Archive of Our Own

ஐ

Jaemin crouched beside a trembling Doberman named Rex, his movements deliberate and unhurried as the fluorescent lights of the rescue center glared down at them. The dog’s ribs were faintly visible beneath his dusty black coat, and his dark eyes darted at every sudden movement, his muscles coiled tight with defensive tension. He was shaking like a leaf, his gums making an appearance on and off as he was stuck between snapping and whimpering. Jeamin didn’t flinch when Rex let out a low, warning growl. He’d worked with enough rescue dogs to know the difference between fear and aggression - this was the former. Keeping his posture relaxed, he extended his palm, a piece of calorie dense jerky resting in the middle. 

"Easy, Rex," he murmured, measured and warm, "It’s yours. No one’s taking it."  

Rex’s ears twitched at the sound of his name, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of the treat. Jaemin stayed perfectly still, letting the dog set the pace. He knew better than to rush this - trust wasn’t built in a day, especially not with an animal who’d learned to expect cruelty instead of kindness. After a tense moment, Rex’s nose dipped cautiously toward Jaemin’s hand. The second the treat disappeared between his teeth, Jaemin rewarded him with a quiet, "Good boy."

Resource guarding. Food-motivated. Progress.  

Jaemin scribbled the notes in his well-worn logbook, his handwriting neat despite the speed. He’d been volunteering at the shelter for nearly a decade, and in that time, he’d learned to read animals like a language. Fear made creatures predictable - whether it was a dog flinching at loud noises or a feral cat hissing in the corner, trauma left patterns. And patterns could be managed, softened, given time and patience. For as long as he could remember, he wanted to be a vet, but once he finished university and began working with animals, he realised there was much more to their care than just vaccinations and stitches.

He glanced back at Rex, who was watching him now with less suspicion, as if reassessing this human who didn’t push, didn’t demand. Jaemin reached slowly into his treat pouch, letting the dog see his movements. "You’re doing great," he murmured, his voice a quiet anchor in the shelter’s hum. In the next kennel over, a scrappy terrier barked, and Rex startled - but this time, instead of retreating, his eyes flicked to Jaemin, as if waiting for reassurance. Jaemin smiled. Small victories. And for the animals here, they mattered more than anything.

And that evening, he met Jeno.  

ஐ

The wine bar buzzed with that particular after-work energy; the kind where loosened ties and half-unbuttoned collars mixed with the clatter of heels on hardwood. Jeno slipped through the crowd at exactly seven o'clock, his usual punctuality serving him well as he snagged one of the last good tables near the back. The leather booth sighed under his weight as he settled in, fingers absently tracing the whorls in the mahogany tabletop, the exits easy to spot.

Not that he was nervous. Blind dates were just... well, they were usually disasters wrapped in polite conversation. But Haechan had been particularly insistent this time, waving his phone in Jeno's face like some kind of modern-day matchmaker. "Puppy rescuer," he'd said, "Human personification of a damn sunrise." Jeno had rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain - people like that only existed in Hallmark movies and bad fanfiction. Yet here he was, checking his watch for the third time in five minutes.

The door swung open with a burst of laughter and damp night air. Jeno looked up to see a man shaking rain from his jacket as he came inside. Even from across the room, there was something about the way he moved - like the space rearranged itself to accommodate him rather than the other way around. When their eyes met, the guy flashed a grin that made Jeno's stomach do something weird.

"Jeno, right?" The man - Jaemin, presumably - shurgged off his jacket before sliding into the booth with the ease of someone who belonged there. Up close, Haechan's description made sudden, terrifying sense. The sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows revealed forearms that looked strong enough to wrestle bears (or at least particularly rowdy golden retrievers). A silver bracelet caught the light when he reached for the menu. He was somehow sharp and soft, pretty and handsome, all at the same time. Eyes like a baby deer with a deep voice fried at the edges; contradictory but also perfectly aligned.

"Haechan said you'd be the broody one in the corner, but damn, he undersold you."

Jeno felt his mouth twitch despite himself. "And he said you'd be annoyingly charming. Seems accurate so far."

Jaemin's laugh was warm and bright as bells, "I'll take that."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and Jeno caught a whiff of something citrusy and warm. "So, do you always let near-strangers pick the meeting spot, or am I special?"

"Desperation," Jeno deadpanned, then immediately wanted to kick himself when Jaemin's smile flickered. Too soon for sarcasm. "Kidding. Haechan swore you knew all the good places. I trust his taste in food, if nothing else."

The waiter appeared like some kind of divine intervention, quickly distracting them as Jeno ordered a bottle of Malbec without glancing at the menu.

"Sommelier?" Jaemin asked, one eyebrow quirking up.

"Just know what I like." Jeno shrugged. "And I like good wine."

Jaemin's grin turned sharp. "Dangerous thing to admit on a first date."

The wine arrived, and Jeno went through the familiar routine - swirl, sniff, sip. He nodded to the waiter, who poured with the solemnity of a priest performing communion. When Jaemin tasted it, his eyebrows shot up. "Okay, you weren't kidding."

"I rarely do."

As the evening unfolded, Jeno found himself cataloging stupid details - the way Jaemin's fingers curled around his wine glass, the faint scar on his left knuckle (probably from some overenthusiastic puppy), how he'd lean in when Jeno said something interesting like he didn't want to miss a single word. They talked about work (Jeno in finance, Jaemin elbow-deep in dog guts most days), travel (Jeno preferred places where no one knew his name; Jaemin loved cities where he could people-watch for hours), and whether pineapple belonged on pizza (it didn't, and Jaemin was objectively wrong).

"You don't seem like the blind date type," Jeno observed as their entrees arrived.

Jaemin speared a piece of duck with his fork. "I'm not. But Haechan was weirdly insistent about you," he added, suddenly holding out his fork to offer Jeno a bite, "Try this."

Jeno hesitated, then leaned forward, "Damn, that's good."

"Told you I know good places," Jaemin's smile was unfairly attractive with a mouthful of food.

When dessert menus appeared, Jeno's eyes flicked to the chocolate torte description before looking away. Jaemin caught him immediately. "Not a dessert guy?"

"Not really."

Jaemin snorted, then dug into his pocket and produced a crumpled bag of peanut M&Ms, "Bullshit," he said, shaking it in jest, "You've been eyeing that cake since we sat down."

Jeno stared. "Do you just... carry candy with you?"

"Only when I'm trying to impress someone," Jaemin said with mock seriousness, then ruined it by grinning. "Okay fine, I always have snacks. Life's too short for bad food and empty pockets."

Against his better judgment, Jeno took one. The candy shell cracked between his teeth, the salty-sweet combination warming him.

"There it is," Jaemin said, expression softening as he cupped his face to look at Jeno, "I was wondering when I'd see a real smile."

Before Jeno could return his smile and make a fool of himself, the bill came, and Jaemin snatched it before Jeno could react. "Next time's on you."

Jeno didn't want their night to end just yet, but he couldn't figure out why he felt that way after a single date. But it had gotten late and didn't seem like Jaemin wanted to linger. Confused and unsure, they headed outside together. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and shining under the streetlights, the evening air beginning to cool as they hovered awkwardly by the door, the night chilling Jeno's suddenly warm face.

"So," Jaemin turned to him, hands in his pockets, "On a scale of 'root canal' to 'surprisingly not terrible', where are we at?"

Jeno looked at him - at his rain-damp hair curling at the ends, at the way his sweater stretched across his shoulders - and felt something dangerously close to hope. "Somewhere north of 'mildly tolerable'."

Jaemin's laugh lit up the whole sidewalk. "High praise," he replied easily as he stepped closer. And, just for a second, he was close enough that Jeno could see the length of his eyelashes.

"I'd like to do this again. If you're not completely sick of me yet."

"Yeah. I could be persuaded," Jeno found himself nodding before his brain caught up.

"Good," Jaemin's fingers brushed his wrist - fleeting, electric - before he stepped back. "Don't make me wait too long, yeah?"

And then he was gone, disappearing down the wet sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, leaving Jeno standing there with the taste of chocolate and red wine on his tongue, wondering when exactly this had stopped feeling like an obligation and started feeling like... something else entirely.

ஐ

Jaemin mechanically stirred honey into his chamomile tea, watching the golden swirl dissolve into the pale liquid. The tea was supposed to be calming, but his nerves were too frayed for it to make a difference. His phone lay face-up on the table, the screen dark - no notifications, no texts, nothing.  

