Chapter Text
Many things in Jisung’s life are gradual.
His growth, both in skill and in height. Mark always says that he blinked and Jisung was taller than him, but it wasn’t like that, really. Jisung caught up to him over time, then overtook him. Gradual.
He’s also grown to love certain members’ needs for constant physical affection, begrudgingly. Not that he shows it—he has to keep his reputation intact somehow—but he shies away from touch less and less, sometimes even seeking it out on his own. He couldn’t say exactly when the line was crossed, because the line is blurry; its sharp edges have been filed down slowly, gradually.
Gradually, he’s learned the value of getting enough sleep at night, and stopping when his muscles begin to give out, and speaking up when the weight of everyone’s eyes on him is too much.
But this.
This is one thing that Jisung can pinpoint the inception of. When it wasn’t, and then, suddenly and with great force, it was.
“Ahh, fuck—”
He’s in the hallway; which hallway, he doesn’t know. It’s dark and could stretch on forever and ever without stopping, but the floor is wood like it is in the dorms, and Jisung is barefoot. He’s drawn to the light spilling from the door like a moth to a flame.
“Yeah, you like that?”
The voice turns his blood to mercury. He swears he has his eyes squeezed shut but somehow he can still see where he’s going, how close his feet are taking him to the frenzied sounds of skin on skin. He thinks his hands are clenched into fists but he can’t be sure.
“Fuck, baby, so good—”
Jisung’s face is hot as his eyes follow the concave of Ten’s spine, down to where Johnny’s big hands grip his sides. He traces the line of Johnny’s wrist up, up, until he reaches his shoulder, then his neck, then his bottom lip. He doesn’t dare look lower where Johnny pounds mercilessly into Ten’s ass but the sound of it is enough to make the mercury in his veins turn to pure fire.
Johnny looks untouchable. From where Jisung stands, he can map the muscles in Johnny’s upper back, how they flex and undulate each time he pulls Ten close to him. He’s seen Johnny shirtless a few times, sure, but nothing like this—nothing close to the way Johnny’s skin shines with perspiration, the way his hips snap forward at a furious pace, bruising. Jisung feels something white-hot burst in his chest, then drip down to his stomach; it travels lower when Johnny lets out a strangled moan, and Jisung brings a hand to cover his mouth as if it’s an amplifier for the sound of his heart beating, every limb of his body filled with static—
Johnny looks over his shoulder, directly into Jisung’s eyes, and Jisung is torn from sleep as a wave of pleasure crushes him completely.
In the half-dark, he comes to. His hips are still pressed up into his sheets, one arm slung over his belly and the other thrown over his head; there’s a warm, sticky feeling in his briefs that has shame suffocating him from every angle. He listens for Jaemin’s breathing in the bunk below him and when he hears that it’s steady he lets out a breath of his own, shakily.
Skin. Mouth. Hands. Johnny’s mouth. Johnny’s hands. Johnny’s hands on someone, on someone’s hips, JohnnyJohnnyJohnnyJohnny—
Jisung shuts his eyes again, but this time, thankfully, he sees nothing. He counts silently to three, then sits up, praying that Jaemin doesn’t stir as he climbs down the ladder and tiptoes into the hall.
He washes his underwear in the bathroom sink as the sun rises and vows to bury unbidden thoughts of Johnny’s naked body where they can’t be found.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Jeno’s hand only rests on the top of Jisung’s head for a second, too quick for him to bat it away. He’s still grumpy and disoriented from a night of fitful sleep, and the last thing he wants right now is banter; despite this, Jeno sits down next to him at the table with a bright smile and Jisung feels a little of his irritation recede.
“Mmf,” he responds with his mouth full. Jeno digs into his own serving of breakfast from their dorm auntie and they eat in silence for a while, listening to Jaemin and Renjun’s distant bickering.
“Ugh,” Jeno says after a few minutes, scrubbing at his eyes. “I was up way too late gaming.”
Jisung snickers. “You say that every morning.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“I’m gonna tell your mom again if you don’t stop.”
Jeno kicks him under the table. “Brat.”
