Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright

-Howl by Florence and the Machine

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The first thing Yang Jeongin sees when he becomes fully conscious of his surroundings is the blood on his hands.

The shape of his fingers and the width of his palms are fuzzy in front of his eyes, but he can see the shine of red against his skin, the way it’s muddled dark with dirt. It clings to his knuckles, the lines in his palms, slipping down his wrists.

The second thing that rises to his attention, struggling through the fog of his brain, is the odd tang at the back of his throat. As if he had eaten something that he’s not quite used to, the taste lingering, sitting sour whenever he swallows.

Slowly, the rest of his surroundings come into focus, carried to the front of his attention by the soft trilling of a bird.

It’s early morning, it must be, by the way the sunlight spills through the canopy, dappling everything in soft shadows. A contrast to the sharp scent of pine that’s carried on the breeze, crisp and stinging pleasantly with each ragged inhale that he drags into his lungs. Jeongin is in the forest at the edge of his university, it’s the only explanation that makes any semblance of sense.

Somewhere away from any footpath, kneeling between overgrown trunks.

There is a nauseous, unsettled sensation taking home in the pit of his stomach with the knowledge that he can not seem to remember how he got here; bloodied with dirt smeared along his forearms and caked along his calves.

Jeongin stumbles back to the dorms on shaky legs, but he can't quite kill the feeling that something terrible happened.

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One of Jeongin’s many flaws is his inability to keep track of time.

It slips away from him so easily, leaving behind gaps in his memory that he can barely recall.

For as long as he can remember, ironically enough, his memory has always been a bit fuzzy. Headaches splitting through his skull and leaving everything a little blurry like smoke on the water, but it’s gotten worse ever since he’s started attending Yellow Wood University.

If he’s being rather honest with himself it had begun progressively getting worse since high school graduation, tucked away in a community college while he collected enough credits to transfer out. The first time he well and truly blacked out he had woken up in the extremely small park behind the Admin building, between the sparse trees that held no real value beyond decoration.

Seeing the sprawling forest surrounding Yellow Wood for the first time felt like something in his chest sighed in aching relief. The emotion was so fleeting that sometimes he wonders if it was a delusion caused by stress.

The blacking out wasn’t a common enough occurrence to hinder his daily life, and it left Jeongin feeling out of sorts for days afterward every time it would happen. But nothing terribly odd would come from it, just waking up in places he couldn’t remember stumbling to, limbs heavy and brain stuffed with cotton.

Later, after Jeongin had his first taste of alcohol he would come to realize that a hangover could only wish to replicate the feeling that he would experience after one of his episodes.

It was like a very inconvenient type of sleep walking and nothing concerning had ever occurred before, not until this most recent lapse in memory. When he closes his eyes he can still see the blood on his hands, can feel the dirt digging into the skin of his legs.

Maybe if he pretends that it hadn't happened then he wouldn't have to deal with what it could possibly mean. Maybe it was just a fever dream, maybe a hallucination. A figment of his imagination that followed him into the waking world and sloughed off of him in the muddy water left circling the drain as he stood underneath a lukewarm shower.

An ache settles into his joints and behind his eyes and his ear canals, refusing to be ignored so easily.

Walking through the university the day after waking up among the trees felt as if he was wading through thick swamp land and the environment itself was fighting back against his every move. His book bag felt like it was filled with bricks and the sunlight felt a little too bright and the ambient sounds of campus life were too much.

Even his bones felt heavy.

Thankfully he had managed to get through his classes for the day, electing to skip out on any additional studying until the pounding ache behind his eyes left him alone.

It was a shame that all of his senses were waging war against him, because walking through campus was one of Jeongin’s favorite parts of the day. It was a place filled with wonder and towering buildings, such a contrast to the familiar but lacking view of his hometown.

Yellow Wood was the sort of place people wrote pretentious books about.

A mysterious and old place, with textured brick buildings and creeping ivy and the looming presence of a dense forest threatening to swallow the entire campus. The trees turned a plethora of colors later in the semester, setting the landscape ablaze and providing a beautiful backdrop as Jeongin hurried to his classes.

It was magical in ways that Jeongin could have only dreamt about before setting foot on the property.

A gaggle of art students rush by him, smelling sharply of paint remover and premium weed. Jeongin almost gags at the combination, the nausea settling in his stomach throwing his olfactory senses into overdrive.

It’s expected, even if it’s not appreciated currently. The student body of Yellow Wood seemed to live in their own ecosystem filled with lit cigarettes and expensive loafers. Brooding and pretentious with too much money on their hands, wiling away the hours until they could drink past curfew and pay someone else to do their required work. They were almost like a comedic representation of every stereotype Jeongin had ever experienced of prestigious university students, and he fucking loved it.

That is, on days when he could properly enjoy the microcosm of their world.

Today he just wants to get back to his dorm and hopefully fall face first into his mattress.

Jeongin stumbles up the winding, rickety steps of his building and heads down the hall towards his room, the promise of sweet relief growing closer by the moment.

As he reaches out with his key in hand, he's half expecting to look down and see red coating his knuckles, spreading up to his wrist. It’s a trick of his mind, a phantom paranoia seeing as how he took two showers yesterday before classes and scrubbed until his skin was raw.

The feeling still lingers.

Taking a deep, steadying breath; the sort of breath that he imagines anchors him to the world, hooking into the edges of reality and keeping him in place, Jeongin jams the key into the lock, fighting with the old hardware as it refuses to give so easily.

Exhaustion pulls at him, causing his frustration to crest at something as mundane as a faulty doorknob. Jeongin wishes, just for a heartbeat, that he had the strength to knock the door off of its hinges. He’d no longer have to worry about jiggling the knob in just the right way to enter his own room ever again.

Another door opens down the hall, a head poking itself out. The first thing Jeongin registers are wire framed glasses, and then his brain is catching up with him, recognition sighing through him.

Seungmin leans out of his door, head tilted in curiosity. Eyes boring into Jeongin. “You alright, Jeongin?”

Mustering up the last reserves of his energy, Jeongin jerks his chin in a nod. The knob rattles, finally giving way under his palm. “Yeah- yeah. Just tired.”

A hum. Seungmin continues to stare. As if he’s taking stock of Jeongin, cataloging every little thing about him and weighing each bit of information in his head. Jeongin slumps a shoulder into his partially open door, trying his best to smile. No matter how shit he feels, he was raised with manners.

Seungmin blinks, clears his throat. Touches one of his knuckles against the frame of his glasses. “Clearly. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” It comes out as a scoff more than a solid word.

Like this, haloed by the soft glow seeping from the frame of his room, Seungmin looks like a saint of sorts. Jeongin isn’t particularly sure which saint he’d be, but there’s definitely something holy about the way he holds himself. Both hands braced against the door frame, sleeves pushed up to his elbows to show off a large watch around his wrist.

The line of his neck peeks out from the undone collar of his shirt, smooth and unblemished and Jeongin’s teeth ache.

Blinking, he tries to refocus himself, moving his attention away from skin and down until he catches sight of Seungmin’s loafers. Polished to perfection.

Sometimes, when Jeongin looks at Seungmin, he truly looks like all of those cliche descriptions of studious prep school boys who get lost in their books. If he didn’t know any better he’d probably assume Seungmin was some sort of ancient history nerd who spends too much time translating giant poetry books for fun. Which, he does read big tomes of nonsense as light entertainment, absolutely, but he’s also studying law so it kind of balances out in Jeongin’s opinion.

He fits seamlessly into the arrogantly intellectual student body of Yellow Wood, just in a slightly different flavor.

Maybe he’d be the saint of boyish charm. That sounds rather nice.

They stand there, the two of them not saying a word more, quiet sounds filtering through someone’s door further down the hall.

There’s something about Seungmin’s gaze that always makes Jeongin feel a bit like a pinned bug, wings and legs stuck through, left vulnerable to a searching eye. Some part of him, beneath the exhaustion and fatigue and general malaise at the last twenty-four hours, wants to stay here rooted to the spot, forehead held up by the paneling of his door, fingers gripping the brass of his doorknob.

“You should get some sleep, Jeongin.” Seungmin urges, breaking through all wistful daydreams like a heavy swinging mallet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah. Class. Tomorrow.”

Their shared class in which they’re project partners, where Jeongin had already promised that they could work on an outline for it tomorrow in the library.

Jeongin’s brain reminds him of this information like rolling syrup. It’s as if with the promise of his bed so close the remainder of his energy has dried up. Leaving behind an empty hollow filled with dirt and leaf litter and blood under his nails-

With another sharp nod, Jeongin takes that as his cue to leave, pushing at the door with his shoulder and following the momentum as it swings inward. Seungmin watches him go, attention glued to the space between his shoulder blades the entire time, like a physical presence. The connection cut like a string by the door clicking shut behind him.

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Within the first hour of Jeongin moving all of his belongings into the postage stamp of a room that he was assigned on his first day, there was a rapping at his door in a jaunty tune.

Jeongin had knocked his head into the eave directly above his bed when moving to answer, and would later knock his head once more before going to sleep.

The eave will become a contentious enemy to Jeongin’s clumsy nature.

On the other side of the door was a sun beam of a boy. Pale blonde hair scraped back into a messy clip, smile so big it took up half of his face and rounded his cheeks, and a container of brownies thrust forward into Jeongin’s chest. His roommate hovered behind him, much taller with glasses glinting in the low light of the hall.

“Hi,” the boy greeted, voice much lower than Jeongin was expecting. “This is Seungmin, I’m Felix, and these are for you! Welcome to Yellow Wood.”

That had been his introduction to the whirlwind of a personality that was Felix Lee.

A generous boy who insisted on being the best hall neighbor that Jeongin would experience, possibly ever. His words.

He was something ephemeral and gossamer, as if he had just walked out of the types of fairy tale books that included small fae creatures that smiled with a row of sharp glinting teeth. With big, sparkling eyes and freckled cheeks rounding into apples so consistently that it as well be the permanent set of his face.

Seungmin was a different breed all together. He didn't say much that first day, or many of the days after.

Jeongin spent most of those first few days of the semester getting to know Felix solely because Felix wouldn’t have it any other way. If Jeongin was spending any extended time at the dormitory, then Felix was there, asking if he could join, inquiring if Jeongin needed anything, anything at all really.

It was sweet and Jeongin found himself becoming terribly endeared by Felix. It was almost impossible not to. Until suddenly there was no trace of the manic pixie boy in their hall, and Jeongin was left with Seungmin’s presence to occupy the empty gap that Felix had left in his absence.

Those first few weeks felt as if Seungmin was a ghost inhabiting their building. Nothing but the suggestion of him left behind wherever he went, as if he was always busy with something else. A new explanation gracing his tongue whenever Jeongin would ask where he was off to at such odd hours.

A part time job, rock climbing at ten pm, a wood working class at eight in the morning, a second part time job that absolutely would have clashing hours with the first. “Ax throwing,” he had said one afternoon, clearly dressed for sitting at a table in the library in late September. Loafers and a windbreaker and his wire glasses.

Jeongin had wished him luck regardless.

Seungmin, Jeongin had learned very quickly, lied like it was his hobby. Easily and with an air of familiarity, as if it brought him a spark of joy each time something wholly untrue passed his lips.

They had run into each other, early on in Felix’s disappearance, merely by luck as he was leaving right as Seungmin was arriving. Books balanced in the crook of his arm, key working into the lock. Jeongin would have continued on, kept his head down and moving, but it was Seungmin who gained his attention.

Door half open, one perfectly polished loafer keeping it from closing. “Hey, Felix wanted you to have these.” Seungmin juggles the books until he’s pulling out a small container of brownies from his leather rucksack.

“Oh, thanks.” Jeongin tucks them under his own arm. “Where is Felix, by the way? I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

Seungmin shrugs. “He’s staying with his boyfriend. Don’t worry, you’ll see him again.” Said with so much confidence that Jeongin finds it hard to doubt him. It wasn’t like his usual fibs for the sake of spinning up an untruth, this one felt real. With a little wave, Seungmin was slipping away, door shutting firmly behind him.

What a stupidly intriguing boy.

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The first time he had ever really, properly spoken to Seungmin was outside of the library. The building itself was large and imposing, almost castle like in its construction. The sort of architecture one would expect to see from an institution with such a long history. The exact date of its foundation is lost to Jeongin, but he knows it was a number that made his eyebrows arch into his hairline.

It was still early in the semester, October a promise on the horizon, and Jeongin was learning that the Yellow Wood library was proving to be invaluable. He visited it on most days when he had free time, and sometimes when he very much did not have an ounce of it to be seen.

He will come to learn that even when he's swamped in work, the best place to hide out is between the towering shelves of the upper floor.

Upon hefting open one of the large front doors with all of his might, someone had stumbled out before Jeongin could enter, practically knocking into him in their haste to leave.

A book tumbled from the stack in their arms, thumping heavily onto Jeongin’s foot in its landing, which in turn caused him to flinch away from the entrance and bite out a curse.

“Shit, sorry.” The body apologized immediately.

Cutting his assessment of his foot short, Jeongin had swung his gaze up and away, landing squarely on Seungmin.

Immediately, the sight of little Cocker Spaniels on his crooked tie caught Jeongin’s attention. How cute.

There was a glint in Seungmin’s eye as he snatched the book from the pavement, sliding it back onto the top of the precarious armful of textbooks that were clearly heavy enough to be classified as weapons. The wire frame glasses perched on his nose slid a fraction of a centimeter further at the action.

“It's ok, you should just be more careful.” Jeongin winced as he shook out his foot, grateful that nothing seemed terribly wrong with it beyond a fading ache. It would be just his miserable luck to acquire a broken foot from a falling book.

