maayacolabackup | KPop: Borderlines (Jongin/Lu Han, PG-13) [2/2]

***

Lu Han snuck into Jongin’s affections in a way most people don’t manage.

Jongin likes people just fine but he doesn’t really know what to do with them. So he keeps them at arm’s length, just in case they start wanting things from him that he doesn’t know how to give.

But Lu Han… Lu Han doesn’t break down Jongin’s walls. It’s more like he slides through the cracks, childish naivety belying an even persistence, until he’s someone that Jongin can’t remember being without.

After that comes Sehun, and then Zitao, and then Yixing and Baekhyun, and then EXO, all of EXO, securing places in Jongin’s heart, but Lu Han was the first, and sometimes Jongin thinks Lu Han has lodged himself the deepest.

“You don’t have to be so worried,” Lu Han says, smiling at Jongin across the table. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do I know that?” Jongin asks, studying his water.

“Because I know what if feels like, to be hurt,” Lu Han replies, and Jongin’s heart opens a little more.

***

The last four days of filming take them out toward a traditional inn in the mountains. “We want to film you guys doing something old-style,” the cameraman says. “We’ve been sending footage back to the PD in Seoul, and he wanted something a little different to mix things up.”

Lu Han begs to drive. “I never get to drive and what’s the worst thing that could happen on a country drive?” Jongin laughs and agrees to go with Lu Han, and so they take two cars, Jongin and Lu Han in one car and their manager, the cameramen, and all the camera equipment in the other.

Lu Han hands Jongin his phone, which has a GPS app calling out instructions in a cranky older woman’s voice in heavily accented Mandarin, and Jongin gives Lu Han a look. “She sounds like my grandmother,” Lu Han says in explanation. “It makes me laugh.”

The drive takes them out into the countryside, the roads changing from cement to dirt; Jongin jokes that Lu Han’s driving him out into the middle of nowhere to kill him and Lu Han just waggles his eyebrows in response.

About two hours into their drive, it starts to rain. At first, it’s just a little, enough that Lu Han stops messing around with the radio to concentrate on the road. But the rain gets heavier and heavier, until it’s pouring, water drops pelting the car as they drive.

The rain is coming down hard, and Lu Han swears under his breath. Lu Han's hands grip the steering wheel. "I can't keep driving through this."

Jongin turns around and tries to see out the back window, but the rain is like a sheet, obscuring his vision. "I can't see our manager's van at all. I haven’t seen it in a while, actually."

"We're going to pull over to the side of the road," Lu Han says grimly. "We'll wait it out. We’re not far now from the inn."

"Okay," Jongin says, and he swallows, his hands tugging anxiously on the seatbelt. "No big deal, right?"

"We'll have to turn off the car to save gas," Lu Han says, and he drives off to the side, stopping the car and putting it into park. "Can you handle the heat?"

"Of course," Jongin says, and then there's a peal of lightning, visible even through the crushing waves of rain. "The rain’s cooling the air off, anyway."

"True," Lu Han says, turning the key in the ignition. The car goes quiet, and all Jongin can hear is the rain and Lu Han's quiet breaths. He looks over at Lu Han and Lu Han is leaning his head back, hand curled around his seatbelt strap and lips curved slightly downward. "Some storm."

"I don't much like storms," Jongin says, and Lu Han opens his eyes to consider Jongin, who shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Just, I don't know."

"You don't know what?" Lu Han says. "It's just precipitation."

"Says you," Jongin says. "It's loud and I don't do well with surprises."

"I know," Lu Han says. "I remember you cringing away from confetti like it was out to get you."

"It scared me," Jongin says. "I wasn't expecting it. Things I don't expect always scare me."

"I know," Lu Han says, and then Jongin jumps as thunder rumbles. He sets his hand on Jongin's thigh, and Jongin settles at the touch. "We might be stuck here for awhile."

"Stuck with you?" Jongin says wryly, trying not to let his voice shake. Lu Han's fingers are warm across Jongin's thigh, even in the hot car, humidity seeming to seep into the car now that the air conditioning is off. "How awful."

Lu Han pats his thigh twice and pulls back. "I'm going to call our manager," Lu Han says, and he wriggles his phone out of his pocket. "Or not."

"What's up?" Jongin asks. He leans his face against the glass, which is possibly the only cool surface left, and exhales.

"Signal's dead," Lu Han says. "Can't make any phone calls."

"What?"

"The storm must have taken out the phone lines," Lu Han says, and Jongin's panic must show in his face because Lu Han laughs. "Don't worry, Jongin. I speak Mandarin, we're in the car, and the worst thing that'll happen is that we'll have to spend the night in here. Really, it'll be all right."

"I really, really don’t like storms," Jongin says, and he thinks about hiding under his blankets as a child as the rain pounded down on the Seoul city streets.

"Then you can hold my hand," Lu Han says, and Jongin's heart twists in his chest, like it's wringing itself out. "I'll be there for you, just like you were there for me."

Jongin remembers the way Lu Han had felt, in that alley, in Jongin's embrace, warm and solid and yet somehow fragile. "Right," Jongin says. "Thank you."

"For what?" Lu Han says, and he smiles, and Jongin almost forgets about the rain.

***

They end up spending the night in the car, crawling into the back seat and sleeping there, curled up on opposite ends while their long limbs meet in the middle. The rain keeps pouring down, and in the middle of the night the thunder and lightning starts up again. Jongin pulls his knees up into his chest and buries his face between them, trying not to wake Lu Han.

But Lu Han somehow wakes up anyway, and his eyes look foggy and confused in the dark of the car. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Jongin whispers. “I’m…”

“Afraid of storms,” Lu Han says. “Do you remember, back when we were still trainees, that time you…?”

Jongin does. He’d thought he’d hid it well, that the storms made him uncomfortable. But Lu Han had come into his room and taught him the first few tricks to solving a Rubik’s Cube, and Jongin had forgotten all about the thunder.

“Yeah,” Jongin says, and he should be humiliated that he’s all grown up and still terrified like a child, but Lu Han’s not looking at him like he’s a child at all. Instead, he has that look in his eyes that Jongin had seen at the Temple of Heaven, but maybe Jongin is imagining it; it’s too dark to really tell.

“Besides, I told you earlier,” Lu Han says. “I’ll hold your hand.”

