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Changbin walks out of his ensuite at the Seogwipo mansion, basking in the sensation of showering grime and sweat away after a sesh. He flops his towel over his head, pulling the ends back and forth to dry his hair.
These days, he’s been avoiding the home set up, actually getting into the car and driving to the gym in town, just to have an excuse to get out of the house. Once, this place was filled with a dozen men or more, the loudness of that, the laughter, the bickering. The drama that has threatened their island home. Multiple times!
It’s not like there wasn’t enough space but Changbin did have his reservations about their home security.
Changbin throws the towel in his hamper and moves to his closet, pulling on a pair of plain black trackpants and a singlet. He retrieves his phone, checking for any new messages (none) and ambles down to the kitchen for a protein shake. The house really is so empty. It didn’t feel like that long ago that Chan was bounding down these unfurnished hallways like an excitable puppy, his mouth running a million miles an hour about how perfect this house would be for them. That it was so far away from Seoul, could house all of his family, friends, and some. Have enough space for their music production, and that it had the sea right in their backyard.
Shake in hand, Changbin navigates back to Jisung's studio, assuming he’s in there. Which he is. His fellow bandmate is in complete darkness, only the light of the screen illuminating his small, hunched figure. He doesn’t even hear Changbin come in with the huge, noise-cancelling headphones clasped over his head. Changbin frowns. Sometimes he thinks it would be so easy for someone to rob this place if only Jisung was home.
“Alright Hannie,” Changbin says loudly, flicking all the lights on. “Time for a break.”
Jisung jolts, pushing his headphones half off his head and whipping his neck around to stare at Changbin with large, round eyes. “Jesus fucking christ, you scared the shit out of me,” he breathes.
“When was the last time you ate?” Changbin asks, leaning on the doorframe, raising a brow.
Jisung doesn’t answer, just pouts.
Changbin deadpans him. “When was the last time you slept?”
Jisung makes an even guiltier face. That face might work on Chan but not him.
“Okay, out,” Changbin orders, placing his shake down on the mixing desk and walking forward. Jisung scrambles up into his chair, protecting his computer screen. “I mean it, Han Jisung.”
“No! I just got this topline how I wanted it, give me another hour,” Jisung pleads.
“Your topline isn’t going anywhere,” Changbin says grouchily, grabbing Jisung’s wrist in attempt to pull him away from the computer studio. Jisung makes a high-pitched drowning sound of displeasure, latching onto the edge of the desk dramatically. Changbin rolls his eyes and easily overpowers him by circling around his waist and hoisting him over his shoulders. Jisung’s theatrics continue in the fireman’s carry, even as Changbin has retrieved his shake and kidnapped them to the basement living room.
When he reaches the sofa bed, Changbin performs a pro wrestling style move to flip Jisung headfirst on his back. Gently, though, because he’s a professional. Jisung grunts as he hits the soft cushions and quickly crosses his arms, staring up at Changbin with indignance.
“You look so tiny like that,” Changbin teases.
Jisung kicks his legs. “Shut up!”
Changbin plonks down on Jisung’s stomach, causing a breathy groan to punch out below him. He unlocks his phone with one hand. “Alright, what do you want? Chicken? Jjajangmyeon? Sashimi?”
“I want you to get off me,” Jisung wheezes.
“Not until you decide what we’re eating and what we’re watching,” Changbin says. Jisung tries to push him and Changbin simply grounds his center of gravity. It’s too easy.
“God, you’re heavy,” Jisung says. Changbin doesn’t rise to the bait, keeping his expression carefully content as he idly scrolls through the restaurant selection on delivery.
“Food?” Changbin asks.
A beat.
“Pizza.”
“Movie?”
“Session 9.”
Changbin slides off Jisung to sit on the edge of the sofa, able to cage him in if he tries to run away. Jisung gasps for breath, flopping like a marionette. Changbin passes the remote blindly behind him, the resulting oof sound likely because it just smacked Jisung in the face. “Go on, load up your movie and I’ll order this.”