Jisung smirks. Picking on his hyungs always makes him feel better.
Jaemin and Renjun’s bickering grows more heated from the hall and Jisung shares a look with Jeno that has them both smiling. It’s something about Jaemin using Renjun’s toothbrush, which is rich considering that Jisung has heard them fucking each other at least three times over the past week.
“Lover’s spat?” Jeno jokes when Renjun stalks into the kitchen, frowning.
“Shut up,” Renjun fires back, opening a cupboard huffily.
Jisung finishes his breakfast and puts his dishes in the sink, stretching and twisting this way and that, nose scrunching at the pops from his spine.
“We have some time to work on the cover today,” Jeno adds when he joins Jisung by the counter. “I practiced it a little yesterday if you want to try and do it together.”
“Sure,” Jisung replies, nodding. They’ve been working on a JUS2 song in between schedules, mostly for fun but also because the fans have been demanding another dance cover. Jisung figures it might be nice to clear his head with something else before afternoon practice—
Fuck.
There’s that feeling again, like his stomach is in free-fall. The thought of walking into the practice room and facing Johnny head-on makes his throat feel tight—it makes something else tighten between his hips, and suddenly Jisung is slamming on the brakes as that flock of butterflies lets itself loose inside him, fluttering around images of Johnny’s shoulders and ass and thighs—
“Be right back,” Jisung blurts, fleeing the kitchen.
He waddles to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he stares angrily down at the semi he’s sporting.
“Shit,” he mutters, and rubs his hands over his face.
This is going to be a problem.
He manages to will his dick into submission, then keep it down all the way to the company. He thinks about roller coasters, and fried chicken, and moss, and anything else that’ll yank his mind back from that spot it aches to go to. It’s so unfamiliar, this feeling about Johnny; Jisung sees him all the time—hangs out with him alone, even—and has never once contemplated how it would feel to watch him fuck someone else.
He knows now. It feels like a slippery, squirming thing in his gut, one that’s equal parts discomfort, curiosity, and total intoxication.
“Sorry,” he says for maybe the fifth time since he and Jeno started—their attempts at getting this step synchronized have begun to blur together.
Jeno crouches down, wiping sweat from his hairline. “It’s okay. If you’re not feeling up to it today we can just quit for now.”
“No, I am, I just—”
Jisung makes a frustrated noise. His body isn’t doing what he wants it to; he’s putting all his energy into his mind instead, trying to keep it civil. He can only go so far on muscle memory, and Jeno must be able to tell that something is off.
“I want to get it right.”
Jeno shakes his head. “Take a break. I don’t want you to burn out before unit practice.”
He goes to the corner to retrieve his water bottle, leaving Jisung scowling in the middle of the practice room. He tries the turn one more time in front of the mirror and gets it down perfectly, maybe out of spite.
“I’m gonna go meet up with Nineties Love unit,” Jeno continues, making for the door. “Catch you later?”
“Yeah, see you.”
Jisung stands there with his hands in his pockets for a few moments more after Jeno leaves, absently checking his phone. He plays the song from it and tries the sequence again; the moves are all there but he’s jerky, robotic.
He can’t figure out why the dream has thrown him so off balance—he’s wanted people before, countless times. He’s not new to the feeling of all the blood rushing to his dick when a certain someone touches their leg to his, or gives him a hug that lasts a little too long.
But there’s something about Johnny, whom he’s looked up to for years and years, and the particular taste of Jisung’s attraction to him. Which, in itself—Jisung’s attraction to him—is brand new. It feels forbidden. Illicit.
He gives up on the routine and showers before his vocal lesson, which he floats through in a daze. Afterward he finds himself back in the practice room, then breaks for lunch with Chenle, then, after realizing that he’s fifteen minutes late, sprints to the practice room despite the twinge in his knee to find everyone waiting for him.
In the chaos of apologizing profusely to his members and the choreographer, he almost doesn’t notice it.