He reaches across the back seat, leaning as far as he can, and he grabs Jongin’s hand. He leans back still holding it, dragging Jongin forward until he’s half-lying on top of Lu Han, the two of them squeezed into a space that’s much too small for two grown men. Jongin’s cheek rests on Lu Han’s chest, and he can hear Lu Han’s heartbeat. It’s strangely quick, but maybe Jongin’s own rapid heartbeat is confusing him. Jongin’s knee is falling off the seat, down onto the divider, and one of his arms is crushed beneath him, but it’s like this, with Lu Han rubbing gentle circles into his back, that he finally manages to fall asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, he’s got a horrible cramp in his thigh, and he shifts a little to look up at Lu Han. Lu Han is awake already, watching him steadily, his lower lip between his teeth.

“What?” Jongin asks, voice dry and thick with sleep. “What did I do?” Lu Han’s heavy expression turns into one of those smiles that turn his eyes into crescents, and it’s too early in the morning for Jongin’s heart to melt.

“You always ask the wrong questions,” Lu Han says, and Jongin gives a frustrated sigh.

“You always say that,” Jongin says. “It makes me want to kick you and hope answers fall out.”

Lu Han laughs and shoves at him, and Jongin sits up. “The rain’s stopped.”

Lu Han opens the passenger side door and looks out. “We have a bigger problem than that.”

“Is it my bladder?” Jongin grumbles, but Lu Han’s frowning, so Jongin just scratches at his hair and waits. “Well?”

“The road isn’t… it’s all turned to mud. It’s far too dangerous to drive it.”

“Ugh,” Jongin says, opening his door to look. Just like Lu Han had said, there was a thick layer of mud, and Jongin’s sure if he stuck his foot out it would sink down past the ankle. “What should we do?”

“I think we could walk it,” Lu Han says. “Stick to the sides of the roads and navigate along the rocks. We were pretty close if I remember the map…” Lu Han pulls his mobile from his pocket. “Look, the map is still open, even if it won’t be able to autocorrect us anymore.”

“Still no signal?” Jongin asks. “I’m turning mine off, so at least one will have power.”

“Good idea,” Lu Han says. “We’ll lock up the car and come back for it later, when the roads have dried out.”

They grab their backpacks, and Jongin follows Lu Han’s lead. It takes them only a half an hour before they see the old building in the distance. It looks just like it had looked online on the travel-guide website their manager had shown them.

An older woman is sitting on the front deck, sewing in hand. “Hello!” Lu Han yells, and waves, and she stands, slowly, waving back.

“Are you some of my guests that were supposed to be here last night?” she asks, and Jongin offers a tentative smile as Lu Han grins.

“Yes,” he says. “We got caught in that rain storm.” He says a few other things, too, but Jongin doesn’t catch them because Lu Han is speaking too fast. He catches that there’s no electricity, and that the water is connected to a well, maybe, but other than that he’s lost.

The woman shows them to their room, already set up for guests expected to arrive the night prior, and Lu Han sets down his backpack with a sigh. His bare feet slide across the old wood floors, muddy shoes abandoned with Jongin’s at the door.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out the camcorder. “No,” Jongin says. “If I’m going to get trapped in a rainstorm and sleep in a car, I deserve a day without cameras.”

“No way,” Lu Han says. “My duty as camera jockey has only increased with the loss of our crew!” He turns on the camera, pulling off the lens-cap and pressing record. “Smile?”

“Absolutely not,” Jongin says, but he’s already chuckling as he sheds his own backpack. His jeans feel pasted to his thighs, and his mouth feels fuzzy and like his teeth need a good brush. “I’m gross.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Lu Han says, and Jongin looks up at him, startled, but Lu Han is staring fixedly into the preview screen. “So, Kai, how have the past two days been?”

“Crazy,” Jongin says. “We got caught in a big storm that took out the power and mobile phone reception, and our car is trapped in the mud. Now we’re at a traditional inn, and EXO-M’s beloved Lu Han is about to be tragically murdered for not turning off the video camera around EXO-K’s cranky Kai—“

Lu Han snorts and turns the camera around so it’s facing himself. Jongin wonders if the camera is just getting a really good look up Lu Han’s nose. “EXO’s Kai is not a morning person,” Lu Han says gravely to the camera, even as his lips twitch. “Or an afternoon person, or an evening person, really-“

Jongin squawks and makes a grab for the camera, stealing it from Lu Han’s hands as Lu Han collapses in giggles. Jongin ruthlessly films him. “Lu Han is an all the time person,” Jongin says. “All the time annoying.”

Lu Han makes soft eyes at him, and Jongin swallows as his insides clench at the look. “Who me?”

“Yes, you,” Jongin says, and Jongin’s forgotten that the camera’s still recording, and he wonders if his voice sounds as shaky on recording as it had inside his head.

Lu Han looks up into the camera lens earnestly. “In lieu of a camera crew, Jongin and I will take you on a tour of life at a traditional inn guerrilla-style!”

Jongin presses the red button to stop the recording. “Okay, okay, but after I brush my teeth. Chanyeol is probably rolling over in his grave.” Chanyeol brushes his teeth, like, twenty times a day, and while Jongin is not that dedicated, he can’t stand the thin film along them in the morning.

“Chanyeol isn’t dead; he can’t roll over in his grave, Jongin.” Lu Han pokes him with a toe, and Jongin steps back.

“Pity,” Jongin says, and Lu Han pokes him again.

***

Lu Han takes them on a walking tour of the inn, his face lighting up at every familiar thing, and he talks about random bits of Chinese history in between, Jongin helpfully offering verbs when Lu Han trails off.

Then they walk around outside, careful not to venture too far down muddy paths. The hems of Jongin’s jeans are still caked in mud, though, and Lu Han’s are too, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The sun casts Lu Han in a perfect light; his skin takes on a tinge of gold, as if he were molded of it, and Jongin loses his breath at the sight. This, he knows, will never be captured on a camcorder, and he’s secretly glad he’ll never have to share this image with anyone else.

“Where’s your mind wandered off to?” Lu Han asks, when Jongin stops recording and lowers the camera. “You look like you’re thousands of kilometers away.” His hand touches Jongin’s wrist, and Jongin must be hungry, because his stomach is twisted up into knots. “What are you thinking about that’s so far from here?”

Jongin’s mind isn’t far away at all. It’s right here, focused on Lu Han, whose sparkling, teasing eyes are deep enough that Jongin thinks he could drown in them. He gulps, and looks away.