Seungmin nodded, clearly distracted as he glanced over Jeongin's shoulder into the library proper. The door had closed by now, with a big resounding thud, but there were window panes in the center of each door, large and clear and providing an unimpeded view down the main hallway.

Everything about him seemed a bit on edge, as if he was trying to out run something before it barreled around the corner yelling his name.

“Everything alright? You’re acting like you stole library books.” It was meant as a joke, but Seungmin had just arched an eyebrow at his tone.

The books shifted, a veritable jenga tower of academic text. “And if I did?” It's said as a challenge, lips pressed together, eyebrow still arched.

Though it seemed like the sort of thing Jeongin should report, he couldn’t help but grin. Almost immediately he was slipping between the glass window of the front doors and Seungmin’s body, blocking him from view. “Then I guess I never saw you.”

It earned him a mischievous smile, which felt a little like a boon.

When Jeongin had woken up the next morning, there was a note stuck to his door, paper bright and contrasting with the dull wood grain. A simple phone number had been written on it, and underneath was a message reading Welcome to Yellow Wood, I hope your foot didn’t sustain too much damage.

A few days later he received a message from the contact that had been sitting untouched in his phone; Kim Seungmin. did you save my number?

He thumbs a quick response. who is this?

Three dots appear, disappear, reappear again. laura from wood working 101 :p

Jeongin snorted so hard his morning orange juice burned his soft palate.

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Jeongin would come to learn that there were more of them, beyond just Felix and Seungmin. That the two of them were attached to a larger entity with many more limbs and eyes and five more hearts all beating in time together.

They moved as if they were one, which was disconcerting in its own right. Jeongin would watch them walk through campus as if they were the center of the universe’s attention, pulling eyes and ears in their direction wherever they went.

It doesn’t take very long for him to learn who they are, seeing as how the student body loves to talk about anything they find remotely interesting and a group of boys who seem to create their own spotlight is beyond interesting.

Felix himself loves to talk about his friends, on the occasions when he’s occupying Jeongin’s company whether Jeongin is studying or reading or eating dinner in the common room. Always so eager to regale Jeongin with an anecdote or funny little memory of the friends he made in his first year at Yellow Wood.

By the third conversation he holds with Felix, Jeongin can easily match names to faces. It helps that Felix finds incredible joy in showing Jeongin pictures of their various outings and adventures.

The newest picture to be included in Felix’s photo gallery is a group shot, six of them all huddled together in various states of sobriety, Felix happily recounting their big night out over the weekend.

Felix leans into Jeongin’s space, phone held in front of them both as he spins a tale about drinking at the local bar in town and trying to sing along to the music that crackled through the speakers.

There, towards the back, is Hyunjin. The tallest member of their little cohort with his ink dark hair and model good looks. Everyone in the entire bunch is stunning, don’t get Jeongin wrong, he’s sure they could all be part of some high end fashion photoshoot in a magazine only sold to those in a certain tax bracket, but there’s something utterly fucking captivating about Hyunjin.

He’s the sort of beautiful Jeongin didn’t really believe in before seeing with his own eyes.

He’s the sort of beautiful that has people talking about it, constantly. It’s hard to exist in any space that Hyunjin has so much as walked through without someone stuttering on their own breath and telling their friends how gorgeous he is. Jeongin always agrees silently, but he wonders if it must be exhausting to only ever be known for the composition of your facial features.

Maybe Jeongin would even be interested in Hyunjin if it weren’t for the man attached to his side. One arm tight around Hyunjin’s waist, the other hand poking at his own cheek.

Like a moon orbiting a planet, like a planet orbiting a sun, like the galaxy in constant flux around a singular fixed point with Hyunjin at it’s center, was Changbin. On first impressions he seemed a bit intense and imposing, with his dark hair and glinting glasses and muscles too big for the cardigans he elected to wear during the colder months. The sort of man who made you feel like every altercation with him would equate to bringing a knife to a gun fight.

The gun, of course, being his biceps.

Though, as Jeongin would be very quick to learn, looks could be deceiving and while Felix was concentrated sunshine, Changbin was something close to unfiltered joy.

Especially when he laughed. Jeongin could see the hints of it in the still picture, could almost hear it with the shape of his smile and the crinkle of his eyes. High and staccato, always filling Jeongin up like popping bubbles. It was his laughter that Jeongin would always hear booming across the quad, making him smile even before he knew any of them personally.

Squeezed next to Felix in the middle, who looked radiant and glittering, was Seungmin; glasses long gone and his tie wrapped around his forehead, cheeks flushed even in the low lighting of the bar. Jeongin lingered on him for a beat longer than any of the others, subtly zooming in with his pointer and middle finger while Felix was distracted by recounting how positively drunk Jisung got on just one beer alone.

Jeongin hums along, half listening, trying to commit the hook of Seungmin’s smile when he’s unbothered and stress free to memory. It seems like every time Jeongin sees him, his hall neighbor is either tense or stoic. Or he’s in the middle of a scheme and all he does is quietly wink before he’s slipping away.

Setting the picture to rights, Jeongin’s eyes land on a hand in the corner of the photo, clearly from the person taking it. Chipped nail polish fingers creating a heart, half blurry with it’s movement.

“Oh, Chris took the picture.'“ Felix tells him, proudly, before Jeongin can inquire about the missing person in their huddled group.

Christopher Bang is Felix’s boyfriend, a legend of a boy held in high regard among anyone Jeongin talked to. What he was a legend for remains mysterious and murky, everyone having their own personal stories about his compassion and apparent natural desire to put others first even to his own detriment.

Apparently he was the head of multiple clubs before graduating last year, which lent itself to his legendary status. Taking to leadership roles like a fish to water, always accepting more and more responsibility as it was hefted into his arms. That wasn’t a fact, but it was something Jeongin extrapolated just from the way most people spoke about his inability to say no if ever asked for help.

Felix’s mercurial presence around their dorm hall was because, according to idle gossip and one too many pointed comments from Seungmin himself, Felix and Chris, also called Chan by the majority of the school body with fondness in their voices, were in a very complicated on and then and off again relationship.

No one knew the exact catalyst for the off periods, only that Felix always whirled around campus as if fueled by spite, and Chris trudged along in the shadows like a hanged dog.

As far as Jeongin is aware, what with Felix barely being seen around his room recently, they’re currently very much back on.

On the other side of Seungmin, squeezed in like the other half of bookends, is Jisung. Cheeks ruddy and darker than any of the others, eyes glassy, chin tucked into the curve of Seungmin’s shoulder. He was an excitable boy that Jeongin always thought looked a little like a cartoon character. Face so expressive, even now in this picture. Eyebrows arched, eyes squinted so tightly like two crescent moons, and mouth pulled into a gummy smile.

Attached to Jisung’s reaching hand is his boyfriend Minho. The shoulder of his jacket is bunched in Jisung’s hold, as he tips towards the blurry finger heart, teeth bared in mid bite. It makes Jeongin snort quietly to himself. Minho has always seemed like such a sharp person, with his quiet demeanor and shadow like presence wherever Jisung went, but something about the bar lights and the promise of a smile bunching his cheeks makes him look softer than Jeongin has ever seen him.

He looked so achingly human in a way that Jeongin couldn’t put words to.

If Felix and Chris were the type of couple that one would need a bulletin announcement just for the simple status of their relationship, then their complete opposites would be Jisung and Minho. If the student body is to be believed, which isn’t normally the case seeing as how most students love nothing more than to embellish, then Jisung and Minho arrived to Yellow Wood already bound so tightly together.

Minho was in the year above Jisung, but he seemed to bring him along regardless. Wherever they had come from, they came as a unit.

“They’re like, the definition of toxic monogamy,” a girl in his Early Childhood Development class once scoffed, and Jeongin hadn’t exactly known what that meant, but he made sure to make note of it all the same.

They were like two halves of a whole, hardly ever seen without the other. Jeongin had cataloged the way they seemed to always be touching, no matter the circumstances. If they couldn’t hold hands then they would find other ways; shoulders pressed together, knees knocking, fingers hooked into belts or the waistband of pants, collars of shirts, hands anchored to the back of the other’s nape.

Even the professors had given up trying to keep them separated in classes, allowing them to push their chairs so closely together that Jeongin thought it would just be more economical if they sat in each other’s lap.

They all looked happy in the picture. Drunk yes, but there was a palpable joy that seemed to ooze out of Felix’s phone screen. Like they were just ecstatic to be together, no matter where they were.

It made a hollow place in Jeogin’s chest ache that he couldn’t name or even begin to conceptualize.

See, Jeongin has always been a sociable creature.

It’s baked into the very marrow of his bones to keep friends around him like little spinning planets. He’s never been one for many friends, the complicated weave of social circles and connecting branches always felt a bit exhausting, but when he’s found a few good ones, he keeps them close.

Starting at Yellow Wood with no existing companions felt more than a little isolating. As if he suddenly became a floating island with no ports to be seen. Leaving his hometown and the local college he had spent nearly two years attending was the equivalent of tearing up every single permanence he had cultivated for himself.

Of course he had friends that he spent time with, but after a move as big as this, they had faded into the background. Phone calls had become sporadic until they stopped completely, text messages left unread for days only to be replied to with apologies and promises to talk soon.

The people at Yellow Wood weren’t entirely unapproachable, even if they seemed a bit preoccupied with their own little curated solar systems. Jeongin managed to make some friends, exchange phone numbers and plans to see each other on weekends when everyone felt a bit more free with their time.

There were friends, and then there was whatever the fuck Felix and Seungmin had with the rest of their motley crew.

A belonging that seemed as if it went deeper than friends, possibly even family. He could see it whenever they were all together, like the sun would shine just a bit brighter knowing they were all in one place. Like they all smiled just a little bit bigger, their laughter coming easier.

There was something that tugged at him, every time his eyes would alight on the group. Boisterous and uncaring of the attention they garnered simply by existing. As if they demanded his attention whenever they were visible.

He wanted, remarkably and much to his own surprise, to be part of their pack. Which is exactly what it was, at it’s center. Close ranks and familiarity, a pack of wild animals that stalked through campus as if they were just looking for their next meal. Uncaring that there was a whole well of education underneath their feet.

Jeongin wanted that; to be among their circle. It was like a call, high in the trees, traveling through the wind. Hooking behind his rib cage and begging him to stumble closer, to insert himself.

He watched from afar as they interlinked and melted together, voices tangling in the crisp air.

As his attention was wont to do, it was pulled to Seungmin at the edges of their cluster. The majority of them were piled around a picnic table in the main courtyard, pressed so close they may as well fuse together like cells.

Seungmin was barking something teasing as he evaded capture from Changbin, who chased after him. Both of their laughter ringing out, bouncing against the old stone walls. Jisung shrieks in protest as Seungmin ducks behind him, using him as a shield, and the action is like the first domino falling over.

Jisung’s loud yelling sets Chan off, who laughs so hard he doubles over the table with the force of it, face almost touching the wood. In turn Hyunjin begins to cackle, launching himself forward to crumple into Jisung’s side, and Jeongin can’t tell from his position if it’s to help or hinder Seungmin’s use of his body as a hiding space.

Felix, who had already been climbing onto Minho’s back before any of this broke out, points at Changbin, voice lost in the uproar of continued laughter.

Jeongin does hear Changbin exclaim, clear as a bell, “What the fuck! Whose side are you on?”

It continues like that, the lot of them being overly loud and ecstatic at each other’s presence, until Jeongin decides that standing and watching them is possibly the most pathetic thing he can do.

He wants that, though. He wants to be able to worm his way into their midst, claiming that they’re all being ridiculous even as he clearly takes a side in what seems to be an incredibly low stakes argument. He wants to share in their latest joke.

The feeling settles in the hollow space behind his ribs, between all of his organs, making a home for itself. Jeongin ignores the little observation that lights up a corner of his brain that remarks on the space left between Chan and Seungmin.

A perfect space for him to slip into if he were braver.

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A few days into October, Jeongin wakes to the news that there had been an animal attack in the forest surrounding Yellow Wood. The headlines litter the browser he’s opened on his phone, all sensationalist and a touch fear mongering.

It wasn’t a person, thankfully, but a deer found torn to shreds. Supposedly it was some Sophomore girls that had stumbled upon it during the weekend, calling campus security who in turn called the department of fish and game.

Apparently not much happens up in these parts, which makes dead animals news worthy.

At first, Jeongin doesn’t think much of it, barely glancing at any mention of it when he scrolls through social media. He does linger on a photo of the scene though, early in the morning when he’s sifting through news articles to find anything that doesn’t blow the whole thing out of proportion. Claims of potential killers or rabid predators in the deep of the woods, preying on the paranoia of college kids who spend too much time under the influence of one thing or another.

The thing lays in the underbrush, rib cage cracked open to the world, throat ripped out and leaving nothing behind. Something about it chills him a bit, the pure unfiltered violence of it. As if whatever had done the attacking was a feral creature that was satiating some unnamed hunger.

The sight of it itches under his skin.

Jeongin thinks about waking up with dirt under his nails and that taste at the back of his throat that took him three consecutive teeth brushings to get rid of. The article doesn’t say when the deer died, or when it was found.

He can’t stop thinking about it.

The rest of the day is filled with chattering gossip surrounding it. People wondering what it means, if the woods are safe. What if they’re attacked next? Is the party this weekend called off?