Renjun slid into the chair opposite him with the ease of someone who had witnessed every one of Jaemin’s romantic disasters over the years. He didn’t even ask before plucking a vanilla wafer from Jaemin’s snack stash.  

"You’ve got that look," Renjun announced, crunching into the cookie. "The one where you’re mentally replaying every interaction to figure out where you went wrong."  

Jaemin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I never should have told you about the date. Maybe I jinxed it.”  

“No~” Renjun drew out the syllable, smirking. “Your taste in men is just terrible.”  

Jaemin stuffed another cookie into his mouth, chewing aggressively. "Maybe it was the M&M’s."  

"Ah yes, the legendary pocket candy," Renjun deadpanned. "The ultimate romantic gambit."  

"It was a reflex, okay?" Jaemin protested, though even he could hear the defensiveness creeping into his voice. "He looked at the dessert menu like he wanted chocolate but wouldn’t order it. I just... wanted to give him that small happiness."  

Renjun studied him over the rim of his coffee mug. "You’re overthinking this. Either he’s interested or he’s not. The only way to know is to ask."  

Jaemin’s fingers tightened around his cup. "He said he’d text me first."  

“And?”  

“Won’t I be overstepping? What if he thinks I’m pushy? What if - ?”  

Renjun cut him off with a wave of his hand. "What if the sky falls? What if aliens are real? What if the world ends tomorrow? Jaemin, you literally help traumatized animals for a living. Need I remind you, you’ve almost lost fingers before? And that one time the German Shepherd took a chunk out of your arm. Since when are you scared of rejection?"  

Jaemin stared into his tea, watching the honey settle at the bottom. "Since it felt like this might actually matter," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.  

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? Jaemin had always been the one who gave too much, too soon - the one who carried emergency candy in his pockets, who remembered birthdays and favorite orders, who stayed up late listening to friends vent about their problems. He was used to being the caretaker, the one who loved fiercely but never quite received the same intensity in return.  

And Jeno - Jeno had been different. There was something guarded about him, something that made Jaemin want to unravel him, not out of curiosity, but because he recognized that quiet loneliness. He’d seen it in the strays he rescued - the ones who flinched at sudden movements but still, eventually, pressed their heads into his palm. He took a deep breath and typed out the message before he could second-guess himself.  

Jeno’s phone had become a dead weight in his pocket, its presence a constant source of quiet terror. Every vibration sent an unwelcome jolt through him - his pulse spiking, his throat tightening - only to leave him disappointed when the screen lit up with yet another work email or Mark’s incessant barrage of memes.  

The one notification he actually wanted never came.  

He’d never been this weak before.  Jaemin had told him to text first, had made it crystal clear with that infuriatingly pretty smile that the next move was his. But reaching out meant tearing open the carefully constructed walls around himself, and Jeno had spent twenty-eight years perfecting the art of never being exposed. Never being seen.  The irony wasn’t lost on him. He could negotiate million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, could dismantle an opponent’s argument with surgical precision, yet the thought of sending a single fucking text left his palms damp and his mind frozen.  

His assistant - some overeager kid fresh out of business school - slapped a thick file onto his desk with a smirk. "The Zhong merger documents? Legal said they needed your notes an hour ago."  

He let the silence stretch, let the kid squirm under the weight of it, before replying in a voice like ice. "They’ll get them when they’re ready."  

The assistant opened his mouth - probably to toss out another smartass remark - but thought better of it under Jeno’s glacial stare. Jeno will be calling HR later to make sure the idiot was replaced with someone more competent befor the end of the day.

Once alone, Jeno dragged a hand down his face and forced his attention back to the contracts. The words blurred together, dissolving into meaningless shapes. Instead, his traitorous mind conjured up Jaemin - the way his fingers had danced along the rim of his wine glass, the warmth of his laughter curling through the dim restaurant lighting.  Worst of all, the memory of that moment outside the restaurant, the cold night air between them charged with something electric. What was it about this man that had Jeno so enraptured? The pen in his grip snapped in half, ink bleeding over his fingers like a confession.  

That night, he was alone at home and troubled, as per usual. Jeno's penthouse was quiet except for the hum of his laptop; three unsent messages glared at him from the screen:  

The wine you recommended was good. (Too cold.)  

I've been thinking about you. (Too vulnerable.)  

When are you free? (Too desperate.)  

Pathetic.  He'd built a stellar career on calculated risks, had stared down boardrooms full of sharks without blinking. Yet one man with stupidly soft hair and a habit of carrying candy in his pockets had him drafting messages like some lovestruck teenager.  

Tuesday, 8:45 PM  

The grocery store's white lights were too bright, the chatter of other shoppers too loud. Jeno stood motionless before the candy aisle, his cart holding only the bare essentials - steak, vegetables, whiskey. The family-sized bag of M&Ms hovered between his fingers.  

"All for yourself?" The cashier - some college kid with a nose ring - asked drily.

"Obviously," he replied stiffly, trying not to glare at him as he got out his wallet to pay. 

"Whatever you say, man.”

The lie tasted bitter. Everything about this situation was so unlike him. Yet here he stood, purchasing overpriced candy like some sentimental fool.  

As he drove home, the bag sat conspicuously on the passenger seat. 

Wednesday, 7:14 PM  

The silence of Jeno's penthouse was broken only by the faint clink of silverware against porcelain as he pushed wilted greens around his plate. The veggies from last night had lost its crunch, the sauce congealing in unappetizing clumps, but he ate it anyway. One should never waste food. His phone lit up with a soft chime. The notification made his fork slip from suddenly numb fingers, clattering against the plate with a discordant ring that echoed through the empty dining room.  

Jaemin: 

>> Hey. 

>> I've been thinking about our conversation about mountain towns vs cities. 

>> Wondered if you'd want to continue it over coffee this weekend? 

>> No pressure if you're busy.  

Jeno stared at the screen, his pulse roaring in his ears. He unlocked his phone with unsteady hands, reading the messages once, twice, three times. The words didn't change, didn't disappear. They remained there, glowing against the dark mode background - undeniable proof that after everything, Jaemin had texted first. He reached out...he still tried...   

Jeno's fingers moved before his brain could catch up, typing and deleting responses in rapid succession:  

I've been wondering about that too. (Too eager.)  

Which part specifically? (Too clinical.)  

I can't stop thinking about you (Too much.)  

His thumb hovered over the send button, suspended in hesitation. The vulnerability tasted metallic on his tongue, like blood from a bitten cheek. Finally, he settled on the barest shred of honesty he could manage:  

Me: 

>> Sorry. 

>> I started three different replies and deleted them all.  

The response came faster than his pounding heart:  

Jaemin: 

>> Are you admitting you're nervous? ;)

Jeno exhaled a sound that might have been a laugh if it didn't catch in his throat. Of course Jaemin would call it out with that infuriating, effortless perceptiveness that had drawn Jeno in from the beginning. It was uncomfortable, but not necessarily bad. He could almost hear Jaemin's voice in the words - the lilt of amusement, the warmth beneath the teasing. It made something tight and painful unwind in his chest.  

Me: 

>> Yeah, I am.

>> Which is why I bought peanut M&Ms today.

>> The big bag.  

>> Just in case.  

The three dots appeared immediately, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then they vanished. Reappeared. Vanished again. Jeno set his phone down on the table, forcing himself to breathe through the anticipation coiling in his gut.  

Jaemin: 

>> In case of what?  

He snapped up his phone again, starin at the question until the letters blurred. The truth sat heavy behind his ribs, too large and too fragile to voice. But Jaemin was the one who broke the silence and that had to count for something. His fingers moved almost without permission:  

Me: 

>> In case I get to see you again.  

The seconds that followed stretched into eternity. Jeno watched the three dots appear and disappear like waves lapping at the shore - once, twice, three times. Each cycle sent another jolt of adrenaline through his veins. When the response finally came, it was worth the wait:  

Jaemin: 

>> Saturday. 2 PM. 

>> There's this bookstore café with terrible coffee but amazing chocolate croissants.  

>> Bring the M&Ms.  

>> [location]

The grin that spread across Jeno's face felt foreign, and unfamiliar. He pressed the phone to his forehead, letting the cool glass ground him as relief flooded through him in dizzying waves.  

He typed one final message, the words easier this time:  

Me: 

>> I'll be there.  