“This is why you’re single, you’re so fucking bossy,” Jisung grumbles, yet diligently wakes up the television and starts searching through their various subscription services for which one has the movie.
I’m not bossy, I’m a coward, Changbin thinks bitterly, mind filled with thoughts of Felix and what he might be up to right now, thousands of miles away. Changbin can’t even text him. Having a crush on a merman is the worst.
The film is good. It’s exceptional, actually. An awesome cast. Well written, directed and executed. The suspense and mystery of the story are built up throughout the movie but thoroughly explained at the end. Proof that a large budget does not necessarily make a good movie. Changbin feels the urge to get on his social media and let their fans know about this amazingly underrated psychological thriller. It’s been a while since he’s shared anything and management has been on his ass about it, even if they’re on indefinite hiatus right now.
When the movie began, Changbin and Jisung had started out on opposite sides of the couch, munching away on their pizza. They inched closer together as the horror elements intensified, Jisung even clinging onto Changbin’s arm and whimpering at one point.
“That was a really good suggestion, Hannie,” Changbin says, thumb flicking across the remote to make the selection sweep across the apps on the television menu. When there’s a too long pause, Changbin looks down beside him. “Hannie?”
Jisung is still leaning against Changbin, but his eyes are staring forward, glazed over in that way when he’s deep in thought. When he’s on the verge of a spiral.
“Hey,” Changbin says, shifting to give Jisung’s shoulder a little shake. “Han.”
After a second, Jisung blinks a few times, life coming back to his eyes as he looks up at Changbin. His gaze is distant, as if he’d just woken up and wasn’t quite sure where he was. “Mm? What?”
Changbin frowns. “Is everything okay?”
Jisung’s lips pucker, moving back and forth. He seems to be pushing down the threat of tears and Changbin’s chest lurches with worry. “I think Jihyun’s going to break up with me,” he finally admits in a quiet voice.
“Again?” Changbin reacts, turning fully now to face his best friend. “Last time was fine, though.”
“Pretty sure,” Jisung says miserably. “Not even overthinking it this time.”
“Oh, Hannie,” Changbin says, feeling awful. He pulls Jisung into a hug, eternally amazed at the way he can become so small in the circle of his arms. “Wanna raid Chan-hyung’s liquor cabinet?”
Jisung sniffs. Then, in a tiny voice, “Yes please.”
Changbin is determined to cheer Jisung up. At the very least pump him with a couple of night caps before putting him to bed. Ten minutes later, Jisung is nursing his whisky glass, staring into it and swirling the amber liquid as if it will somehow give him all the answers. Then he takes the whole thing back in one go.
“Okay, hyung would’ve killed for you for shotting his expensive whisky but, cool, if that’s how we’re playing it tonight,” Changbin says, tipping his own scotch back before topping up both their glasses.
Jisung doesn’t react to that, just starts to mumble. “Ever since we went on break. I don’t know. I guess she thought we’d be still travelling and staying at hotels and shopping and stuff. I don’t think she expected I would just want to hole up here for months. I’m not– I’m not unhappy. I just feel… burnt out. The thought of a plane right now makes me want to shrivel up and die.” Once they start, the words really spill out unbidden. “She keeps asking me to come on trips out of nowhere. I think it’s a test, like if I say no she’ll dump me.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Changbin says, frowning. “Is she not communicating?”
“It’s not her, it’s me,” Jisung says, shrinking even deeper into his shoulders as he sips at his drink. “I’m avoiding the conversations.”
“Hannie.”
“I know,” Jisung moans. “I’m just… I’m tired, hyung.”
“Hannie, you have to talk to her about this.”
“She keeps asking me about marriage," Jisung blurts out, eyes wet and red. "I'm not ready for that yet! But her family keep pressuring her about it! She'll think I don't see a future with us and then that will be even worse. It will be so awkward.”
Changbin tops up Jisung's glass. “What about your parents?”