Jeongin feels restless in a way he can’t explain, which is only exacerbated by the way Seungmin won’t stop staring at him during their shared class.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Some divine luck must have been bestowed upon Jeongin when he least expected it, since he’d been assigned to a room at the very end of the hall. A small and cramped thing, with an eave directly above the bed that Jeongin knocked his head into three times on his first night there. There was even a window tucked under the eave that looked out over the expanse of the quad and the towering tree line in the distance. It was all his, no roommate to share with whatsoever.

Which meant that there was no one to witness Jeongin wake up in a gasping, heaving mess of limbs and tangled blankets. Fingers clawing at his mouth, trying to pull something from between his teeth that wasn’t there, leaving his fingers raw and spit slick as he coughs.

The threadbare rug that came with his room swims in his vision, colors muted by the waning moonlight.

He dreamed of the forest. Trees rushing by, legs propelling him forward. He was chasing something, the thrill of a hunt singing through his veins, urging him to keep moving, keep following. It was the wet, aching gasp of his prey as it was pinned to the forest floor that awoke him. Tearing him from the dream and slamming him back into reality, bringing with it the phantom sensations of locking his jaw into flesh.

Jeongin gags around a coughing fit, tears welling in his eyes at the intensity wracking his chest.

This isn’t the first time this week that he’s been stuck in a dream that felt so real that he could practically taste it, surrounded by towering pine trees as he ran towards something unnameable. A few days ago Jeongin had gasped awake to the last vestiges of moonlight streaming bright and full through his single window. Dirt clung to the soles of his feet and the bones of his ankles, and what sounded like the eerie howling of wolves rang somewhere in the distance.

As if, absurdly, they were calling out to him. Beckoning for his attention.

Jeongin had chalked it up to exhausted auditory hallucinations in the early hours of the night, since the air became quiet the moment he opened his window.

Eventually, after much coughing and staring at the dark shadows of his room until everything stops swimming in his vision, he musters up the energy to stumble his way out the door. It’s late enough that he’s the only one awake, the only one who would be haunting the communal bathroom at this hour.

Old halogen lights flicker overhead as he hunches over the nearest sink, hand against his mouth to stave off the promise of nausea.

The reflection that greets him is one he doesn’t recognize, not at first. It’s him, of course it’s him. But the skin under his eyes is dark, resembling a bruised fruit, and his hair is getting too long. It’s beginning to curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. The person staring back at him through the mirror is a Jeongin who looks wrung dry. Pallid and panting, the ring on his pointer finger cool against his flushed skin.

How many more nights can he claw his way out of a nightmare, left gagging and gasping on his bedroom floor with the lingering taste of pine needles underneath his tongue? There must be something better than this, some way to fix it.

There must be something more than the ghost of the forest nipping at his ankles whenever he so much as closes his eyes.

The sound of a toilet flushing shatters the stillness of the bathroom, knocking into Jeongin like the crack of a gun. Quick and startling, tensing all of his muscles, brain too sluggish and sleep addled to do much beyond freeze in place.

One of the two stalls creaks open, and out comes Kim Seungmin like a rolling fog.

Jeongin hunches further over the sink, a lick of embarrassment traveling up his spinal column as Seungmin shuffles closer. Eyes like two piercing pins, assessing and too sharp.

As the sink turns on and water rushes against the porcelain, Jeongin glances at Seungmin through the mirror. He catches his eye, but Seungmin doesn't say anything, not until his hands are dry.

His hair is mussed from sleep, pushed to the side and showing off one half of his forehead. Pajamas plaid and matching, of course they are, Jeongin wouldn't expect anything different. The sight alone makes his already thundering heart trip over itself.

The water shuts off, and Jeongin remembers that in stark contrast to Seungmin, he's currently shirtless. His own sleep wear consisting of nothing more than mismatched socks and loose shorts.

The embarrassment folds into itself, making room for a hot and heavy feeling to take root in his lungs. It's a feeling adjacent to embarrassment, something he doesn't currently have the brain power to put a name to.

Finally Seungmin turns to face Jeongin, nostrils flaring, head tilting like a curious dog.

“You look like shit.” Seungmin says, and it’s familiar. The tense line of Jeongin’s shoulders unravel, hand falling away from his mouth. It feels like a warm blanket over shivering shoulders, like fingers digging into an open wound and holding him together.

An amused huff scrapes it’s way from the back of his throat. “I feel like it too.”

His nostrils flare again, jaw working. A light overhead flickers audibly. Seungmin makes a noise, high in his throat. “You seem stressed.”

That sounds like an extreme oversimplification, but how is Jeongin meant to properly explain away the reason he's currently bent double over an old sink so late at night, looking as if he's about to be sick at just the sight of his reflection?

What harm is there in being truthful? At least, a scrap of the truth, something that won’t cost him anything to offer. Nothing too damning, nothing Seungmin could eventually use against him.

Rolling out his shoulders, he tries to stand up straight, hands anchored against the edge of the sink. “I can’t really sleep, so.”

Seungmin sucks his teeth, resting his body weight into the sink directly next to Jeongin. “I hate when that happens.”

A dry, humorless laugh escapes from behind his teeth before he can stop it. Thankfully Seungmin doesn't take offense. “Does it happen often enough that you have any advice?”

He hums in contemplation, eyes skipping around Jeongin’s face, gaze never once straying any further than the point of Jeongin’s chin. It seems that they’re both incredibly aware of how very shirtless Jeongin is currently. “Have someone read you a bedtime story.”

It’s said decisively, like a man who’s experienced this before. Either giving or receiving, Jeongin isn’t quite sure. Though, Seungmin doesn’t seem like the type to lay around as someone reads to him, to be fair. He doesn’t seem like the type to engage in bedtime stories period, but what does Jeongin know?

Maybe it’s his favorite type of hobby. Maybe he and Felix take turns reading to each other before bed. Does that mean he has no one to read to on the nights Felix is sleeping somewhere else?

Jeongin snorts at the absurdity of it all. “Are you offering?”

“Depends on if you want to be read Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Otherwise I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”

“Seriously? Ovid?”

A shrug. “I find it very relaxing.”

Of course he does.

While it absolutely is the sort of thing Jeongin would crack open to put himself to sleep, unfortunately the idea of Seungmin sitting in his room, lit only by a single lamp in his matching pajamas and messy hair, supersedes any lackluster properties the book might hold.

“I think I’m good. I’m sure I’ll fall back to sleep eventually.”

Seungmin pushes himself away from the sink. “Alright, it's your loss. Good luck with that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

For a moment neither of them say anything, and finally Seungmin’s eyes rove down Jeongin’s chest, over his shoulders and down his arms. With a steady breath, he’s stepping away. Hand reaching out at the last moment, fingers wrapping themselves around Jeongin’s wrist like a cuff. There and then gone, applying the faintest pressure to his pulse.

“Goodnight Jeongin.”

“Night.” He manages, right before the door shuts and he’s left alone once again.

The next time Jeongin closes his eyes, laying face down on his bed, he dreams of walking through the large archways of the library. Seungmin follows two steps behind, keeping perfect pace, reading aloud from a big leather bound tome.

He narrates to Jeongin the story of King Lycaon and his sons, words twisting together as they make their way between the towering bookshelves. He smells like pine needles. It feels comforting.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Showing up to class late is, unfortunately, par for the course in Jeongin’s experience. For the most part he can make it with minutes to spare, but some days the time gets away from him.

Today, unfortunately, is one of the days when he wakes up with a blossoming migraine. The kind that causes his head to pulse in time with his heart, beating behind his eyes and in the roots of his teeth. It’s a struggle to get ready and race across campus, but eventually he’s skidding into the classroom and breathing a sigh of relief at the empty desk up front.

Technically he’s not late, not if he’s in his seat before their professor walks in the door.

It’s become a routine by now, one that he can execute with practiced precision. Stumbling in the door, trying not to trip over his classmates and their schoolbags left abandoned in the aisles, before throwing himself into the seat next to Seungmin. On good days, he makes sure to greet him with a smile, but on days where it feels like his own brain is trying to tunnel through his eyeballs, sometimes all he can manage is a grunt of acknowledgement.

He’s hoping today is somewhere in between. Seungmin deserves at the very least a head nod and for Jeongin to say good morning.

Speaking of his seat, it seems to be occupied as he barely manages to swerve around a boy practically tipping sideways in his chair. There, laying across the length of their shared table, is Hwang Hyunjin.

It’s not a surprising sight, or even all that unwelcoming, but Jeongin is curious on why Hyunjin is here, in their Psych class, when he should be haunting the halls of the arts building.

See, Hyunjin was a capricious boy who decided very early in his academic career that schooling wasn’t his favorite activity. If he wasn’t found in some half forgotten room with paints and canvases, then he was wandering about the campus while others were holed away in classrooms taking notes.

He cared about many things in life, most of which could not be found in the cramped walls of their university.

Jeongin will eventually come to learn that Hyunjin existed wherever there was art. It didn’t matter the kind, as long as it was beautiful and it inspired him, he would plant part of himself there. In the big courtyard on campus with the fountain, in the planter boxes along the windows of the arts building, between the cracks of the flagstones leading up to the library where dandelions grew, and most of all in the forest that bracketed a house that sat just outside of the university.

Little bits of himself left everywhere he found beauty, as if he was digging in his roots so he could be fed nothing but the splendor of the world.

There’s art everywhere, Innie, he always said. As long as your eyes are open to see it.

Honestly he didn’t even recognize Hyunjin at first, seeing as how the inky dark waves of hair that he had become so accustomed to seeing from afar have been shorn completely down to the scalp. Dyed a radioactive pink color that Jeongin is sure can be seen from space.

The moment he gets close enough, footsteps faltering, Hyunjin sits up in one fluid motion. Still smiling, swiping up an iced coffee from Jeongin’s empty seat. “Hi.” He greets, all teeth.

“Behave.” Seungmin says, under his breath. Quiet enough that he’s sure it was meant for Hyunjin’s ears alone but Jeongin has become terribly attuned to the cadence of Seungmin’s voice.

He lets his bag dangle from his arm. “Oh, hi.”

“You’re so cute.” Hyunjin says, saccharine sweet, hands reaching forward but never landing on Jeongin. “Minnie, you never told me your partner was adorable. I want to eat you up!”

“Ignore him.” Seungmin turns a page in the book he’s currently reading. “He feeds off of attention like Tinkerbell.”

Everything is loud and bright and Jeongin wishes he could just sit down. Maybe press his face into the dark sanctuary of his folded arms. Except Hyunjin is there, taking up most of the space that is usually reserved for Jeongin, and he’s not particularly sure how to get him to move.

It would be rude to push him out of the way, especially seeing as how they don't yet know each other all that well. Or at all, really. They know of each other, but this is the first time Jeongin is speaking to Hyunjin directly. Shoving him away from his seat would be a terrible first impression.

But Hyunjin has to move and his head is fucking pounding, like a fist trying to break down a door. With more confidence than he feels, Jeongin sets his bag next to his chair.

“Can I please sit there?”

“You're so polite! Of course, of course. Come take a seat.” Hyunjin practically coos in delight. He doesn't really move, just shifts completely to Seungmin's side of the table, dragging his coffee with him.

It leaves a little trail of condensation as it goes.

Jeongin isn’t one to look gift horses in the mouth, so he gratefully falls into his chair, resisting the urge to immediately press his face into the table. Everything is just so loud. Doesn’t anyone know how to fucking whisper? Jeongin doesn’t need to know what the girls at the front of the class are saying to each other.

Apparently they’re coordinating their matching Halloween costumes, both wanting to be something beautiful and unique, but not agreeing on which piece of media to pull from. “We can go as Swan Lake.” One of them says, a stage whisper as their voice bounces back to Jeongin. “You can be Odette and I can be Odile.”

“But it’s not really a fairy tale.” The other whines.

“But you’d look so good in white!”

It’d be a cute conversation if it wasn’t ringing the inside of Jeongin’s head like a hammer to a bell.

Swallowing down a whine of his own, Jeongin tries to focus on anything else beyond the pain in his skull, even if it is proving to be a fruitless endeavor. He just needs to get through this class and then he can crawl back into bed where it’s dark and quiet and he can chew pain meds like candy. Just one more class, and his day can be over.

Jeongin clenches his teeth together as someone’s chair drags against the hardwood.

There’s a hand at his arm, fingers hooking into the crook of his elbow, applying just enough pressure to make all of Jeongin’s attention zero in. The touch makes the tense line of his shoulders unravel minutely, a breath rattling through his seized lungs.

Glancing down, he realizes the fingers are attached to Seungmin, who’s still reading his book. The spine now balanced in a single hand as the other acts like an anchor for Jeongin. He mentally grabs onto it like a lifeline, silently begging Seungmin to press harder, to dig into the soft meat of his skin and physically keep Jeongin here and present.

Hyunjin loudly sucks at his coffee until all that’s left is the clattering of ice, and then he’s leaning forward. Brushing against the mental boundary Jeongin has shored up for himself, never crossing it but flirting with the edges of it. “Are you coming to our Halloween party?”

Jeongin blinks. The lights have gotten brighter, and Odile has convinced Odette on their costumes. Seungmin’s fingers press just a little deeper, blunt nails scratching through the fabric of his sweater. “What?”

“The Halloween-” Hyunjin starts, stops, swings his attention to Seungmin. “You didn’t tell him about the Halloween party? Really?” Attention back on Jeongin. “We’re hosting a big party on Halloween weekend at Chan’s place. You’re invited, I’m inviting you right now and correcting Seungmin’s massive fumble.”

Chan’s place was the aforementioned house at the edge of campus, tucked away into the tree line. The only time Jeongin ever heard about people willingly going there is if they were invited, otherwise it seemed pretty off limits.

