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1
Jongin must still be dreaming.
There is no other possible explanation for the unusual heat of Minseok's hand down the back of Jongin's sweatpants, naked palm on naked ass. Minseok's hand is so small, it fails to wrap around one whole of Jongin's buttcheek. Jongin really likes Minseok hyung, his weighted blanket in a stormy night as the pack piles together in the den, his sturdy yet soft armchair as they gather around a bonfire under the watchful eyes of the stars. Warm and comfortable and floaty, Jongin wiggles closer into Minseok's grasp --
"Ahhh!" shrieks a shrill voice right into Jongin's ear, as Minseok's hand disappears from Jongin's pants.
Jongin's eyes shoot open and he realises he... hasn't been dreaming at all.
"I'm so sorry!" announces Minseok, too loudly at so early in the morning.
Jongin groans. "Go back to sleep," he mumbles, reaching out for Minseok, but Minseok is keeping as much distance as he can from Jongin, lying precariously near the edge of the bed. "Hyung?"
"Fuck, sorry, it was an accident, I swear," babbles Minseok, and Minseok never babbles. "I was asleep. Sorry."
"What are you talking about?" asks Jongin. His eyes threaten to close, but he fights against it. This seems important.
Minseok hesitates. "I, uh, touched your butt?"
Jongin doesn't falter. "Okay."
Minseok's brows furrow, face pinching cutely. "What do you mean -- okay?"
Okay, Jongin's fully awake now. He sits up, mussed up hair covering half his vision. "Hyung."
Minseok blinks. The rumpled bed sheet has left an imprint on his squishy mochi cheeks. Like a chipmunk's. "Yes?"
Jongin sighs. It's really too early for this. "I touch you all the time."
"What --" Minseok's laughter is forced and stuttered, "what do you mean you touch me all the --"
"I constantly use you as a pillow in the den," states Jongin. Not an opinion; fact. Minseok's eyes widen. "I lick your face when you return from hunts because I hate even the stench of prey on you. I scrub your back red whenever we head down to the river, and we were literally just cuddling to sleep! And, um." It's Jongin's turn to hesitate. There is no time for hesitation. "And. Every time we sit around the bonfire, I'm always... practically... sitting on your dick."
Minseok gapes.
"Hyung, come here," whines Jongin.
For a few very long seconds, Jongin fears Minseok is going to abruptly stand and escape -- but relief floods him in buckets when Minseok shifts closer and cages him in his arms, until Jongin can bury his nose in the crook of Minseok's neck and inhale his cool, frosty scent.
"Hyung," mumbles Jongin. His lips brush Minseok's skin.
Minseok's fingers play with the long hair resting on Jongin's nape. "Mm?" he rumbles.
"When are we gonna stop acting like we're not attracted to each other?"
Jongin feels the wide stretch of Minseok's grin against his forehead, and hears the melody of his smile when he says: "Right now sounds about perfect."
↺
2
Minseok is dragging out his shovel, prepared to clear out the space around his doorstep for the third time today when he sees a child in the distance. Waving, almost frantic. Not a child.
"Jongin?" he finds upon closer inspection, grinning down at the teleporter who is buried waist-deep in Ulleung Island's snow.
"A little help?" demands Jongin, a grumpy frown on his face.
Minseok heaves Jongin out of the snow with practiced ease, and not without laughing into the whipping wind when Jongin starts shivering bodily. A hoodie and jeans -- he's hardly dressed for the weather. On the pesky trudge back to Minseok's cottage, Jongin keeps chancing weary glances at the malformed monsters that loom over them ("They're just trees, buried in snow," Minseok tells him. "If you cry, I'm leaving you here.") and his deadly grip on Minseok's hand threatens to carve welts into his skin.
"Ah, home sweet home," chirps Minseok, as he closes the door behind them.
"This trip is always the worst," grumbles Jongin, spite dampened by the chattering of his teeth. The cottage is warm, but he's still vibrating wildly, curling uselessly into himself. "I hate the snow. It's lifeless and bleak. Why do I have to check on you like you're some child --"
The rest of Jongin's words peters out as Minseok's arms wrap around him. He's working his magic, sucking the chill out of Jongin's chest, his face, limbs, extremities -- but he's lying if he says he doesn't also want to simply... touch.