“It’s nothing,” Jongin says, and Lu Han furrows his eyebrows for a moment. “I’m just hungry.”

“Then let’s go eat,” Lu Han says.

They eat a bunch of things Jongin’s never tried before for lunch. He looks skeptically at some of them, but Lu Han just picks things up with his own chopsticks and then holds them up to Jongin’s lips until Jongin opens his mouth. They always taste okay, so Jongin stops resisting and lets Lu Han feed him whatever he thinks Jongin will like, and he’s known Jongin long enough that he’s good at guessing correctly.

“There’s sauce on your lip,” Lu Han says, and Jongin licks it off, tongue slowing as he realizes Lu Han is watching his mouth and not his eyes. It makes Jongin nervous.

“Did I get it?” Jongin asks, and Lu Han’s cheeks go a little pink as he nods.

“Yeah,” Lu Han says, and his eyes fix on the bowl of rice in front of him. “You got it.”

In the summer, Jongin discovers, visitors to the inn bathe outside. In the winter, water is carried in to tubs, but in the height of summer, like this, it’s easier to just “wash where the taps are,” the old woman says, patting Lu Han on the shoulder.

Jongin follows Lu Han out back, to the outdoor bathing area, and Jongin realizes there’s only one tap. His pulse is loud in his ears. “Oh, I can wait,” Jongin says. “Come back when you’re finished, and I’ll come out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lu Han says. “You act like you’ve never seen a boy naked before.”

Of course Jongin has. He’s in a boyband, and there’s always another costume change. Plus there’s Junmyeon’s complete and utter refusal to wear trousers around the dorm, and the times Sehun has slipped into the shower with him despite his squawking protests because he’s taking too long and they’re running out of time.

But none of those people were Lu Han, who has always made Jongin feel a bit strange, and Jongin’s throat goes dry as Lu Han strips out of his t-shirt and jeans, pushing his boxers down smooth skin and revealing a stark tan-line where his briefs usually sit.

“It’s hard to take a shower with your clothes on,” Lu Han says dryly, and Jongin realizes he’s been staring. He blushes and turns around, taking off his own shirt. He undoes his trousers with shaking hands, wetting his lips with an anxious tongue.

He joins Lu Han by the tap, feeling exposed; not just physically naked, but like Lu Han will be able to see the jumble of confusing thoughts Jongin’s been having lately that he wouldn’t be able to explain if asked.

Lu Han takes the full bucket of water and dumps it over Jongin’s head. Jongin blinks and sputters as the waters sloughs down his shoulders, and Lu Han laughs. “You looked like you needed to chill out,” Lu Han teases. “I was just giving you a head start.” Jongin laughs and shakes like a wet puppy, and Lu Han squeals as the cool water splashes in his eyes. “Hey!”

“Fair is fair,” Jongin says, and then the tension is broken. They soap up in peace, Lu Han telling Jongin some story about Yixing and showers that has Jongin laughing so hard he’s crying. Jongin finally stops worrying and starts enjoying the feeling of cool water across his hot skin.

Then, Lu Han reaches up and presses soapy hands to Jongin’s back, and all the air escapes Jongin’s lungs. “What’re you…”

“Just getting your back,” Lu Han says quietly. His voice is strangely wavering. “The skin is raw from your sunburn.”

“Oh,” Jongin says, and he turns away, giving Lu Han access to the expanse of his back. “Okay.”

Lu Han’s fingers feel small and lithe and soft along the tender skin, and Jongin tries to relax into his touch. It tingles, and Jongin is hyperaware of every shift of Lu Han’s fingertips along the column of his spine. “It could be worse,” Lu Han says, and Jongin takes a moment to register that Lu Han has spoken.

“What?” Jongin’s belly is tightening as Lu Han’s hands dip lower, sliding silky along his waist, and no, he thinks, it could not possibly be worse. His face feels like it’s on fire.

“Your burn,” Lu Han says, and Lu Han’s voice is so scratchy, so uncharacteristically deep, that it sends a shiver through Jongin’s body.

Jongin stands, and leans over to fill the bucket. He rinses himself, and grabs his small towel, drying his face and arms and legs as he steps out of the washing area. “I’m going… I’m going back inside,” Jongin says. He doesn’t look at Lu Han’s face, because he doesn’t know what he’ll find there, and he doesn’t want Lu Han to see his own.

“Right,” Lu Han says, and Jongin pulls on his clean underwear and his trousers and doesn’t bother with his shirt since he can still feel the ghost of Lu Han’s slender fingers.

***

That night, they spend the evening talking with the old woman. She regales them with stories of her childhood as Jongin tapes her with his camcorder and Lu Han whispers translations into Jongin’s ear. His lips occasionally brush the shell, and Jongin doesn’t know why but he can’t seem to ignore the way Lu Han’s touch is starting to drive him absolutely insane.

When he sleeps, Jongin dreams of Lu Han, and holding hands as they walk through the streets of Beijing.

***

They spend another whole day at the inn, just goofing off and taking videos, before power comes back. Lu Han charges his phone and his camcorder as Jongin calls their manager, who answers the phone frantically and promises to come pick them up tomorrow morning. Jongin reassures him that they’re both okay, but it doesn’t seem to penetrate the haze of panic. Lu Han just grins at him as Jongin listens to the repeated apologies of their manager, and Jongin grins back.

“Woe is me; I had to spend two whole days alone with Jongin,” Lu Han says. “Off with our manager’s head.”

“To be fair, you could be dead in a ditch right now,” Jongin says, and Lu Han snorts.

“Are you trying to kill us all off?” he asks. “First Chanyeol, then me… who’s next?”

“Junmyeon,” Jongin says. “Except he buys me food, these days, so maybe Yixing.”

“You’re terrible,” Lu Han says.

“I just meant he was worried, because he didn’t know where we were at all. When I told him we were at the inn, he seemed incredibly relieved.”

“We’d better not tell him about the night in the car, then,” Lu Han says. “Where are they, anyway?”

“At a hotel back in the direction we came from. We were far ahead when the storm hit, because they’d stopped to get gas and stuff before they left the city.”

“Ah,” Lu Han says. “I’m…”

“What?”

“I’m sort of glad it was just us,” Lu Han says. “I know that’s selfish, because we’re supposed to be shooting a documentary, but…”

“Me too,” Jongin says, and he studies his hands instead of looking at Lu Han’s face. “You’re my best something, remember?”