“You know them. Also mum loves Jihyun. More than I do I think sometimes. Don't let a good one like that get away, Jisung-ah.” Jisung sighs so deeply it's as if his whole soul is evacuating his body. “I don't even look at my phone half the time these days. I want everyone to leave me alone.”
Compassion squeezes in Changbin’s chest, and he reaches forward to take Jisung's hand in solidarity. With just Changbin and Jisung holding down the fort in Jeju, it’s been hard for them in so many different ways.
“Ah, shit,” Changbin says, holding up the whisky bottle. "We drank a lot." He only meant for them to have a couple tipples each, not drink basically the entire thing. He's starting to feel the effects of it too.
The sound of crying makes Changbin turn, confused. Jisung is sobbing almost uncontrollably, the hand not holding his drink pressed against his face. Tears streak down his round cheeks, clinging to his jawline before dropping away and staining his sweats.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Changbin worries, prying the glass from Jisung's hand before setting it aside. He pulls Jisung into his lap, an instinct he doesn't even question. Knees tucked together against Changbin's stomach, Jisung collapses into him, clinging on and he won't stop crying. “It's going to be okay–”
“Am I ugly, hyung?”
Changbin's brain stutters. “What?”
“Am I ugly? Have I put on weight? Do you think I'm disgusting?”
Changbin pulls back, wanting to look into Jisung's eyes properly. “Where is this coming from?”
“Answer the question!” Jisung moans in frustration.
“No,” Changbin stands his ground. “You tell me why you're asking me stupid questions you already know the answer to.”
“Because we haven't… we haven't… fucked for nearly half a year,” Jisung admits, almost wailing out the confession. “She barely even kisses me now. Am I that unattractive? She wants us to get married but she's repulsed by me, I don't understand?”
“Hannie,” Changbin says softly, framing Jisung's face with his hands. “You are a very hot guy. I'd fuck you.”
Jisung snorts. A coy smirk peeks through, even with the tears still flooding his eyes. “Shut up.”
“I'm serious! You're my best friend. My tiny, yet very attractive best friend who has literal millions of people who wish they could fuck, and I love you.”
“Oh my god, you're annoying,” Jisung complains.
“And you are exhausted. I'm going to carry you to bed very romantically now and you are going to sleep and tomorrow you are going to call Jihyun and talk to her about all this, okay?” Changbin says, fussing with the strands of Jisung's overgrown, unstyled bangs. “I'll be right next to you the whole time, no matter what happens.”
Jisung sighs defeatedly. “Fine.” He glances down at Changbin cutely, his eyes so big and round at this angle. Lovely, warm, brown eyes. “Thank you, hyung.”
Changbin smiles, leaning forward to press a supportive bro kiss to Jisung's cheek. Jisung also leans in, maybe thinking Changbin was going in for a hug. As Changbin turns his head one way, Jisung turns his the opposite and their lips touch.
It’s a brief brush – an accident – over in a split-second.
But the effect is immediate for Changbin, his heart skipping within his chest in shock and confusion. Something hotter, then, curling lower down.
They both lean back slightly, staring at each other with wide eyes.
“Uh…” Changbin says.
It's not like they haven't kissed before, doing stupid shit at an afterparty, like playing spin the bottle or gay chicken surrounded by mates egging them on. But those times, they weren't alone, not with Jisung spilling his heart out about how he thinks he's unattractive and unlovable. Because both those things are so untrue. He is very loveable, and his pouty, plush lips are extremely kissable.
Jisung blinks, eyes round and imploring.
“Please,” he whispers, under a breath.
Changbin doesn't think, just moves forward, closing the gap and bringing their mouths together. Jisung inhales sharply, hands sliding up to bury into Changbin's scalp, gripping at the strands. Changbin can't help the moan that slips from his own throat, anchoring his hands into Jisung's delicate waist and hiking him higher onto his lap. Changbin tilts his chin, chasing the taste of Jisung's mouth, their motions inelegant and messy but full of mutual need that seems unbelievable.