“It’s going to be sick.” Hyunjin grins, obviously trying to convince Jeongin to agree.

“It’s going to be radioactive.” Seungmin counters, shutting his book as their professor steps into the room. His touch leaves Jeongin, and he mourns it before it’s even fully gone, fingers lingering for a brief moment before they’re sliding away.

Nodding through the pain, Jeongin clenches his hand into a fist. He had already made up his mind the first time Hyunjin had mentioned it, there was no convincing needed. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The library was the backdrop for most of Jeongin's academic life. Now so more than ever with his and Seungmin's partnership. Of the academic variety, mind you, not that Jeongin had been suggesting anything more.

There wasn't even anything to suggest, not really, seeing as how Seungmin had kept their interactions strictly friendly every time they had met up in regards to anything about their shared class. Which Jeongin wholly respected.

The bathroom incident was nothing but an anomaly, an outlier in an otherwise strictly collegiate relationship. They are project partners first, friends a close second, and nothing beyond that.

Seungmin is gorgeous and funny and distracting, but he's nothing but friendly towards Jeongin. There's a wall of platonic affection surrounding Seungmin, rebuffing Jeongin’s awkward attempts at flirting with polite charm, which means that the crush he’s been harboring for weeks isn’t sustainable in the slightest.

It feels like a rejection, even if the words themselves have never been spoken, and Jeongin will respect that. It's alright, he can most certainly pivot. Having Seungmin as a friend is the best thing that can come from this class, except for the grade of course, but that’s secondary.

He’s getting ahead of himself.

The library of Yellow Wood is where he spends most of his time now, and it’s as grand on the inside as it is on the outside.

Everything about it feels as if it was pulled straight from the pages of a book.

Large archways connect the main room to the branching hallways and stairwells that lead to the upper floors, which were exposed to the rest of the space. Every wall was filled with books, large tables taking up the center of the main floor providing ample amount of room for students. Green glass shaded lamps sit at every table, providing a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

The ceiling in the main space was high and domed, sunlight filtering through the leaded glass windows that were segmented like slices of a tangerine and bathing everything bright in the afternoon.

It was beautiful and breath taking the first time Jeongin had ever stepped foot inside. Dark woods and old stonework stitched together, creating a space that seemed to breathe knowledge and curiosity. A whole world at his fingertips.

Jeongin finds Seungmin near the back of the second floor, far away from the railings that look over the ground floor. Tucked between towering bookshelves, belongings already laid out over one of the sturdy wooden tables that were probably older than both Jeongin and Seungmin put together.

His bag knocks into Seungmin’s knee as he sets it down. It earns him a sharp look.

“Are you wearing a windbreaker over your blazer?” He asks in place of a greeting before he’s even in his chair.

Seungmin shifts his notebook over, out of the way. “October wind chill is no joke, Jeongin.”

It’s been a long few weeks, but eventually they had settled into something resembling a friendship.

Jeongin is learning the hard way that his friendship comes with a lot of poking and prodding. He thinks it's just something about Seungmin's friend group not understanding boundaries since they're all a little handsy with each other.

Seungmin sits too close, digs his fingers between Jeongin’s ribs. Throws around teasing remarks and bitten off smiles. He invades Jeongin’s personal space like it's his professional job yet he deflects any and all flirtation attempts as if he's trying to spare Jeongin the embarrassment.

This is what friendship with Kim Seungmin must taste like.

“You look fucking ridiculous- and your tie has little Christmas trees all over it.” He pinches at the fabric, careful not to tug at it too hard. “December is two months away, you fool.”

“They’re not Christmas trees.” Seungmin slaps his hand away. “They’re pine trees, and it was a gift.”

That makes Jeongin snort. “From who, Santa Claus?”

“From me, actually.” A warm voice says over Jeongin’s shoulder, causing him to startle and lurch forward in his chair. Seungmin cackles something fierce at the sound Jeongin’s knee makes as it impacts the underside of their table.

When he whips around to see the newcomer, he’s met with Chan’s smiling face. At his elbow is Changbin, baseball cap doing nothing to shield his amused eyes from the late afternoon sun cutting low through the windows.

Jeongin resists the urge to avert his eyes and move out of Chan’s way. He’s just a guy, normal as the rest, there’s nothing particularly threatening about him. But no, that’s not right. It’s not a threat that Jeongin feels from Chan, but more so a bone deep urge to show something like deference to him.

Bang Chan commands respect, even with his dimpled smile and soft gaze.

“Do you mind if we sit?” Chan asks, even as Changbin begins pulling out two chairs for the both of them to settle into.

Seungmin clicks his tongue. “And if I said yes, actually, I do mind?”

“Then I’d say tough luck.” Changbin answers so smoothly, making Chan giggle to himself.

“We’d just sit somewhere else. Like right over there! Look, an empty table.” He points towards the table directly next to where Seungmin and Jeongin have set up. Less than a few feet away, close enough that either of them could reach over and touch Seungmin if they really wanted to. It makes Seungmin roll his eyes so hard that his whole head follows the movement.

Chan giggles even harder.

“I'm going to fucking punch you.”

The giggles turn into a full blown laugh, Chan leaning hard into Seungmin's shoulders before he's skipping away and sliding into a chair.

Changbin doubles back, walking away from the chairs he had just pulled out to reach for Seungmin. Hand coming down roughly to the back of Seungmin’s neck, Jeongin can see the divots in his skin where Changbin’s fingers dig in. Applying pressure.

Seungmin practically folds over the table, huffing and squirming but not actually complaining. All Jeongin can do is stare. Something low in his gut stirs at the sight.

“Behave.” Changbin says, without a lick of aggression in his voice. He sounds more fond than anything, really. In the next moment he’s pushing away from Seungmin and finally sitting down.

Seungmin huffs once more, edges softened, tipping into Jeongin’s space and dropping his voice. “Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re all bark and no bite.”

The sudden proximity makes Jeongin’s head spin.

“They don't intimidate me.” He bluffs, leaning away and trying to give himself some breathing room.

“I don't even bark.” Chan muses, pouting at Seungmin's text book.

Seungmin rolls his eyes, pushing the book closer so that Chan can read it with ease. “Why are you even here? Didn't you graduate already?”

Chan takes it happily, flipping pages until he gets to the beginning of the chapter. “According to the school I'm an esteemed Alumni, so I can come back whenever I want. Plus, working in the library beats our dining room table.”

“We came here to bother you, specifically.” Changbin places his laptop onto the table.

“I could've sworn you both have boyfriends you could be bothering instead.”

“It's not really considered bothering though.” Chan shrugs, turns a page.

Changbin huffs, laptop snapping open. “We're not dating.”

Seungmin gives Jeongin a loaded look, including him in this conversation. As if he's cartoonishly hiking his thumb at Changbin and saying get a load of this guy.

Jeongin regrets moving away from Seungmin’s presence, wishing he could lean back in.

He's never been the type to bask in the attention of his friends. Even in high school he'd much prefer to exist in his own bubble, skin ship as a concept never coming easy to Jeongin.

The acquaintances he's made during his time at Yellow Wood have learned their lesson.

They get close but never too close. A side hug here or an arm slung around his shoulders there, never lingering too long. Jeongin prefers it that way.

In the few weeks he's known Felix, something about the other boy makes it almost frighteningly easy to accept his suffocating affections. Kisses pressed to his cheek or arms around his neck in a crushing hug.

It feels almost wrong to turn away from Felix, to reject the sweet actions he bestows on Jeongin.

The only other person from their little troupe that he saw regularly enough was Jisung, and he kept his ministrations far and few between. A hand at his shoulder, a knuckle to his chin. Present but never overbearing, never trying to give more than Jeongin was willing to accept.

Their single shared class was some of the only times Jeongin had ever seen Jisung without his permanent extra limb. He looked happy enough, normal. Gaze never straying from their professor. Perhaps, in the beginning, he was expecting Jisung to fidget and continuously glance at the door, as if he was waiting for someone.

But he smiled and joked and began poking at Jeongin once he realized he could.

Once class was over though, Jisung always gathered up his things and was one of the first to leave. Without fail, like a very reliant clock, Minho would be waiting in the hall. Taking Jisung's bag and following so closely behind that Jeongin was surprised that their legs didn't knock into each other.

He always left Jeongin with a quick pinch to his cheek, barely applying any pressure.

Jeongin was glad for it, because he knew that anything else would be too much, that he’d be expected to reciprocate. It always felt like a chore.

Except with Seungmin.

Slouching into Seungmin’s personal space feels as easy as breathing. When it’s Seungmin draping himself over Jeongin’s back, chin digging into the soft muscle of his shoulder, fingers poking and prodding and pinching solely to garner a reaction; Jeongin doesn’t mind.

It should concern him more than it does.

He hides his hands under the table as he cracks each of his knuckles. It's a habit that he's been trying to break, but the urge appears whenever there’s too many thoughts bouncing around in his head. It's a very unhelpful way to fidget.

They're friends, Jeongin surmises. This is what it's like to have a genuinely close friend. There’s a racketing buzz in his chest that subsides at the feeling of Seungmin’s fingers sliding over the back of his hand, stilling his mounting obsession with cracking knuckles that have already been popped.

It must be the comforting touch of friendship that trips his racing heart. It has to be.

“So, what are you two working on?” Chan asks, returning Jeongin’s attention to the here and now. The text book has been returned to their side of the table.

“Class project.” Seungmin answers calmly, fingers rubbing over Jeongin’s knuckles as if to soothe him.

Chan's eyebrows pitch towards his hairline. “Already?”

“It's not due ‘til the end of the year, to be fair.” Jeongin somehow manages to find his voice.

With a thoughtful hum, Chan drags Seungmin’s notebook towards himself, frowning down at the paper. “Psychological Studies in Familial Structures?”

“Do you want to be a family lawyer or something?” Changbin curiously asks.

“Divorce lawyer.” Jeongin answers without thinking, and all three turn to face him. “What? He mentions it all the time.”

Seungmin has mentioned it around Jeongin a grand total of twice, but they don't need to know that.

In the middle of Chan asking what exactly Psychological Studies in Familial Structures even means, Changbin turns his head away from their conversation, eyebrows furrowing enough for Jeongin to notice.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Changbin blinks, shakes his head. “I just thought I heard something on the ground floor.”

Jeongin follows his gaze, tries to tune his hearing into whatever it is that caught Changbin’s attention. All he can hear is Seungmin and Chan talking, rustling of papers and the muffled sound of books moving about in the aisles. Maybe the low timbre of a group at another table, if he concentrates. But nothing further than that.

“All the way down there? Wow, you have a really good ear, I can’t hear anything.”

They’re not even that close to the railing that overlooks the main space of the library, so it’s kind of impressive if Changbin swears he heard something that Jeongin can’t.

It’s not uncommon, Jeongin thinks, to have an affinity to hear things that others can’t. He remembers how his grandma could hear a pin drop from a separate room. Maybe not a literal pin, since he had never tested it, but it seemed as if she could always hear when he or his brothers were up to something they shouldn’t be. Even if she was clear across the house.

It was kind of eerie, now that he thinks about it. But he doesn’t think it’s all that weird for Changbin to maybe hear scraps of some commotion happening on the first floor.

Changbin just shrugs at the compliment, the corners of his mouth tipping down as he gives Jeongin a small smile.

He’s still trying to listen for anything beyond their little bubble when Changbin gets his attention, pen tapping at the edge of his jacket sleeve. “Hey, Hyunjin told me that we’re going to be seeing you this weekend.”

That gets Chan to perk up. “Oh no way! You're coming to the party?”

“Yeah, I was invited last minute.” He agrees, remembering how adamant Hyunjin was about the invitation.

“Dude, you're going to have so much fun. I can’t wait to see you there.” Chan gushes, clearly excited at the prospect of seeing Jeongin outside of school. It makes his head ring, just a little bit.

“I just have to pick up a costume.”

“Hyunjin has been planning our costumes for weeks.” Changbin mentions, launching into a story about how long it took Hyunjin to decide on costumes for the both of them.

It naturally flows into different topics, jumping from Halloween to classes to hobbies. Jeongin learns what Chan and Changbin do for work and what sort of movies they like to watch and what they do in their free time. Honestly he's having an amazing time.

Seungmin’s hand has moved, fingertips resting at the curve of Jeongin's wrist. He tries not to focus on it.

Chan has been quietly rearranging the textbooks on the table during the whole conversation, stacking them from largest to smallest and making sure the backs of their spines are perfectly aligned. Jeongin has been watching, something about it so fascinating.

There’s a book on the other side of Seungmin’s elbow, one that was clearly missed when Chan was collecting them all up. It seems only right to hand it over so Chan can fully complete the stack. Jeongin silently reaches for it, placing a hand at Seungmin's waist as he leans into his space.

Seungmin doesn’t flinch or move away from the touch, from Jeongin reaching across him. If anything he seems to return the pressure, meeting Jeongin in the middle, eyes glued to his notebook. Something about it makes Jeongin dig his fingers into the dip of his waist for a fraction of a moment before he’s pulling back, book in hand.

Seungmin’s bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, eyes following the path of his pencil against paper. It’s an intoxicating sight. Jeongin tears his eyes away, hoping that no one else caught him staring.

Chan smiles, a small shy thing as he tilts his chin and accepts the book. It gets slotted right into the middle, the perfect place for it’s size.

Seungmin's hand has finally relocated. Back to his own lap and Jeongin tells himself there's nothing to miss.

Eventually the conversion dies down, Chan and Changbin both relocating to the table that was previously pointed out after Seungmin asks them to. Voice oddly sincere as he claims that it's already hard enough to concentrate and would they please just give him some space.