“Yeah,” Lu Han says. “I remember.”

***

It rains again that night. Not too hard, but there’s thunder, and Jongin folds up as small as he can and tries to use his blankets to drown out the sound.

“Hey,” Lu Han says. “Scoot over.”

Jongin makes a little room, and Lu Han wraps him up in a hug. He can hear Lu Han’s breath in his ear, and it’s louder than the thunder. “Didn’t I say you could hold my hand?”

Jongin turns, so that he and Lu Han are face to face, and lets Lu Han push his bangs from his eyes. “You did,” Jongin says. “Thank you.”

Jongin’s not sure what any of this means, but once again, it’s Lu Han’s rhythmic heartbeat that lulls him to sleep.

***

What does it mean when your stomach feels upset every time you look at someone? Jongin sends to Sehun, after much deliberation. He still hesitates as he hits send, but Sehun usually has good advice, and he’s told Sehun things far more embarrassing than this.

Sehun sends a response immediately, and Jongin clicks it open.

It means you probably have food poisoning, Sehun’s message reads, and Jongin scowls.

You’re no help, Jongin sends back. I keep having miniature heart attacks every time I look at them, and my stomach is in knots.

Stop being a child, Sehun’s final message reads. I’m too busy to explain falling in love to you right now.

Jongin’s hands feel a bit numb. Falling in love, he thinks, as his tongue slips out to wet his lips. He looks over at Lu Han, who sits with his legs crossed on the wooden deck, talking to the older woman as she sews. Lu Han’s smile is winning her over, Jongin can tell, if it hadn’t won her over already.

The rain is still sprinkling lightly, and probably worsening the mud situation, but neither of them seem bothered by the droplets that the wind keeps blowing into their faces.

Lu Han looks up at him, beaming wide, and displaying those pretty square teeth, and Jongin’s heart trips and stumbles out of his chest and falls all the way to the floor.

Jongin’s never really thought about this kind of thing before. Maybe he’s always been a bit behind, because when Chanyeol was bragging about his girlfriend, back when they were still trainees, Jongin’s only thought had been that it would take too much time away from practicing to bother with his own. He hadn’t really understood the point of all the stress and the worrying and all of that, but as the sun shines down on Lu Han’s hair, making it shine, only half as bright as Lu Han’s smile, Jongin is beginning to understand what all the fuss is about.

Falling in love, Jongin thinks again, and he feels like crying because this, this is the actual worst possible turn of events.

***
Their manager and the two cameramen come to pick them up from the inn. Their manager looks them over frantically, mumbling things about ”in one piece” and the older lady scowls at him as if she’s asking if there was any doubt.

Lu Han hugs her goodbye and Jongin awkwardly copies him. Her thick, arthritic fingers dig into his back and Jongin smiles. “Thank you,” he says in Mandarin, and she grins at him toothily.

Then they’re climbing into the van, waving goodbye. Their manager tells them he’s going to send people for the other car, since it probably doesn’t have enough gas, anyway.

Jongin sits on the far side of the van, and one of the cameramen ushers Lu Han in next to him, following behind with his camera on.

“We had an adventure,” Lu Han tells the camera. “But Kai and I survived it.”

The cameraman looks past Lu Han to find Jongin. Jongin pastes a smile on his face and makes bunny ears with both his hands.

“None the worse for wear,” he says, and then Lu Han launches into a description of their past three days while Jongin does his best not to look like a complete mess next to him.

When the cameraman is finished, putting his recording device down in his lap, Lu Han leans against Jongin and rests his head on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin’s hand automatically comes up to play with Lu Han’s hair, and Lu Han sighs contentedly, one of his hands coming to rest warm on Jongin’s knee.

“Only two more days,” Lu Han says. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?” Jongin mumbles back, and Lu Han’s touch burns through his trousers and makes Jongin want to simultaneously move closer and as far away as he can. If this is liking someone, Jongin thinks, then he doesn’t understand why anyone ever does it.

“I almost wish…” Lu Han says, and then he laughs. “Sorry, never mind, it’s silly.”

“Tell me, already,” Jongin says gruffly, licking his lips and trying not to think too hard about the way Lu Han’s hair feels like clouds must feel between his fingers.

“I almost wish it could just be us a little longer,” Lu Han says, and Jongin’s heart comes all the way up to sit in his throat.

He doesn’t reply, because he knows if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to speak past the block.

“I know we’ll still be together for a little while longer, with everyone, before M and K are split up again,” Lu Han says, and his fingers are now tracing distracting patterns, climbing Jongin’s thigh. “But these three weeks with just you…”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, and his stomach is clenched so tight it hurts. “Yeah, me too.”

***

Jongin’s last day in Beijing with Lu Han is like waking up from a dream. The dream was Jongin thinking the butterflies in his stomach and the lurch in his chest when Lu Han smiled were nothing more than friendship and admiration.

The reality is that Jongin looks at Lu Han and wonders what his mouth tastes like, and then he clenches his hands into fists until his nails break the skin on his palm.

Lu Han grabs Jongin’s hand as they walk through the streets of Beijing for the last time, with baseball caps and no manager and no camera people; just two friends out for the day. He coaxes Jongin’s hand loose enough that he can lace their fingers together, and Jongin wants to pull away but knows he shouldn’t.

Jongin, before, wouldn’t have thought to pull away. Jongin, now, wants to drag Lu Han so close that he can feel Lu Han sticking to his side, Lu Han’s thin and strong chest nothing like his soft face, and feel Lu Han’s every exhale because… because…

Jongin’s confused. It’s like the light has come on, and all there is waiting, now that Jongin can see, is Lu Han. Lu Han with his perfect smile and soft mischievous laugh and endlessly shifting expression and the joy and melancholy that twine around each other in his eyes.

And it’s all right, because Jongin doesn’t want to see anything else, but it isn’t all right, because Jongin’s never felt like this before; never let himself feel like this before, and he knows well enough that he shouldn’t.

“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks, and Jongin swallows and closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jongin says, and he doesn’t have to look to know the tilt of Lu Han’s head or the questioning quirk to his lips. “I’m fine.”

Jongin isn’t really fine. Usually, Lu Han is one of the people that makes him feel better.

He opens his eyes and Lu Han’s gaze is shuttered. “You don’t have to tell me,” Lu Han says, and he pulls his hand away. Despite the heat, Jongin’s hand is cold.