ஐ

The bookstore café smelled like old paper and burnt espresso, exactly as Jaemin had promised - though Jeno hadn’t expected the scent to be so comforting. He arrived fifteen minutes early - not because he was eager (he told himself firmly), but because he needed to secure the right table. One near the back, where the sunlight filtered through high windows in dusty golden beams, where they could talk without being overheard and he could keep his eyes on the door. He set the family-sized bag of M&Ms on the table like a peace offering. Childish, he thought, but Jeno had held onto this detail of Jaemin for some reason.

Jaemin arrived exactly on time, cheeks pink from the spring breeze, hair slightly windswept as if he’d walked faster than usual. When he spotted Jeno, his whole face lit up - not the forced politeness Jeno had braced for, but something brighter, something that made Jeno’s stomach flip. 

Could Jaemin really be that excited to see him? 

He was wearing a soft mint sweater that brought out the warmth in his brown eyes, faded jeans hugging his long legs, and just like last time his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. But in the daylight, Jeno notices a thick jagged scar, like from a bite, another a neat surgical line.  

"You came," Jaemin said, sliding into the chair across from him. His knee bumped Jeno's under the table, and he didn’t pull away.  

 "I said I would."  

Jaemin grinned, reaching for the M&Ms. "I know. But you also ghosted - so." He popped a candy in his mouth, crunching eagerly, "Forgiven, by the way."  

Jeno exhaled, fingers tapping restlessly against his coffee cup. “I’m sorry about that,” he said tightly, clearing his throat around the unfamiliar words. Apologies weren’t his strong suit. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just…”  

Jaemin watched him, patient, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening. “I know,” he said, holding out his hand to offer Jeno an M&M. “It’s hard sometimes to know what to say.”  

Jeno looked at Jaemin’s hand - the calluses, the faint scars, the way his fingers curled slightly, like they were used to holding something fragile. He reached for the candy, their fingers brushing, and the contact sent a spark up his arm. The salty-sweet taste of the M&M grounded him, just a little.  

The conversation flowed even easier than their first date. Jaemin talked about his work at the animal clinic - how he’d stayed up all night with a paralyzed dachshund named Dumpling, how he’d cried in the break room when a stray kitten didn’t make it. “I’m too soft for this job,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can’t imagine doing anything else.”  

Jeno found himself wanting to share too - about his mother’s quiet disdain when he chose finance over law, the way her shallow praise always felt conditional, the hollow ache of wondering if his entire life was just a series of carefully checked boxes. Then there was his father’s anger. That was all he remembered about the man: rage. It still gave me nightmares. But the words stuck in his throat. Vulnerability was a language he couldn't speak.  

At one point, Jaemin reached across the table to steal a sip of Jeno's terrible coffee, making a face. "Why did you order this if you knew it was bad?"  

Jeno shrugged, rather amazed at the fact that he didn’t feel the need to snatch it back.. "You said it was part of the experience."  

Jaemin’s expression softened in a way that made Jeno’s chest tighten.

“Come on, let’s see what they’ve got,” he added, getting to his feet, holding out his hand for Jeno to take. He hesitated, looking at it for a moment. But he only stuck his hands in his pockets instead, clearing his throat, “Sure.”  

They wandered the bookstore together, shoulders brushing as they browsed the shelves, talking comfortably. Jaemin stopped in front of the poetry section, pulling out a worn collection of Pablo Neruda.  

"Listen to this," he said, clearing his throat dramatically, "I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets." He glanced up, eyes dancing. "Neruda knew what was up."  

Jeno couldn’t breathe. It hit him all at once - the terrifying realization that he was in danger. The way he was so drawn to Jaemin was terrifying. It was the way Jaemin laughed like he wasn’t afraid of being too loud, the way he carried his scars without shame, the way he looked at Jeno like he was something worth looking at. It was too much. Too soon.  

"Jeno?" Jaemin tilted his head, the book still open in his hands. "You okay?"  

"I should go," he said, clearing his throat as he took a step back, smoothing a nervous hand over his shirt. 

“O-oh, alright then,” Jaemin said, his smile flattering slightly as he slide the book back on the shelf.

"Work. Early morning."  

"Text me when you get home, okay?"  

Jeno nodded, already retreating. Outside, the cool air felt suddenly warm, too thick. He walked briskly toward his car, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to outpace the truth nipping at his heels.

ஐ

A dull headache throbbed in the back of Jaemin’s head where he knelt on the worn rubber matting of the training room, his knees protesting against the hard surface. He ignored the discomfort, keeping his focus on the massive mastiff mix cowering in the far corner. Stitch - scared and misunderstood - had made infinitesimal progress in the three weeks since his rescue, but tonight seemed like a regression.  

"Hey buddy," Jaemin murmured, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't reach out, didn't make direct eye contact. Just sat with his legs folded, a piece of boiled chicken resting on his open palm between them. "Long day, huh?"  

Stitch’s bones still showed through his patchy coat, though regular meals were slowly filling him out. The scars, though - those would likely never fade completely. Jagged lines crisscrossed his muzzle, and one ear bore the unmistakable notch of an old tear. The worst was the circular mark around his neck where a too-tight collar had dug in for years. Jaemin's stomach turned just looking at it. When he shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable, Stitch flinched violently, pressing his bony frame impossibly further into the corner. His breathing came in short, panicked bursts, eyes darting between Jaemin's face and the door like he was calculating escape routes.  

"Easy," Jaemin soothed, freezing in place. "No sudden moves, remember? We've got all the time in the world."  

He'd been working with severely traumatized dogs for nearly five years now. The shelter director had initially balked at his unconventional methods - the patience, the space, the refusal to force progress - until they saw his results.  But Stitch was testing even Jaemin's considerable knowledge and experience.  The chicken in his hand remained untouched, though Stitch’s nose twitched constantly, tracking the scent. It was the same dance every session: the dog's biological need for nourishment warring with his bone-deep fear of human hands.  

Jaemin sighed, carefully placing the meat on the ground between them before scooting back a few inches. "Your choice," he whispered. For ten full minutes, nothing moved except the rapid rise and fall of Stitch’s chest. Then, so fast Jaemin almost missed it, the dog darted forward, snatched the chicken, and retreated to his corner, swallowing it whole without chewing.  Progress. Of a sort. As Jaemin slowly stood to leave, something pricked in the back of his mind. The way Stitch stiffened at sudden movements. The hypervigilance to exits. The war between hunger for connection and terror of vulnerability. It was all so painfully familiar.   

Later that night, sprawled across his couch with his notebook, a half-finished cup of tea going cold on the coffee table, Jaemin fidgeted with the corner of a dog-ears page as he read through his notes;

Atlas, bully-mix, male, blue-gray, +/- 9 y.o

History:

• Early Life Neglect or Separation (hand-reared without proper socialization).
• Inconsistent Caregiving (sometimes responsive, sometimes distant).
• Trauma or Abuse (leading to distrust of social bonds).

Avoidant-attachment:

• Suppressed stress responses
• Limited physical contact
• Self-soothing behaviours

Treatment:  

Feed, walk, and play at the same times daily to create security.  

Non-Forced Interaction:  

• Let the dog approach you first - avoid forcing pets or cuddles.  
• Sit quietly nearby with treats, letting them choose to engage.  

Reward Any Social Behavior  

• Gradually shape closer interactions.  
• Counterconditioning (Changing Emotional Responses)  

Desensitize to Touch (If Needed):   

• Progress slowly over weeks.  

Encourage Confidence & Secure Behaviors   

Avoid scolding for avoidance or forcing attention.  

Rex, doberman, black, male, +/- 5 y.o

History: 

• rescued from a hoarder environment
• Genetic or temperamental factors 

Anxious attachment:

• Resource guarding
• resist affection at times due to fear of inconsistency (push-pull behavior).
• Slow to relax, even in safe spaces - always waiting for the "other shoe to drop."
• Jumps, nips, or barks excessively when overwhelmed (often misinterpreted as "bad behavior").
• May shut down or hide when stressed (a trauma response).

Treatment:

• Routine & Predictability: Consistent schedules reduce anxiety.
• Positive Reinforcement: Reward calm independence (e.g., treats for staying on their bed).
• Gradual Desensitization: Practice short departures to build confidence.
• Safe Spaces: Provide a den-like area (crate, quiet room) where they feel secure.
• Trust-Building: Avoid punishment; use patience and gentle encouragement.