He makes it through ten minutes of practice, in fact, before he even looks in Johnny’s direction. By then, he’s been resisting for far too long and the urge is killing him; he wants to test just how much this burgeoning attraction affects him, if out of nothing else than sheer curiosity.
But when he finally does glance in Johnny’s direction, he feels his chest constrict. There’s a hickey on his throat, dark purple and clearly fresh.
Jisung looks over at Ten, who’s listening intently to the choreographer. Jisung can’t pick out any exposed marks on him but it brushes against that same obsessive part of Jisung’s brain anyway, the part that sends flashes of slick skin and echoes of desperate moans ricocheting off the inside of his skull. He shudders, cheeks burning, and directs his attention elsewhere.
“Care to tell me why you got up at four a.m. this morning?” Jaemin asks him when they’re on break. The two of them are sitting on the couch in the little concave of the practice room, sharing snacks.
“Nightmare,” Jisung lies without hesitation. He’s been preparing for this question all day—it’s a credible answer, and one with evidence to back it up. “Couldn’t go back to sleep.”
Jaemin frowns. “That hasn’t happened in a while.”
“Yeah, well.” Jisung pleads his hands to stay still. He’s sure he’s blushing. “Must be the stress.”
Jaemin drops it, but Jisung is still on edge until the end of practice. It’s impossible to keep his gaze away from Johnny; he’s like a magnet, and the harder Jisung tries to distract himself, the stronger his desire is to look at him. With each glance, he finds something new: the way his jaw curves in slightly before jutting out at his chin, the sharpness of his eyes when they cut across the room. These are things Jisung knows, and knows well, but with the heat growing in him all of Johnny’s details leave him breathless.
When he’s gathering his stuff, he catches Johnny looking back at him in the mirror—it’s brief, just a flick of his eyes, probably not more than half a second long, but it makes lightning strike in the pit of Jisung’s stomach. It’s never done that before. God knows how many times Johnny has looked at Jisung over the years, but it’s never done that before.
“Yah,” Jeno says, nudging him with his knee. Jisung looks up from where he crouches on the floor, frowning. “Game tonight?”
“Maybe,” Jisung replies. He’s still distracted from the look on Johnny’s face. “I’m kinda tired.”
“Might make you feel better.”
“Maybe.”
He looks over his shoulder at Ten, who’s got one hand on his hip as he talks with Jungwoo. Jisung still can’t figure out if his dream was some sort of subliminal message from a bored, spiteful sex god—and even so, why Ten and Johnny sleeping together would bother him so much.
“Well, let me know later.” Jeno nudges him once more and then leaves, throwing Jisung a ‘v’ sign over his shoulder.
Jisung finishes gathering his things and stands up, heaving a sigh as he shoulders his bag. He’s ready to go home and pass out for a few hours, give his head a break from all of the mental gymnastics he’s had to put it through. But before he can leave the practice room someone comes up behind him, placing their hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, you all right?”
Jisung startles at Johnny’s voice and turns around to face him, trying desperately to act normal.
“Uh, yeah. Why? Is something...up...with you?”
Johnny shakes his head, a peculiar smile on his mouth. “No, I just noticed that you looked a little scattered today.”
“Oh, I’m fine. I had a nightmare last night, actually.”
“Ah, I see.” Jisung’s throat goes dry as Johnny raises a brow. “Well, if you ever need anything, or want to talk about it—”
Ten glides in then, with his graceful hands and honeyed eyes, and takes hold of Johnny’s arm. Jisung’s stomach twists as he looks at his feet.
“Hi,” Ten says, “you promised me hotpot.”
Jisung glances back up just in time to catch Johnny smiling at Ten fondly. He bites down on the sides of his tongue.
“I did, didn’t I?”
“Sorry, Jisung-ah.” Ten reaches over to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “I gotta steal him for now.”
“Yeah, I-I’ll...” Jisung swallows thickly. “...catch you later.”
Johnny grins over his shoulder as Ten drags him off. “Catch you later!”