Jongin shoves his hand in his pocket.

And then it’s no time before they’re packing their bags and heading to the airport, Lu Han cheerfully chattering beside him and Jongin staring straight ahead.

They aren’t lucky, this time, and fangirls crush in and Jongin impulsively pulls Lu Han close to him, to keep him standing, but he pushes him away as soon as they start the progress through security.

Lu Han offers him a measured look as Jongin puts almost a meter between them, but he doesn’t say anything, just presses his lips into a line and keeps his eyes forward.

But when Lu Han falls asleep on Jongin’s shoulder on the plane, lips parted in sleep and face soft, Jongin remembers the ride to China, three weeks or a lifetime ago, when Lu Han had looked gentle just like this.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin whispers. “But I think I…” The word love gets stuck and won’t come out, but that’s okay, because Jongin isn’t ready to admit it yet, not even when Lu Han is asleep.

***
“What are you doing?” Sehun asks. “Are you so ashamed of your lobster-red burn that you don’t want Jongdae to see you?”

Jongin, who is hiding under his sheets, can feel Sehun collapse onto the edge of his bed, the mattress sinking slightly underneath his weight. “No,” Jongin says.

“Then why are you sitting in here like a sulking child?” Sehun says, and Jongin kicks in his general direction. “Kyungsoo told me he thought you might be dying.”

“I’m not dying,” Jongin huffs, pushing the sheet back and glaring at Sehun, who is smirking at him. “I’m just. I’m.”

“Having a mental breakdown?” Sehun asks. “Clearly.”

“Shut up,” Jongin mutters.

Sehun laughs and pushes Jongin over so he can stretch out next to him. “Are you suffering from feelings, Jongin?” Sehun teases, elbowing Jongin as Jongin tries to smother himself in his pillow. “Tell me all about it.”

“Remember when I asked you... about the butterflies and… and stuff?” Jongin asks. His voice is muffled by the pillows but he knows Sehun will understand him.

Sehun snorts, loudly, and Jongin blindly claws at his face, but Sehun easily grabs his wrist and pushes it down to the bed. Jongin doesn’t put up much of a fight; if he had, he would have won easily, of course, but he doesn’t really feel like wrestling. “Oh please,” Sehun says, and Jongin knows his neck is red from more than just sunburn.

“Never mind, I forgot I hate you,” Jongin says, and reaches for his sheet with his other hand so he can pull it back over his head. “Go away. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I could always bring in Chanyeol?” Sehun offers. “Chanyeol and duizhang. I’m sure they’d be happy to listen to your woes.”

Jongin would actually rather put his face in a blender than talk to Chanyeol about his emotional distress, and Sehun knows it. Jongin doesn’t doubt that Chanyeol would try to be helpful either, eagerly patting Jongin a little too hard on the shoulder and looking at him attentively while Jongin tried to wish himself away.

“I think I’m…” Jongin sighs. “Lu Han. And stuff.”

Sehun’s eyes go wide for a moment, his mouth going a bit slack. “Oh.” Then he purses his lips, kind of fish-like, and then smiles. “Oh, duh.”

“What do you mean, duh?” Jongin says, and it’s definitely not a wail, it just sounds that way because Jongin is tired.

“Years of devoted looks-“

“No, no, no,” Jongin says. “It’s just a phase, right? It goes away, right?” Jongin bites down on his lip as he sits up, hugging his pillow to his chest. “I’m going to stop thinking his smile looks like the sunshine and that his laugh makes me feel like I’m floating and that I always want to make him happy, even if it’s at my expense and I have to do something really humiliating to make it happen, right? I’m not just going to keep on wishing that I could just hug him because he’s so warm and kind and strong, right? Right?”

“Um,” Sehun says, and then Jongin glances up and Sehun is looking at him kind of like he’s amazed. “Well…” Sehun blows his bangs out of his eyes. “This is a bit more serious than a shower wank fantasy, then, I guess.”

Jongin doesn’t mention that there’s that, too, but Sehun laughs, loud and mocking, and Jongin wants to die. “Stop,” he hisses. “Stop laughing at me.”

“You’re definitely in love,” Sehun says. “Now if that’s all, can you come rejoin humanity? We’re ordering fried pork and black sauce noodles.”

Zhajiang mian. Obviously.

Jongin sputters, and Sehun gets up. “I can’t look at him,” Jongin says miserably. “I feel like it’s written all over my face.”

“It always has been,” Sehun says. “The only thing different is that you realize it.” Sehun sighs. “You can’t hide in your bedroom forever, Jongin.”

“Yes I can,” Jongin says, and Sehun shakes his head.

“We have an appearance tomorrow. You know, in front of the fans? Think of tonight as practice.”

Jongin follows Sehun out into the rowdy living room, and Jongdae cheers as he sees Jongin. “Lobster baby!”

Yixing snickers and scoots over a bit, making space on the couch between himself and Lu Han, as Sehun squeezes onto the armchair next to Tao. Jongin swallows before he sits next to Jongdae on the floor. Minseok offers Jongin an open package of jerky, but Jongin shakes his head no.

He doesn’t look in Lu Han’s direction, but he can feel the weight of Lu Han’s eyes, and it makes him tremble.

***
Lu Han’s been Jongin’s anchor, before, when the lights have flashed too bright.

Now, Jongin is so afraid of his heart that he’d rather look at the flashes than over at one of his closest friends.

”You’re my best something,” Jongin had said, and now that he knows what that something is, things aren’t any better.

Lu Han tries to catch Jongin’s sleeve, but Jongin’s always been good at moving just out of reach, and he pretends not to notice the sadness and confusion in Lu Han’s eyes.

***
“It turned out really well,” the PD says, when Jongin goes in to see him in order to sign some paperwork or something. “It really is going to be a great show for Korean viewers to see a piece of China, and get to know you and Lu Han. We love the candid bits the best… The videos you and Lu Han took on your own personal camcorders.”

“I’m glad,” Jongin says, and he pulls out his stamp and presses it into the red ink pad that the PD has set next to the release forms. It’s a weird thing, to give his professional stamp. His parents had given it to him as a present when he’d signed his official contract with SM, because you can’t sign paperwork without one. It had made everything feel more real, unlike when he scrawls his name across hundreds of albums at a fan signing and hopes it looks somewhat consistent.