Stitch was a new intake and he wasn’t complete with his assessment just yet, it would take a few more weeks before he could establish what Stitch needed. But there was someone else that wouldn’t leave his thoughts. Thinking, he took a shower and ate dinner before catching up on some work emails, his thoughts lingering on dark eyes and pretty hands. Once he was in bed, he had his phone in hand, thinking. He paused at Jeno's contact, their last exchange form 3 days ago was staring back at him:  

Jeno: 

>> Got home safe. Talk soon.  

No follow-up. No response to Jaemin's casual suggestion they grab dinner this week. Just radio silence. Again. Jaemin's thumb hovered over the call button before he thought better of it, tossing his phone onto the cushion beside him with a frustrated sigh. He'd replayed their bookstore date a hundred times, searching for where he'd misstepped. The conversation had flowed easily, Jeno even opening up about his work and personal life. They'd laughed over the terrible coffee, shoulders brushing as they browsed the poetry section. Then, like flipping a switch, Jeno had shut down, made excuses, bolted.  Just like Stitch with his chicken.  

It wasn't about disinterest. It was about fear. Just as the thought struck him, he grabbed his phone and immediately typed out a message and sent it without hesitation;

Me: 

>> Hey Jeno

>> Do you have time to talk?

The message was read right away, three bubbles popping up as Jeno began typing immediately. Jaemin shot up straight, his heart in his mouth as he watched him type and deleted and type and deleted. It was the second time that Jaemin had been waiting for him to call first, and he didn’t like the feeling at all. But he was also uniquely qualified to understand him, knowing exactly what to do next. 

Jeno: 

>> Hi Jaemin

>> I’m free

>> What’s up?

If Jaemin’s career hasn't instilled a bottomless well of patience and compassion in him, that casual ‘what’s up’ would have cut deep. But, he knew better than that, and that there was much more to Jeno than just this. Jaemin took a deep breath, thinking very carefully about what to say next. He didn't like this quiet and the distance, waiting for Jeno to reach out, it was rather unfair in his mind. But he couldn't be pushy either. He actually really liked Jeno and he truly hoped this would lead somewhere.

Me:

>> Can I call?

Jaemin's phone vibrated suddenly in his palm, the screen lighting up with Jeno's name as he called Jaemin instead. His heart stuttered as he swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear with slightly trembling fingers.  

"Hey," Jaemin said, keeping his voice deliberately casual despite the way his pulse raced. The silence on the other end stretched just a beat too long before Jeno's quiet response came through.  

"Hi."  

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Jaemin could practically hear Jeno's defenses rising, could imagine the way his jaw was probably clenched tight, those dark eyes shuttering as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.  

Positive reinforcement

“Thanks for calling,” Jaemin said slowly, “I appreciate it.”

“Thanks for texting,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “what did you want to talk about?”

“About us - me and you,” Jaemin pressed forward before Jeno could retreat completely. "I like you," he said simply, knowing that his honesty would reach Jeno, "A lot. And I think... I think you might like me too."  

The line went so quiet Jaemin wondered if Jeno had stopped breathing. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a quiet admission: "I do."  

The words sent a thrill through Jaemin's chest, but he kept his tone measured. 

“Then…whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I'm..." Jeno's voice was rough, like the words were being dragged from somewhere deep and painful. "I'm not good at this. Relationships. Feelings. All of it."  

Jaemin could hear the self-recrimination in Jeno's voice, could picture the way his fingers were probably gripping the phone too tight right now. "That's okay," he said softly. "Nobody's perfect at it. Hell, I'm probably too much sometimes with all my..." He waved a hand even though Jeno couldn't see it, "You know - Jaemin-ness."  

A quiet huff of breath that might have been the ghost of a laugh came through the line. "You’re… wonderful."  

The words warmed Jaemin more than they should have. 

"But I'm worried I’ll hurt you," Jeno continued stiffly, the words reluctant to leave his lips, "I don't know how to do this..."  

Jaemin closed his eyes, letting the words settle. He could hear the genuine worry in Jeno's voice, the self-doubt that ran deeper than just typical relationship jitters. "Maybe you will," he admitted quietly. "Or maybe you won't. But Jeno... I need to know if you're willing to try and make things work."  

The silence stretched again, filled only by the faint sound of Jeno's fingers tapping nervously against what was probably his phone case. Jaemin gave him the space to think, to process, resisting the urge to fill the quiet with nervous chatter.  

"What does trying look like?" Jeno finally asked, his voice carefully neutral.  

"Honesty," he said first, "Just... tell me what's going on in that head of yours." He paused, then added, "And commitment - not to some perfect relationship, but to showing up. To not disappear for days without a word."  

"And if I can't?"

"Then we walk away now, before either of us gets in too deep. No hard feelings." He forced himself to say the next words even though they tasted bitter. "I'd rather know now than six months down the line."  

The line went so quiet Jaemin thought the call might have dropped. His fingers tightened around his phone as he waited, the seconds stretching unbearably.  

"I don't want to walk away."  

"Okay, then I’m all in if you are."  

"I bought more M&Ms today."  

"Yeah?" Jaemin smiled like an idiot at himself, flopping back on onto the sheets as the tension left his body.

"Yeah. Another one of those big bags." There was the barest hint of warmth in Jeno's voice now, like the sun peeking through clouds after a storm. "In case... in case you wanted to go out this weekend."  

"I'd like that," Jaemin said softly, allowing himself to hope.

"Okay," Jeno replied slowly, “I’ll text you the details later.”

“Sounds good.” 

"Alright, good - yeah,” Jeno cleared his throat awkwardly, “Goodnight Jaemin, and… thanks for texting."  

"Night, Jen. See you soon."  

ஐ

Jaemin had always been observant.  It started young - catching the way his mother's left eyebrow twitched when she was trying not to cry at sad movies, or how the neighbor's tabby cat would flick its tail before pouncing. He knew his natural perceptiveness made some people wary of him, even calling him weird. He didn't care though, because it made him excellent at his job. But that also meant that Lee Jeno had caught, and held, his attention since the moment they met.

The air hockey table buzzed between them as they played. Jeno focusing like a sniper ready to take a shot - all sharp exhales and fierce strikes, his dark brows knitting together in concentration whenever Jaemin managed to block his shots. There was something mesmerizing about watching him, like observing a particularly clever wild animal through one-way glass at the zoo.  

"Fuck," Jeno hissed under his breath when Jaemin scored the winning point, his paddle clattering against the table's edge.  

That single syllable told Jaemin everything. The slight rasp in Jeno's voice when frustrated. The way his shoulders hunched forward almost imperceptibly, like he was bracing for impact. It was the same posture Jaemin had seen in shelter dogs who expected punishment for minor mistakes. Without thinking, Jaemin dug into his pocket and produced a single blue M&M - the exact shade Jeno had been picking out earlier.  

"Rematch?" 

Jeno's eyes - dark and slightly narrowed - flicked from the candy to Jaemin's face. For a suspended moment, Jaemin could practically see the calculations running behind those sharp eyes: pride versus curiosity, suspicion battling with something warmer. Then, quick as a striking snake, Jeno snatched up the candy.  

"You're lucky I've got a sweet tooth," he muttered, crunching the shell between his molars.  

By the third game, the tension in Jeno's posture had melted into something looser, more playful. His laughter came easier now, ringing bright and unexpected each time Jaemin pulled some ridiculous trick shot. The sound did strange things to Jaemin's pulse.  

"You're cheating," Jeno accused when Jaemin somehow banked the puck off two walls to score.  

Jaemin wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, "It's called skill, actually."  

"Bullshit. You've got some weird air hockey voodoo." Jeno leaned across the table, close enough that Jaemin could see the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow. "Admit it. You're hustling me."  

By the final game, Jaemin found himself rather addicted to Jeno’s warm laugh. He wanted to hear more of it, even as his eyes became glued to how Jeno’s broad shoulder flexed under his thin sweater as he fake-groaned about Jaemin's "annoyingly good" backhand. 

"You're doing that thing again," Jeno said suddenly, catching Jaemin mid-sip of his soda.

"What thing?"

"The staring," Jeno tapped his temple. "You get this look, like your doing physics in your head."

Jaemin nearly choked on his drink. "I do not."

"You totally do." Jeno leaned across the table again, close enough that Jaemin could see the pretty mole by his eye and on the tip of his nose. "So? What's the verdict, doc?"

"Diagnosis?" Jaemin tilted his head, playing along as his eyes lifted from the dip between Jeno’s pecs. 

Fuck.

"Terminally competitive. Possibly allergic to losing. But," he added when Jeno fake-scowled, "excellent sportsmanship when properly motivated."

