he mutters, remorseful. But Jeno quickly hushes him. "It's not your fault. I was too anxious. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Jaemin promises seriously, looking up intently into his eyes. "I'm stronger than I look."

A smile of unfettered delight breaks quietly over Jeno's face. He takes Jaemin's hand in his, interlocking their fingers and picks up the cake and bouquet with the other. "Let's go home, then."

Jaemin shakes his head, standing his ground and Jeno looks confused, then panicked. "What's wrong?"

Jaemin pouts. "You haven't given me my roses," he whines, and Jeno laughs out loud in stunned relief.

"For you," he says shyly, thrusting the bouquet at Jaemin. Jaemin takes it and inhales deeply, hiding his moronic grin behind the flowers. "Thank you."

"Happy birthday," Jeno says, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head.

As they stroll back in the luminescent moonlight, hand in hand, Jeno enquires, "What was that thing on your head you were wearing just now?"

"... The cat ears?"

"You're not allowed to look so cute in front of anybody except me again." Jeno admonishes sternly. "Heard that?"

"Yes, sir," Jaemin giggles with a mock salute, making Jeno's face relax into an indulgent smile too. "Do you still have them?"

"Yes, why?"

Jeno coughs. "Wear them again for me later. I didn't get a good look."

When they get back to Jaemin's apartment, the house is sparkling clean, neater than it's been in a long time, and Renjun, Chenle and Jisung are gone without a trace.

On Renjun's birthday, Jaemin tells Jeno about his plan to organize something special for Renjun, to make his day as memorable as he had made Jaemin's. After Jaemin had sorted out the misunderstanding about his relationship with Renjun and made it clear to Jeno that they were strictly platonic friends, Jeno's dislike and hostility towards Renjun had seemed to thankfully abate a little. After all, they had been acquaintances even before Jaemin had met Jeno, and like everyone else in their field, Jeno respects and admires Renjun's work ethic. Renjun is Jaemin's best friend and it means so much to Jaemin whether his boyfriend and best friend get along.

As Jisung and Chenle have already planned a date by themselves that night, Jaemin attends the surprise party they throw at Renjun's house that morning. Renjun obviously knows about it beforehand, but is impressively convincing in his attempt to act surprised.

Jaemin wants to take Renjun to a fancy restaurant, hipster bar or one of those avant garde cafes that Renjun likes. But since he's pretty clueless about the eateries in Seoul, he enlists Jeno for help. Jeno obligingly suggests a cozy upscale music bar with a live band that has a waiting list for reservations six months long, but he manages to get them a table because of some connections and pulled strings.

Jaemin keeps Renjun in suspense, not telling him where they are heading until they arrive in Jeno's SUV, and this time Renjun is genuinely intrigued.

"Oh my god!" he shrieks when they pull up outside the bar. "How did you get a reservation here? I heard the waiting list is crazy!"

Jaemin smiles, shooting a proud glance at Jeno, who only presses his lips together in amusement.

"This is the most awesome birthday ever," Renjun keeps repeating as they stroll into the bar and Jeno gives the reservation under his name. His obvious and adorable excitement makes all the effort Jaemin has put into organizing this worth it.



They place their orders with the waitress for appetizers and drinks. Renjun orders a mimosa, Jaemin a cranberry vodka and Jeno vodka on the rocks. The bar is filled to full capacity, the ambient lighting giving the wall murals and graffitied tables a warm, inviting glow. After awhile, the low hum of conversation mutes politely to welcome the live band, which has taken its place on the makeshift stage at the front of the room.

As the band segues into the opening chords of its first track, a slower-paced one to warm up the crowd first, Jaemin watches Renjun across the table anxiously. He knows that Renjun is a music lover and part-time expert and hopes that the grungy band will not disappoint him.

Renjun faces the stage, eyes immersed as he sips his drink and listens appreciatively to the music. When his eyes flutter closed during a particularly emotional rock ballad, Jaemin feels a rush of truimph and knows that he has successfully made Renjun's night a good one. He beams gratefully at Jeno, who squeezes his knee under the table looking equally pleased.

Then unexpectedly, in the space between songs, the lead singer leans forward to speak into the mic, smiling warmly as he searches the crowd and his eyes pause at their table. "Today is the birthday of a very special person," he says in his soulful, dulcet voice. "Let's all wish Renjun-sshi a very happy birthday, okay?"

He crinkles his eyes in his smile, and the crowd goes crazy, clapping and cheering. Renjun has his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he blushes vigorously, looking both embarrassed and overjoyed. In answer to Renjun's incredulous look, Jaemin shrugs exaggeratedly, widening his eyes back to show that he knew nothing of this. Jeno is toying with Jaemin's fingers on the table, looking smug.

The band launches into an impromptu, bawdy and hilariously fun version of Happy Birthday, and Renjun looks close to tears. The night is turning out even more perfect than Jaemin had hoped for, and he's so thankful to Jeno because if anyone deserves a flawless birthday, it's Renjun.