The red ink is the color of the ‘record video’ button, and Jongin thinks about Lu Han’s sleeping face, the very first footage on his camcorder, and it’s almost more than he can take.

***

“I’m staging an intervention,” Junmyeon says, putting his hand on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin shrugs it off on reflex, because he can’t help that sort of thing, and Junmyeon puts his hands on his hips. “Sit down.” He says it like he’s the dad in a drama, and Jongin thinks he’s starting to take overused fan-jokes a little too seriously.

“You’re not my real dad,” Jongin snaps, and Junmyeon rolls his eyes.

“And if I thought of you as my child, that would have stung a little,” Junmyeon replies. “Luckily for me, I am not saddled with any offspring, let alone offspring as troublesome as you are.”

“Being leader doesn’t mean you get to interfere with my life.” Jongin crosses his arms stubbornly. “Everything is fine.”

“How old are you, Jongin? Seven?” Junmyeon sighs. “You look like you’re going to have a seizure every time you and Lu Han are in the same room. Every time you pull that little don’t touch me thing you just pulled with me, it hurts his feelings.”

Jongin sucks his lower lip into his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Jongin says. “I’m just…”

“Now tell Papa Suho,” Junmyeon says, and Jongin bets he thinks he sounds encouraging, but he really just sounds like those obnoxious ‘teach your kids languages!’ shows Jongin’s mom used to put on the television when she didn’t want to deal with Jongin.

Still, he does sound sincere, and maybe, just maybe, Jongin will feel better if he talks about it to someone who is not Sehun, who just laughs at him derisively. If he can manage to talk about it without dying of mortification.

“I’m bad at…feelings,” Jongin says slowly. “I don’t know how other people deal with this kind of thing.”

Junmyeon sagely nods, hands steepled under his chin. “Go on.”

“This is embarrassing,” Jongin says, burying his face in his hands. “Just leave me alone.”

“Now, Jongin, I am your leader. I’m an older brother figure. I’m here for you.”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Absolutely. There’s no problem I can’t help you solve.”

“I think I’m in love with Lu Han,” Jongin says, and Junmyeon’s eyes widen and glaze over. Jongin waits patiently for a response; any response, but Junmyeon just keeps staring at him with confused eyes.

“I think I hear my phone ringing,” Junmyeon says, standing abruptly.

“Your phone doesn’t ring,” Jongin said, sticking his hands in his hair. “It vibrates.”

“It rings when I need it to escape!” Junmyeon says. “Now pretend you can hear my imaginary phone ringing too!”

“I knew you couldn’t help,” Jongin mumbles, and Junmyeon sits back down with a huff.

“I’m not equipped to deal with inter-band romance,” Junmyeon says. “Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s almost disgusting bromance is bad enough.” Junmyeon takes a deep breath. “But… It wouldn’t be the worst thing. If you told him, I mean. So he could stop looking at you like a puppy you’d kicked.”

“But what if he doesn’t-“ Jongin bites down on his lip so hard he winces. It’ll swell, probably, like Jongin’s lips aren’t big enough. He looks down at the floor.

“Well, at least he’ll understand why you’re avoiding him like he’s got an infectious disease,” Junmyeon says. “And you can get over it.”

Jongin thinks about the way Lu Han had felt, in his arms, breath hot against Jongin’s cheek as they slept as the storm came down around them, and he’s not sure if getting over it will be all that easy. “Yeah,” Jongin says, and he tangles his hands into his shirt, stretching it out of shape. “Yeah.”

***
It’s early morning. Jongin’s not sure why he’s awake. They don’t have to be at rehearsal for another four hours, but Jongin has been having trouble sleeping lately so he figures he might as well get up.

He isn’t expecting to find Lu Han there, asleep on his crossed arms, a cold cup of tea by his left wrist and soft brown bangs lifting with every exhale. Jongin craves his little camcorder. He wants to take video like the one he took on the plane, but he’d do it better this time. “Isn’t he handsome?” Jongin would say. “He’s just as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside.” And it would be true, and then, maybe, when Jongin was weak enough to watch it, he could pretend he’d had enough courage to confess his heart.

“I wish I were as strong as you,” Jongin whispers, brushing the hair from Lu Han’s face. Lu Han’s skin is cocoa butter soft underneath his fingertips.

Lu Han’s eyelashes flutter, and Jongin draws his hand back as if it burns. “Hi,” Lu Han croaks, and Jongin licks his lips. Suddenly, he realizes it’s a bit chilly in the kitchen. There are goosebumps rising along the skin of his forearms, but his face and chest are hot, anyway. Probably, Jongin knows, because he and Lu Han are alone for the first time in two weeks, and all Jongin wants to do is crawl into his arms and press his nose into his neck and let Lu Han’s arms wrap tightly around him and…

“You should sleep in a bed,” Jongin says. “Kitchen tables aren’t really ideal for that sort of thing.” He manages to sound mostly flippant, but there’s a little bit of a wobble towards the end that might give him away. He turns toward the counter and pulls down a mug.

Jongin turns on the electric kettle, and picks a barley tea bag, dropping it into the mug as he waits for the water to heat. He taps his fingers along the cool surface of the counter, studying his short square nails.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately,” Lu Han says. He sounds so sad. Jongin’s heart clenches.

“Maybe you should stop eating all the weird stuff Yixing eats in the middle of the night,” Jongin jokes, but he knows it falls a little flat.

“It’s just that one of my best friends won’t look me in the eye anymore, and I can’t figure out why,” Lu Han says, and Jongin’s breath catches in his throat. “I thought we’d gotten closer, but now he’s pushing me away.”

Jongin’s hands still, clenching into fists on top of the counter. He leans down, and his sleep-mussed hair falls into his eyes. He’s not sure what to say.

He can hear Lu Han stand up and take a step closer. “All I can assume is that I did something wrong, or that there’s something about me that’s easy to push away. Easy to give up.”

Jongin thinks about Lu Han’s parents, who didn’t even come to his showcase, and thinks that the sound of Lu Han’s voice is the actual manifestation of a breaking human heart. He can hear Lu Han crumbling behind him, but Jongin’s muscles are tight and the fear is so overwhelming it chokes him. He can’t move, but he wants to move. He wants to tell Lu Han that it’s not that Lu Han is easy to give up; it’s that Lu Han is impossible to give up and Jongin is just trying to give himself a fighting chance at sanity.