Jeno's resulting laugh sent something warm curling in Jaemin's chest. "By which you mean bribed with candy."

"Positive reinforcement works on more than just golden retrievers."

They finished their sodas and exchanged more easy banter before deciding to leave the arcade and find a quieter place to spend more time together.

The walk to the ice cream parlor gave Jaemin time to catalogue more Jeno-isms - how he stepped over sidewalk cracks without seeming to realize he was doing it, the way his right shoe scuffed slightly more than the left. When Jeno's entire face lit up at the sight of the mint chocolate chip, Jaemin felt something dangerously close to fondness settle in his ribs. An the way Jeno ate ice cream was frankly obscene - all pink tongue and exaggerated licks.

"You're doing that on purpose," Jaemin accused around a mouthful of vanilla.

“Doing what?” he asked with feigned innocence, his playfulness settling deep inside Jaemin’s chest. It made him feel…things.

The streetlights caught the curve of Jeno's throat as he threw his head back laughing at Jaemin's terrible impression of a character from his favourite animation. Somewhere between debating the merits of sprinkles versus hot fudge and Jaemin's dramatic retelling of his childhood rabbit’s great escape, je realized with dawning clalrity that he wasn't just observing anymore.

Jaemin was charmed right to the marrow of his bones. And from the way Jeno's fingers kept brushing his when they thought neither was paying attention, Jaemin knew for certain that the feeling was mutual.

ஐ

Jeno’s penthouse was his safe space: every surface polished and spotless, each decorative item positioned with geometric precision, as if the slightest misalignment might unravel something fundamental in him. It may seem cold and impersonal to some, but every single corner of his home was exactly how he wanted it to be. It was predictable and known, safe. The air carried the faint citrus scent of his preferred cleaning products, undercut now by the smell of dinner. He adjusted the flame for the fourth time, the rhythmic motion steadying his pulse. He wasn’t used to this - having someone in his space. Not like this.  

The last time someone had been here, it had been the building manager who came to clean the AC. Before that, his aunt, who had glanced around with quiet disapproval, as if she could see the dust Jeno had missed. Nearly a year later and his cuticles were yet to fully recover. But Jaemin... Jaemin was different. After their third date at the arcade, Jeno felt more comfortable around Jaemin than he thought possible.

Jeno checked the oven clock; 7:00 PM.  

The doorbell rang precisely one minute later. Jeno’s lips twitched; of course Jaemin would be exactly on time. When he opened the door, the breath left his lungs in a quiet rush. Jaemin stood haloed by the hallway lights, his black hair slightly windswept from the spring breeze. A single curl had escaped its usual artful disarray, falling across his forehead in a charming comma, making Jeno’s fingers itch to push it back.  

He wore a soft v-neck cream sweater that brought out the warmth in his skin, and dark slacks that hugged his thighs in a way that made Jeno’s mouth go dry. 

"Hey," Jaemin said, his smile warming his eyes. Again, Jeno struggled to understand how Jaemin was happy to see him (again, still).

“I brought drinks and dessert,” Jaemin said, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass container in the other.

Jeno stepped aside to let him in, their shoulders brushing in the doorway. Even that fleeting contact sent heat skittering across Jeno’s skin. He watched, transfixed, as Jaemin bent to remove his shoes, lining them up perfectly parallel to the wall to match the way Jeno had his own shoes arranged. The sight of Jaemin’s socked feet on his hardwood floors, the easy way he moved through Jeno’s space, did something complicated to Jeno’s chest. But having Jaemin here didn’t make his hackles raise and his teeth clench. A miracle.

"You didn’t have to bring anything," Jeno said, taking the wine. His fingers brushed against Jaemin’s, and he fought the urge to linger.  

Jaemin’s smile softened as he held up the container, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s that chocolate cake you pretended you didn’t want at the restaurant we first met."  

Jeno’s ears burned as he abruptly turned toward the kitchen, "Dinner’s almost done."  

The apartment seemed to come alive with Jaemin’s presence. Jeno watched from the corner of his eye as Jaemin moved through the space with quiet reverence. He opened drawers with care, asking where Jeno kept the serving utensils, making himself comfortable without intruding.  

Is it okay if…?

May I please…?

Would you mind if I…?

The way Jaemin looked him right in the eye every time he asked something, was intimate in a way Jeno hadn’t anticipated.  

"The food smells incredible," Jaemin said, returning to his side to lean against the counter.  

Jeno focused on plating the meat, keeping his eyes averted from how Jaemin’s chest looked in that damned shirt. 

"It’s just bulgogi."  

"It's one of my favourite dishes," Jaemin replied, his voice warm as he stepped closer, his sleeve brushing Jeno’s arm as he peered at the sizzling pan. 

"I know."  

"You do?"  

"Yeah, you mentioned it before."  

"You remembered?" Jaemin asked, doe eyes widening in surprise.  

Fuck. he didn’t mean to say that.

"Of course I do," Jeno said quickly, without thinking, "I like you. A lot."  

Jaemin’s expression softened. He raised a hand, gently dragging a knuckle over Jeno’s cheek. The sweet sign of affection - and the quiet acknowledgment of his feelings - meant more to him in that moment than he could articulate. A quiet, yet significant, affirmation.

They ate at the dining table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights painting Jaemin’s features in soft gold and shadow. Jeno couldn’t look away. No one had ever looked at him like this - like they saw him, like they understood the way his mind worked and didn’t find it strange. For once being hypervigilant didn't make him anxious.

" - and then the little menace climbed into my lap like he hadn’t been giving me hell for months," Jaemin was saying, gesturing animatedly with his chopsticks. A spot of sauce clung to the corner of his mouth.  

Without thinking, Jeno reached out, thumb brushing the spot. "You’ve got..."  

Jaemin froze, his breath catching as Jeno’s fingers grazed his skin; the air between them crackled with something electric. Jeno’s pulse roared in his ears as he slowly withdrew his hand, the ghost of Jaemin’s warmth lingering on his fingertips.  

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of quiet comfort and shared glances. Jeno noticed how Jaemin carefully placed his glass on the coaster without being reminded, how he wiped imaginary water rings with his napkin, how he stacked the dishes precisely how Jeno asked him to before carrying them to the sink.  

Later, when they moved to the couch, Jaemin hesitated before sitting, his eyes flicking to Jeno in silent question. Jeno gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Jaemin settled beside him, leaving a whole seat of space between them. But this time, Jeno closed the distance himself. He reached for Jaemins hand first. Jaemin’s palm was warm and slightly rough from working with the shelter animals, his thumb tracing absent circles over Jeno’s knuckles.  

"You okay?" Jaemin asked softly after a moment of quiet.  

Jeno looked down at their joined hands, at the way Jaemin’s fingers fit perfectly between his own. He thought about the M&Ms still stashed in his pantry

"Yeah," Jeno said, squeezing Jaemn’s hand, "I am."  

ஐ

Weeks slipped by in the warm glow of shared moments - of Jaemin’s laughter echoing through Jeno’s penthouse, of half-empty tea cups piling up on the coffee table because Jeno had stopped caring about the mess when Jaemin was the one making it. The rigid lines of Jeno’s life began to blur at the edges as Jaemin smoothed over all of his raw edges. Jaemin’s favorite hoodie draped over the back of his couch, a shared Netflix account and a spare charger, the way Jeno now kept the pantry stocked with peanut M&Ms even when Jaemin wasn’t coming over. Slowly, imperceptibly, Jaemin carved out space for himself in Jeno’s world, not by force, but by quiet, persistent presence - showing up, again and again, until Jeno stopped bracing for him to leave. He was the safest, and most constant, part of Jeno’s life. Finally, he found stability with someone, someone he could trust. And he does - he trusts Jaemin more than he’s ever trusted anyone. By their fourth week of dating, Jeno caught himself doing things that would have made his past self balk. Like texting Jaemin first just to hear the sound of his voice through a phone screen - not because he needed anything, but because he wanted to know how Jaemin’s day had been, down to the smallest, most mundane details. 

Did that grumpy tabby at the clinic finally take her medicine? What did you have for lunch?  

Or leaving his favorite sweater at Jaemin’s apartment on purpose, just so he’d have an excuse to come back. Or laughing - really laughing, loud and unguarded - at Jaemin’s terrible jokes instead of swallowing the sound like he used to, back when he was still worried about seeming overeager.  