After about an hour, the band finishes their set to uproarious applause and cries of "Encore!" The dyed, tattooed, black-clad and heavily-pierced members wave imperiously to their groupies as they descend the stage and the bar lapses into the relaxed chatter of private conversations once again. Renjun still looks pretty shell-shocked, like he can't quite believe what just happened.

When they resume their conversation, Renjun leans towards Jaemin and hisses. "Did you see that mega gorgeous hottie up there? Holy crap."

"The singer?" Jaemin is confused.

"No, the bassist," Renjun says impatiently. "The one with purple hair."

"Ahh, him." Jaemin vaguely recalls him hanging in the background most of the time but coming forward to do a screechy solo during one of the upbeat tracks. "He's okay," he mumbles vaguely. "Cute, but he seemed like the cocky type, don't you think? And he didn't look very tall."

Jeno covers his mouth with a hand, but Jaemin can see from his eyes that he's smirking and almost immediately, intuits why. He marvels with wonder when he had become so attuned to what Jeno's every expression meant, so in sync that they could pass a volume of conversation with one glance?

Jaemin realizes with Jeno's amusement that in a matter of a few months, checking out other guys appraisingly has become the norm for him. Jaemin groans. He dreads turning into the stereotypical gay man. But both him and Jeno had slipped into this lifestyle surprisingly easily, with surprisingly little angst. Maybe it was because they were together as they undertook all their first times, innocent yet eager, fumbling yet sweet. Still, Jaemin doesn't think he could be gay for any guy other than Jeno. It's a cheesy and cliche statement that sounds right out of the plot of a yaoi manga (which Jeno had laughed off as unrealistic, but Jaemin had gotten strangely hooked to when they had bought it for fun to investigate sexual positions), but it's true. No matter how many other cute guys he has met since, Jaemin has only ever felt this intense attraction towards Jeno. He has merely developed a clinical appreciation for good-looking guys, as with hot chicks that he gratuitously checks out when he bypasses them on the street.

Now, Renjun bristles, his feathers seeming ruffled by Jaemin's lukewarm assesment. "Who cares whether he's short? Not everyone goes for tall guys, okay?" he huffs, shooting an obvious implying glance at Jeno, who looks unperturbed by Renjun's dig. "Besides," Renjun lowers his voice playfully as he leers, "Did you get a load of that fantastic ass? Totally my type."

Jaemin coughs, choking a little on his drink as he realizes Renjun is serious. "I didn't know you were gay?" he gasps shrilly.

Renjun shrugs nonchalantly, as if unconcerned about questioning his sexuality. "I didn't know either until I saw him," he replies breezily.

Renjun continues sneaking veiled peeks from beneath his eyelashes as they chow down on the rest of their dinner towards the table beside the stage where the band has been served food and drinks, on the house and are talking and joking in their own world. The bassist is perched on the table with his legs balanced on the chair, crossed coquettishly at the knees. His lavender hair is matted, bangs pasted to his forehead with sweat as he flips them out of his eyes impatiently. This is the first time Jaemin has seen Renjun so obviously infatuated with anyone at first sight.

After they have finished the meal and Jeno has instructed the waitress in low tones to bring out the birthday cake, Jaemin slides his present across the table, a little peach-shaped paperweight that he had sculpted himself at the pottery farm and painted a peony pink. Renjun nearly screams in excitement when he unwraps it. "Omigod, this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life! Thanks, Jaemin!" In his delight, Renjun carelessly leans across the table to give Jaemin a dry kiss on his cheek. Jaemin sees Jeno's mouth go slack and his eyes narrow in annoyance, but he doesn't say anything to Jaemin's relief.

To distract Jeno, Jaemin quickly squeezes his thigh. "Where's your present?" he smiles expectantly. Jaemin isn't really sure if Jeno has prepared a gift, although he hopes so, and is surprised when Jeno cups a hand over his mouth and hollers in the direction of the band's table: "Mark-yah!"

The singer's head snaps up from where he is huddled with his group members, wolfing down crab cakes, and a smile takes over his eyes and face as he bounds over eagerly. "I was going to come over after I finished eating. Did you like the set?"

His open, hopeful face shines with a flushed glow as Jeno nods with pride, smiling. He claps Mark's back and looks back to Jaemin and Renjun. "This is Jaemin, my boyfriend, and his friend, Renjun."

"Jaemin-sshi, Renjun-sshi!” Mark warmly greets, pumping their hands vigorously. "Happy birthday!" To his credit, he doesn't bat an eyelash at the word boyfriend, but Jaemin imagines that Mark's smile seems to dim a couple of notches, with something like disappointment.

"Thanks for the birthday song," Renjun blushes gratefully, and Mark shakes his head earnestly. "You're welcome! I hope you enjoyed it."

"This is Mark..." Jeno introduces proudly. "My cousin."

