Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

baby, I know places we wont be found

and they’ll be

chasing their tails trying to track us down

-I Know Places by Taylor Swift

Rusty sheets of metal and scrap, high ceilings supported by old truss systems with moisture ever so slowly accumulating in between its joints and bends. Up ahead, the clerestory windows give the abandoned warehouse an eerie ghost-like glow, desolate, forgotten, perfect for illicit affairs.

Kyungsoo eyes the ceilings warily before he continues his trek up the staircase, one hand against the rough wall because he doesn’t trust the fragile looking railings, ones that look like they might collapse under just one touch. When he arrives in the roof deck’s door—the only one that seems new and undamaged in the god forsaken place—he takes a deep breath.

It has been two months since they last saw each other, but to him, it felt like years.

Unlike what he expected, the roof deck is void of junk and the crumbling structure the rest of the building is made of. Instead, the half walls look freshly painted, no broken glass or unidentified debris dotting the floor. There is also a table in the middle of it all, and just a few meters away from it, a trolley that emits a delicious aroma, he’s sure the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse normally wouldn’t have.

“I missed you.”

Kyungsoo yelps and nearly jumps a meter in the air when strong arms wrap around him and a chin is suddenly slotted against the crook of his neck. When he turns, it is Jongin, smile like a balm that soothes the yearning Kyungsoo has been suffering for the past two months they’ve been too busy to see each other. “Jongin!” he hisses, but doesn’t stop the younger from pecking him on the cheek, and placing a kiss on one of his eyelids, on his forehead, embrace tightening. “You scared me!”

“Did I?” Jongin mutters, a hand cupping one of Kyungsoo’s cheeks. Perhaps, the only upside to their frequent and long bouts of separation is that Jongin tends to get really hungry and for Kyungsoo when they reunite. “But I missed you, Soo. Say it back.” He demands before leaning down to plant another kiss on the corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth.

Kyungsoo breaks out into a laugh and kisses Jongin on the mouth, pulling the taller down with the sleek, black tie around his neck. Kyungsoo vaguely recalls it being one of his gifts, and he grins. “Missed you.” He breathes, giving Jongin another peck on the lips.

They just can’t stop kissing each other.

“What's the occasion though?” Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow as Jongin gently stirs him towards the table. Fetching food from the trolley and smiling when Kyungsoo hums in approval as he fishes out platters of mouthwatering baked salmon and lamb chops, his favorite.

“Just a little surprise.” Jongin gives him an impish smile and sits across him, a bottle of champagne in hand. “It’s been two months after all.” He says as the tip of a shoe nudges at Kyungsoo’s ankle.

Kyungsoo grins as Jongin pours some champagne into his flute. Even though Jongin could have chosen a better place for his surprise, he appreciates the romantic gesture. It is nice, being with the younger after quite some time.

“Were you followed?” Jongin asks him sometime, when they’re tearing through filet mignon and the bottle of Cristal is halfway empty. “On the way here?”

“Yes…,” Jongin takes a sharp breath. “But it’s fine.” Kyungsoo adds on. It had been quite some work to get rid of Dispatch on his way to their meeting place, but it was nothing new to Kyungsoo. For every new tactic Dispatch had to tail him, Kyungsoo had another trick up his sleeve for a quick escape. It has been almost two years of hiding and outwitting the media after all, and he wonders if a time will ever come where they could go out and be merry in peace.

Jongin chuckles, the foot between Kyungsoo’s crossed ankles rising to his calf. “What? They think you’re dating some girl celebrity secretly?”

“Probably.” Kyungsoo shrugs, and smiles. “Ever since that drama with Yoona, I couldn’t get them off my back.”

Jongin hums, the naughty smile on his face accentuated by the rise of his foot in between Kyungsoo’s thighs. The actor internally groans. “Well, too bad.” Jongin murmurs. “Do Kyungsoo’s is mine.”

The opening ceremony of the new luxurious high-rise apartment in Seunso-dong is something the both of them have to attend. When Kyungsoo arrives, a flock of camera-bearing reporters and journalists are already pressed against the barriers lined up on the sidewalk, bulky DSLR cameras frantically clicking away as influential people and celebrities strut the red carpet in pressed, tailored tuxes and fragrant perfumes.