Jisung watches their backs. Johnny’s got his arm around Ten as they flounce away, slung nonchalantly over his shoulders; they’re so effortlessly close and while it’s never bothered Jisung before, it bothers him now. Sometimes it feels hard to get to Johnny, even when he’s being friendly and warm; there’s always a layer that Jisung can’t get past. Ten passes it easily. He always has.
Ten laughs at something Johnny says once they’re out of earshot, and Jisung finds himself desperately hoping it’s not about him.
He thinks again about Johnny’s eyes when he was talking to him. They hadn’t left his for a second—had they always done that? Johnny’s attention has forever felt like something to bask in, but today it burned like a brand, like the point of a knife, like Jisung’s skin when he woke up this morning on the tail end of an orgasm that ripped through him like a wildfire. He clears his head, or attempts to, as he focuses on the too-white ceiling lights in the hallway.
And so it starts. Jisung dreams about Johnny locking eyes with him as he fucks his best friend into next Tuesday and something, somewhere, shifts irreversibly.
•••
“Oh, yeah, right there—fuck, just like that—”
Johnny removes one hand from Donghyuck’s hip to card a hand through his own hair; it’s getting long enough again that it tickles his nose and he doesn’t want to sneeze all over Donghyuck’s back. This was supposed to be a quick fuck but Donghyuck is only at his moaning-like-a-pornstar-because-I-like-the-sound-of-my-own-voice stage which means his genuinely-can’t-form-a-coherent-sentence stage is a good five minutes out even if Johnny does play his cards right. Johnny’s got somewhere to be, dammit, and at this point he’ll still be late if he skips a shower.
“Harder,” Donghyuck moans, “c’mon, fuck me like you mean it—”
Johnny grips his hips and quickens the pace, planting one foot on the bed for leverage. After a quick burst of punishing thrusts that make Donghyuck cry out, he lets go with one hand again to check his Apple Watch—shit, already almost eleven. A text message pops up from Ten, just a single question mark, and Johnny wonders how one text character can be so knowing, condescending, and fake-innocent all at once; he should probably tell Ten to start without him but he knows that’ll only earn him dirty looks from both him and their choreographer.
Really, Johnny shouldn’t have agreed to a quickie in the first place, it was too much of a time crunch—he starts mentally composing a snide message to Ten all the same, watching as another text comes through containing only an eye-roll emoji.
“Seriously?”
When Johnny looks up, Donghyuck is peeking over his shoulder in annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” Johnny replies. “I’m gonna be late, I have to go.”
Donghyuck huffs a melodramatic sigh and collapses on the mattress as Johnny pulls out, tossing the condom into the trash between their beds.
“I get that this was supposed to be a skeet and retreat, but...” Donghyuck rolls onto his back, erection already flagging. “...I was kinda banking on the ‘skeet’ part.”
“Sorry,” Johnny says again, pulling on a pair of grey sweats from the floor. He leans over the bed to plant a kiss on Donghyuck’s lips. “I’ll make it up to you?”
“Don’t bother,” Donghyuck says. “I have a date with Ilie-hyung tonight. He’ll treat me better than you ever will.”
Johnny places a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
Donghyuck just scoffs and stretches like a cat. Johnny lifts his arm to give it a sniff, then grimaces and pulls off his shirt for a clean one.
“Good luck hiding that,” Donghyuck says, gesturing to his neck.
Johnny freezes. Hurriedly, he brushes his fingers against his throat. “Hiding what?”
“Before you say anything, I didn’t mean to,” Donghyuck says, rolling onto his side. “S’not my fault you’re so biteable.”
“Shit,” Johnny hisses, looking in the reflection of his phone screen. There’s a blotchy red mark in the hollow of his throat that he doesn’t have nearly enough time to cover up. “What the hell, Hyuck?”
Donghyuck throws up his hands. “Was it a bad thing that I got caught up in the moment? You certainly didn’t.”
Johnny sighs. “I told you, I’m sorry—look, I—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Donghyuck jerks his head toward the door. “Aren’t you late or something?”
Johnny frowns. “I—yeah. I won’t see you later, I guess.”
“Guess so.”
“Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?”