At the word, Jaemin feels his body sag with relief. He had been worried Mark was a cute hyung with a crush on Jeno, a rival to Jaemin. Honestly, if he were, Jaemin had no confidence in winning.

Jeno leans in to whisper something in Mark's ear, and Mark listens carefully, a smile creeping onto his face as Jaemin and Renjun strain but fail to hear Jeno's low murmur. Mark gives them another bright smile and turns to saunter back to the band's table. Jaemin is still wondering what Jeno had told him when Mark is back again behind him, but this time bringing along the bassist.

Renjun's fork drops as the boy flips his hair again and peers out from beneath his choppy bangs at them, eyes honing in on Renjun. They are lively and devilish, filled with mischief. "Birthday boy?" he says conversationally, settling down unselfconsciouly onto an empty chair and leaning forward intently. "How old are you turning?"

Jaemin gapes at him, expecting Renjun to instantly take offense at such a blunt question, blushing, but can't believe his ears to hear Renjun say meekly, "Thirty.”

"Oh, really?" The bassist raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "Me too," he confides, leaning forward, and Renjun actually giggles breathlessly.

Mark takes the chance of the lull in the conversation to pull up a chair and lean forward too, making the introductions. "This is Donghyuck. He’s from abroad.”

Jaemin's interest is piqued at that, staring unabashedly at Donghyuck.

"Do you speak English?” he blurts out unconsciously. Donghyuck looks up at him, eyes lighting up with excitement too.

“English?” Donghyuck replies. "Yes."

Renjun looks a little bereft at the loss of Donghyuck's attention, a little disgruntled. Jaemin hurriedly tries to steer Donghyuck's attention back to him but he seems to have aroused Donghyuck's curiosity, and he continues peppering Jaemin with rapidfire questions about his English ability.

Then Jaemin hears a screech of chair legs against the floor beside him, and turns in confusion to see Jeno standing up with a clatter, unsmiling.

He grabs Jaemin's arm brusquely. "Let's go to the restroom."

Jaemin blinks up at him, finding Jeno's sudden clinginess a little odd. But he obediently gets to his feet too, making Donghyuck's outpouring of questions finally halt reluctantly and Jeno tugs him bodily away from the table. Mark gets up, huffing after them. "Wait for me, Jeno!"

Jeno laughs and takes his other hand, dragging both of them in the direction of the bathroom. Near his bandmates' table, Mark bails on them, making a beeline for the food. Jeno doesn't stop his strident pace as they continue approaching the toilets.

The male restroom is empty and Jeno tugs Jaemin unceremoniously into a cubicle, backing Jaemin against the door. Jaemin's back hits it with a thud, panting a little with exertion from the pace at which Jeno had hurried here. He stares with dazed eyes up at Jeno, confused. He's not so thick as to not understand that Jeno wanted to leave Renjun and Donghyuck alone, but why do they have to be cramped in one cubicle when there is plenty of space in the toilet? Besides, Jeno had said he need to use it and Jaemin moves to leave the cubicle and give Jeno privacy.

But the moment his hand falls on the doorknob, Jeno's hand descends on it, light but firm. "Stay," he says huskily, gazing deeply into Jaemin's eyes, and Jaemin blushes from the roots of his hair.

Jeno caresses his face thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb. "Did you call that bassist cute just now?" he asks silkily.

Jaemin gulps. "... You were listening?"

Jeno doesn't answer his question, instead going on, "I don't like it when you speak English with others in front of me."

"Why?" Jaemin frowns. Jeno had told him before that he found it unbelievably sexy when Jaemin spoke it.

"Because I don't understand it," Jeno says simply.

"O-oh," Jaemin stammers. "Okay, I won't do it again," he says appeasingly, pouting at Jeno. "Forgive me, Jen?"

Jeno swears under his breath and covers his mouth, but his disappearing eyes betray his smile.

Jaemin laughs. For someone who professes he has no patience for cute things, Jeno is surprisingly weak for them when it comes to Jaemin, and surprisingly cute himself. His is the kind of unforced, accidental cuteness that he doesn't even have to try to employ.

"Stop that," Jeno snaps, and Jaemin's laughter fades. "What, laughing?"

"Laughing attractively.” Jeno makes a face at him, then leans down without warning to attack him with a kiss, all teeth and tongue, muffling Jaemin's retort.

"We should go back," Jaemin wheezes when he finally manages to break away from Jeno's hungry mouth for a second. "They'll be wondering why we're taking so long."

"Let them," Jeno murmurs carelessly, sweeping Jaemin up in another breathless kiss.

They both freeze when footsteps echo on the marble tile and someone else enters the bathroom. Jaemin can feel Jeno's heart pounding in unison with his against his chest as they try not to make a sound until they hear the flush and running water and retreating footsteps. Only then does Jeno let out a sigh and sag against Jaemin, finally backing off a little. Jaemin inhales deeply and takes in Jeno, lips kiss swollen and eyelids hooded over smouldering, dilated eyes, face flushed intoxicatedly and hair post-coital. He looks like he's just been fucked.