Like a built-in reflex, his eyes search for the one man that matters the most, keeping his small, signature smile plastered on his face when he spots Jongin.

Well I’ll be damned. He thinks, taking in the cut of Jongin’s form against the white façade of the building. His shoulders look broader than ever, the midnight black suit accentuating his narrow hips and lean physique, hair brushed up to reveal attractive features that make the nearby ahjummas and teenage girls scream. Perhaps they think he’s an idol or a celebrity, what with his charming eye smiles, casual elegance and magnetic presence. He looks like a model straight off an Armani runway.

He is devastatingly handsome.

He saunters up the entrance with his current co-star Chanyeol, face placid and cool even though he’s bursting with pride, looking up at the remarkable building Jongin had designed, with its perfect balance of catenary curves and edges, its lofty, almost spiritual-looking ceilings that promise a high-end lifestyle.

His heart skips a beat when Jongin meets his gaze, stomach lurching when the younger’s eyes trail down his body, as if he was being mentally undressed. Suddenly, he feels hot all over, only half-heartedly congratulating the owner of the apartment building because he cannot tear his eyes away from Jongin, can’t quite move or look anywhere else.

“Congratulations Mr. Kim.” Chanyeol greets, and Kyungsoo follows, their handshake lasting far too long, the touch lingering.

“This is a beautiful creation of yours.” He adds, keeping up a pretense of just meeting Jongin.

The younger peers at him through fine lashes and Kyungsoo knows this. It is the look Jongin gives Kyungsoo whenever he teases the elder and doesn’t make him come until he begs. “It should be, I took inspiration from the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

“And what is that?” Chanyeol asks, a hand coming up at the small of Kyungsoo’s back.

“A man, Mr. Park.” Jongin answers, eyes flitting to where Chanyeol’s hand disappears behind Kyungsoo. “The hard planes of a man’s chest, and the lovely bow of plump lips, especially when said man comes undone.” He finishes with a hard smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Jongin murmurs, eyes on Kyungsoo before walking off.

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s eyes trail after him, a quiet kind of bewilderment hanging over the atmosphere.

“What’s with him?” Chanyeol asks.

Kyungsoo subtly shifts to put some space between him and Chanyeol. “I don’t know.” He says through gritted teeth. “He’s probably just weird.”

“What was that?” Kyungsoo hisses when he they enter the men’s room, having snuck out of the small gala arranged for the opening ceremony at his signal.

Jongin crosses his arms and leans on the sink, looking angry, lower lip jutting out and eyebrows pulled together in scorn. “Park asked, I just answered.”

“Yes, but you could have been more subtle!” Kyungsoo snaps, stoping himself from stomping his foot in case he looked like a teenage girl having a tantrum. “Jongin, we can’t. They can’t know. No one can know.”

“Of course, of course. You don’t have to remind me.” Jongin shakes his head, “I mean, we don’t choose to avoid fancy restaurants or the movies for nothing.”

Kyungsoo sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. Jongin has always been like a stubborn puppy, a little hard to sway, but nothing Kyungsoo can’t handle. “Look, Jongin…” he walks closer to the architect so that the tips of their shoes meet, Jongin’s breath fanning over his face. “We already talked about this, right? You’ve seen what they’ve done…to Yoona, to anyone else I’m rumored to be dating.” He rubs Jongin’s arms. “I can’t have any of that hate, any of the treats, directed to you.”

Jongin’s gaze begin to soften, and Kyungsoo mentally cheers. Perhaps, because Jongin never had it in him to resist Kyungsoo, who had been his rock and support during hard times, the man he pined for during their fifteen years of friendship.

“I’m so tired of not being able to do anything about your admirers.” Jongin whispers, turning them around so that Kyungsoo faces the mirror, the edge of the sink digging against his lower stomach. “ I wish I could make you wear some sort of signage, to tell them,” hands come up against the sink to trap Kyungsoo, and the actor’s breath starts coming in sharp inhales and stuttered exhales as the taller’s breath dances on his neck. “That Do Kyungsoo is taken.”

Jongin grips at his jaw and tilts his head to the side to share an open-mouthed kiss. It is lewd and hot, and Kyungsoo can’t help the excitement and anticipation surging through his veins at the thrill of doing something they never would have done, otherwise.