"If you hate it so much here, stop visiting every week then," says Minseok into Jongin's back. He's so broad now.
"It's not like I have a choice," huffs Jongin. "Junmyeon hyung's busy with his cult -- he's some kind of water god now -- and Yixing ge doesn't like that I don't like his tea. Jongdae hyung's idea of fun will literally fry me alive, and he'd rather play-fight with Chanyeol hyung anyway, so --"
"I'm not a child," says Minseok. He rubs Jongin's fingers, massages the stiff muscles. "What's wrong with London?"
Jongin's body calms. The pieces of snowflake on his hoodie have long melted, evaporating into the warmth of the room. A pregnant silent, before Jongin mumbles: "London doesn't have you."
Minseok grins, triumphant. "You're alright," he decides, letting go of Jongin's now-warm body and turning to the pantry. "I'll make you something to drink. Hot milk or choco -- woah!"
Minseok is yanked backwards, against gravity and against his own will, landing on a sturdy chest with an oof.
"A little longer, hyung," demands Jongin, this time into Minseok's hair. His breath is hot, like the soothing burn of his body that now curls around Minseok. It's all the travelling, gears overused, wires frayed and hissing at the ends, black circles underneath his eyes. Ulleung Island, and Minseok, are his cooldown. "Maybe," he says, as Minseok's chest warms and his heart leaps, "I can try one of your sweeter coffees tonight."
Jongin claims one of Minseok's mugs as his own, and leaves his dirty clothes in Minseok's laundry basket. He adds thirty-four new movies and shows into Minseok's netflix list, and stows his sneakers in the back of the cupboard.
He doesn't teleport again.
↺
3
"Let's practice."
They're in Minseok's lovely black Jeep, the driver seat pushed back so Minseok can slouch almost comfortably, and Jongin can fit on Minseok's lap. The rain cascades down the windows like a curtain, casting light and shadow on Jongin's skin, mirroring the trail of purples and blues on Jongin's chest, in the shape of Minseok's teeth. Jongin is already naked. They just have to make sure he knows the words.
"Stop," says Jongin.
"But, baby --"
"I said stop," repeats Jongin, stern and final.
Minseok grins, satisfied, and Jongin responds with a smirk that quickly disappears as he curls into himself. His arms are behind him, locked in place by phantom rope, and his cock stands red and proud against his clenching abs.
"Good," says Minseok. "Ready to start?"
Jongin shakes his head, timid. "No," he mumbles, barely audible, as the rain intensifies. He shifts, like he's trying to unlock the door and stumble out, but his 'tied' hands prevent him from doing so.
"Come closer, baby," coaxes Minseok, digging his hands into Jongin's thick thighs (can't quite wrap his hands around them) and pulling him close -- only for Jongin to twist back.
Too far back, and the honk of the car shocks them both.
"Fuck," murmurs Jongin, under his breath. "Sorry, hyung, sorry."
Minseok lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why? Are you allergic to me?"
"What?"
"You can come closer," says Minseok, yanking at Jongin's legs now. No more slow and steady. "I won't bite. Okay, maybe a little bit. But only in the way that you'll like."
Jongin shivers, squirms and gasps -- and this is exactly how they end up cramped in the backseat, Jongin's cock trapped under Jongin's body trapped under Minseok's weight. Jongin struggles, but it's weak, and he whines, but the rain drowns the pathetic noise, and his fingers claw uselessly against the condensation on the glass.
"I don't want this," stutters Jongin into the upholstery, but he's tight and needy around the movement of Minseok's cock, and when he's not complaining, he keeps panting tiny little ah, ah, ah's. "Please, let me go --"
"That's not what you were thinking when you leered at me from across the room," rasps Minseok into Jongin's ear. There's sweat glistening on his back now, highlighting the beautiful curve of his body, the sinews and the jutting bones. Minseok rakes his nails over the skin, then claws into Jongin's waist. "You can deny it, but you want this more than I do."
"Fuck! Ah -- hyung?! I don't --" Jongin's head knocks against the door with every violent thrust of Minseok's cock, and his back arches sinfully every time Minseok hits just right. He won't show Minseok his face, hiding it and chanting, "Hyung! Min -- hyung! Help! Someone -- please!"
"You hear that rain?" Minseok chuckles, low and mean. "Nobody can hear you."