Anxiously, Jaemin cards his fingers through Jeno's hair, smoothing the tufts down. He can only imagine how he looks himself and turns to unlock the door, bumping Jeno and bustling out to tidy himself in the mirror. He looks much the same as Jeno, with guilty eyes darting shiftily from side to side. Jeno folds his arms and leans against the wall, cocking his hip as he smirks at him in their reflections, seeming unruffled and amused by Jaemin's fluster.

Jaemin glares at him reproachfully and grabs his arm, dragging him firmly out of the bathroom. This time, Jeno is the one who willingly gets hauled back.



Jaemin skids to a halt a few paces from their table. Jeno arches an eyebrow at him, as if saying, See? He'd been right that Renjun and Donghyuck don't seem to have noticed their suspiciously long absence. Renjun is leaning forward, elbows on the table, looking rapt as he says something that elicits a high-pitched burst of laughter from Donghyuck. Renjun's face flushes with pride, looking smug and pleased that he had managed to impress him.

Jaemin is wondering whether to walk up and interrupt them when Mark beckons them over. "Where did you guys disappear to? Come meet the rest of my bandmates."

Jeno promptly takes Jaemin's hand and leads him to their table, and Jaemin follows in relief. As they say hi and bump fists with the drummer and guitarist, Jaemin catches a glimpse of Renjun and Donghyuck huddled even closer together with their heads bent towards each other's, foreheads almost touching and bangs catching together with static. For a moment he thinks they're kissing before he realizes they're writing something on the glossy wooden surface of the table, which he had noticed before was covered with graffiti on almost every inch, the names of lovers and dates of anniversaries or just random sentences or quotes and phone numbers and doodlings. He wonders what Renjun and Donghyuck are writing.

Jeno hip-checks him gently, and Jaemin snaps out of his reverie to rejoin the conversation with Mark.



They've been at the bar for a few blissful hours and the night is deepening. Renjun and Donghyuck have been deep in conversation, in a world of their own for more than half an hour when Donghyuck finally gets up, loping back to their table with a dreamy smirk on his face. Jaemin glances at Renjun who is staring at Donghyuck's retreating back like it's the most beautiful vista in the universe. He resists the urge to laugh and nudges Jeno who looks over and quickly takes the situation into his hands, getting up and patting Mark's shoulder. Jeno tells him he'll be in touch and they say their goodbyes as the band start gathering up their equipment too and heaving them towards the back door into their van. Donghyuck slings the bass over his shoulder and goes to help the drummer with his drum set, and Renjun leans against the table and stares grudgingly at them, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Jaemin quickly hurries towards him.

"What were you guys writing?" he asks to distract Renjun, and thankfully succeeds. Renjun waves Jaemin closer, eyes bright with excitement and shows him a few words scrawled on the corner of the table, squeezed between crowded messages and almost unnoticeable if not pointed out. They are in a looping handwriting that isn't Renjun's and read "Renjun is so cute" in English. Jaemin almost chokes on his spit.

Jeno looks amused. "What's wrong?" Jaemin sputters. "N-nothing. Do you know what they mean?"

"Yeah, Donghyuck told me," Renjun replies. "I wish I could read English too."

"I can teach you," Jaemin offers, and Renjun brightens. "Really? Thanks, Jaem!”

Jaemin nods, but seeing the way Jeno purses his lips, adds cheekily, "But I think you'd prefer Donghyuck to."

Jeno laughs, making Jaemin swell with pride, and Renjun blushes prettily, swatting his arm. “Yah!” he whines. "Stop teasing me."



Before they leave, Renjun hands them the black Sharpie he had been using and Jaemin writes Jeno's name and the date on another corner of the table. Jeno writes Jaemin's name and draws a clumsy heart around both of them, and Jaemin grins and adds some fancy curlicues, resisting the urge to start drawing all over the whole table. But as Jeno looks at him, eyes adoring in the shadowy lamplight, Jaemin knows that he doesn't need to carve the date into wood to remember tonight. Because it's already engraved indelibly onto his heart, an invisible but permanent tattoo.



After that day, Jaemin doesn't meet Renjun for almost a week, busy with work. But soon after, he receives a text message from Chenle: "Hyung, who is Donghyuck? Renjun-hyung has been all Donghyuck this, Donghyuck that, since his birthday."

Jaemin laughs out loud. He knew Renjun had a crush, but hadn't known how big it was. He mentally files away this information for teasing purposes in future.

He replies Chenle that Donghyuck is the bassist in the band they saw that night, and the next day he receives a text from Jisung. "Can you come and remove Renjun-hyung from our couch? He's been moping here all week like a lovesick puppy. Me and Lele need some alone time too, you know."

Jaemin snorts. So Renjun had been mooning about his crush to Chenle and Jisung. He had probably been too embarrassed to say anything to Jaemin, knowing Jaemin would never let him live it down. Jaemin calls Renjun.