Changbin ruffles a hand through Seungmin’s hair as he passes by, laughing at the way Seungmin bares his teeth in something that's almost a smile.

The session itself goes by without a hitch after, once they’re free of distractions.

For all intents and purposes it's perhaps the easiest group project Jeongin has ever been part of. Not because of the material itself but because Seungmin is actually present, offering to do his half of the work with unmatched focus.

Seungmin had told him, on that first day of being partnered together, “If you don’t do your end of the project, I’ll make sure to complete the entire thing by myself and your name won’t even be a whisper of a suggestion on it.”

Jeongin had believed him.

The hours begin to wear on, and Jeongin knows he's getting tired because he has a massive lapse in judgment. His unsustainable crush rears it's head at the first sight of Seungmin looking remotely cute.

The moment itself is unremarkable. Nothing but the sight of Seungmin staring down at his open notebook, pen resting against the swell of his cheek. But Jeongin wants nothing more than to reach out and pinch, get his fingers into the fat of his cheek and call him adorable simply for existing.

“Can I help you?” Seungmin asks without looking away from his work, and it makes Jeongin flinch. He’s too damn perceptive.

Flinching causes his elbow to bump into his pencil case, knocking it from the table. “Uh- shit. No, sorry.” Cursing under his breath, he clambers to the floor, picking up all of the pencils and highlighters that spilled from his fox pattern pouch.

“Do you need my help?” Seungmin asks, and Jeongin feels the embarrassment spread through his body like a wildfire.

“No- no, I'm ok. I've got it.”

A pen rolls his way, bumping against his shoe, and when he looks up he catches Changbin leaning down to look at him, hand retracting, a knowing smile on his face. Jeongin nods his thanks, trying not to bring more attention to this entire fiasco than there already is.

Jeongin almost hits his head on the underside of the table as he stands back up.

Once he's seated, pencil case zipped and exiled to the middle of the table, Jeongin finally looks back to Seungmin.

He's still sitting right where Jeongin left him, eyes assessing Jeongin before they're moving back towards his work, pen poking his cheek. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah- yeah, sorry. You just-” He's never been a very good liar, not like Seungmin can be. It doesn't come naturally to Jeongin. The words stick together as they tumble from his mouth. “You look really cute right now.”

That gets Seungmin’s full attention. Pen falling away, eyes going round as he blinks. “You think I’m cute?”

Before Jeongin can answer, before he can back peddle or double down or fully leave the library, Seungmin is puffing out both of his cheeks. Poking a finger into one, tilting his head. The air leaves his mouth in a rush. “Am I still cute like this? What if I-” Hands move underneath his chin in a tulip pose, fingers wiggling.

It makes Jeongin laugh, leaning away the more Seungmin invades his space. “You’re getting uglier by the minute, actually.”

This is absolutely something friends do. Jeongin swallows down the urge to call him beautiful.

If he moves closer, scoots to the edge of his seat and leans in at the exact moment Seungmin does, he could kiss him right now. It would be so easy.

Someone clears their throat, loudly enough to make both Jeongin and Seungmin flinch. With wide eyes, they turn back to their work, all traces of cartoon cuteness falling away. Jeongin feels like a fool, embarrassed and exhilarated and wishing they weren’t interrupted just so that he could see Seungmin’s smile up close.

Into the ensuing silence, Jeongin can't help but tease. “Don't be so loud Seungmin, we're in a library.”

It gets Seungmin to roll his eyes, tucking his lips over his teeth to try and stop himself from laughing. “Shut the fuck up.”

It's an impossible task to not smile around Seungmin.

They finish up in relative silence, putting their things away and realizing that they have no where to go after this so they might as well walk back to the dorms together. Jeongin makes sure to say goodbye to both Chan and Changbin as they leave.

Changbin blows them both an over dramatic kiss, which Seungmin visibly catches in his fist and proceeds to stuff in his messenger bag before walking away. Jeongin just returns Chan’s wave as he follows after.

“So.” Jeongin starts, stops himself, digs deep to find the courage and continues. “You and Changbin?”

Seungmin furrows his brows, looking extremely confused and it’s way too adorable. “What about us?”

Jeongin can do this, he totally can. Making jokes and commenting on the potential love life of someone is normal friend behavior. If it’s also fueled by a burning curiosity tinted with some other, greener emotion that he refuses to name right now, well that’s his own secret to keep.

“Is there, y’know, something going on between you two?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets so that he doesn’t do something drastic like pick at the skin of his lips until they’re bleeding. “I thought I sensed a vibe.”

“Oh god, no.” Seungmin scoffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure Hyunjin would kill me and stuff my body in a deep freezer if I even tried.”

Jeongin doesn’t know enough about Hyunjin yet to gauge whether that’s the truth or just a joke, but he’s willing to believe it’s a little bit of both.

“So, if it wasn’t for Hyunjin you’d go for him?”

Maybe he’s being too transparent, but Seungmin gives him this look. It’s hard to define but Jeongin feels a little like he’s being studied. Like he’s some book Seungmin pulled down from the shelf and is carefully reading a passage from with the way he tilts his head.

“Maybe, but I don’t know if he’s my type.”

“Isn’t Changbin everyone’s type?” Jealousy aside for the moment, Jeongin has to admit that Changbin is sort of the perfect guy. Funny and thoughtful and genuinely so incredibly kind that Jeongin thinks he could probably achieve sainthood solely by being himself.

He hasn’t met a single person yet who dislikes Changbin. Better yet, he hasn’t come across someone who wouldn’t date Changbin if given the opportunity.

Seungmin shrugs, holding the library door open for Jeongin. “I guess, but I like it when guys are kind of weird. Like, stupidly hot but if they don’t do something silly every few minutes they might die.”

“Huh, ok.” Jeongin muses aloud, trying to visualize the sort of person Seungmin could be into. He moves to walk through the door, deciding at the last minute that he wants to be the one to keep it open for Seungmin instead, which means that he stops much too suddenly and fully trips over his own sneaker.

It’s over in a second, but between one step and the next he manages an oddly smooth little spin, shoulder smacking solidly into the glass with an audible noise, arms flying out to keep his balance. In a delayed second after his shoulder makes contact with the door, his elbow follows suit. Knocking even more painfully, making him open his mouth in a silent yell.

“And Changbin isn’t silly enough for you?” Jeongin asks once the pain has subsided, rubbing at his elbow and hoping it won’t bruise.

Seungmin stands there, hand still on the edge of the door, staring at Jeongin as if he’s somehow managed to utterly and completely fail at a simple open book test. It’s an apt comparison, Jeongin thinks. Like he’s stupid or missing something vital.

“He doesn’t have that clown in him.”

Jeongin isn’t really sure what that means.

Lamplights flicker to life along the footpaths between buildings outside, washing the encroaching twilight in a dull glow. It’s eerily beautiful, the stillness of the evening with the soft ambient noises of campus life in the distance.

Jeongin stares up at the sky, quietly marveling over the fact that he can see the moon this early in the night. It’s such a pale blue, almost shining silver as it hangs over the far tree line.

“I thought there was already a full moon.” He muses, mostly to himself at the sight of it. Jeongin could have sworn he saw something similar earlier in the month. Is his brain glitching out?

“There was.” Seungmin says with finality, barely glancing away from the book that he's slipping into his bag. “Ever heard the saying once in a blue moon? It happens every few years and it means there's two full moons this month. The first night is in a few days.”

Jeongin blinks, processing this new information. “First night of what?”

“The full moon, you idiot. It lasts for three days.” A silent pause. “That's what my app says.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re the type of person who tracks the full moon? You probably know the exact date of the eclipse.”

Seungmin smiles, small and mischievous. “Which one?”

“See, my point exactly.” He hasn't stopped smiling since earlier. It's a permanent sort of thing around Seungmin.

Seungmin stares up at the promise of the moon, their shoulders brushing as they walk. “I just think it pays to be prepared.”

“For what?”

“The moon gets closer to Earth every year, you know. Eventually it's going to crush us, Majora's Mask style.” Seungmin jokes, or maybe lies. Jeongin can't tell the difference just yet.

“And you need to keep up with the moon cycle for that?”

“Well,” Seungmin shrugs. “It definitely can't hurt to know.”

Seungmin walks with him all the way to their building, up the rickety staircase and down their hall. He pauses in the space between their doors, as if he was ready to follow Jeongin the whole way.

The doorknob sticks just like it always does, and Seungmin watches impassively as Jeongin struggles.

Once it clicks open, Seungmin speaks up. “See you at the party.”

Jeongin nods, already thinking about his bed and going to sleep. “Oh wait,” he stops himself with one foot over the threshold, a realization suddenly hitting him. “You never told me what your costume is going to be.”

Seungmin smiles. A closed mouth kind that makes his eyes glitter. “It’s a surprise.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sky is overcast and gloomy in the days leading up to Halloween.

Perhaps Jeongin should have seen it as some warning, an omen sitting heavy in the clouds. Something was on the horizon, crawling its way closer, dark and ominous.

There was a lonely umbrella sitting in the back of his closet, forgotten as Jeongin stepped onto the bus that would take him off campus and into the town surrounding Yellow Wood. He would only remember it once he was standing under the thrift store awning, staring out at the pouring rain, and he’d curse himself for being so forgetful.

Jeongin was on a search for the perfect Halloween costume, which is what would lead him to the thrift store to begin with. He still had no idea what he wanted to go as, but the party was that weekend, so he needed to figure something out yesterday.

The original plan for Halloween was to stay in all weekend. All of the parties on campus are loud and raucous and filled with too much bad beer, which could be fun in the right settings but Jeongin didn’t care enough about the people at the parties to show. So there hadn't been a reason to put together a costume, not when he was prepared to settle in and finish up his half of their Psych project.

But then Hyunjin had invited him to their Halloween party, energetic and expectant, and Jeongin found himself wanting nothing more than to go. The feeling was further cemented by Felix, buzzing as he found Jeongin the next day, saying “We go all out, y’know. It’s going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to see your costume!”

Even Chan and Changbin seemed excited at the prospect of him being invited.

So here Jeongin is, searching through the racks at the local thrift store for something that could possibly work within such a tight schedule.

He needs something easy to put together that requires minimal effort, but doesn’t look like it’s minimal effort, and themed enough that it can pass off as a costume and not just his normal clothing. What sort of costumes are popular for Halloween? What can he reasonably get away with?

An orange sweater catches his attention, immediately making him think of a fox, which could be a possibility. He has the hair for it currently, a little faded but still ginger enough to pass as the little trickster creature.

It could be a fun costume, and easy enough to find clothing items for, but he doesn't know them well enough to say if they'd be impressed by some forest animal.

The idea of a fox makes him think of a thief, which could be just as easy to put together. Except, unless he wanted to go all out and look like an old timey burglar it's not a very exciting costume to dress up as. Just a lot of boring, plain black.

There's always a movie character or someone from an anime, but then he runs the risk of having to explain his costume all night on the chance no one recognizes him.

A ghost, maybe. But a ghost feels boring, even if there are plenty of bed sheets in the store.

He's contemplating the benefits of dressing like some weird old wizard, searching through a rack of shirts, when his hand lands on the perfect thing.

It’s an off white shirt that’s loose in the shoulders and sleeves. There’s a slight billowing quality to it, ties at the open collar and cuffs that can be tightened and cinched. It looks, hilariously enough, like a pirate shirt. The authentic type and not the cartoonish costume-y sort.

Like a little light bulb buzzing to life above Jeongin’s head, he knows exactly what he wants to be. The challenge is finding the rest of his outfit.

Next, he raids the belt section, collecting much more than just one. Pants are easy, all he needs is something that can reasonably tuck inside of a pair of boots, and he’ll embellish it by adding a scarf or two tied around his belts for extra layers.

The boots in question are another easy thing, since he's almost positive he has a pair of them already at the bottom of his closet. An impulse purchase right before he left for university, certain that he'd need a good pair of leather boots in such a cold climate. It hasn't yet been cold enough for Jeongin to switch his sneakers out, but this is the perfect opportunity to wear them.

The jewelry counter is possibly where he has the most fun. Collecting up multiple necklaces and rings, and even deciding at the last minute on a single golden hoop that is 50% off because it’s missing its pair.

He doesn't worry too much about mixing metals, grabbing up both gold and silver pieces. It feels more authentic, really, to be a little indiscriminate about his accessories.

It’s not until he’s checking out, purchases shoved into a paper bag to save the environment, that Jeongin hears the rain. It’s coming down hard and heavy, leaving Jeongin standing just outside of the door, frowning into the sky. There’s no way he’s walking through this to get to the bus stop. It’s just up the street and covered, but the journey itself to get there would leave Jeongin soaked to the bone.

The flimsy paper of his environmentally conscious bag won’t do anything to protect his new clothes either.

Right as he’s contemplating if he should turn around and search for an umbrella in the depths of the thrift store bins, a car pulls up to the curb. It’s big but quiet, completely black which is an incredibly revolutionary color for a car, and it only really catches his attention when the passenger window rolls down and Hyunjin’s bleached buzz cut appears.

“Jeongin! Hey!”

For some reason that escapes Jeongin, he catches himself looking behind himself. As if, somehow, Hyunjin had meant a different Jeongin. Someone with his name that must be standing in the shadows and waiting for their ride to show up. Which is silly since he’s the only one currently out in this weather, and Hyunjin is pointing directly at him, nodding.

“C’mon, get in! We’re heading back to campus, we’ll drive you!”