Time is a blur. It's the deafening storm, and the heady pleasure, and the heat of Jongin's hole enveloping Minseok's cock like a vice. It's the rough drag, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, and the way that Jongin keens when Minseok runs his fingers through his damp hair and tugs.
Jongin is still squirming when Minseok comes.
"Fuck, baby, fuck," he groans straight into Jongin's ear, keeping Jongin close with an arm locked around his torso. He doesn't stop grinding the sensitive head of his cock against Jongin's prostate, until Jongin comes untouched, unhindered, untethered, onto the seat.
"Hyung," sings Jongin, and Minseok wants to drink him. "Ah..."
It's almost cinematic. The pitter-patter of the rain as it slows. The deserted parking lot around them coming into view. Jongin, face down, his ragged breathing and Minseok's cum trickling down the cleft of his ass. Minseok is a spoiled audience.
"Wow, you really didn't stop me," he says, lifting on all fours to give Jongin a bit more space to flip onto his back.
Ruined would be an understatement. Tears streak Jongin's face, and his fringe sticks to his forehead. His lips are red from his own teeth, but they are stretched in a smile more beautiful than anything Minseok has ever seen.
"I kinda," starts Jongin, biting his lower lip again, "wanted more."
Minseok gasps. "Oh, you're sick."
Jongin giggles, and doesn't complain as Minseok lands on top of him. "I like this. Can't smell the new car anymore. Just smells like sex."
Minseok inhales. His face is buried into the dip of Jongin's collarbone. "Mm," he hums, "smells wonderful."
↺
4
No gunshot echoes through the chamber.
The silencer attached to the handgun muffles its noise, but the heavy thud of the body onto the ground is loud, and the blood that splatters reaches the tiniest nooks and crannies. It drips off the ceiling, and rains over the floating peaches of various sizes.
Nothing about this chamber makes sense. There are no barriers, yet they cannot pass. Random objects appear and disappear everywhere and every time, and colour seems to mesh and clash and vanish entirely. Amongst the nine alive, one thing is the same -- eyebags so heavy they put the dark side of the moon to shame. They're delirious. They've been awake too long.
Jongin is seated in one corner, hugging his knees. "I can do it," he chants, "I can do it." Trembling, he reaches across the floor for the knife --
"What are you doing?!" snaps Minseok, hushed but furious as he kicks the knife away -- Jongin watches it slide to the other side of the chamber -- and shakes Jongin's shoulders. Minseok's eyes are sunken. All the caffeine in the world can't rouse him. "I told you to stay here."
"But I wanna wake up," says Jongin. He needs to hurt himself, so he can wake up. "Like you told everyone."
They're stuck in a literal nightmare -- Minseok had brilliantly shared with the group, a good hour ago. To escape, all they need to do is wake up, and nothing wakes you better than pain. It has been an hour since everyone started grabbing the most dangerous objects they could find, desperately trying to hurt themselves before the objects disappear into thin air.
"You'll wake up, I promise," says Minseok, crowding into Jongin's space, barricading Jongin from the cries of frustration, the shrill scream that peters out blissfully with a clean slash of a neck, torn in half. "Just stay here. Stay with me."
An old woman choking on air, and a little boy retching into a pool of his own blood. The peaches are no more -- just blotches of golds and silvers, and a stretch of rainbow across the ceiling. There's an ocean beneath them, lapping at Jongin's feet and kissing his toes, but he cannot feel its waves. The swift crash of a car and a malfunctioning airbag. The driver lies twisted and motionless, mirroring the disfigured body beneath the front wheels. A little girl picks up the handgun --
"Just look at me," says Minseok, grabbing Jongin's face in his hands. Minseok hyung. Beautiful Minseok hyung. "We'll be okay, you hear me? We'll be fine."
Jongin nods. And nods still, as Minseok presses to his side and holds the knife to his chest. In the background, a deafening gunshot -- the silencer has long disappeared. Just the two of them now.
"Hyung?" says Jongin, looking between the knife and Minseok.
Minseok angles the knife to his own chest, pressing into his thin shirt, breathing in and breathing out until red blooms carefully yet surely over the fabric.
"Hyung, what are you doing --"
"They're not waking up," says Minseok. Blood drenches the neckline. "We're not in a nightmare."
"Hyung?" wobbles Jongin. His hands hover in midair, frozen. His mind, feverish and restless, won't let him touch. "Hyung?!"