"Where are you?" he asks, expecting Renjun to be at Chenle's house or his office, but Renjun replies, voice muffled by background noise, "At the bar we came for my birthday. Come over?"

Jaemin tells him he'll be there in fifteen and hangs up, furrowing his brow. Does Donghyuck's band have a gig there again today? It's still afternoon, though, and they only play at night. Jaemin slips on his jacket and leaves the house into a balmy late afternoon.



When he walks into the bar fifteen minutes later, he immediately locates Renjun dressed in casual, rumpled clothes and sitting at the same table as that night, chin propped lazily on his crossed arms on the table as his fingers trace absent patterns over the surface. There are few other customers at the bar at this hour and Jaemin makes his way through the tables towards Renjun.

The waiter comes along and Jaemin orders a cherry martini. Renjun asks for another tequila and Jaemin raises his eyebrows at the two empty glasses already perspiring on the table, ice cubes melting.

"What's up?" Jaemin starts delicately. Renjun looks different from his usual groomed and primped self, his hair tousled and faint circles around his eyes. His skin is red and irritated the way it is when he doesn't get a good rest.

Renjun doesn't reply, his fingers finding Donghyuck's handwriting on the table. Oddly, the ink seems a little faded from the last time, as if Renjun has traced his fingertips over it so many times he's worn it down.

"I can't believe he didn't even draw a heart," Renjun whimpers disconsolately, voice building to a low wail that makes Jaemin glance anxiously around them to see if anyone's looking. "He could've written something else besides Happy birthday. Anything!"

"Wait, what?" Jaemin returns his attention to Renjun, distracted. "What did you say he wrote?"

Renjun raises his head slightly, hopefully. "Happy birthday?" he says tentatively.

Jaemin squints at the message to double-check. Unless his English has deteriorated vastly, there's no doubt that Donghyuck had written Renjun is so cute.

"Uhh, Renjun..." Jaemin murmurs, wondering how to break it to him.

"Yes?" Renjun says eagerly but confusedly, leaning forward breathlessly.

Jaemin laughs. "Donghyuck didn't write Happy birthday. He wrote Renjun is so cute."

"WHAT!!!" Renjun's head snaps up so fast, Jaemin almost gets whiplash. "Are you shitting me?" he growls, eyes narrowed.

Jaemin shakes his head solemnly. "I would never," he says gravely.

"Oh my god," Renjun breathes in disbelief. "How dare that little shit lie to me," he curses, but his eyes are glowing with almost manic happiness, face flushed with obvious pleasure.

Renjun leaps out of his chair so fast it almost topples over. "Thanks. I'm leaving first. Can you settle the bill? Laters."

Before Jaemin can open his mouth, Renjun is halfway across the room. "Hey, what about your drink?" Jaemin gasps after him.

"You can have it!" Renjun calls back generously, not even bothering to look back, as if he's picking up the tab. Jaemin lifts his middle finger discreetly towards Renjun's retreating back.



Jaemin finishes the drinks, feeling self-conscious and alone, then fishes out his phone to dial Jeno, feeling a little buzzed. Jeno picks up after a few rings, but he sounds preoccupied as he says, "Jaemin-ah?"

"Jenoyahh,” Jaemin slurs, giggling. Jeno sounds hassled but obviously pleased to hear from Jaemin. He must be busy at work. "Where are you?"

"In my office," Jeno replies after a pause. "But, uh, Jaemin --"

"Please, Jeno!" Jaemin hears a disembodied voice over the phone. A male voice. His stomach drops.

"Oh my god," he whispers, sick comprehension dawning on him. "Are you cheating on me?"

"What? No! Jesus, Jaemin, how could you even think -- Can you shut up a minute, Renjun-ah?" Jeno's voice switches from dulcet to sharp in an instant, and Jaemin stifles a sigh of relief at the name. "Can't you hear whose voice it is?" Jeno complains, and on further listening Jaemin can indeed recognize Renjun's trademark throaty tones. He feels ashamed for jumping to conclusions so hastily but relieved.

"What is Renjun doing there?" he demands, bewildered. "I just met him."

Jeno exhales exasperatedly. "That's my line. You must know why he's hounding me for Donghyuck's number then."

"Just give it to him," Jaemin orders as he hears Renjun's voice continue pleading plaintively in the background. "I'll explain later."

"What?" Jeno squeaks, outraged. "I don't even have it. I only have Mark's. Besides, he can't just waltz into my office in the middle of the day like this and interrupt my work --"

"Jen," Jaemin cuts him off, the endearment making Jeno fall silent.

"Just give him Mark's number," Jaemin says, and when Jeno replies again, his voice is mollified, submissive.

"Okay."