Before Jongin realizes he’s done it, his arms are around Lu Han, crushing Lu Han to his chest just like he had in that alley in Beijing, Lu Han’s face buried in the hollow space between his neck and shoulder and Lu Han’s breaths coming quick and shallow.

“No,” Jongin says. “No.”

“I don’t get it,” Lu Han says. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

Jongin reaches for the right words, but all he finds is the awful truth; stolen smiles he’s kept locked up in his heart and hushed wishes he’s done his best to keep to himself and the echo of Lu Han’s laugh and the way it shines like sunlight through Jongin’s skin, lighting him up inside. “It’s…” Jongin starts, and he gets a mouthful of hair, over-processed and dry, and he spits it out. “It not that I don’t want you close.” Jongin closes his eyes, and tries not to think about how humiliating it would be if someone walked in right now.

“Then why is this the first time you haven’t flinched when I’ve touched you in two weeks?” Lu Han asks. It’s only slightly muffled by Jongin’s skin, and the brush of Lu Han’s lips is distracting and Jongin’s feeling lost enough without that. His hands curl into Lu Han’s t-shirt, holding on for dear life, and Lu Han doesn’t seem to mind. “I…”

“I can’t…” Jongin swallows. “I can’t…”

The kettle sounds, and Jongin stumbles backward until his back hits the counter. He yanks the cord from the wall to stop the whistle. Kyungsoo would chastise him, if he were here, about mistreating the kettle, but he’s not here. It’s just Jongin and Lu Han, like it had been for those three weeks in China, or really, those three days at the inn, and Jongin’s hands are shaking as he pours water into the mug.

“You can’t what?” Lu Han asks, and Jongin hunches his shoulders and moves the tea bag around in his mug by its label and string. He can feel his gut twisting up into impossibly tiny knots and he’s not sure how to answer. “It’s me,” Lu Han says. “I trust you. Can’t you trust me?”

Jongin spins around, hands falling helplessly to his side, and he takes a long, shuddering breath.

Lu Han is looking at him like Jongin’s answer is everything. His lips are curved subtly downward in a frown, and there’s a weariness in his eyes that makes Jongin ache. His t-shirt is a little too big, and it reveals a slice of skin that Jongin’s eyes would gravitate toward if he could look away from Lu Han’s luminous, questioning gaze.

“Jongin,” Lu Han asks, desperate now, “you can’t what?” Jongin feels trapped, here against the counter, by the way Lu Han is looking at him, and his knees are going to give out.

“I want you closer than you are,” Jongin says. “It’s not that I don’t want you close, it’s that I want you too close, and I-“ Words fail him, like they always do, and Jongin is left clenching and unclenching his hands. He wants to bring them up to hide his face, but he’s not a child, and this is not a childish love.

Lu Han steps closer again, and rests his hand lightly on Jongin’s waist. Jongin can feel the heat of Lu Han’s hand through his shirt, painfully hot, and his eyes widen. “You can tell me, Jongin.” Lu Han says, and Jongin crumbles. “You can hold my hand.”

Both his hands come up and he grabs Lu Han’s face, fingers curling around his jaw. He leans forward, time standing still, and he kisses him.

Jongin misses, and he kisses at the edge of Lu Han’s mouth instead of full on. The corner of his mouth tastes like sleep, but Jongin readjusts, kissing Lu Han’s soft lips. It’s the simple press of skin against skin, but Jongin’s heart is going to beat all the way out of his chest and down the street like it’s part of a parade and his knees don’t want to support his weight.

After a moment, he pulls back, and Lu Han is looking at him like he just danced a part of Swan Lake naked, and Jongin wishes he could disappear.

“Jongin-“

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says, in a single breath, and then he’s rushing out of the kitchen, and through the living room until he gets to the bathroom. He goes in and locks the door, sliding down the back of it until his butt hits the tile, and pulls his knees up to his chest. He rests his forehead against them, arms wrapped around his shins as he tries to calm down.

Jongin is so stupid.

Lu Han’s knuckles rap against the door, and Jongin miserably ignores him. “Jongin,” Lu Han says, and Jongin knows he owes Lu Han more than an “I’m sorry,” and a run for the hills but it all seems so frightening. “Jongin, please.”

“I can’t,” Jongin says, and he can hear Lu Han sigh and slide down on the opposite side of the door.

“You forgot your tea, though,” Lu Han says. “And Kyungsoo will yell at you if he finds it on the counter.”

“Kyungsoo is less scary than this,” Jongin says. He’s not sure if Lu Han picks it up through the closed door. The tile is cool beneath the soles of his feet, and his gut aches.

“You kissed me,” Lu Han says, and Jongin laughs, darkly, closing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jongin says. “I kissed you.” He clears his throat. The hem of his pajama leg is fraying, and he tugs at the string, watching it unravel just like everything else. “Too close. I want to be too close.”

“You didn’t even ask why I was asleep in your kitchen instead of my own,” Lu Han says. “You always ask the wrong questions.”

Jongin opens his eyes, and the harsh fluorescents burn his sleepy eyes for a moment as all the air seems to disappear around him. “What?”

“Open the door, Jongin,” Lu Han says, and it’s that sweet, coaxing voice that always means Lu Han gets what he wants, especially from a Jongin that has so much trouble telling him no. “If I’m still your… your best something, open the door.”

Jongin stands and unlocks the door. Lu Han’s on the other side, Jongin’s barley tea between his encircled hands as he waits. His eyes are round, and his lips are pursed, but Jongin can see the flirtation of a smile pulling at the corners and it makes him think that whatever Lu Han has to say, maybe things will be okay, in the end.

“Why were you in K’s kitchen instead of M’s?” Jongin asks, and Lu Han laughs, and a little bit of tea sloshes out of the mug, because Jongin, as usual, had made it a little too full, but it’s gone cool enough that Lu Han doesn’t flinch.

“Because I was working up the courage to ask you if you’d noticed,” Lu Han says. “And if maybe that’s why you were pushing me away.”

“Noticed what?” Jongin asks, and Lu Han swallows, and the red flush of his neck gives him away even if his gaze is steady. Lu Han steps closer, until his bare toes bump against Jongin’s and there’s barely enough space for the mug between them. Jongin takes the mug into his own hands, Lu Han’s slender, perfect fingers sliding out from Jongin’s slightly larger ones, and Jongin thinks now, maybe, he’s asking the right question.