He spares the younger a glare when Jongin fishes out lube from his pants. “You anticipated this…” he says in an accusing tone.

“What? I’m wearing a suit.” Jongin says smugly. “It’s one of the rare times you let me do the fucking.”

“See that, on the mirror, baby?” Jongin whispers against his ear once they’ve come down from their high. He’s still buried in Kyungsoo’s , skin a bit sticky from sweat.

Kyungsoo looks up, and he sees his reflection, the mess his hair has become, the flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the hooded eyes and swollen lips. He looks debauched, well and truly ed.

Jongin gives him a playful smile. “That’s the inspiration for this building.”

Kyungsoo slaps Jongin bicep weakly, smiling all the while when the younger pulls out and gives his a smack.

“You have something on your lips.” Jongin wipes away the stray from Kyungsoo’s mouth with his thumb, pushing the finger past the actor’s plump lips so that Kyungsoo can lap at it.

“All good?” Kyungsoo asks, holding out his arms a little so that Jongin can fix whatever needs fixing.

“Your tie is crooked.” Jongin says, adjusting the shorter’s tie with a gentle smile.

“Yours too.” Jongin stays still as Kyungsoo fixes his tie, eyes taking in every aspect, ever feature of his boyfriend. “I can feel you staring you know.” Kyungsoo reprimands, although there is a telltale blush on his cheeks, his ears blazing red.

“Haven’t I always been? Staring, I mean.” Jongin replies in a dazed tone, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo lips.

This time, Kyungsoo levels him with a firm gaze. “Jongin, control yourself alright? No more blatant flirting, and please refrain from groping me in front of the cameras.”

“I will if Park Chanyeol keeps his hands to himself.”

“For the last time.” Kyungsoo says, hands thrown in the air. “Chanyeol is already dating someone else. And he’s whipped, so quit with the accusations Jongin.”

“Fine.” But the pout is back, and Jongin crosses his arms again, sitting lightly on the sink. At times like this, when Jongin’s possessiveness and stubbornness show through, Kyungsoo thinks he got a child to take care of instead of a grown and mature man for a boyfriend.

“No one can know about you and me, okay? As much as I want us to walk down the streets hand in hand for all to see, we can’t. Not now, when I’ve got too many rabid fan girls who’ll tear down anyone romantically connected to me.” Not to mention, the media, Kyungsoo mentally adds.

There is a pause, in which Jongin squeezes his hip and gives him a sad, wounded look. “Sometimes, I think you value your career more than me.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, and gives Jongin’s neck a light squeeze. “I don’t value my career more than you.” Jongin raises a skeptical brow and Kyungsoo gives him a lasting kiss before leaning closer to whisper, “I just care about you, stupid.”

Kyungsoo leaves the men’s room first, oblivious to the man holding a camera, just around the corner.

The Seoul skyline is engulfed in fog, grey clouds hanging over it at the brink of precipitation. It is dark and gloomy, the smell of damp soil and dank garbage significantly evident in the air. It strangely looks like a movie set for a horror or dystopian film, a picture of death just waiting around the corner, of gunshots and people you can never trust.

But life goes on, like it always has.

The streets still teem with traffic, blue-collared workers are still off to work and make money. Scandals and rumors are still conveyed through hushed whispers in dressing rooms and notes passed in class lectures, through the internet and overheard conversations.

With a shaking hand, Kyungsoo pulls out one of newspapers piled on his coffee table. On the front page, blown up in a size that sickens him, is a collage of pictures from his and Jongin’s (not anymore) secret meet ups.

He reads the bold headline over and over, insides screaming as eyes scan over the pictures. There are photographs of them holding hands, photographs of Jongin back hugging him, or him pecking the younger on the cheek, of them in stances far too intimate for just friends.

These are photographs that cannot be covered up, cannot be excused as two men who really are just close.

Kyungsoo feels sick.

“How is everything going?” Kyungsoo asks Junmyeon, who has on his perpetually worried face. His manager had come barging in early in the morning to break the news, to warn him of the journalists and reporters camping out of his apartment.

“Some brands have pulled out including MCM, The Face Shop and KFC. Director Choi wants you out of his next drama, but someone else offe—“

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What?”