Jaemin finishes the charcoal drawing of Jeno in the fall, a few months after he had completed and submitted the advertising project. Both are equally painstakingly-drawn, but the portrait of Jeno is startlingly intimate, lovingly rendered and infinitely more personal. While Jaemin was trying to capture the look in Jeno's eyes, what had popped into his mind was Jeno on their first night together, that night of Jaemin's birthday. They had been clueless and terrified, clumsy and awkward as teenage boys losing their virginity. They had fumbled into it, all apologies and Are you okays and nervous giggles and sweaty hands and too-loud pants -- but they had fumbled into it together. And that made all the difference.

Jeno had been so sweet, so solicitous and breathtakingly tender as he asked Jaemin repeatedly if this hurt or that or if he was ready and if Jeno could move now. Even then, even when Jaemin had said Yes, please, Jeno had stilled with a remarkable effort, quavering within him, pushed Jaemin's damp bangs away with a gentle finger, and asked, Are you sure?

Jeno had made him feel so taken care of, and then he had undone Jaemin, make him come unravelled in shouts of pleasure whose heights Jaemin had never been taken to. He had turned Jaemin into a writhing, moaning wreck beneath him. And Jaemin had seen Jeno come completely undone too, fall to pieces in a way Jaemin had never seen him lose control before.

It was exhilarating. Mindblowing. Incredible. Jaemin had had no idea that sex could be like that, that male sex could be like that. He had thought it would be something he had to grit his teeth and endure, a necessary pain so he could have a relationship with Jeno. He never imagined that it would become the most thrilling part of their relationship.

And after it was over, Jeno had leaned over Jaemin, bracing himself up on his elbows, and asked so very tenderly, Did I hurt you? His voice was so soft that it brought the prickle of tears behind Jaemin's eyes and Jeno's own tightened in worry and contrition. "Oh God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry." He had rolled off Jaemin, pulling out slowly, and run his hands over every inch of Jaemin's body until Jaemin reassured him that he wasn't hurt but just too happy.



And on other times Jaemin had pushed Jeno down onto the bed (of Jeno's apartment, which he had incidentally moved into indefinitely, commuting to his studio to work in the day) and growled low in his throat, You've been a bad boy, Jen, like the day he had gotten a nasty shock calling Jeno and hearing Renjun saying Please, Jeno.

No one else is allowed to call you Jeno-hyung, Jaemin had commanded unreasonably, voice low, and Jeno's lip had twitched as if suppressing laughter, his eyes glinting wickedly at Jaemin. But why, Jeno had whined, he had so many dongsaengs, what would Jisung and Chenle call him then?

Fine, Jaemin conceded, softening, but only if Jeno called him Nana once.

Jeno's eyes widened. Then they darkened, and Jaemin shivered in anticipation. Nana, Jeno breathed, putting all the worship and desire in the world into that word, and Jaemin was instantly hard.

You like that? Jeno had drawled teasingly, grinding a knee against his cock. It turns you on, Nana?

Jaemin had promptly shut him up with his mouth, and wiped off every trace of humour and impudence from Jeno's eyes as he eased a finger into Jeno's sweet tightness, two, then his own throbbing cock.

Jeno had moaned unabashedly beneath him, sultry and wanton, one arm thrown over his forehead as Jaemin steadily, carefully rocked into him. He felt Jeno open up to him a little more with every thrust, felt how he bloomed beneath Jaemin like a flower opening its petals and then shattered into incoherent orgasm.



Jaemin wonders what Jeno will say, how he will look when he sees the expression in his eyes in Jaemin's drawing. Will he be taken aback? Frightened? Exposed? Will he feel the same way Jaemin feels every time Jeno looks at him with those eyes -- warm, passionate, gentle, hesitant, admiring, conflicted, worshipful, frustrated, hungry, afraid, loving, endlessly falling?

Jeno had stumbled upon the unfinished portrait once, when it was still a work-in-progress. It was propped on the easel by the window in Jaemin's studio, and Jeno had spotted it when he came to pick Jaemin up for dinner after work. Jaemin had been changing out of his painting clothes and he had emerged to see Jeno's hand hovering over the cloth draped over the painting, a second from pulling it off.

"No!" he had yelled, sounding harsher than he meant to. Jeno's head jolted up, startled and confused and wounded. The hurt on his face made Jaemin's chest clench up but he mumbled some flimsy excuse about how it was a failed attempt that he didn't want anybody to see and herded Jeno out of the door.

After that, he had made sure to tuck the canvas out of sight whenever Jeno came around. He had taken on a new job, recommended again by Renjun. His last one had received very positive reviews and feedback and Jaemin's reputation had ascended a rung in the artistic world. The advertisement was now in the post-production stages and Jaemin couldn't wait to see it, as much because he had participated as because it was the product of Jeno's sweat and hard work.



Jaemin had met Jeno in the spring of last year. The autumn leaves are swirling down from the zelkova trees and crunching beneath their feet, the gentle sun bathing their faces and cool breeze lifting the strands of Jeno's hair as Jaemin leads him up to his studio on Jeno's birthday to finally unveil his present.