The rules he’d once clung to had started to dissolve, one by one. Jaemin was allowed to adjust the thermostat now without Jeno side-eyeing him. He could borrow Jeno’s laptop without enduring a twenty-minute lecture on proper shut-down procedures. And when Jaemin dozed off on Jeno’s couch one rainy evening, his head heavy on Jeno’s thigh, Jeno didn’t shift or nudge him away. He stayed perfectly still, not because he felt trapped, but because he wanted to stay right there, with Jaemin’s warmth seeping into his skin. But there was one thing that still nagged at him:  

Intimacy.  

Jeno knew, without a doubt, that Jaemin was waiting for him to make the first move. And he appreciated that, he really did - Jaemin never pushed, never crowded him, always giving him space to set the pace. But sometimes, Jeno wished Jaemin would just act. Because Jaemin was affectionate - recklessly so. He reached for Jeno’s hand without hesitation, lacing their fingers together like it was the easiest thing in the world. He hugged Jeno every chance he got, pulling him in tight like he was trying to memorize the shape of him. And then there was that thing he did - the one that made Jeno’s bones melt - whenever Jeno had a bad day. Jaemin would settle beside him on the couch, fingers sliding into Jeno’s hair, massaging the tension from the base of his skull while murmuring soft, reassuring words. It unraveled Jeno every time, leaving him pliant and warm.  

So why hasn’t Jaemin kissed him yet?  

It wasn’t like Jeno hadn’t thought about it. He had. A lot. But every time he considered making a move - stepping into Jaemin’s space, tilting his head just right - his throat would tighten, his pulse would kick up, and he’d chicken out at the last second.  Which was how he ended up here: stretched out on Jaemin’s couch for movie night, staring blankly at the screen, painfully aware of every point where their bodies almost touched. Jaemin’s knee brushing his; the heat of his arm just inches away. Jeno swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against his own thigh.  

Just do it, he told himself. Just -   

Then Jaemin shifted, his shoulder pressing more firmly against Jeno’s, and Jeno’s courage evaporated all over again.

"Jaem," he forced the words out, swallowing painfully around the rock in his throat, “can we talk?” 

Jaemin turned his head immediately, blinking at Jeno through the half-dark. Even in the low light, he could see the tension in Jeno's posture; the way his fingers worried at his shirt hem, the rigid line of his shoulders. Something was wrong mking concern flicker through Jaemin as he grabbed the remote to turn off the TV.

"Okay," he said slowly, giving Jeno his full attention. "About what?"  

What he wasn't expecting was Jeno's blunt admission; "I want you - and I need to know if you want me too."  

His words sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. For a second, he almost laughed - not at Jeno, never at Jeno, but more so at the bubbles of warmth fluttering through his sternum. Jeno was many things, wonderful, beautiful, extraordinary things, but subtle was not one of those. He knew how Jeno looked at him; it was the same way that Jaemin looked at him.

"I know.”

But Jeno wasn't done. The frustration in his voice when he continued made Jaemin's smile soften into something more tender. He reached out instinctively, sliding his fingers into the soft hairs in Jenos’s nape. 

“If you know then… don’t you want me too? You haven’t asked - or said anything -”

He studied Jeno's face carefully, taking in the furrow between his brows, the way his lips pressed together like he was bracing for rejection.  

"Because I didn't want to assume and unknowingly put you in a box.”  

He could see the exact moment Jeno processed this - the slight parting of his lips, the way his fingers twitched. It took everything in Jaemin not to close the distance between them right then. Instead, he shifted closer, letting Jeno see the truth in his eyes as he continued.  

"Jeno, I want you. So much it drives me insane sometimes," the confession burned in his throat, raw and honest. "But I also know you need to set the pace. You need to feel safe."  

The way Jeno looked at him then - vulnerable and wanting - was nearly Jaemin's undoing.  

“I’m not always sure how to ask for what I want.”

Something primal and possessive stirred in Jaemin's chest at those words, his eyes locking onto Jeno's, Jaemin leaned in until their breath mingled. "You just did," he murmured, voice thick with want. “So, can I?” 

“Fuck, yes.” 

Jeno grabbed him by the front of the shirt to drag him closer. The kiss wasn't gentle. It couldn't be, not with all the pent-up longing between them. Jaemin poured months of restraint into it, hands sliding into Jeno's hair, mouth hot and demanding. The way Jeno melted against him, fingers clutching at his shirt like Jaemin was the only solid thing in the world, sent fire racing through Jaemin's veins.  

When they finally broke apart, Jaemin took in Jeno's flushed face, his kiss-swollen lips, the dazed look in his eyes. "Still worried?" Jaemin asked, voice rough with affection.  

The shaky "No" that escaped Jeno's lips made Jaemin grin. He couldn't resist kissing him again, slower this time, savoring the warmth of Jeno's mouth against his.  

"Next time," Jaemin murmured against his lips, thumb brushing the curve of Jeno's jaw, "just tell me what you need."  

ஐ

The apartment smelled like soy sauce and sesame oil and Chinese takeout, the kind of meal they always ended up with when neither felt like cooking . Jaemin leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Jeno from across the room. He was sprawled across the couch in that way of his - one leg dangling off the edge, socked foot absently rubbing against the carpet, phone balanced precariously on his stomach. The blue light of the screen reflected in his eyes, making them look even darker than usual. Everything about him was so beautiful, so perfect inside and out, and Jaemin was pretty sure that he was in love with this incredible man and all of his layers and complexities. 

Jeno had been coming over often enough that he'd claimed a permanent dent in Jaemin's couch and that particular spot he liked. There was a coffee stain on the left armrest from when he'd laughed too hard at one of Jaemin's terrible jokes, and his favorite hoodie was currently draped over the back of Jaemin's desk chair. He knew that Jeno was very particular about his surroundings and personal space, and it had taken him quite a while to be comfortable enough to come to Jaemin’s apartment and even sleep over on occasion. Which meant Jaemin was sure that the timing was perfect to make things official. Especially when Haechan heard about how Jeno was around Jaemin, their mutual friend found it unbelievable. 

Jaemin dried his hands on the dish towel, the question he'd been turning over in his head all evening sitting on his tongue as he watched Jeno. 

"You're staring," Jeno said without looking up from his phone, his voice was warm, teasing. 

"Just thinking," Jaemin replied, tossing the towel aside.  

"About?"  

About how you relax when I play with your hair. About the way your nose scrunches when you're trying not to laugh. About how I want to wake up to your ridiculous bed head every morning. The way M&Ms are now stashed in every corner of my apartment.  

"New rescue at the clinic," Jaemin said instead, moving to sit beside him. "German Shepherd mix. Terrified of leashes. If you move too fast, he shuts down completely."  

Jeno finally looked up, setting his phone aside. "So what do you do?"  

Jaemin reached out slowly, giving Jeno every chance to pull away before his fingers brushed against Jeno's wrist. He could feel the rapid flutter of Jeno's pulse beneath his fingertips. "You wait. You let him know he's safe. And then..." His thumb traced idle circles over Jeno's skin. "You show him there's nothing to be afraid of."  

Jeno's breathing changed, just slightly. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach back but wasn't quite sure he was allowed.  

"Jeno."  

"Yeah?"  

"I want to ask you something. But I need you to know - you can say no. You can take all the time you need to think about it. I'll still be here."  

Jeno swallowed hard. His free hand clenched in the fabric of his own shirt. "Okay."  

"Be my boyfriend?"  

For a long moment, Jeno just stared at him. Then something in his expression cracked open - relief, disbelief, sheer unguarded want - and he let out a shaky laugh. 

"You absolute idiot," he muttered, grabbing the front of Jaemin's shirt and yanking him in. "Of course it’s a yes."  

The kiss was messy, off-center, their noses bumping before Jeno adjusted with a huff. Jaemin could taste the faint sweetness of the tea Jeno had been drinking, could feel the way Jeno's hands trembled where they gripped his shirt. When they pulled apart, Jeno's cheeks were flushed pink, his lips slightly swollen.  

"Just so you know," Jeno said, voice rough around the edges, "I would've said yes with that very first M&M."  

Jaemin laughed, pressing their foreheads together, "I wanted it to be right."  

Jeno rolled his eyes, but he was smiling - that real, unguarded smile that made his eyes disappear into crescents, "You and your perfect timing."  

"Worked, didn't it?"  