“I was asking about Jongin…what are they saying about Jongin?”

“Oh…” Junmyeon sits across him, expression cautious. “They certainly aren’t happy…that you’re dating. Much more now that…they found out you’re dating…a man.”

Kyungsoo lowers his eyes to the newspapers scattered haphazardly on the table, all containing printouts of him and Jongin. He does not understand why of all the people out there, nourishing love behind veneers of fanservice and indifference, it has to be them caught and revealed, for public consumption, for the vultures to devour.

“I suggest you avoid social media until this dies down. The fans reactions, their words…have been…unkind.” Junmyeon tells him gently.

Kyungsoo nods, the other standing up to check if the reporters have gone and left.

Just hold on. All this will be over. He types unto his phone, sending it to Jongin.

The abandoned asylum has water-stained walls and deteriorating ceilings, ceramic tiles chipping off and the only evidence of life ever having filled it being the bed with unmade sheets and the vandalism on the walls, one I for each day a patient stays. There are crooked drawings of pentagrams and other symbols Kyungsoo cannot identify, disturbing messages crudely written in red crayon and pictures of imaginary friends—or ghosts, he doesn’t know.

This doesn’t bother Kyungsoo anymore, far too used to utilizing abandoned places ever since he and Jongin had been together.  When the latter arrives, they share an embrace, tight, warm, something Kyungsoo has craved ever since the scandal broke out.

“I missed you.” Jongin says for the umpteenth time in their relationship.

Kyungsoo realizes that there had been far too many I miss you’s instead of I love you’s between them in their relationship, and this makes his eyes prick, tears springing unwelcome.

“How have you been?” But he doesn’t need to ask. Traces of the past few weeks are evident. Jongin looks tired, eye bags dark and expression too somber. His skin is tight against his bones, cheeks almost looking gaunt.

“I’ve been fine. Missed you, but fine.” Jongin says, pulling him into a hug again. Kyungsoo’s heart clenches.

He came here with one objective: break up with Jongin, and with it break the younger’s heart.

And he finds that he does not have the strength to do what he ought to do. He can’t utter the words that he’s sure will crush the other’s heart into smithereens, doesn’t have the strength to look into those eyes, those eyes that look at him like he was the sun, only for it to drown in tears.

Perhaps a break up over text would have been better.

He’d know that Jongin is hurt past the pixels of his phone, but he won’t have to actually see it.

“Jongin…,” he starts, and the taller let’s go of him, eyebrows raised. Does he sense what Kyungsoo is about to do? Maybe. Kyungsoo thinks, if the hands tightening around his upper arms are any indication. “We need to—we need to talk.”

Jongin frantically shakes his head. Kyungsoo knows he isn’t stupid, he knows Jongin has already caught on to what he is implying. “No, hyung…” Jongin says, the formality slipping out fast. “I won’t allow you. I won’t allow it.”

Kyungsoo looks down, as if looking at polished shoes against muddy ceramic tiles can make things easier.

It can’t.

Kyungsoo thinks of all the comments he found online despite Junmyeon telling him to avoid it, he thinks about the people doubting Jongin’s credibility as an architect, as if affected the foundations of a building, as if liking fellow men would make beams crumble, a structure to collapse. He wants none of it anymore. He doesn’t want Jongin to be treated this way by the public, he doesn’t want Jongin to receive any of the hate mails he does, doesn’t want the younger to receive phone calls from sasaengs, threatening to slice his throat open or suffocate him.

This, is how he gathers strength for what he does next.

“Jongin. We need to stop. We need to stop this.”

“Soo…no.” Jongin shakes his head, mouth beginning to tremble, eyes going wide, tears leaking at the corners. “No, I won’t allow it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense Jongin!” Goddammit make this easier for me! “Whether you like it or not, we’re over.”

“No.” Jongin says firmly, keeping him in an embrace that doesn’t permit him to move. Kyungsoo wants so badly to stay, but he knows the opposite would be much better, for the both of them. “I know why you’re doing this Soo. I can handle it, I can handle what they say about me. I don’t give a damn.” Jongin murmurs against his ear, tone desperate. “Just please…stay.”