His heart is beating erratically like the pulse in Jeno's wrist when Jaemin runs his thumb over it and Jeno smiles at him knowingly. Jaemin has dedicated the past few months to learning by heart every miniscule shift of Jeno's expression, the lexicon of his smiles and the language of his eyes, but Jeno still mystefies him like an unsolved mystery, a Rubik's cube. Jaemin thinks of Jeno, how he's both cold and selfless, enigmatic and artless at the same time, and knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life finding out everything about him.

When he tells Jeno this, his face lights up in genuine delight and disbelief. "You've gone soft, babe,” he teases, flicking Jaemin's forehead and turning away but not before Jaemin sees the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Will Jeno ever bare his heart and soul to him, say the three words Jaemin has always been subconsciously waiting for? But as Jaemin looks at Jeno, he realizes that somewhere along the way, it had ceased to matter whether Jeno said them or not. Because even if Jeno didn't verbally express it, he demonstrated it so clearly in his every word and action, the way his voice and face softened when he talked to and looked at Jaemin, the way he smiled -- giddily, brilliantly, uncontrollably.



As they walk, Jaemin confesses to Jeno quietly about how his life had seemed like a dead end, an abyss at the time he met Jeno. But Jeno had shown him that there were in fact many possibilities, an infinite and limitless number, rainbow and techni-coloured, if only Jaemin were brave enough to reach out for them. So Jaemin had trusted Jeno to catch him, and let himself fall.

He didn't know it yet at that time, but Jeno had become his muse, his source of inspiration. And his inspiration bubbled over like a well overflowing with water. He didn't know how to thank Jeno for that.

"You don't have to thank me, Jaemin-ah," Jeno says simply. "At the time I met you, it was a rough period for me too. I was lonely and stressed and overworked, and my last failed relationship had made me a cynic about love. But when I saw you, clothes spattered with paint, wispy and flighty and fragile and beautiful, I had to have you. You opened my eyes, made me see the world in a new way. A fresh way. You gave me the strength to go on and a reason to smile everyday. Most of all, you gave me a home to come back to at the end of the day."

Jaemin blinks, speechless. He picks his jaw up from the ground. And Jeno had called him cheesy. Jaemin opens his mouth to deliver a snarky jab, but the words dry on his tongue at the earnestness and candor in Jeno's eyes. So for once, Jaemin decides not to hide his feelings behind bravado and humour. Instead, he just leans up on his tiptoes to press a feathery answering kiss to Jeno's forehead.



Presently, they arrive at Jaemin's apartment. He had cleaned it up earlier, swept the floor and cleared the mess of art materials from his studio and moved his easel right to the center of it, in the spot of honour. Even though he is proud of his work, Jaemin's heart is still beating furiously as he leads Jeno playfully across the threshold and walks up to the easel, pulling the cloth off to reveal it with a flourish.

When he sees the painting, Jeno gasps. The eleven A.M. sunlight falling through the window hits the drawing in a way that makes the azzurrite of the background shimmer like a window of sky. The colour had been a last-minute addition, when Jaemin had felt something was missing from the black-and-white charcoal sketch and decided on impulse to add a dash of colour. Naturally, he had chosen blue, which was not only one of his favourite colours but also the colour Jeno had come to symbolize to him because it was the colour of the sky, of freedom. Of flying.

Even though blue was a simple and unassuming colour -- indeed, it was one of the primary colours -- it was stunning in its simplicity. Not fancy jewel colours like turquoise or ultramarine or sapphire -- just plain, normal blue, but with the right light illuminating it, it had the power to transform into a powerful, sweeping azure.

And Jaemin thinks that it's befitting of how Jeno had changed his life; how he had walked into Jaemin's life and brought colour with him, lighting up Jaemin's monochrome existence. It's almost like before he met Jeno, Jaemin was colour blind, and Jeno had taught him colour braille.



He had never expected this, Jaemin thinks, walking hand-in-hand with Jeno later on after they have left their apartment, taking a leisurely stroll through the park towards Chenle and Jisung's house, where they have agreed to pick them up. Apparently, they now share ownership of the apartment because Chenle has taken Jisung in as a boarder, and Jisung is working from his home, converting one of the rooms into a live-in studio. Renjun had been more than willing to take him on as a freelance artist because Jisung is (notoriously) renowned among art circles for his free-spirited and unconventional artistic style.

After that, they have arranged to meet Renjun and Donghyuck at the graffiti bar for Jeno's birthday celebration. Mark was the one who had invited them there, saying he wanted to serenade Jeno for his birthday. ("No love songs, though, right?" Jaemin had joked, but Mark had only smiled enigmatically. "Maybe." Jeno laughed gleefully. It gave him a kick to see Jaemin jealous.)

When Jaemin had first met these six other boys, he hadn't expected anything from them. But they had given him everything. The unlikely but inextricable bond that they had forged in the past year had taught him all about friendship, just like Jeno had taught Jaemin what loving a person meant. And the lessons that Jaemin had learnt from all of them were invaluable.