“I was just going to take the bus!” Jeongin calls out, intimately aware of how ridiculous of an excuse it sounds even as the words are leaving his mouth.

“Get in the car, Jeongin! We’re not going to eat you.” Hyunjin says with a smile.

“We promise!” Changbin’s loud voice carries from the driver’s seat and through the downpour of rain. It really is getting worse the longer Jeongin stands here.

The car is only a few quick strides away from where he's standing. Much closer than the bus stop.

After an extended second of weighing his options, which are incredibly few, Jeongin takes a deep breath and rushes towards the car. It’s a miracle he only trips once on his way over, swiftly righting himself before he completely face plants into a puddle or something equally as embarrassing.

Opening the back door, he tosses his bag in, more worried about it becoming waterlogged than himself, and quickly follows after.

The sight of Seungmin, leaning against the opposite door, book in hand as he begins to peek into the bag that landed half in his lap, startles Jeongin so badly that for a second he thinks he’s hallucinating.

Even in his confused state, Jeongin is quicker than Seungmin’s curiosity. Snatching the bag back as the door shuts beside him. “Hey, no peeking.”

“You're the one that threw it at me.” Seungmin smiles, feigning innocence. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jeongin returns, clicking his seatbelt into place as he takes in Seungmin’s appearance.

He looks good today. Beige plaid coat over a very soft looking sweater. Hair pushed from his forehead, glasses ever present. Jeongin wants to get closer, slip his hands underneath all of that fabric.

Toss the book out the window, crawl into his lap and press his tongue to the seam of his mouth-

Jeongin clears his throat. “What are you reading?”

“Something pretentious.” He answers easily, tipping the book so Jeongin can glance at the title along the spine.

“No more Ovid?”

“Jane Austen, actually. Why, do you want me to read out loud for you?” Seungmin asks with a smirk, and Jeongin resists the urge to throw himself from a moving vehicle. Of course he reads Austen and enjoys it, can he be any more perfect?

At some point he's going to have to come to terms with the glaring fact that the things he feels around Seungmin aren't just friendship. It's a swirling mixture of something decidedly bigger and more complicated than a schoolyard crush.

Especially if he's imagining grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and sliding his thumb over his bottom teeth and pressing into his tongue-

Jeongin isn't yet ready for that introspective realization.

“You should just marry me already.” Changbin is saying from up front once Jeongin stumbles his way out of his own thoughts.

Hyunjin twists around in his seat to look at Jeongin. “He's been telling the same joke since we met, can you believe?”

“That's because it's not a joke. I'm literally being so serious.”

Hyunjin laughs it off and Seungmin snorts under his breath, cracking his book open once again in the ensuing silence.

“So, would you like me to read to you?” He teases, smile hooking into his cheeks.

It’s a distracting sight, enough for Jeongin to nearly miss the stupid reference to that borderline humiliating bathroom conversation earlier in the year. Humiliating in the sense that Jeongin still thinks about it, turns the memory over in his mind and wonders what it would be like if he had said yes.

If Seungmin had crawled into Jeongin’s bed in his matching pajamas and large book and read about King Lycaon in the dark of the night, just for Jeongin to hear.

“I don’t really care.” Jeongin lies, turning his attention towards the scenery racing by. Fog hangs in the air, thick enough to cling to the canopy of evergreens stretching out beside the road.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation.” Seungmin reads, the words settling into the hush of the car. As if everyone is holding their breath and listening to his measured voice. Jeongin tries to radiate disinterest yet Seungmin continues. “It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Changbin hums from up front, gently taking a corner, eyes skipping over Hyunjin and quickly darting back to the road. “I’ve always loved that line.”

“It’s a classic for a reason.” Hyunjin answers, forehead tipped against the window.

Jeongin refuses to look over at Seungmin, nothing good will come from it. Not after hearing those words from his mouth. Instead he focuses on the way Hyunjin stares out the passenger window, the way Changbin stares at him every chance he gets.

There’s a palpable sort of longing that hangs between them and Jeongin wonders if either of them can feel it, like a suffocating physical force taking up the space and choking them all. Or if it’s just Jeongin.

He can’t wait to leave this car.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

According to the weather app that Jeongin has begun checking almost regularly, it's the second night of the full moon; the apex. It's thematic, really, that it falls on Halloween.

Jeongin woke up with yet another migraine. He had felt it coming since the library, when he was watching Chan tap at book spines until they were perfectly aligned. It was manageable though, not as debilitating as it could be.

It would be easy to beg off, not show up at all. But he wanted to. It wasn’t just Seungmin that he wanted to see, but the others. They were all excited that he was coming, and he wouldn’t ever admit this out loud but he didn’t want to disappoint them.

He makes sure to swallow some pain medication to hopefully keep the worst of his migraine at bay before heading out. There’s only so much he can do for it now.

Chan’s house is an old Victorian thing in shades of blue and yellow, tucked away just outside of the campus grounds. Situated along the curve of a cul-de-sac, the street only a twenty minute drive from the university, or a ten minute walk if you weren’t afraid to cut through the woods.

Jeongin didn’t have a car or really anyone to catch a ride with, and even with his currently precarious relationship with the woods, walking through them for a few short minutes definitely beat taking the long way around.

The woods surrounding the university always felt like a different creature at night, the moon filtering through the branches of the tall evergreens to throw shadows along his path.

He watches as others take the same route as him, pushing through to get to their destination, done up in colorful costumes.

The footpaths are well worn, visible even in the dark of night. Jeongin curls his hands into tight fists, sucking pine scented air into his lungs as he walks. He’s fighting against the urge to break out into a run with every step further through the trees.

There’s death in these woods, death that haunts Jeongin’s dreams. Blood and dirt that lives between his teeth, chasing after him.

Someone laughs, sharp and so sudden like the crack of a branch. The sound zipping up his spine, causing a full body flinch as he gasps, tripping over his own feet.

He breaks through the tree line, stumbling onto the sidewalk. A streetlamp hangs overhead, illuminating his stretch of concrete, breath ragged with the woods at his back. The couple that was laughing exits a few yards to his right, hanging off of each other and making their way across the street towards the only house with heavy bass music and Halloween decorations.

Jeongin curses to himself, gritting his teeth and trying to get his heartbeat under control.

There's a wild creature living in his chest, urging him to tip forward and run. Keep going and don't look back, break through the trees and head back the way he came. There was something comforting about the woods even if it felt disconcerting to be there, something familiar. Whereas the sidewalk feels too open. Too exposed.

Another deep breath. One foot in front of the other, towards the house bursting with music and people.

The cul-de-sac isn’t very big, there’s maybe three other houses spread out along the circle, far enough away that Jeongin can barely make out the shape of them through the pine trees.

The house itself is regaled with all sorts of Halloween decorations, with fake skeletons hanging out of the second story windows to gossamer spider silk stretched among the eaves. Headstones sit like crooked teeth in the front yard, a group of pot heads squatting among their facades and sharing a single poorly rolled joint.

A large sign is nailed into the trunk of the tree closest to the front porch, a small spotlight stuck into the dirt and illuminating it. Warning; Werewolf Crossing.

It makes Jeongin snort, especially with the added imagery of the full moon hanging above the gabled roof.

It seems Chan went all out with the Halloween spirit.

Three freshmen huddle together on the front porch steps, laughing and passing a drink between them. Their costumes are bright and eye catching, vaguely familiar in a way that Jeongin can’t seem to puzzle out until he’s practically right on top of them.

They all shift out of the way as he walks up the steps, careful to not knock into any of them, and the middle one with a shock of pastel pink hair smiles wide at Jeongin, giving him a little wave as he passes by. Caught off guard, Jeongin waves back, matching the freshman’s enthusiasm.

“Tomoya,” One of the others catches his attention, a pair of purple cat ears nestled into his hair. “We promised Geonie we’d send him pictures.”

“Yu’s right, we’re late! We’re late!” The third says, holding up an old fashioned pocket watch, white bunny ears blending into his blonde hair as he laughs at his own joke.

“Ah! I almost forgot.” The Tomoya kid whips back around, hand grabbing onto the brim of his large top hat. There’s a bunch of scribbled notes and trinkets tucked into the ribbon around the hat, and somehow it’s that above all that suddenly has Jeongin understanding their costumes.

Like all of the little clues slotting into place and revealing the bigger picture.

Yu with purple cat ears and the matching purple sweater that’s fuzzy and stripped. The white rabbit ears, pocket watch and little bow tie. Mad Hatter Tomoya with his top hat and a suit and tie that have mismatching patterns.

They’re the background characters of Alice in Wonderland, which is actually really creative and Jeongin is a little impressed with the detail they managed to put into each outfit.

Jeongin watches, before he walks through the front door, as Cheshire Cat pulls Tomoya into his lap. The White Rabbit pulls his phone out, tilting his head as Tomoya smooths back the hair from his eyes. They press close together, cheek to cheek to cheek as they try to snap selfies.

“Haru, you’re barely in frame,” The Cheshire Cat speaks up, clearly displeased as he takes the phone from the rabbit’s hand.

Frowning, the kid named Haru tries to scoot closer. “What do you want me to do, crawl between your legs?”

Both boys say “Yes.” at the same time, voices deadly serious as the white rabbit rolls his eyes but grins wide.

“C'mon, get in here! Close is never close enough!” The Mad Hatter crows, and Yu tugs at Haru's arm, all three of them beginning to bicker and laugh in equal measure.

It's cute and he hopes they get to be happy like that for a while before the trials and tribulations of university life drains them down to their bones.

Maybe he shouldn't be so pessimistic.

Jeongin leaves them to figure out how best to puzzle pieces themselves to better fit into the camera frame.

As he crosses the threshold he realizes that there’s a light fog swirling around his ankles, pumped in from a machine that must be hiding away in a corner somewhere. It’s probably in another room, since the foyer itself is too small to be hiding anything to create the fake fog. The room is mostly taken up by a curving staircase, with two large archways leading into different rooms on opposite walls. The back wall has built-in shelves, filled with books and trinkets and photographs that are too far away for Jeongin to make out.

Faux spider silk is stretched over the banister and the scant pieces of furniture crammed into the space, a lone skeleton with a plastic crown sits in a chair against the wall closest to the door, posed to wave at everyone who walks in. Jeongin can’t help but return the greeting, smiling to himself as he tips a nonexistent hat in its direction.

Almost immediately upon entering he’s tackled by Felix. A tornado of a boy, wrapping himself around Jeongin’s arm, pressing close and smiling with his whole face. “Hi! You showed up! You look great.”

“Thanks, hi. You look amazing yourself.”

He looks more than amazing really. Felix looks like he stepped straight out of a storybook, wearing a white puffy dress swirling above his knees and a red cloak over top of it. There’s more red all over the apron at his waist and at the collar of his dress, stretching up to splatter along the curve of his chin.

The hood is settled over his head, and the glitter on his eyelids match the color of his cloak. His entire costume is both sparkling and blood stained.

“I'm Red Riding Hood! But if she killed the big bad wolf.” Felix informs him so happily, holding up a very real wood splitting ax which must be his prop for the night. “Like, chopped him up and left his dead body in the woods! Because I murdered him. Dead.”

Jeongin nods along to his explanation, watching as Felix mimes attacking something with the ax. He has to use both hands to wield the thing. The fake blood on his cheek makes it a very unsettling sight.

People pass by as they use the front hall as a through way between the two side rooms, and Jeongin’s eyes catch on the various costumes. It’s impossible not to, what with this being a costume party and all.

A lot of the costumes are recognizable the more Jeongin stares, and while doubles of the same character are few and far between there's still some copies that he catches in the crowd in either room. Pieces begin to slot together in his head, like a puzzle he wasn't even aware he was assembling.

“Felix, why is everyone dressed up like a storybook character?”

“Oh, did you not know?” Felix asks, lowering his ax.

“Know what?” It feels very foreboding, to be asked if you don't know something. Jeongin tries not to let it show on his face.

“I’m sorry, I really thought someone already told you about the theme this year.”

“Your Halloween party has a theme?”

Felix nods, mouth stretching into a dazzling smile. Even his cheeks shimmer in the low light. “Yeah! Fairytales and other wondrous stories. Minho had the idea because he thought it’d be funny if someone showed up as Pinocchio.”

“If I knew there was a theme I would have dressed differently. I’m just a stupid pirate!”

“No! That’s good, you’re fine. A pirate can be anything. There’s so many nautical stories out there, I’m sure you fit at least one of them.”

Hyunjin seems to materialize out of nowhere, between one heart pounding beat of music and the next, leaning into Felix. “The Adventures of Sinbad the Sailor, maybe?”

“That’s a good one. Hi,” Felix stretches up to press a glossy kiss to Hyunjin's cheek. “Are you having fun?”

Hyunjin nods, buzzed hair dyed green with a golden crown atop his head. The rest of his outfit is green too, silk shirt and tight pants.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Jeongin has an idea, especially with the new information of this party being themed, but it never hurts to ask.

“The frog prince! But like, if he was cunty.” Hyunjin poses, limp wristed and sending Jeongin a wink.

“So where’s your princess?” It’s meant a little as a joke, Jeongin not really expecting an answer. Maybe Hyunjin would laugh it off, mentioning something about wishing Changbin would fit that role.

But then Hyunjin is smiling so big, arm stretching out so he can point into one of the crowded rooms.

Following the line of his arm, Jeongin catches sight of Changbin, dressed in head to toe pink.

There’s a sparkling tiara tucked into his head of curls, gems just as pink as the tulle skirt around his hips. He’s wearing pants underneath it, light wash jeans, but it’s still fluffy and fanciful and he has to hold the fabric in one hand as he makes his way through the crowd so he doesn’t trip over the hem. The shirt he’s wearing looks to be two sizes too small, bright pink with the word Princess bedazzled over his chest in glimmering rhinestones.