“Oh, we will,” Donghyuck replies, giving Johnny a smirk that says he and Taeil will be shaking the walls later. Johnny just smiles, rolls his eyes, and grabs a sweatshirt on his way out.
“What the fuck is that, John?” is his greeting from Ten once he reaches the practice room. Ten’s eyes are glued to the base of his throat, and frankly, Johnny didn’t get enough sleep to deal with all of this.
“You know what it is,” he responds. He leaves his hoodie at the edge of the room and swings his arms from side to side in a poor imitation of a stretch. “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction.”
“Oh, but you already have.” Ten laughs and follows Johnny to the floor. “Although, you’re actually not the last one here. We’re still waiting on Jisung.”
“Jisung? He’s never late.”
Ten shrugs. “He is today. Maybe it’s something in the air.”
Johnny ignores Ten’s pointed look at him. “I know he was having some problems with his knee the other day.”
“Poor baby. I hope he’s not overworking himself.”
Ten stretches comfortably into a middle split, resting his chin on his hands. An insufferable grin spreads until it overtakes his entire face.
“But really, like, are you fucking a leech or something? ‘Cause—”
“—Dude, shut it.”
They wait another five minutes before Jisung comes bursting into the practice room, wincing and favoring his right knee. He immediately launches into a winded apology, which is met with coos from most of the hyungs and a slightly reprimanding smile from the choreographer.
“Glad you could join us,” she says, and Jisung blushes as the practice room fills with kind laughter.
“Sorry,” Jisung says again, and as practice starts, Johnny keeps an eye on him.
It’s then that he notices it.
Jisung keeps glancing at him; quickly but often enough that it’s impossible to ignore. Johnny tries not to let him into the fact that he notices, because Jisung seems almost nervous, like he’s watching for something that Johnny might do. For someone so bubbly, Jisung can also be skittish, and the last thing Johnny wants to do is spook him.
“What’s up? You’re being quiet.”
Johnny looks back at Ten, lips pursed. They’re sitting on the floor while the group rests, chatting idly around the practice room. Jisung is over with Jaemin on the couch, and while he’s fidgety on a good day, the scratching motion of his hands on the fabric of his pants is a little out of the ordinary.
“Mm...” He shrugs. “...Just distracted.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping again? I can always come over if you need company.”
Johnny snorts. “If you’re trying to get me to have sex with you, forget it.”
Ten rolls his eyes. “For once I’m nice to you, and you clown me.”
“For once.” Johnny grins. “So, you admit it?”
“All right!” Their choreographer calls. “Let’s run it again.”
Johnny and Ten take their places among the rest of the group. As they begin to dance, Johnny catches himself watching Jisung right back; he’s right, Jisung’s normally fidgety, but he seems just as distracted as Johnny feels. Every once in a while, Jisung’s nose will scrunch up like he’s frustrated with himself. He keeps looking at him—luckily, Johnny is quick and manages to look away just before their eyes meet. But it nags him through the entire length of practice, the way Jisung’s gaze can’t keep away for more than a few minutes. The way Jisung chews on his lower lip until it’s pink and swollen.
“Hey. Earth to Johnny.”
Ten shakes Johnny out of his thoughts. “Huh?”
“I asked you if you texted your mom yet.” Ten brushes his hair out of his face and laughs. “What is your deal today?”
Johnny laughs along with him, although nerves crowd his stomach. “I’m tired!”
“We’re all tired. You’re not special.”
Ten leaves it. The rest of practice goes relatively smooth; Johnny goofs around with Yuta and retraces steps he learned over a year ago, now. He tries to shake off the weird energy that’s stuck to him ever since he noticed Jisung constantly looking his way, because it’s odd—they’ve been closer than ever lately, and Jisung is usually comfortable around him, relaxed. But Johnny just can’t be imagining the fact that things feel off. Jisung must have something on his mind.
He continues to observe Jisung from afar, still careful not to alert him. Jisung has continued to get more and more confident throughout the year, sharper and increasingly fluid in his movements all the time. He really is an incredible dancer, even on an off day, and some part of Johnny is envious of the easy way his body flows through the steps like it’s made of water.