ஐ

Jaemin noticed the changes in Jeno like watching spring arrive - slowly, then all at once. At first it was little things: Jeno offering his jacket when Jaemin was cold or how he stocked up on almond milk for when Jaemin came over. Then it was the way Jeno, who used to stiffen when touched unexpectedly, started initiating contact - a casual brush of fingers against Jaemin's wrist while cooking, or leaning his weight against Jaemin's side when they sat next to each other in the back of a taxi. The real turning point came when Jaemin found Jeno humming absently while folding laundry in Jaemin's apartment one Sunday morning, completely at ease. It struck Jaemin then - this man who used to keep his heart under lock and key was now leaving pieces of himself everywhere: his shampoo in Jaemin's shower, his terrible taste in snacks in Jaemin's cupboard, his quiet laughter in the corners of Jaemin's life.

It wasn't perfect. Some nights Jeno still tensed up when conversations got too real, his old defenses rising like storm shutters. There were moments he'd pull away without explanation, only to return hours later with a mumbled apology and cold fingers seeking Jaemin's. But that was the thing - he always came back. Every time. And God, if that didn't make Jaemin's chest ache with something too big to name. To be trusted with Jeno's fragile, fighting heart - with all its cracks and careful hope - was a gift Jaemin never expected. It made him want to be better, softer, the kind of person worthy of such hard-won trust. Some mornings Jaemin would wake to find Jeno already awake, watching him with an expression so tender it hurt, like he couldn't quite believe this was his to have. In those quiet moments, Jaemin would pull him closer.

JEno wasn't used to this - to feeling so exposed yet so safe at the same time. For years, he'd perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, building careful boundaries that protected him from getting hurt again. But with Jaemin, those defenses were crumbling without his permission. He'd catch himself doing things that would have terrified his past self. The vulnerability scared him shitless. Some mornings he'd wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding at the realization of how much power he'd given Jaemin to wreck him. He'd watch Jaemin sleep beside him and feel equal parts overwhelming affection and sheer terror. What if this didn't last? What if he wasn't good enough at this whole relationship thing? But then Jaemin would blink awake with that soft, sleep-warm smile just for Jeno, and the fear would ease just a little. Or he'd do something stupid like sing off-key in the shower or burn their breakfast yet again, and Jeno would realize with startling clarity that he'd never felt more at home with anyone. 

It wasn't perfect. Some days the old fears crept back in, making him withdraw for no reason even he could explain. But Jaemin never pushed - just waited, steady as sunrise, until Jeno found his way back. And each time Jeno let himself be vulnerable - each quiet "I love you" murmured against Jaemin's skin, each childhood story shared in the dark, each time he reached for Jaemin's hand without hesitation - it got a little easier. The crazy thing was, the more he let himself love Jaemin completely, the lighter he felt. Like he'd been carrying this weight for years without realizing it, and now he could finally set it down. The day he told Jaemin about his father was the first time he’s ever said those words aloud. He went no contact with them the moment he turned 18 and never looked back, but the memory of his father’s anger would never leave him. He couldn't even remember his father’s face anymore, replaced by his screams and broken furniture and shattered glass. Jaemin didn’t turn away, and Jeno knew he never would. His embrace would always be right there to catch him.

ஐ

The sharp tang of over-brewed coffee mixed with the lingering scent of dinner as Jeno stormed another lap around his kitchen. The rhythm of his pacing as erratic as his breathing. Jaemin watched from where he sat on the couch, recognizing the signs - the way Jeno's jaw worked when he was too angry to form words properly, how his fingers kept flexing like he wanted to punch something but was too civilized to actually do it.

An M&M wouldn't work this time.

"Can you believe that absolute fucking moron-" Jeno's snapped as he dragged a hand through his hair. His work shirt, usually crisp and tucked in with military precision, hung rumpled from his shoulders, the top two buttons undone where he'd been pulling at the collar. "He sends the wrong goddamn files to the Choi account - my biggest client, Jaemin - and then has the audacity to send fucking emojis in the group chat like it's some kind of joke?"

He'd seen Jeno like this before - all coiled tension and sparking anger - he knew what Jeno needed. The dim kitchen light caught the sheen of sweat at Jeno's temples, his inky hair messy and eyes dark with annoyance.

"Jen," Jaemin kept his voice low and measured.

"-and now I have to work all weekend to fix this mess while that useless prick gets to-"

"Jeno,” he said again, more firmly this time. Jeno finally stopped mid-rant, his chest heaving. The sight tugged at something in Jaemin's chest - this brilliant, capable man reduced to frustrated exhaustion by some idiot coworker's carelessness.

“Come here,” he said, patting the space between his legs. For a second, Jeno just stared at him; Jaemin could see the gears turning in his head. I'm fine, I don't need to calm down, let me just get this out of my system. But then his shoulders slumped all at once, the fight draining out of him as he walked over to the couch. The leather groaned in protest as Jeno folded himself into the space between Jaemin's legs, his back coming to rest against Jaemin's chest with an exhausted heaviness. Jaemin didn't say anything - just pressed a kiss to the crown of Jeno's head before sliding his hands under the wrinkled fabric of Jeno's shirt. The first touch of his fingers to Jeno's overheated skin drew a shuddering exhale from his  firm chest. Jaemin mapped the familiar landscape of tension with practiced ease - the knots clustered between Jeno's shoulder blades, the too-tight muscles running along his traps. His nails scraped gently over his scalp, the motion slow and tender.

"He’s such an asshole," Jeno muttered, but the word lacked its earlier venom. His head lolled back against Jaemin's shoulder as his limbs slowly loosened.

Jaemin hummed in acknowledgment, feeling the tension slowly bleed from Jeno's body with each pass of his hands. "Mm-hmm."

"I could've lost one of the biggest contracts of my career," Jeno's voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. "The Choi account keeps half our department afloat. If they'd pulled out because of this..."

"But they didn't." Jaemin pressed his thumbs into the particularly stubborn knot at the base of Jeno's skull, smiling faintly at the punched-out noise it drew from him. "Because you're good at your job. Because you fixed it."

Jeno turned his face into the curve of Jaemin's neck, his breath warm against Jaemin's skin. He smelled like stress sweat and the faint citrus of his shampoo, with an underlying note of the expensive pen ink he was always fussing over. "Still feels like shit," he mumbled.

Jaemin's fingers didn't stop their steady movement through Jeno's hair, "I know - but you got this."

“Thanks Jaem,” he said quietly with a heavy sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxed. Jaemin pressed a kiss into his hair, wrapping him in his arms. And as Jeno began to drift off, Jaemin became… curious. Whenever Jeno came to him like this, in need of comfort, when he relied on him and sought out his touch, it did something to Jaemin. They’ve slept over at each other’s places often, kissing and teasing and sharing quiet moments, but going further was still slow going. Not that Jaemin minded at all, but he had been thinking about… things. 

So he slid his hands under Jeno’s shirt again and around his waist to map the strong cut of his abs and the thickness of his chest, drawing patterns over his soft skin to feel the chords of muscle beneath. Slowly, his curious fingers feathered over Jeno’s nipples, Jeno fully waking up at the touch.

“Jaem?”

“Relax, baby,” Jaemin hummed in his ear, “let me take care of you.”

He made quick work of Jeno’s belt and zipper, sliding his fingers past the band of his briefs. Jeno bent his legs and leaned back into Jaemin with a soft moan. Jaemin whispered sweet nothings in Jeno’s ear as he slowly jerked him off, one hand working his length while the other played beneath. He came on a strangled moan, heels digging into the couch as his head fell back onto Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin continued to tease and stroke his softening length, making a mess in his pants until Jeno was completely boneless against him. 

“Better?” Jaemin asked, kissing behind his ear and nuzzling at his hair. He was so focused on Jeno that he didn’t even realise how hard he was, Jeno;s lower back pressing against him. 

“No,” Jeno said breathlessly, voice low.

“Oh?”

“You next,” Jeno said, tilting his head further back to look up at Jaemin. 

“Jen, you don’t have to -”

“I want to,” he replied, eyes dark with heat, that spot under his eye especially charming at this angle, “so get your hands out of my pants and let me suck you off.” 

He did just that, allowing Jeno to turn around and move back to position himself between his legs. Jeno looked like an absolute dream; shirt hanging off his shoulders, cheeks pink and pink tongue caught between his perfect teeth. 

His eyes fell down as he tugged Jaemin’s sweats over his hips, his brief following. The cool air kissed his swollen length, Jeno swallowing heavily at the sight of his straining cock and the moisture beading at the tip. Jaemn nearly bit a hole in his lip at the sight of Jeno licking his lips as if presented with a delicious treat.