Changbin looks radiant and absolutely thrilled in his costume.

As if he could tell they were just talking about him, Changbin begins making his way over. Cutting through the crowd and eventually stumbling to a stop in front of them, he sends Jeongin a smile before turning his attention to Felix.

“Hey, Chan was wondering if you-”

Felix immediately huffs. “I don't care what he was wondering.”

“Oh, c'mon Lixie.” Changbin tries again. Eyes cutting to Jeongin for a brief moment. “He's really sorry.”

“He's always really very super sorry! But I'm not some fucking China teacup that Chris needs to keep at the back of a cabinet! I’m not going to break!” Felix practically stomps his foot at the end of his outburst, fists clenching briefly before he’s reaching towards his face. His hands stop in an aborted movement, hovering inches from his glittering makeup as if he just remembered he’s wearing it before falling uselessly to his sides. “God. I need something to drink.”

“Ok, well. Maybe don’t go into the kitchen for a bit. Since he’s there. Sulking.” Changbin rolls his lips over his teeth.

Felix lets out something that could almost be considered a growl. Low and angry, before he's stomping his foot again and taking off into the dining room.

A beat of silence, before Hyunjin is turning to Jeongin, draping a long arm over his shoulder. “Chan is the Big Bad Wolf, except with a lot more blood splatters than a few days ago.”

It seems a little odd to have matching couple costumes with someone who you aren't on speaking terms with, but Jeongin isn't the authority on the matter.

Changbin clicks his tongue once, shaking his head. “I'd love to say that I can't believe he would agree to let Felix ruin his costume, but that would be a lie since he'd probably let Felix stab him through the heart if he thought it would make Felix happy.”

At that moment, hearing it for the first time, that information about Chan feels like something blown out of proportion. Something poetic and deeply romantic and possibly concerning. A hyperbolic statement that no one would take seriously, not truly.

In time, Jeongin will learn that it is the base line for not only the type of person Chan is, but also for how reverently he treats Felix.

If there were to be any one in their little friend group that would jump if only asked how high, it would be Chan. Mostly by anyone he cares for, but specifically Felix.

If, by some chance, Felix looked him in the eye and told him to walk up to the head of their lecture hall and slit his own throat, Jeongin worries greatly that he would. With not a complaint on his lips.

For now though, Jeongin is mystified at the behavior.

“He let Felix change his costume after they broke up? Why?”

“People do crazy things for love.” Hyunjin sighs.

Changbin's eyes soften as he stares at Hyunjin. “Yeah, they do.”

Jeongin suddenly doesn't want to be part of this conversation.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Following after Felix, he finds the majority of the refreshments at a large wooden dining table. A wide array of Halloween themed appetizers are spread out on the surface of the table, and tucked underneath are coolers filled with alcohol.

Felix has thrown his hood off, letting it pool around his shoulders and showing off the small braids woven around his temples as he pops the cap off of a beer bottle and slams most of it back in one long pull. The glitter on his eyelids catch in the low lighting.

Jeongin doesn't say anything as he grabs a bottle for himself. Offering it up for a silent cheers after opening it, which Felix happily takes, knocking their bottles together.

A girl catches his arm as he begins drinking. “Oh my god, sorry. I love your Prince Eric costume.”

He thinks she might be dressed as the Queen of Hearts. She smiles, heart shaped lipstick smudging at the corners.

Jeongin takes a sip from his drink, trying to sound as confident as he can. “I’m a pirate.”

“Oh- I just thought- there’s a mermaid in the other room, so I thought you guys were matching. My bad. So, are you like, Sinbad?”

Consider Jeongin’s curiosity piqued. A mermaid in the other room?

Suddenly he's very done with this surface level small talk and he wants to go searching for this so called mermaid, but he was raised with manners and can't in good conscious ditch this girl mid sentence.

Thankfully Felix is an angel in human form, slipping into the conversation seamlessly and redirecting her attention. Felix sends him off with a smile, pointing towards the living room and roping the Queen into a baiting discussion about the benefits of universal healthcare. Jeongin already knows that Felix is going to win whatever debate will eventually bloom from this topic since it’s one of the things that Felix is studying.

He takes his beer with him as he slips away, through the foyer and into the living room.

The first time Jeongin meets Lee Minho, face to face instead of as a picture in Felix’s camera roll or a vague presence in the distance, he’s wearing a purple dress and a yellow blonde wig, and he’s trying to explain in great drunken detail how cats should be allowed to vote.

Jisung, who was dressed in his own costume of a white shirt under blue vest- they were Rapunzel and Flynn Rider, the whole picture coming together once Minho held up what looked to be a very real cast iron frying pan to gesture with, was saying with patience; “Baby, they don’t have any thumbs.”

Which is when Minho had decided to physically grab Jeongin by the arm as he was trying to quietly walk around them, quite literally dragging him into the midst of their conversation. “You, Seungmin’s little friend.”

“Jeongin.” Jisung supplies before Jeongin can even open his mouth.

“Yes, hello. Tell Jisungie here that it’s only ethical to allow cats to vote in the elections!”

Jeongin blinks, caught off guard. “The… political elections? For our government?”

“Yes.”

“They don’t have thumbs!”

“Don’t be prejudiced, what would our child think?”

“She wouldn’t think anything of it, because she’s a cat!”

Minho’s grip is iron clad around Jeongin’s bicep; he was stuck here, listening to them bicker. Might as well make the most of this position. “If you’re going to let cats vote,” he speaks up, trying not to flinch as both sets of eyes snap to him. “Then I think it’s only fair to let dogs vote as well.”

“Of course you’d say that.” Minho practically hisses, releasing Jeongin from his claws. He gently smooths over the wrinkles he left behind in Jeongin’s shirt sleeve, which he can only assume is something like an apology. “Fine, all pets can vote. Even dogs.”

Jisung snorts into his cup, eyes filled with so much fondness that Jeongin has to look away. “Now who’s being prejudiced?”

Minho sniffs, still patting over the same spot on Jeongin’s bicep. A methodical gesture, as if it’s subconscious. “Do you think it would apply to part time animals?” It’s directed at Jeongin, and something about the question makes Jisung choke on his drink.

He seems serious enough, even as his boyfriend sputters and sends him a wild look that Jeongin can’t decipher. If anyone else were to ask, he might find it a joke. Something ridiculous to keep the conversation going, conjured up by the brain of someone fighting a losing battle against sobriety. But Jeongin has enough fringe knowledge to understand that Minho is a wellspring of odd and esoteric questions, philosophical for the fun of it.

It’s hard not to tip himself into the debate, to take the inquiry and begin to peel it apart. “Define part time animals.”

A hum, fingers moving to pinch at the fabric of his shirt. Jeongin barely feels it. “Shifters, for instance.”

Jisung just keeps coughing.

“Like in mythology? Folklore and Cryptozoology?”

Minho nods, eyes a little too sharp. “Something like that, yes.” Then he’s gasping, nodding to himself. “Oh, like a Selkie.”

Now this is an interesting path of conversation. The little pistons of Jeongin’s brain begin to fire up, chewing on the possibilities of this hypothetical. “Well,” and now he’s excited, body turning fully into Minho. “If we’re giving voting rights to animals and humans already have them, then I think the real question would be if shifters and the like would have double the vote. Can they vote twice? Once as human and then again in their animal form? Would there then be a need for new laws to prevent that from happening?” Jeongin wasn’t very good at the intricacies of how laws come to be. “We’d probably have to ask Seungmin about the legality of that.”

As he trails off, thoughts now tumbling into each other, he realizes both Minho and Jisung are staring at him. Jisung has stopped coughing, disposable cup discarded somewhere and replaced with Minho’s frying pan. There’s a funny little smile playing at his mouth, and all Jeongin can do is blink.

Maybe he took it too seriously, and this was just meant to be nothing more than a drunken hypothetical.

“You,” Minho says with the sort of conviction someone only really has when they’ve drank too much, startling Jeongin as both hands land heavy on his shoulders. “Are a keeper. I like you. Also, your shirt is very soft.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” He smooths his hands down Jeongin’s arms, rubbing his palms into the fabric.

Jisung calmly removes his hands, gathering him closer. “He’s drunker than I thought if he’s stimming with other people’s clothing, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for me.”

“You were feeling him up!”

Head snapping towards Jeongin, Minho narrows his eyes. “Did you feel felt up? Feel felt? I don’t like how that tastes,” He mumbles to himself. “Did you feel accosted, Jeonginnie? It’s ok, you can tell me.”

“Oh, accosted is good.” Jisung agrees.

Jeongin feels a little lost suddenly, as if he’s stumbled into the midst of a conversation he’s only recently included in. Oh wait, that’s exactly what happened. He can’t say he feels accosted though. “Uh- no. You’re ok.”

“See, I’m ok.”

He's still thinking about Minho saying he likes him, if he's being very honest. Jeongin doesn't base his sense of worth around people enjoying him but there's a warm sense of pride that blossoms in his chest at Minho's words. Some little morsel of acceptance that he wasn't searching for but he was given all the same.

Jisung hums indulgently, giving Jeongin big smiling eyes over Minho's shoulder. “Right, yeah. I'm so glad you're ok, baby. Hey, how about we get you some water.”

“Jeongin and I are having a discussion.”

“I think Jeongin will understand.”

“Will he? Is that alright with you, Jeonginnie?”

As much as Jeongin is having an incredibly fun time dealing with a drunk Minho who is kind of obsessed with the fabric of Jeongin’s shirt, he has to agree that getting some water in him is the right move. “Yeah, you should definitely get something to drink. We can continue talking later, if you want.”

“I do want. You're very fun to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Jeongin is going to be feeling incredibly smug about that for a while. Minho thinks he's fun to talk to.

Jisung wraps an arm around his boyfriend's middle, beginning to peel him away from Jeongin. “Oh! Do you want Gatorade?”

Minho hums, squinting. “The red flavor. For healing purposes.”

“Yeah, I'm sure we have some red.”

“Not yellow.”

“Absolutely no yellow.”

“It reminds me of piss.” Minho declares solemnly.

“I know, baby.”

Jeongin watches them head towards the kitchen, returning the wave that Jisung sends over his shoulder.

Blinking to himself, Jeongin turns and continues his mission to find a lost mermaid, or however that girl worded it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There are many things Jeongin was expecting, yet seeing Seungmin lounging in a claw foot bathtub set up near the fireplace was not one of them. Thankfully there’s no water in the tub, but it’s still the oddest sort of sight.

The crowd is thinner here in the living room, though people still mill about. It’s like there’s a bubble around Seungmin where no one has gotten closer, glancing at him but talking among themselves.

Seungmin is in pearls and silk, glimmering in the low ambient lights that have been placed around every room Jeongin has been in. Casting him in a plethora of colors, catching in the way his hair looks purposefully wet and the shimmery fish scales on the high points of his cheeks.

His legs are thrown over the edge of the tub, both of them lashed together as if he got caught up in a large fishing net. Quietly, as the party rages around him, Seungmin picks at the netting behind his knees, mouth twisted in concentration.

“Hey, someone said there was a mermaid stranded in here.” Jeongin walks right up to the bath tub.

Seungmin groans. “Finally, a handsome prince come to save me.”

He understands now why some girl had thought they had matching costumes. Jeongin wonders if Seungmin had somehow known, had deduced Jeongin’s costume by the quick peek he stole into the bag yesterday. Or if somehow this is coincidental. If, by pure chance, they had managed to embody The Little Mermaid without meaning to.

Perhaps Seungmin just wanted to be a mermaid and hadn’t thought about the theme. Perhaps he was Ariel and he was hoping for someone to stumble through and be his Eric.

Or maybe he just wanted to dress as something otherworldly and ethereal.

Jeongin catches himself staring. It’s involuntary at this point, a natural reaction to seeing Seungmin quite literally glitter in the lamp light.

“What?” He asks, leaning into the edge of the tub, hair pushed off of his forehead and eyes sparkling.

“I’m just amazed.” Jeongin says, after he reminds himself to stop staring.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t think a mermaid could be so ugly.”

The words are insulting but Seungmin laughs all the same, a sharp sound as he reaches out to pinch at the thin skin of Jeongin’s wrist in retaliation. “You’re one to talk.”

Jeongin contains his flinch. “I’m a sexy pirate, thank you very much.”

A disbelieving hum. “I don’t see it.”

“Ok, well if I’m so ugly then I don’t have to help you out-”

“No.” Seungmin reaches out once again, but instead of pinching, the tips of his fingers do nothing but rest at Jeongin’s pulse point. “Even ugly pirates can help, please.”

Well, since he asked nicely, Jeongin will consider it. “What are you doing in there, anyway?”

“Minho dumped me in here because I ‘wasn’t behaving’.” Seungmin frowns as his fingers make quotations around the words.

“What, really? You misbehaving? No way.” Jeongin jokes, which has Seungmin pinching at him again. “And your legs are all wrapped up because?”

He shelves his chin on his outstretched arm. “Because this is literal, actual hell for me.”

Jeongin hums, reaching out to try picking at the edge of the netting himself, right where he saw Seungmin struggling earlier. “So you’re being double punished.”

The thought of Seungmin being put into the tub because he was terrorizing his friends is honestly very funny. Seungmin doesn’t think so, since he huffs and grumbles about it. But he does move his joined knees to try and give Jeongin a better angle at his failed attempts to help.