As invaluable as Jeno now, gazing across the length of the table at him with yearning eyes as Mark's mellow, soothing voice washes over them, singing something about being just right no matter how hard I try to find, and look at you again and again. His birthday present for Jeno had turned out to be a set of acoustic covers of Jeno's favourite songs, unaccompanied by the band, just Mark and his guitar sitting alone on a stool on the stage and leaning towards the mic, singing his heart out. His stripped, bare but powerful and pristine voice echoes around the bar, which they have reserved and is empty but for the seven of them.

Jisung and Chenle are sitting docilely beside each other, their incessant squabbling quietened for once, but Jaemin can see from their postures that they are holding hands under the table. In contrast, Renjun and Donghyuck are not as subtle, Donghyuck perching in Renjun's lap as Renjun's arms wrap adoringly around him from behind. They've outgrown the phase when their PDA still looked cute to others, but they're still the most demonstrative and affectionate couple Jaemin has ever seen.

Jaemin thinks of a different life, a different time. He thinks of a life in which he didn’t live in Korea and a life in which he wasn't a boy. A life in which Jeno wasn't a boy; a life in which they both weren't boys; a life in which he was a poet, a firefighter, a barista.

A life in which they're in a band, not an indie one like Mark's and Donghyuck's but one of those Korean pop teenage boybands that are all the rage right now; shackled by fame and convention.

But no matter how many alternate realities Jaemin can imagine, they always lead back to the same road in the end. Because Jaemin cannot conceive of any lifetime in which he isn't devastatingly, desperately and head over heels in love with Jeno.



Mark brings the set to a satisfying end with a soulful rendition of John Legend's All of Me. Jaemin feels like maybe he really is in alarming danger of becoming the stereotypical gay man when he feels the overwhelming urge to stand up and waltz with Jeno, in front of all their friends. Chenle and Jisung would stare at them like they were crazy. Donghyuck would snigger obnoxiously and Renjun would whip out his phone and start snapping pictures, cackling evilly as he plots never to let them live it down. But as Jaemin meets Jeno's mischievously glinting eyes over all of their heads, he knows Jeno would just gamely take it in stride, accept it like he has accepted all the other things about Jaemin, like Jaemin has accepted everything about Jeno.

Mark strums the last, fading chord that lingers in the blanket of cozy silence that descends upon them. Then he stands up and bows to raucous applause and cheers (and catcalls and wolf whistles from Donghyuck). He looks flushed with pride and pleasure as he steps down from the podium and settles down at the table beside Jisung, gulping down a drink thirstily.

Next, they all give birthday speeches except Mark, who everyone agrees has expressed his feelings more than eloquently. Donghyuck clamours to go first, and promptly launches into his usual gags that lighten the mood and make everyone burst out laughing. Renjun goes next, clearing his throat as he reads from a piece of paper and hemming and hawing awkwardly, but Jaemin hears a quickly muffled laugh from Jeno at his adorable bumbling. Chenle waxes lyrical, going almost immediately into cheesy territory with his glib tongue and slick flattery about how great a boss Jeno is and what a joy it is to work for him. Jisung is his patented offbeat and laidback self as he mumbles a few words that somehow manage to sound profound and mysterious.

Finally, it's Jaemin's turn. He climbs onto the stage with leaden legs and turns to face all of them, trembling like a leaf. A bead of cold sweat rolls down his back as Jeno smiles up encouragingly at him, eyes eager and hopeful as he sits back to hear what Jaemin has to say. Jaemin has an even worse case of stage fright than he had feared and his clammy hands fumble in his pocket for the piece of ratty notebook paper he had drafted his speech on.

But when Jaemin finally fishes it out and unfolds it, the words nervously scrawled on it in messy handwriting look hopelessly trite and cliche to his eyes. He can't bring himself to say them.

Who is Jaemin kidding? He knows exactly what words to say to make Jeno smile, to take his breath away, to bring him to tears. It's just that he's been running away, hiding behind contrived platitudes and artificially flowery words, so that he wouldn't have to say the three simplest, most monumental ones.

Jaemin balls the paper up in his fist. The rest of them are gazing up at him in silence, looking slightly quizzical but all smiling encouragingly and patiently at him. Jeno is looking at him with complete understanding and empathy, and Jaemin knows that even if he chickens out and walks off the stage now without saying anything Jeno will just laugh to hide his disappointment and hug Jaemin, whispering It's okay, baby.

From the day they met, Jeno had always been the one to make the first move. He had always not minded Jaemin's passivity, wordlessly forgiving his cowardice and fear of rejection. So maybe now it's Jaemin's turn, to be brave and courageous and take a leap of recklessness for Jeno, put himself out there just once.

"Jeno-yah..." Jaemin starts shakily.

Jeno smiles, a smile that says I know what you're going to say; a smile that says Me too; a smile that says But I want to hear you say it anyway; and so Jaemin takes a deep breath and decides to seize the day.