But he’s clearly not himself today. Occasionally, Jisung will scrub his hands over his face, looking stressed; several times Johnny notices him startle at someone speaking from behind him.
He follows Jisung to the door after practice, hoping to learn what has him so on edge, and predictably, Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin.
“You all right?” Johnny asks him, one hand still on his shoulder.
“Uh, yeah.” He’s clearly nervous. Jisung’s hands have always been telling, and right now they’re rubbing grooves into the fabric of his pants. “Why? Is something...up...with you?”
Johnny shakes his head. “No, I just noticed that you looked a little scattered today.”
Jisung’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Oh, I’m fine. I had a nightmare last night, actually.”
“Ah, I see.” That’s definitely not the answer Johnny was expecting. “Well, if you ever need anything, or want to talk about it—”
Then Ten bursts into frame and insists that they go to dinner, and Johnny lets himself be led out of the practice room by one hand, calling back over his shoulder. He doesn’t plan on giving Jisung’s behavior any more thought, but when they’re exiting the building, Ten asks:
“What were you two talking about?”
Johnny shrugs. “Nothing, really.”
And, purely out of curiosity, he replays the conversation over again, then one more time after that. It's well-known that Jisung can’t lie to save his life—Johnny could spot it from a mile away even if he wasn’t familiar with how Jisung looks when he’s hiding the truth.
Johnny decides it’s best to stay out of it. He calmly shelves the thought and doesn’t bring it out again for the rest of the night, or the night after that.
•••
It’s not uncommon for Jaehyun to sit down next to Johnny on the couch, put a hand on his thigh, and ask Johnny to fuck him; despite this, Johnny senses something different when the actual deed is being done.
“Johnny,” Jaehyun moans when Johnny pulls their bodies together flush. They’re on their knees on the bed, Jaehyun’s back to Johnny’s front, and Jaehyun is turning his head to ask for a kiss.
Johnny’s generally not one for kissing after the foreplay is over and done with, not with people he’s fucking casually. He indulges Jaehyun anyway with a few quick smacks to his lips because he’s clenching around Johnny’s cock, and Johnny’s about to lose his mind, but Jaehyun’s cheek stays pressed to his and Johnny has to focus hard on how good his dick feels before he can overthink himself right out of his erection.
There are people that he can do intimacy with. And sometimes Jaehyun is one of them—he has been one of them in the past, but the last few times they’ve ended up in bed together Johnny has noticed Jaehyun holding him a little closer, saying his name a little too desperately.
Johnny doesn’t feel cornered yet, but he knows a few more times might make him start to.
Afterward, they lay side by side as Jaehyun’s eyes flicker down to Johnny’s lips, but Johnny doesn’t appease him this time. He gives Jaehyun a smile and, albeit guiltily, sits up to get dressed again.
“Sorry, I’m super tired,” he says, tugging on his shirt. “I think I’ll probably just shower and go to bed early tonight.”
Jaehyun nods but doesn’t say anything. Johnny can tell he’s disappointed but he can’t let Jaehyun get the wrong idea.
“Was it good?” He asks instead. “Did I do okay?”
Jaehyun huffs a laugh. “Yeah. It was great.”
“Good.” Johnny smiles, buttoning his pants. “Walk you out?”
“Uh, nah, I’m okay.”
Jaehyun follows suit, dresses slowly with a pensive look on his face. He stops at the door to Johnny’s room, giving him one last hangdog look, and Johnny’s not that much of a monster—he crosses the room to peck Jaehyun on the mouth before he goes.
“See you,” Jaehyun says, looking slightly less like a kicked puppy.
“See you,” Johnny replies, and heaves a giant sigh once he shuts the door.
He wraps his arms around himself loosely, glancing around the room. He stretches, cracks his neck, and pulls out his phone, diving onto the bed with practiced ease; he’ll shower later, closer to when he actually plans on going to bed.
He’s satisfied with the sex life he’s carefully built—a couple rotating partners and a reputation for being open to members or managers who need a stress release. Sometimes he thinks about what it would be like to let someone hold him as close as Jaehyun wants to, or say his name just as desperately, but...