“Jongin, I can’t. Do you know what they say about me? Don’t you have any idea how many endorsements I’ve lost, how they look at me on set?” That’s right, make him think you don’t love him enough. “I love you, but I can’t lose this. I can’t lose what I’ve worked so hard for.”

When Jongin cries, his whole body shakes. His shoulders rise up and sink down, and his face contorts as he closes his eyes and tries to take in breaths that come short, trying to hold back the groans that threaten to come out of his mouth from the pain.

Kyungsoo has always thought that seeing Jongin cry is one of the most painful sights he’s ever seen, and this is what he sees now.

Like what he does in the dramas and movies he stars in, Kyungsoo sheds himself and becomes another person. This time, he is Do Kyungsoo, a heartless and cold bastard, someone who will not be moved by tears.

“Please…let go of me.” He says in a firm tone.

Jongin’s arms fall to his sides restlessly, eyes on the ground as he continues to cry.

“Don’t expose yourself to the public, stay out of the media’s eye for a while.” He takes a deep breath, his chest physically aching. “Please, do not try to contact me.”

Jongin finally looks up, and this is when Kyungsoo chooses to look away. Because the hurt on Jongin’s face threatens to shake his decision, threatens to make him backpedal, and engulf Jongin in an embrace instead. “Take care of yourself…Jongin.”

When Kyungsoo walks away, he doesn’t look back, thinking that if this is how they end, Jongin shouldn’t see any of his tears, shouldn’t see any evidence of his lies. But perhaps, the one important reason he doesn’t look back, is because he might come running back to Jongin, to shower him with kisses and tell him that everything will be okay—more lies.

He’ll be fine, Kyungsoo soothes himself. He’s an architect, he can rebuild whatever I broke in him.

Kyungsoo has always had a routine of sorts. Every day, he wakes up at four in the morning, checks his phone before going out into the kitchen to drink a cup of coffee and review whatever lines he has to recite for his scenes later on. Thirty minutes of this, and he’s in the shower, then brushing his teeth, before he dresses up in a decent attire and waits for Junmyeon to arrive and fetch him.

During this time, he is usually on his phone, poring over various articles and reviews of his dramas and movies, making sure he improves the weaknesses the audience sees in him and dispel the criticisms the next time he acts.

But now that Jongin is gone from his life, Kyungsoo hardly ever touches his phone anymore. He doesn’t wake up anticipating what the day will bring, not when there’s no ‘Good morning’ message flashing on the screen, along with a dozen emojis Kyungsoo would never use.

He doesn’t have the strength to read reviews about his acting, not when there’s no message in his inbox telling him to cheer up, and just prove them wrong.

He fills the gaps Jongin left with more projects and work, because that’s the thing about the entertainment industry.

Bad publicity, is better than no publicity at all.

When Kyungsoo arrives on set, his chest is aching and breathing is somewhat painful. His eyes are heavy from lack of sleep, and his stomach grumbles for it to be fed. He goes through the first few scenes with a lackluster that’s never been there before, but on his sixth scene, just when he’s in the middle of talking to the lead girl, his vision goes dark and he collapses.

There is the pungent scent of medicine and death, the silence in the pauses after repetitive beats, repetitive sounds of machinery in time to the breaths he takes, the pause and sound of his heartbeat. Kyungsoo opens his eyes to bright lights and white walls, and the worried face of his manager, Junmyeon.

“Kyungsoo, are you alright?”

His throat feels parched, tongue as rough as sandpaper, he feels weak too, but nothing can really compare to the gaping hole in his chest, a hole that cannot be stitched, will never heal unless it is filled with caramel skin and eye smiles, of passionate hands and a beautiful mind.

He nods.

He sits up, aching everywhere.

“These are for you…,” Junmyeon hands him a huge bunch of white roses, something he has a hard time wrapping his arms around. It is held together by a simple, white organza ribbon, ethereal, beautiful. “Jongin visited when you were still passed out and told me to give you this.”

“It’s beautiful.” Kyungsoo whispers, thinking how their courtship had started this way, of white roses and small sketches from Jongin, of little lullabies from the budding actor, Kyungsoo.

“It is.” Junmyeon pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “He told me that you should remember the meaning of white roses when you think of him. Soo, what do white roses mean?”

Kyungsoo cracks a small smile.

White roses—means eternal love and devotion.