Jeno’s eyes flickered up again, meeting Jaemin’s, and there was something fragile in his gaze - something that made Jaemin’s stomach tighten in a way that was equal parts possessive and tender.

“Go on,” Jaemin murmured, his voice low but steady, his thumb brushing along Jeno’s cheekbone. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

Jeno swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded, his lips parting slightly. He hesitated for a moment before leaning forward, his breath warm against Jaemin’s skin. Jaemin let out a soft exhale, his grip in Jeno’s hair tightening.

“Good,” Jaemin whispered, his voice like velvet, “Show me how much you want it.”

Jeno’s lips brushed against the throbbing length first, tentative and soft, and Jaemin’s stomach coiled with anticipation. When Jeno finally took him into his mouth, the sensation was electric, sending a jolt through Jaemin’s body. 

“That’s it,” Jaemin breathed, his voice barely audible over the sound of Jeno’s quiet, uneven breaths. He could feel the way Jeno’s body tensed, the way his jaw worked to adjust. 

“You’re doing so good, Jeno. Just like that.”

Jeno looked up at him through his long lashes, and Jaemin could see the way his cheeks flushed, the way his ears turned red. He made a soft, muffled sound, and Jaemin’s lips curved into a faint, approving smile.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jaemin murmured, his fingers tugging at Jeno’s hair. “Hearing me tell you how good you are? How perfect you look like this?”

Jeno’s movements faltered for just a moment before he found his rhythm again. 

“Look at you,” Jaemin whispered, his voice dripping with admiration. “So eager, so perfect. You’re so beautiful, Jeno. So good.”

The sound that escaped Jeno was muffled but unmistakable that made Jaemin’s stomach flip. He could feel the way Jeno’s body trembled, the way he was holding himself back, and it only made him want to push further. To see how much Jeno could take before he broke.

Jeno’s movements stuttered again, and Jaemin could feel the way his throat worked around him, the way his breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. He tightened his grip in Jeno’s hair, pulling him back just enough to meet his gaze.

“You love this, don’t you? Knowing how much I love seeing you like this. Do you want more?”

Jeno hummed around his dick, his cheeks flaring deep. Jaemin firmly fisted Jeno’s hair to hold him still, Jeno’s hands digging into Jaemin’s hips as he surrendered. Jaemin moved his hips to fuck in and out of Jeno’s hot mouth. He couldn’t look away from Jeno’s face, the way his eyes watered and as he choked. The feeling of Jeno trusting him so completely, of letting go and giving freely, had him finishing so quickly and so intensely he thought his bones would snap. On a broken groan he spilled down Jeno’s throat, his spine pulled out of the top of his head. White spots popped over his vision as he collapsed into the couch, hands falling out of Jeno’s hair as he struggled to breathe. Jeno licked him clean, eager and hot as he enjoyed the taste. 

“Good?” he asked, voice wrecked as he pushed up to hover over Jaemin, eyes filled with stars.

Jaemin tugged Jeno down on top of him to kiss him, slow and tender, “Good,” he whispered against his lips, “So good.”

“In that case," Jeno smiled against his lips, "got any M&M’s on you?”

ஐ

The pub buzzed with the comfortable chaos of a Friday night - glasses clinking, servers weaving between tables, the occasional burst of laughter rising above the jazz band that played softly in a corner. Jaemin and Jeno had arrived first so that Jeno could pick a booth in the back. But his eyes weren’t fixed on the door anymore but on Jaemin instead. They sat close together, Jeno’s arm around Jaemin’s shoulders, thighs comfortably aligned beneath the table. 

When Haechan and Mark arrived, their bubble popped as they were swept up in a flurry of conversation with their friends.

Across from them, Haechan was in the middle of dramatically reenacting Mark's disastrous attempt at karaoke last weekend, complete with exaggerated facial expressions and flailing arm movements that nearly knocked over his beer for the third time.  

"Okay, first of all," Mark interjected, cheeks flushed from both laughter and embarrassment, "it was not that bad - "  

"It was painful," Haechan corrected, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. "Like watching a baby deer try to do ballet. All limbs and zero coordination."  

Jeno snorted into his drink, nearly choking on his sip of beer. Jaemin patted his back with one hand while stealing a piece of grilled meat from Jeno's plate with the other, grinning unrepentantly when Jeno shot him a mock glare.  

Three months in, and nights like this had become something Jaemin cherished; the togetherness, the way Jeno relaxed more around their friends these days, the comfortable rhythm of their shared life settling into place. They’v eleven begun talking about moving in together, and perhaps even adopting one of the rescues Jamein has been working with. Jeno had gotten particularly attached to Stitch and always took a moment to play with him when he came to visit Jaemin at work. Then Haechan, the chaos gremlin that he was, set down his chopsticks with a clatter and fixed Jaemin with a look that spelled trouble.  

"Speaking of painful," he began, teasing, "Jeno, has Jaemin ever told you about his scientific approach to dating you?"  

“Oh?”

"Haechan,” Jaemin warned, pointing his fork in Haechan’s direction.

"Oh, it was fascinating," Haechan continued, undeterred. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands like a gossipy teenager. "Our dear Dr. Na here applied his extensive veterinary knowledge to the delicate art of wooing you. Like some kind of romantic animal whisperer."  

"Why are you like this?"  Mark groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“Is that so?” Jeno looked at Jaemin, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, let's not - "  

"He timed everything!" Haechan barreled on, gleeful. "The first time he held your hand? Calculated. That little head tilt he does when he's listening to you rant about your idiot coworkers? And don't even get me started on the strategic snack deployment - "  

Jaemin kicked Haechan under the table - hard - making him yelp, nearly upending his water glass. 

Jeno, however, was still staring at Jaemin, "You studied me?"  

"It wasn't like that," Jaemin protested, hands in the air in mock surrender.

Mark, the only responsible adult at the table, tried to intervene, "Haechan's exaggerating - "  

"Remember when you told me - and I quote - 'Jeno responds well to positive reinforcement, like when I give him space after a bad day but then initiate physical contact when he's receptive'? That's some serial killer shit, man."  

Jaemin could feel his ears burning, "I never phrased it like that!"  

"But you did analyze me," Jeno said, his slips twitching as he tried to hide a smirk. 

"I just wanted to get to know you and not mess up!” Jaemin quickly tried to explain, trying not to panic. Jeno knew him through and through, and they were both unofficially aware of how they came to understand each other. But the way Haechan made it sound was rather ridiculous. 

Then, without warning, Jeno burst into laughter - real, genuine laughter that made his eyes curve into those charming crescents, "Oh my god," he wheezed, "you adorable nerd."  

“You knew?” Haechan gaped, seeming rather disappointed that his stirring hadn't caused more of a reaction.

“Duh,” Jeno rolled his eyes, “who else gets called a good boy and given snacks after sex? I mean every time we - ”

Jaemin clapped a hand over Jeno’s mouth, his ears turning pink. "Okay, enough."  

"Wait, does this mean Jeno was basically Jaemin's human rescue project? Did he have to socialize you like a feral cat?"  

"I'm revoking your wine privileges," Mark groaned, hands in his hair.

Jeno pointed at Haechan with his free hand, "You're banned from our apartment."  

"Worth it. I knew introducing you two was a good idea.”

“Isn't this exactly why you set us up? Didnt you think we’d make a good match?” Jaemin asked pointedly.

“Honestly, you're both hot and equally shamefully lonely. You’re weird,” he pointed at Jaemin, “and you’re proud and stubborn," he pointed at Jeno, "I thought you’d drive each other crazy.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jeno said drily over the rim of his drink.

Later, as they walked home, Jeno bumped his shoulder against Jaemin's, "Got any M&Ms on you?"

"Obvioulsy," Jaemin replied, scoffing goodnaturedly.

"You're ridiculous," Jeno teased, biting the inside of his cheek.  

Jaemin grinned, swinging their joined hands between them, "You love it."  

“You’re right, I do,” Jeno said, grabbing Jaemin by the wrist to whirl him into his arms, “I love you, Doctor Na.”

“I love you too, Jen,” Jaemin hummed, weaving his fingers behind Jeno’s neck.

“I’ll happily be your rescue any day - you know I adore you.”

“In that case, how about we go on a trip? Just me and you?”

“A vacation? That sounds perfect - I’ll plan it.”

“It’s okay baby, it’s my idea. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I want to,” Jeno replied, holding him tighter, mischievousness glittering in his eyes, “so that I can make sure to include the maximum amount of play time in our itinerary.”

ஐ