Johnny rubs his eyes, rolling over. It’s easy like this, no stress, no drama. Just Johnny and the decisions he makes by himself, for himself.
His worries about Jisung are hauled up from the back of his mind when they cross paths again during practice, and when it’s immediately apparent that Jisung seems to be even more agitated than before.
He’s definitely avoiding Johnny now. But he still gives him those weird looks, and Johnny can’t help but wonder if Jisung is angry at him for doing something insensitive. Johnny runs through every interaction they’ve had over the past couple weeks a hundred times while he dances but nothing sticks out, and eventually he decides to approach Jisung again, regardless of his skittishness.
“...think I’ll just grab something from the cafeteria,” Jisung is saying to Jaemin at the end of practice, and Jaemin cuffs him in the arm.
“Don’t come home so late this time,” he says.
“But what if I want to practice more, Eomma?”
“Hey, I was thinking of getting dinner too,” Johnny cuts in. “Do you want to go together?”
Jisung pauses, his eyes flicking over to Johnny. He glances at Jaemin again before answering hesitantly.
“...Um, sure.”
Jaemin cuffs him again. “Yah, Jisung-ah!”
“I mean—yes! Yeah.” Jisung dodges Jaemin, nose wrinkled. “Of course. Are you going now?”
“Yeah, I was just about to head down.”
“Okay.”
Jaemin bids them goodbye and Johnny waits while Jisung finishes packing up his things. They head down to the cafeteria as Johnny tries to make conversation, but Jisung seems withdrawn and jumpy.
“I managed to land on a horse in Breath of the Wild,” Johnny says. “Like, straight from the glider. Like we were talking about the other day?”
Jisung smiles distractedly, blinking at him. His eyes look puffy and the skin around them is darker than usual; Johnny remembers his troubles with nightmares and frowns under his mask.
“Did it look cool?” Jisung asks.
“Yeah. It took, like, twenty minutes to get it right.”
Johnny tries not to push any more conversation as they move through the cafeteria and grab a table with their food, but he can’t help making a few stray remarks. He hasn’t been alone with Jisung since he started acting weird, and he’s not used to Jisung’s timid response when he cracks jokes.
“How are you feeling about the choreo?”
Jisung nods, his mouth full as he chews slowly. Johnny waits patiently for him to finish and flash a brief quirk of his lips.
“Good,” Jisung replies. “It’s not really the hardest choreography out of everything, so.”
“Well, you can breeze through pretty much anything.”
Jisung blushes and looks at his lap. Johnny smiles, pleased.
“The concert’s coming up,” Johnny continues. “What is it, three months?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Me neither.”
Johnny resists running his tongue over his teeth in frustration. Jisung, despite his introverted nature, is usually a charming conversationalist; Johnny has talked with him about everything from recreational drugs to urban legends to capitalism. But he’s shut tighter than a frightened clam as he sits across from Johnny meekly, focused on his food.
“You’ve got...”
Johnny trails off, gesturing to the same spot next to his mouth where Jisung has a grain of rice stuck to it. Jisung raises his hand to his face on the opposite side and Johnny shakes his head, tapping his cheek more insistently.
“Other side,” he says.
Jisung moves to the other side of his face but he’s still much too far out, and Johnny shakes his head again, gesturing to the patch of skin right next to his lips.
“A little—a little more in—”
Jisung’s finger moves again.
“No, too high—hold on, just—”
Johnny leans forward and reaches across the table, thumbing the piece of rice away. He smiles, satisfied, but by the time he leans back again Jisung’s face has gone the brightest shade of pink that Johnny has ever seen.
“Am I embarrassing you?” Johnny asks teasingly. “Are you embarrassed by your hyung?”
He watches the muscles in Jisung’s jaw tighten, and for a second he’s worried he’s gone too far. He was hoping to relieve some of the tension but instead Jisung averts his eyes, drawing in on himself a little.
“Sorry,” Johnny says. “I’m just trying to cheer you up, Jisung-ah.”