This is his best friend, his Jisung, who he's never viewed as anything more than platonic. That's not the way his body is reacting to his best friend right now, wanting more, more. Two platonic friends should not be kissing as passionately and as fervently like this. They shouldn’t…
Changbin is desperate for a rationalisation. He wonders how touch deprived he is. Honestly, it's been a long time for him too. He’s been physically starved and Jisung has had his mind all fucked up from emotional neglect. That's why this is happening.
Jisung pulls away, leaving Changbin’s lips cold. Changbin cranes his neck forward an inch, chasing it, opening his eyes with sudden concern. The loss is only brief, however, as Jisung only moves to swing his leg over Changbin's lap before sitting back down and picking up where they left off. In this position, their clothed crotches slide together and Changbin shudders, already half-hard in his pants and not getting any softer.
“Hyung,” Jisung gasps, sweet and high, and Changbin bucks up inadvertently. That. That was hot.
No, this is wrong, this is wrong, this is so wrong, chants Changbin’s brain, hands sliding down to Jisung’s hips, tugging him closer still. Jisung moans again and Changbin’s mind spins at how pretty Jisung’s little vocalisations are. How good they would sound hidden deep in a track, so only he knows about it while it plays live for thousands of fans. So good, so pretty, little baby.
“Hannie,” Changbin mumbles, shivering as Jisung’s teeth capture his bottom lip, grazing the flesh. Pulling on it. “Hannie, we’re drunk.”
“Am I sexy, hyung?” Jisung asks desperately. “Please, am I sexy to you?”
Changbin’s resolve is hanging by a fucking thread. He’s not strong enough for this, he doubts one of Chan’s gods would be. He needs to stop this. It could cause a massive, irreparable rift between the band, or their friendship. Changbin doesn’t want to be complicit in Jisung cheating on his girlfriend… but he can’t leave Jisung hanging like this, not when Jisung’s self-confidence has suffered so much.
Jisung deserves to know how desirable he is. He deserves to believe it.
So, Changbin pushes Jisung down so his back is against the length of the sofa until Changbin is straddling overtop. “You’re sexy,” he confirms, pushing up the hem of Jisung’s shirt to expose his waist and soft tummy. He bends forward, kissing along the flushed skin. “You’re beautiful, Hannie. You’re so pretty.”
“Puh– Pretty?” Jisung stammers, and Changbin pauses to look up, catching Jisung staring down at him, his entire face beet red. Interesting. “I-I’m not pretty…”
“You’re not pretty?” Changbin wonders, pushing up Jisung’s shirt all the way so he can circle Jisung’s waist. He gazes in awe at it. If his hands were bigger, big like Hyunjin’s or Jeongin’s, he could probably touch his thumbs and pinky fingers together. “This little waist isn’t pretty?”
“I’m not little,” Jisung protests, but he’s biting his bottom lip so hard he’s about to break skin, and his arousal is so hard it’s jutting into Changbin’s hip.
“Fuck, Hannie,” Changbin marvels, tongue too thick and heavy for his mouth. “Why do I want you so bad?”
“Hyung, hyung, please,” Jisung whimpers, squirming for contact. “Please.”
Changbin runs his hand up the inseam of Jisung’s leg, palming over his crotch. Jisung keens deliciously, almost as if he’s on the verge of tears. And, fuck. Changbin wants him crying for his cock. He can’t imagine a prettier image. “This feels good, right, Hannie? I make you feel good?”
Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, nodding.
“What do you want, pretty baby?” Changbin says, the pet name simply slipping out. He pauses, worried that he’s pushed this too far, but by the whining, shivering reaction from Jisung, it appears he’s just as into it. God. Jisung is so hot. What the fuck. What is happening?
“F– Fuck me,” Jisung says, voice trembling. He opens his eyes, wide and pleading. Changbin wants it. Wants to devour him. “I want you to fuck me.”
Changbin hauls Jisung up off the couch, their mouths reuniting in a desperate tangle of tongues. Their heartbeats pounding in tandem, Jisung’s legs cross tightly around Changbin’s hips as he’s carried to the nearest guest bedroom.