"It's not a dream." Minseok's grin is gummy. Jongin knows this smile. It's his happy smile. "It's a game. You win when everybody else dies." Minseok positions his hand over the butt of the knife, and plunges.
"Hyu --"
𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 .
𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 . .
𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 . . .
[ 𝙻𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙻 𝚃𝚆𝙾 ]
. . . 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃 !
↺
5
When Jongin walks through the archway that leads him into the interior of Cafemiliars, a bell dings (there is no bell) and fairy dust rains upon him, clouding the air in a dreamy sparkle (where did it come from?!).
Minseok is manning the counter. "Morning, Jongin!" When he smiles, his soft pink gum peeks out.
There's just them in the shop. Them, and a cat with a fluffy coat lying in the corner, basking under the sun filtering in through the big windows. Minseok knows Jongin's name.
"Hi, hyung..." mumbles Jongin. He takes a quick peek at the menu floating above them, before deciding with: "Um, can I have one of the Exploding Chocos please? And thank you."
"Lovely!" There is that gummy smile again. A very pretty contrast against his frosty bubblegum hair. "That'll be five chippers."
"Okay," says Jongin, unnecessarily. He fishes out his wallet and places an acorn chip onto Minseok's open palm. And again. And again. Five chippers. Their skin keeps brushing, and it takes all of Jongin to stop himself from blurting out your skin is so soft -- do you bathe in unicorn milk every night? "There you go." So many unnecessary words.
"Thank you!" chirps Minseok, smiling amicably and bouncing on his feet like he is made of happiness and all the best things in the world. He probably is. "I'll be back in a minute. Sit anywhere!"
"Okay," Jongin says, even after Minseok has disappeared to the back of the shop, "hyung."
Jongin gravitates to the cat. It lounges on one of the seats, so Jongin takes the seat opposite it. The sunrays envelop him in a blanket of warmth, and by some miracle, a drop of dew has caught in its grasp a stray ray and refracted a splash of rainbow onto the cat's fur. There's red and orange and gold on its forehead, and pink and lavender stretching down to its neck. Its tail whacks pleasantly against the low table. It is like Jongin's feelings, captured in a painting; Minseok is like a pretty little cat, and his presence blooms rainbows in Jongin's life. Jongin was supposed to confess today. He even checked the date and everything -- blue moon, for luck. Jongin was supposed to confess today, but maybe his heart will explode before he gets to, like the tiny pockets of sweetness in a cup of Exploding Choco that burst on Jongin's tongue every time he takes a sip. Like a balloon filled with liquid colours, melting into a puddle of rainbow on the floor.
"What," says Jongin to the cat, who's now awake and giving him the side-eye.
"Mrow," says the cat.
"You cats have it easy," Jongin tells it. He folds his arms over his chest, weirdly defensive. "All you have to do is lick each other's faces and get down to the fucking in an hour tops." His eyes widen. "I'm not licking Minseok hyung's face --" He shuts himself up with a hand over his mouth, and chances a glance at the counter -- no hyungs. Phew.
"Mrooow," says the cat again.
"Maybe," murmurs Jongin. He slouches in his seat. All hopes have evaporated. How does he have all the awkwardness in the world and none of the courage? "Maybe, you can tell Minseok hyung I like him and I can dig a hole for myself right outside."
The cat blinks. Slowly, hypnotisingly.
Footsteps.
"Hyung!" Jongin greets Minseok, who jumps a little, jostling the cup on the tray on his palm.
"If I drop it, you pay double," jests Minseok, although Jongin knows it's not a joke.
"Sorry," says Jongin, curling into himself.
"That's alright." Minseok's grin is placating, like bandaid over the gash on Jongin's rainbow. "If you stop lazing around in the sun, maybe I'll finally get you your food."
"Um." Way to rip off the bandaid. "What?"
Minseok laughs. "Sorry, I was talking to Ron." He motions with a nod of his head at the seat across Jongin. "The cat."
"Oh." Jongin lets out a nervous laugh. "You talk to your pet?" asks Jongin, like he hasn't just dumped his entire feelings onto said pet.
"Ron's not a pet," says Minseok. He finally places the Exploding Choco on the table, perfectly symmetrically in front of Jongin's chest -- but Jongin isn't paying attention to it. "He's my familiar."