The music pulses, bodies ebb and flow around the little bubble of their conversation. It’s oddly intimate for being in such a crowded room, as Seungmin looks up at Jeongin, half naked and shimmering and pouting so fucking cutely.

“It's not my fault that no one appreciates joy and whimsy anymore.” Seungmin complains, and Jeongin has to chew on the inside of his cheek as a stop gap from doing anything drastic. Like joining him in the tub and fusing their mouths or something equally embarrassing.

He hums, gives up on undoing the tight weave of Seungmin’s faux tail. “It sounds like you annoyed them so badly they imprisoned you in a bathtub, Seungmin.”

Seungmin waves off the accusation easily. “Maybe, but I like to pace, which Chan and Jisung know. They thought it'd be funny to tie me up before the party started.”

“It is funny, to be fair.” Another pinch. Jeongin has stopped flinching by now, anticipating it every time he decides to make a snarky comment. “Wait, Chan? Really?”

“He can be a real bastard when he wants to be, don't let his big eyes and responsible demeanor fool you. I’ve been trying to undo it since I was put in time out but these knots are a bitch.”

“No, seriously. Did they seal it together with fucking gorilla glue or something?” He tries to work his finger into the knot one more time, clicking his tongue when it barely gives. “We're going to need something stronger than just our fingers. Scissors, maybe.”

Seungmin shifts around, arms reaching for Jeongin. “Carry me to the kitchen then? It’s too loud in here.”

“Is this you asking for my help?”

“I thought you were offering.”

There’s never been a moment in their tentative friendship up until this moment where carrying Seungmin would be deemed normal. Whenever they touch it’s always Seungmin initiating it; a chin at his shoulder or a finger poking at his cheek to get his attention. This feels like a few important steps were fully skipped.

Yet Jeongin steps forward, sucking at his teeth to show that he doesn’t particularly agree with this situation, even as he gets his arms underneath Seungmin.

For weeks now he’s tried his best to convince himself that whatever crush he’s been harboring since the beginning of the year had morphed into friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. But as he holds Seungmin in his arms, their faces brought so close together, Jeongin wonders if maybe he laid that crush to bed too quickly.

All he wants to do is touch. Pull Seungmin close, drag his mouth along the glimmering curve of his cheek. Get Seungmin to say please again, and again and again-

“How badly do you want to be freed?”

Seungmin stares at him with big eyes, mouth settling into a little triangle. Jeongin wants to lean in so badly. “Very.”

“Enough to ask nicely?”

A scoff. “Oh, fuck you-”

“C’mon, it’s just one little word.”

Huffing, Seungmin curls his fingers into the collar of Jeongin’s shirt. Mouth and eyes narrowing, ears flushing pink under the party lights. “Please.”

It sounds like the word is being pulled from his mouth like a stubborn tooth, and it hits like electricity through Jeongin’s nervous system.

Jeongin smiles big, enough that he feels the twist of his own dimples appearing. “See, that wasn't so hard.”

Seungmin doesn't reply, eyes caught somewhere around Jeongin's mouth.

There’s less people in the kitchen than Jeongin was expecting. It’s a reprieve from the constant noise of the rest of the party.

Jisung and Minho are nowhere to be seen, but Chan is there. Loitering around the fridge, nursing a cup in both hands. He’s very shirtless with fake blood smeared liberally all over his chest and up around his throat, made to look like there’s a large wound cutting into the space where his neck and shoulder meet. Presumably from an ax, if Jeongin had to take a wild guess. Fake wolf ears sit atop his head, grey and fluffy, one drooping from his hair just a little.

When he looks up at them, Jeongin notices that his eyes are two different colors. One a dark red and the other a stark white.

“You look...” Jeongin trails off, trying to find the right word.

“Pathetic?” Seungmin suggests, arms looped around his shoulders.

“I was going to say good.” He tries to defend himself.

“No, you weren't.”

Jeongin acts like he's about to drop Seungmin onto the tiled floor, making him yelp and cling on tighter.

Chan either doesn’t notice their bickering or chooses to not comment on it. Maybe he’s too wrapped up in his own misfortune, since he rubs at the back of his neck and laughs like he's embarrassed. “Yeah, thanks. It was Felix's idea.”

Seungmin digs his fingers into the muscles around Jeongin’s shoulders. “You look like someone's attack dog who got told to wait in the car.”

“Do I really look that sad?”

Jeongin nods, apologetic.

“Fuck.” Chan breathes, shaking his head at himself.

It really is a specific type of devotion, Jeongin thinks, to willingly subject yourself to people asking if you’re the dead wolf that Red Riding Hood keeps boasting about. Jeongin isn’t sure if he’ll ever be built like that.

Squinting, Chan seems to really take them in for the first time. “Are you guys ok?”

They must look like such a sight, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with Seungmin held in Jeongin’s arms. As if he’s a real mermaid pulled from the ocean and carried far away. Rescued or kidnapped, who’s to say.

“Jeongin is going to free me from the prison you put me in.” Seungmin pointedly kicks his joined legs.

“Oh!” Chan seems genuinely pleased at that. “That’s aces. See Seung, I knew you’d get out of it somehow.”

The energy is one hundred percent not returned, since Seungmin sucks his teeth and immediately fires back. “Have you apologized to Felix yet?”

It wasn’t even directed at Jeongin and yet he feels the need to shrink back from the question. A precise sort of sting, aimed right between the ribs, causing Chan to wince at the impact of it.

“Yeah, I deserved that.” He says.

Voice softening, Seungmin sighs. “You should go find him.”

“Yeah- yeah, ok. Fuck.” The cup is abandoned, Chan rubbing his hands through his hair and almost knocking both ears loose. With a deep breath, he’s opening a drawer, taking a pair of scissors out, and placing them on the counter. “Here you go. Wish me luck.”

“Don’t say anything stupid!”

“Good luck.” Jeongin calls as Chan strides from the kitchen, further into the house.

With the kitchen suddenly devoid of any distractions, Jeongin hoists Seungmin onto the closest counter top. The movement causes a pain to zip behind his eyes, sharp and aching, jaw clenching at the sensation.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Seungmin asks immediately, tipping into Jeongin’s space.

“Nothing, I'm fine.” Jeongin says, trying to ignore the small but insistent pain working it’s way through his skull.

Unfortunately he's talking to someone who lies for fun and can sniff out an untruth like a bloodhound and is stubborn enough to not let Jeongin get away with it. Seungmin narrows his eyes, mouth pursing and head tilting as if he’s listening for something Jeongin can’t hear. “Are you sure about that?”

No, he’s not sure in the slightest. “It’s nothing, really.” He tries to explain, but it just makes Seungmin’s frown deepen. “Just a migraine forming, but seriously- I’ll be ok.”

“Just a migraine.” He scoffs.

Jeongin sighs, leans hard into the edge of the counter. “It’s like I woke up with my head pulsing and it’s been steadily getting worse.”

Seungmin touches the tips of his fingers to the side of Jeongin’s head. A whisper of skin to skin, yet Jeongin leans into it regardless, eyes threatening to flutter closed. Maybe being truthful with Seungmin was worth it if this is what he’s gifted with in return.

“That bad and you still came to the party?”

Of course, he wasn’t going to turn down a Felix party. “I mean- it wasn’t this bad earlier. Everything has felt really loud and bright all day, but now it’s just...” He trails off, voice failing him as he struggles to describe how painful it’s steadily become. “Bad.”

“Should you be drinking?” Seungmin tips his chin towards the half empty beer bottle Jeongin had brought with him.

The concern is appreciated but wholly unneeded. If he spends another moment with Seungmin touching his face, eyes soft and mouth parted, Jeongin might do something impulsive. Yes, his head hurts, no there’s nothing he can do about it, but right now he’s barely thinking about his head. He’s thinking about Seungmin leaning into his space, so close he can feel the warmth of breath on his skin.

He’s meant to be helping Seungmin, not fantasizing about accosting him while he can’t run away.

“Probably not. But it's a party.”

Pulling away, Jeongin grabs up the pair of scissors that Chan had unearthed for him. Once they're in hand, he's crouching down to get at the knotted netting behind Seungmin’s knees. It's the best place to start from, and with a few snips he's cutting through the net like a room temperature stick of butter that wants to fight back.

Seungmin is wearing swim trunks underneath the fishnet. Jeongin tries his best not to stare at the sliver of knee that peeks out from the material.

He’s not making it out of here alive.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽✧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

One beer quickly becomes two beers becomes cracking open a third against the edge of the dining table.

He already has scraps of time missing, swimming away from him around the time he helped Seungmin gain his land legs and they did a shot together in celebration.

Jeongin isn’t one to drink often, he’s aware he hasn’t built a tolerance for the stuff, but with the way his head is already swimming and his limbs are starting to feel heavy, it’s as if he’s as much of a light weight as Jisung.

Seungmin once again questions if he should even be drinking with a migraine but the pain meds aren’t working anyway so what’s the harm? It’s become a persistent ache at the front of his skull, just behind his eyebrows. Pulsing to the beat of the music. Another beer won’t hurt, maybe.

“This feels counterintuitive.” Seungmin says, as Jeongin tips his head back to drain half of the bottle in one go.

“I’ll be fine.” Jeongin defends, ignoring the fact that he has no real memory of walking back into the dining room. One moment they were standing around in the kitchen, Seungmin rinsing out their shot glasses, and the next he’s here. Grabbing up another beer and wondering if it would even be worth it to ask after some extra strength Tylenol.

The night continues to wear on, the crowd ebbing and flowing as the music shifts between songs, and the whole while Seungmin stays by his side.

His worried eyes seem to follow Jeongin’s every move, which would be incredibly endearing if Jeongin wasn’t preoccupied with the sensation of his teeth aching in the sort of way that travels all the way up through his gums and into his mounting migraine. Everything seems to be conspiring against him tonight, and he might just have to admit that Seungmin was right and he should go home.

Once this song is over, once he can say goodbye to everyone. Then he’ll head back to the dorms and burrow under his blankets with all of the lights off. Maybe he’ll stay there for the rest of the weekend and only crawl back into the light once classes start back up.

Seungmin offers to find him some of that extra strength Tylenol that Jeongin was fantasizing about, and honestly he feels like he could kiss Seungmin. Well, he always feels like he could kiss Seungmin at any provocation, but this specifically feels like it deserves a very big, very appreciative kiss.

Neither of those things happen, unfortunately. The kiss or the medication.

The song ends and Jeongin’s head feels like it’s splitting open at the seams. Maybe the third beer wasn’t worth it after all. Fuck. The room tilts, the edges of the furniture going wobbly in his vision, like the sort of heat shimmer that happens on a very hot day. Double fuck.

Jeongin still has enough wherewithal to slide his beer bottle onto the dining room table before his knees give out underneath him. His palms hit the edge of the rug, digging into the ridge where it meets hardwood, and he tries to focus on that sensation.

There’s a hand at his shoulder, migrating past his neck, alighting on the curve of his jaw. “Jeongin.” That’s Seungmin, voice low and worried.

It seems kind of fitting, really, that everything suddenly feels a little like it’s underwater. The pressure along Jeongin’s spine, the sound of the party and Seungmin’s voice slightly distorted. He’s a sailor who’s finally been dragged to the bottom of the ocean floor by a siren, fated to drown in his arms.

Seungmin’s voice pitches, traveling away from Jeongin, somewhere over his shoulder. “Felix, go get Chan. Now.”

His heart is a frantic rabbit in his chest, beating so quickly that Jeongin is afraid it'll crack right through his ribs.

His entire body aches.

He wants, more than anything, to dig his fingers under his skin and open himself up. Make room for whatever it is inside of him that wants to escape. Maybe it’s his heart or his bones or something else, deep inside and pacing like a restless animal in a cage. Everything feels too small, too crowded. Consciousness is like water through his fingers, slipping and pooling around his knees.

All he’s really aware of is the warmth of Seungmin at his side. Voice low and warbling but present all the same. Promising something but Jeongin is too busy focusing on the grind of his organs against each other to parse anything beyond the cadence of his tone. It’s musical in a way, like a song that Jeongin knows but can’t recite. His veins feel like they’re in the wrong configuration.

Chan is there suddenly, crouching down next to Seungmin. A warm hand is placed on Jeongin’s shoulder, a grounding pressure.

The sensation of Seungmin’s fingers digging into the soft flesh of his inner elbow has already faded into white noise. Like Seungmin’s hand is just as much a part of Jeongin as his aching bones.

Jeongin swears he hears someone whining, low and sharp. Animalistic.

“Changbin, the party's over.” Chan commands. “Get everyone out of here.”

“On it.”

“Is he going to be ok?” Felix, he'd recognize that voice anywhere.

“Full moon on Halloween, poor kid was doomed from the start.”

“Minho.”

“Sorry. Ah, Jinnie, can you stop whining. You're giving me a headache.”

“But he's in pain. I can feel it. I can-” Another whine, this time accompanied by Felix whimpering in response.

“Why didn’t I see the signs earlier.” Chan mutters to himself, so close to Jeongin’s ear that the words vibrate through his fucking spine.

Jeongin feels like the room is caving in, like he can't get any air into his lungs, like his lungs are too small for his body. Or maybe they're growing, trying to break free from the confines of his ribs.

He can’t be here anymore.

He stumbles to his feet, shakes off the insistent hands at his side, and makes his way towards the closest exit. There’s still people in the kitchen, even after Changbin must have told everyone to clear out. They grumble and complain as Jeongin pushes past them to reach the back door.

“Jeongin!”

The cool night air buzzes through his bones, and Jeongin stops thinking much at all as he clears the back porch, boots hitting the dirt.