“It’s okay,” Jisung blurts. “That’s really nice of you, I just—I’m sorry I’ve been acting so weird—”
“No, no, that’s fine. You’re fine.” Johnny tilts his head to the side. “I’m worried about you, Sungie. Is something going on?”
Jisung’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Nothing’s going on,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, Hyung.”
“It’s hard not to when you put it like that.”
“I mean it,” Jisung insists. “I’m fine. I’m just not sleeping well and it’s making me feel weird.”
“Okay.” Johnny gives him a long look, which Jisung breaks after a few moments. “But if you ever do have something you want to talk about...”
“I will. Thank you.”
He clears his throat and looks downward for a second, leg jiggling. Then he turns his eyes back to Johnny.
“Also I think, um, I’m going to stay and practice a bit more. So you don’t have to wait for me if you’re done.”
Johnny smirks. “You really don’t listen to your hyungs at all, do you?”
“I do!” Jisung pouts and Johnny laughs, drawing a small smile from Jisung’s mouth. “I do,” Jisung repeats. “I just want to be alone for a while. And not that—I mean, I’m not telling you to leave, or saying that, like—that I don’t appreciate—”
“I get it, I get it.” Johnny rises from the table. “I can take a hint.”
“No, I swear, I’m not trying to kick you out right now, I—”
“Jisung.” Johnny meets his eyes. “Really. It’s fine. Just don’t get home too late—I could tell Jaemin-ah was serious about scolding you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Enjoy your alone time,” Johnny says, as sincerely as he can. “I’ll see you at practice.”
“Okay,” Jisung says. “Thanks for dinner.”
“No problem.”
Johnny leaves the table with more worry in his gut than he sat down with, eyebrows drawn together. He can’t put his finger on this type of Jisung anxiety—he’s familiar with a few others, like when Jisung is having stage fright, or when he’s worried that he’s not working hard enough, or when someone in the group is getting calls from sasaengs—but the way Jisung is acting now is so unusual that Johnny can’t tell what it means.
He walks back to the dorm with his hood pulled up and his hands in his pockets. This time, no matter how he tries, he can’t shove the thought to the back of his mind.
•••
Jisung is in the hallway again. Except, this time, he starts right outside the door.
It’s open just a crack, maybe a few millimeters, but the sounds filter out loud and clear, right to where Jisung stands. It’s one voice this time, and there aren’t any terms of endearment. Just...
“Fuuuck...”
A drawn out groan that Jisung would recognize anywhere now, one that’s wormed its way into his head and dug out a sizable spot for itself. Johnny in the throes of pleasure. No mistaking him.
Jisung blushes at the slick, repetitive noises that paint a pretty picture of exactly what’s going on behind that door. Something in his gut is telling him not to open it—to leave things be and turn back to the inky nothingness of the hallway, running down it until he’s no longer able to see his hands in front of his face.
But he doesn’t listen, because something stronger and deeper down is telling him to look, that he has to look, that this glimpse might just be the most important glimpse of his life. So, as quietly as he can, he takes hold of the door and teases it open.
The picture is pretty, yes, but it’s nothing short of absolutely debauched.
Johnny is still mostly clothed, sitting on his bed with his back against the wall; his sweatpants are pushed down to his upper thighs and he strokes himself at a steady pace. The fabric of his shirt sticks to his skin a little, especially along the line of his sternum where Jisung imagines his sweat collects. Thoughts of taking the fabric in his mouth fill Jisung’s head as his eyes drop to the head of Johnny’s cock, shiny and red and leaking all over his hand; Johnny’s perfect front teeth dig into his lower lip while he runs his thumb over the slit.
Jisung is hothothot, all over, from his chest up to his ears and all the way down to his own dick, which is so hard it almost hurts.
“Jisung-ah,” Johnny breathes, and he’s looking at Jisung now just like he did when Jisung caught him balls-deep inside of Ten. He doesn’t say anything else, but the invitation is there.
Join me?
When Jisung wakes again, he doesn’t have to check his briefs to know they need a wash.