"Oh." Jongin feels the colour drain from his face, like a cascading waterfall being milked of its last drops of water. "Oh, no." If Ron is a familiar, that means it understands humanspeak. And if Ron is Minseok's familiar, that means -- "Oh, fuck." Jongin jabs a finger at Ron. "Don't you dare!"
But it's too late. Ron, that little shit, shifts on his seat -- the rainbow cascades down his back, a mockery of Jongin's long-dead waterfall -- and paws at Minseok's apron.
"Meow!" chirps Ron, echoing perfectly in the cafe.
Jongin is going to dig that hole right now.
Minseok's pretty lips part, frozen on a vowel. "You," he chokes out, slowly turning to Jongin. Jongin is curling into himself again. If he can't dig that hole, he will make himself as small as possible, drop his head into his palms and breathe in the steam coming off of his cup of Exploding Choco -- hold the fuck up. "You like me?"
"Um," says Jongin. There are letters stamped on the surface of his drink, in the fairy dust that still hangs onto Jongin's shirt and the crown of his head. "My drink says will you go out with me."
Jongin looks up, to find Minseok looking back at him. His cheeks are red, like the butt-end of an apple. His eyes are wide and beautiful, and his lips are pink and kissable. His hands are small, begging to be held. The cloud shifts, and rainbow falls over Minseok's hair, down his face, staining his features. He is made of the best thing in the world.
"Um," says Jongin. His communication skills are especially abysmal today. "I trusted you." He glares at Ron, but Ron has long gone.
It's just them now. Jongin and Minseok. Minseok and Jongin. Jongin and the hyung he loves most.
"Will you go out with me?" Jongin didn't know he had this courage all along.
Minseok grins. There is purple and silver on his hair, and his eyes are a million colours. "Only if you answer my question."
What question -- oh. Jongin's breath is stolen, and there is only one way to win it back.
Jongin's answer is a kiss to Minseok's lips. Plush, and soft, and warm. He gasps. Jongin imagines, this is what fresh snow must taste like, something straight out of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the overwhelming bitterness in a cup of Melting Desire that Minseok loves so much.
Fuck breathing, maybe Jongin will let Minseok have his breath forever.
"Let's go out." Jongin yanks Minseok down for a kiss. "Hyung." Then again, and again. "Boyfriend."
Minseok doesn't stop, not even as Ron paws at his leg, asking for food. Jongin doesn't stop either, not even as his heart bursts (metaphorically, of course, in the best way).
↺
6
"What if we existed in many other universes?"
Jongin is in Minseok's apartment, for absolutely no reason at all. He is hogging Minseok's hard-earned resting period after hectic comeback preparations. Minseok just wants to collapse in his bed, yet Jongin is on the couch beside him, toes poking into Minseok's thigh.
"What?" asks Minseok, distracted.
"What if there was a you and me that existed in another universe? Many other universes?" Jongin asks, with all seriousness on his face.
Minseok's hand rests against Jongin's ankle. "I will find you." He feels halfway into dreamland already.
Jongin smiles, mischievous. "And you will kill me?"
Minseok exhales, slowly, exasperatedly. Sleep has escaped him. "If you quote Liam Neeson one more time, I will kill you."
"Hyung, I enlist tomorrow."
"What?"
"I leave tomorrow," repeats Jongin.
No, Minseok heard him the first time around. He laughs, but it clogs his throat, and it peters out pathetically. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your family?"
Jongin is playing with his fingers, picking at the dead cuticle around his thumb. "Hyung, if we existed in other universes, too --"
"I will find you," says Minseok. "And I will love you."
Jongin swallows. His eyes flit down to Minseok's mouth, but he does nothing more. He drinks Minseok in with his eyes. It's a different kind of torture -- one far, far worse.
"Do you think you can, in these other universes?" asks Jongin, but Minseok knows he means something else. Do you think you're allowed to?
"Yes," lies Minseok.
But a soft smile blooms on Jongin's face. There is a dimple on the high of his cheekbone, one that Minseok dreams of kissing every night.
He ruffles Jongin's hair. "Stay safe out there."
Jongin nods. "Thank you, hyung." His eyes flit down again, straight to Minseok's mouth. He doesn't want. He doesn't need. Minseok's heart is too big for his chest. "Maybe I will love you too."