“That I’m in love with you,” Lu Han says. “And not in any sort of brotherly-“

Jongin drops the mug, and it clangs, and maybe breaks, and barley tea splashes over both their feet, and Jongin is kissing Lu Han again. Jongin’s no expert with words, but he’s always known how to move, tugging Lu Han closer until their chests are pressed together, and this time… this time Lu Han’s mouth falls open beneath his, pliant and soft and tasting of morning and sleep still and Jongin doesn’t care; he doesn’t care because he also just tastes like Lu Han and Jongin loves Lu Han.

Jongin loves Lu Han like he loves the view from the Great Wall, and like the stars at night in the Chinese countryside, and like dancing on stage to music he helped create. Jongin loves Lu Han like all those things, but maybe even more than that, because Lu Han is the lullaby that lets him fall asleep even when the storm is loud enough to scare him senseless.

Jongin dives into Lu Han’s mouth, desperately, tasting as much of it as he can as he licks at the edges of Lu Han’s cheeks and winds their tongues together, and it’s sloppy and messy but Lu Han’s hands clutch at his tank top and Lu Han’s tongue is fighting back and Jongin thinks it’s all right. Everything right now, Jongin thinks, is exactly as it should be.

“Is this close enough?” Lu Han asks, as Jongin pulls back, gasping for air or balance or maybe the last dregs of his sanity, and Jongin laughs even as he blushes, because this is not… He’d never imagined that he could have the whole world in his hands but Lu Han’s waist is firm beneath his fingertips, and maybe he can.

“It’s a start,” Jongin says, and Lu Han looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen and smile lingering in every aspect of his face. “What does that face mean?” Jongin tightens his grip, careful not to make Lu Han step in the shards of Jongin’s mug.

“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo says, and Jongin freezes, looking up at his roommate, whose wide eyes are taking in the scene with dismay. “Jongin, what in the-“

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says nervously, as Lu Han laughs silently in his arms. Jongin looks down quickly to glare at Lu Han, which just makes him laugh harder because he’s a little bit evil, “I can explain.”

“I loved that mug, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, his voice raspy with sleep. “It was my favorite one! How could you just let it break like that?”

“Um,” Jongin says, and Lu Han’s laughing aloud now, muffling the sound in Jongin’s shoulder, and Jongin brings one of his hands up to smooth down Lu Han’s hair even as he debates strangulation. Even so, Lu Han’s lips are tickling the bare skin of his neck and it’s making it hard for him to concentrate of the irritated Kyungsoo, who now stands arms akimbo in the doorway to their shared bedroom. “Sorry?”

“Ugh,” Kyungsoo says, running a hand over his face. “It’s like no one cares about the things in this dorm except for me.”

“It’s my fault, Kyungsoo,” Lu Han says, when his shoulders stop shaking. Jongin can still hear the mirth in his voice, now, and even as the mortification of Kyungsoo catching him making out with Lu Han sinks in all the way down to Jongin’s bones, the lovely sound of Lu Han’s laugh spreads warmth through Jongin’s belly. He’s missed it, the past two weeks, as he’d stupidly tried to solve everything on his own. “I shouldn’t have brought Jongin the mug.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says, blinking, and then he seems to really register Lu Han’s presence. “Good morning, Lu Han.” His eyes skim down to take in Jongin’s hands around Lu Han’s waist and maybe how Jongin’s lips are still shiny with Lu Han’s spit, and then he chuckles.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Jongin asks, breaking the tableau, and Kyungsoo crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. He smiles, and Jongin can see his gums.

“Junmyeon already came to me for crisis counseling,” Kyungsoo says, and Jongin swears as Lu Han collapses laughing into Jongin’s chest, hanging on for dear life to Jongin’s tank as Jongin wonders whether it’s possible for the floor to open up and swallow him. “Be safe.”

“Safe about what?” Jongin hisses, and he feels the color of a tomato and Lu Han isn’t helping.

Kyungsoo just wriggles his eyebrows and disappears back into his room. Lu Han kisses Jongin’s neck, and then his cheeks, and then his lips, but he steps back when Jongin tries to deepen the kiss.

Jongin lips his lips as Lu Han smiles wickedly. “We’d better clean up the mug,” Lu Han says. “We wouldn’t want Kyungsoo to come out and interrupt us again, would we?”

“Interrupt what?” Jongin says, and Lu Han’s eyes disappear into half-moons as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Now that is a good question,” Lu Han says, and maybe Jongin is getting the idea.

***
They watch the documentary when it airs, curled up on the couch, a bowl of persimmons between them as Sehun and Tao trade inappropriate glances and Chanyeol and Baekhyun titter like schoolgirls. Lu Han is warm underneath his arm, left leg hooked over Jongin’s right, and Jongin doesn’t even really mind the way Wu Fan keeps looking over at them like he’s trying to decide what he thinks of this development.

“It’s like your honeymoon or something,” Yixing says, as he watches the screen with rapt fascination. The look on his face tells Jongin he’s in for some teasing when he least expects it, maybe one day when they’re in the dance studio alone.

Lu Han, and all of M, are heading back to China tomorrow, for something that’s a little less of an adventure and a little more of a routine, and Jongin misses him already.

But he’ll be back soon. Jongin will send him pictures of his footwear and Lu Han will reply in Chinese characters and laugh at Jongin’s incompetence if he takes longer than a minute to answer.

And then when Lu Han comes back, Jongin will twine their fingers together, and he’ll kiss him, and he’ll say “hey,” because I love you still gets stuck in his throat.

And Lu Han will smile, and kiss him.

“Jongin, are you even watching your show?” Junmyeon says, collapsed against Jongdae’s side. “The side of Lu Han’s face is not that interesting; trust me, I see it all the time.”

Jongin flushes, and slouches down, and he can see Lu Han’s amused grin out of the corner of his eye.

“We don’t need to watch,” Lu Han says. “We lived it.”

They did, and now it’s over. Jongin doesn’t need to watch himself fall in love with Lu Han, his best something, on a television screen. Instead, he can just remember the soft feel of Lu Han’s skin against his own, and look forward to future adventures.

“Obviously,” Jongin says, and he closes his eyes.

END

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

bblingasaurus.livejournal.com

Sobs
I now ship.
This was so cute!!! I love when you write about China. And I love how you wrote out their interactions and hinted at their relationship before their china trip.
god I love everything you write.

From:

KPop: Borderlines (Jongin/Lu Han, PG-13) [2/2]

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags