Work Text:
Jisung’s about nine—or eleven?—drinks in, when the doorbell to the restaurant bar jangles again.
“Who’s there?” he slurs. He’s leaning against someone’s shoulder, eyelids drooping. Opposite him, Chan is dead to the world, mouth gaping open like a fish as he lets out another rumbling snore. A passing waitress casts a side-eye at Changbin and Hyunjin in the midst of an arm wrestle. Felix is showing off photos of the latest patient at his clinic—a sick Siamese cat—to no one, and Minho and Seungmin keep pushing around a plate with the last fried chicken between them. (“No, hyung, you take it–” “–For fuck’s sake, can you just eat the fucking drumstick, Kim Seungmin?”)
As Minho jerks his arm again, he accidentally shoves Jisung off of his shoulder. With an ungracious thump, Jisung lands on the greasy hardwood.
A knocked-up sneaker comes into his view. “Damn,” a voice says, “did I come too late or something?”
Jisung blinks up at the newcomer. From where he hovers above Jisung, Jeongin shrugs off his overcoat, revealing the plain t-shirt and sinewy arms underneath. Long gone are the braced teeth and the chubby cheeks and squeaky voice. Kneeling down in front of him, leaning down to observe Jisung’s face, is a real, breathing Adonis.
What?
“Hyung,” says Jeongin, “are you good?”
“...Yeah. Yeah?” Jisung swallows. “Yeah. Um. Is that really you, Yang–”
“–Yah! Yang Jeongin!” shouts Minho. He stuffs the last of the drumstick into Seungmin’s mouth before turning around with a huff. “Took you long enough to come.”
“Sorry,” Jeongin says, a meek smile on his face. “The kids had a long day today. I didn’t expect you all to be, uh…” He glances over at Chan, arms flailing out on both sides. “...wasted before nine o’clock.”
The kids? Jisung thinks. Long day? When did Jeongin get married? Or get kids? Kids as in kid in plural form? Who’s the lucky woman he knocked up? Oh, god, he should really get out of his basement more often. While Jeongin is off gallivanting into the sunset with his children and wife, Jisung is being grinded under the heel of his manager, sex drive ridden non-existent thanks to all the Monsters he’s chugged.
“Oh, you said you moved here to work at an elementary school, right?”
“Yeah.”
Right. Right.
With a shy smile, Jeongin extends a hand out for Jisung to grab. When he lifts the latter back to his feet, Jisung almost swoons like a damsel in distress saved by his knight in faded Converses. “We had a field trip today to an art museum, so we got back pretty late. Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”
“It’s fine,” says Minho. “We found other ways—” He gives a pointed look at the arm-wrestling duo, where Changbin has just lost (again) to Hyunjin. That has got to be on purpose, Jisung thinks. “—to entertain ourselves.”
“Cool.” And then Jeongin is gesturing for Jisung to slide into the couch first, before plopping down right next to him. The warmth of his body tickles Jisung’s arm. He can even feel the bulge of Jeongin’s bicep swole against his own. God. Since when did Jeongin turn from a man baby who kept running into walls and tripping over his feet during their dance rehearsals into the man of Jisung’s dreams?
When Jeongin turns his head to the side, he asks, “Can you pass me the soju?”, and something gleams on his tongue, and shit.
This is going to be one long night, Jisung thinks.
–
Okay. Rewind.
A couple years ago, they met at their university’s Performing Arts Society. Back then, second-year design major Jisung used to wear chunky bracelets and platform boots and a fake Pikachu tattoo on his forearm. And back then, first-year education major Jeongin, fresh out of high school, had just rolled into the dance studio with the ugliest pair of khaki pants Jisung had seen in his life.
From the second Jeongin introduced himself with a stutter in front of the seniors, Jisung had made it his life’s mission to take his brother under his wing.
He bribed Jeongin with food so that the kid wouldn’t hang out with any of the other members (which was definitely untrue). He offered to drive Jeongin back and forth from the dorms to campus (which was also untrue since he didn’t have a licence, but he still accompanied Jeongin on the bus anyways). He taught Jeongin how to play the guitar, how to rap, how to dress better and swaggier. Everything Jisung knew, he passed it down to Jeongin. An older brother to the baby brother he never had but now knew.
And then, well, graduation happened. Then job-hunting. Then—after months of tearful applications and fumbled interviews—the job.
All Jisung knows is that, once Jeongin graduated, he returned to Busan to work for a couple of years. He hadn’t realised he would come back to Seoul and find a job here, too, until Chan made plans for a dinner get-together.
Sure, they kept in touch through text messages in the group chat, but neither of them ever private messaged each other. The last time they did was three years ago, when Jeongin asked Jisung to return his umbrella after a practice session. That, added with the fact that Jisung never set up an Instagram account in favour of “segregating myself from the Gen Zs”, but more because he didn’t dare to ask his friends to help him with the controls, caused the distance between the two of them to grow.
A couple years have passed, and somehow, here they are now: Jeongin, a tongue piercing glistening under the yellowed lights each time he spoke, and Jisung, a hard-on digging into the rough denim of his jeans.
Fuck.
–
It’s only a few days after the reunion when Jisung’s phone buzzes on his work desk.
He looks away from his tablet to take a quick glimpse of his phone screen, which turns into a wide-eyed stare, and then his pen clatters to the ground. Without thinking, he unlocks his phone and immediately opens the messaging app.
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): hi hyung
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): do you want to grab dinner together?
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): btw hope you got back home safe that day… you were pretty drunk haha
No way. No fucking way this is happening. They’ve never messaged each other privately like this. Why start now? Did Jeongin see something he liked that day? Or did Jeongin take one look at Jisung and think, ‘Man, this guy must be bitchless’ and now he’s acting all sympathetic and shit towards him?
Jisung taps a finger anxiously against the edge of his tabletop. What does he say? What should he say?
me: Yo
“Fuuuuck,” Jisung groans. He continues typing.
me: Uh sure thing
me: And Yeah i got back fine that day. Still alive. Hence why i’m texting you
me: Unless haha u know this might be my ghost messaging u.
me: like maybe I died and my ghost came out and now it's possessed my phone so it's texting you instead of the human version of me texting you geddit
me: anyways
me: uh where and when
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): haha you’re funny hyung
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): hmm how about this place
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): [Naver Maps link]
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): it’s a korean-american fusion place
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): i’m free tonight but only if you’re ok with that
Tonight? Jisung glances down at his clothes. He’s wearing a graphic tee of Godzilla trampling all over the Pentagon building, and skinny jeans that are far too 2010s. He’s contemplating whether to run back home to change into something more formal when the realisation hits him.
Why is he agonising over what he’s wearing? Sure, Jeongin may look like a Greek god statue come to life, but that’s his little brother. His dongsaeng. How could he have such dirty images of his baby brother in his brain? Where have his morals gone off to? Jisung slaps himself across the cheek, loud enough for his next-door colleague to sneak a weird look at him.
Look. It’s just a dinner between two friends, brothers if you will. It’s a normal dinner with a guy who just so happened to have had the glow-up of the century. It’s cool.
me: Yeah sure how about like 7?
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): works for me
baby bread (⁀ᗢ⁀): see you there hyung ^__^
Jisung wants to punch something, anything. Instead, he walks to the toilets, splashes his face with cold water, before marching back to his work desk with renewed confidence. He can do this. He can finish all his work before the end of the day. He’s sure of it.
–
At 7:12 p.m., Jisung bursts into the restaurant with a wheezing gasp.
Of course, of all days to assign him with more work, his manager had chosen today to torture Jisung, tied down by the shackles of the corporate world. To rub salt into his wound, his tablet had died on him before he could save the file he’d been working on for hours. Between that and the burst pipes in the toilet, Jisung’s shirt was sopping wet from washing out whatever gunk had landed on the fabric, and he smelled distinctly of the sharp, tangy office soap.
When he sees Jeongin waving at him from a window-view table, though, all of the weight magically lifts from his shoulders.
“Sorry I’m late,” says Jisung. He clambers into the chair directly opposite, and it takes him a moment to register how fuckable—sorry, handsome Jeongin looks tonight. He’s wearing a button-down, chequered shirt, the top two buttons left unbuttoned to reveal tanned skin. That, paired with the hoop earrings and nice jeans he’s wearing, is enough to unleash the hell that is Jisung’s armpit sweat. “Work was, uh, messy.”
“It’s okay,” says Jeongin cheerfully. He smiles, dimples showing, and Jisung feels himself sweat a little more. He hopes it doesn’t show. “I just got here, too. D’you want to order first?”
They order a few platters to share, and once the waiter is out of sight, Jeongin turns back to Jisung, grinning. “It’s been a while since we ate together, right?"
“Huh?” Jisung blinks. “We… ate together… on Friday?”
Jeongin giggles, a sweet melody ringing in Jisung’s ears. “No, hyung, I meant just the two of us eating together,” he explains. “We used to do that a lot in university, right?”
They did. Since their department buildings were close to each other, they frequently grabbed lunch together. After dance practices, the both of them would go to the nearest McDonalds and scarf down their burgers and fries. Jisung vaguely remembers Jeongin trying a different burger on the menu each time they went, until he eventually settled down with his shrimp onion burger. Jisung, a man of routine, would stick with his boring ‘ol McChicken and Fanta Orange.
“We did,” Jisung nods. He fidgets with the tissue paper in his hands, unsure what to ask next. Should he ask about his job? The kids? “So… what’s the worst thing that’s happened in school?”
Laughing, Jeongin shakes his head with a sigh. “I don’t think I can choose just one thing,” he says. “The stuff that the kids do these days… One time, the boys in my class dared one of them to eat fifteen bananas in one go. He later vomited all over my shoes.”
“Jesus. That must’ve been insane.”
“Had to throw my shoes out and everything,” Jeongin pouts. His lower lip pokes out cutely, and it takes most of Jisung’s willpower not to flick it with his forefinger. That would be weird and totally not-brother-like. “The job is nice, though. I like being around kids.”
“Haha.” Jisung grins. “You’re like a kid surrounded by other kids there, huh.”
At this, Jeongin’s smile falls from his face. “Am I still a kid to you?”
It’s a simple question, really, but from the tone of his voice, Jisung’s not quite sure what to make of it. Am I still a kid to you? Is he asking if he’s still technically a kid, or a kid in Jisung’s eyes?
Jisung takes a quick sip of his water. “Uh. Well. You’re definitely older now, I guess.” He quickly adds, “So what made you move back to Seoul?”
“Ah.” Jeongin cups his cheek in his hand. “My parents kicked me out of the house. Told me to go out there, find someone to settle down with.”
“I’m… sorry to hear that?” Jisung replies. “I mean, the whole kicking you out, not the, uh, finding a partner part, because I’m sure they meant that with good intentions-”
“-Kidding,” Jeongin interjects. “It was my decision to find a job here. Better pay. Better dating prospects, too, I guess. Busan seems like such a small world. I keep running into the same people there.”
“Yeah,” Jisung nods furiously. “It’s safer, too. Like, what if you started dating someone who turned out to be your relative? Haha.”
God, can he say anything normal for once?
He’s saved from whatever response Jeongin has managed to come up with by the waiter, who places their orders on the table between them. They had ordered a burger each, with kimchi fries to share. “Remember when you were obsessed with that shrimp something something burger?” Jisung asks.
“Oh, don’t remind me. I can’t believe they discontinued it!” Jeongin whines. He takes a huge bite out of his burger and chews on it with a sad look on his face, like a kicked puppy. “How could they do that?”
“I’m pretty sure you were the only one making sure the burger didn’t go out of business,” Jisung mutters. He bites daintily on his burger, only for mayonnaise to drip onto his wrist. “Shit.” He raises his wrist to lick at the sauce, still talking. “Like, what the hell is that combination? And who else would eat that much onion in a burger-”
He stops mid-sentence, though, when he notices the look on Jeongin’s face.
Somewhere underneath all of Jisung’s piled-up emotions, he feels his stomach twist into a knot. Jeongin stares at him, mouth hanging open a little, eyes hazy. It’s only for a split second, though, before Jeongin bites down animatedly on his burger again. “You were saying?” he asks around his food.
“Aish,” Jisung tuts, “don’t speak with your mouth full, kiddo. And like I was saying… Uh, well.” He looks down at the space where the mayonnaise had spilled onto his hand, flushed pink in his cheeks. He wonders if Jeongin was staring at him, or his tongue, or his lips. He shakes the thought from his mind. “I forgot.”
They continue the conversation between bites, and thankfully, nothing else awkward leaves Jisung’s lips. Well, at least in his books. He’s not sure if Jeongin is smiling at everything he’s saying out of interest or polite courtesy. The years spent apart from each, though, seem to narrow with every joke they share, every story they exchange about their work and their lives, every fry they toss at each other. It’s strange, Jisung thinks, how he feels twenty-one all over again with someone close to being a little brother to him, on a random Tuesday evening.
After they leave the restaurant, Jeongin tugs on the other’s sleeve. “It’s still pretty early,” he says. “Want to grab a drink?”
“A drink?” Jisung weighs out his options. He could drink a pint and go home afterwards. Or he could lose all his self-control, accidentally say something about how sexy the visible dip between Jeongin’s pectorals is, and wake up too hungover for work. The first option seems more likely, Jisung concludes. “Uh, sure.”
“There’s a nice bar down this street. Maybe we can go there?”
“Yeah.” This is fine. “Sure thing.” Everything will be fine.
They walk in tandem until they reach the front doors to a dimly lit bar. When Jeongin opens the door for him, Jisung playfully clutches his hands to his chest, earning him a snort. They sidle up next to each other at the bar counter. Jeongin gets something fancy-sounding called a sazerac. Jisung just gets a beer.
“Don’t you think beer tastes like shit, though?”
“Honestly? All alcohol tastes like shit.”
Jeongin laughs. “Touche.”
The atmosphere in the bar, though, is different. Unlike where they had been cracking jokes about how Changbin used to hook up with Minho in the dance rooms when they thought no one knew, silence hangs between them while the bartender makes their drinks. Jisung twists the rings on his fingers, eyes downcast to his reflection on the countertop. He’s exhausted himself of all conversation topics now. What next? Dogs? Does Jeongin own a dog?
“Do you own a–”
“I was wondering if you–”
Both of them pause. Blushing, Jeongin says, “You first.”
“Uh.” Now it just sounds like a stupid question. “Do you own a… a car?” That’s not much help either, Jisung thinks.
“Yeah, I do. Got my driver’s licence back in Busan.”
Jisung nods. He tries not to imagine Jeongin driving, a hand on the wheel, a hand resting on the back of Jisung’s seat— Stop imagining. “Cool. And what were you about to ask?”
“Oh!” The crimson red of Jeongin’s cheeks deepens into maroon. “I was wondering if you were, ah, in a relationship with anyone?”
There’s a loud clink of his beer landing on the countertop. Briefly, Jisung’s gaze flickers to the bartender, then back to Jeongin. “Uh.” His hand clasps onto the pint glass. “No.” There’s a brief pause, and then: “You?”
“Nah,” Jeongin shakes his head. “Mm, I think I’m still too much of a kid to be in a relationship, no?”
As Jeongin takes a swig of his drink, his tongue darts out to lick along the rim of the glass. The cursed piercing catches the light, reflecting in Jisung’s eyes almost mockingly. The armpit sweat drips down Jisung’s tricep. He knows the implications of Jeongin’s words. He knows. Is he referring to Jisung? Or does everyone else around him also think of Jeongin as a kid?
Too nervous to ask, Jisung instead chugs down the rest of his beer, burning a trail down his throat. When he lowers his glass, he notices the small smile on Jeongin’s lips.
“...What?”
“Nothing,” Jeongin says. “Just… Just forgot how cute you are sometimes.”
This is not happening. This cannot be happening. This is his dongsaeng, his baby brother. “Y-Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jeongin perches his head in his hand, his smile sharpening into a smirk. All of his senses are amplified tenth-fold. The music. The glimmer of Jeongin’s eyes. The bulge of his thighs in those damned jeans. “It’s almost like you’re the kid sometimes, hyung.”
Jisung slams his glass on the counter. The sound cuts through the bar, making several heads turn their direction. “Uh,” Jisung gulps. “I forgot I still have, uh, work.” A lie. “It’s due tomorrow!” Another lie. “My boss is crazy like that.” True. “I’ll get going now bye!”
“Wait, hyung–”
Before Jeongin can get another word out, Jisung stuffs a few bills underneath his glass, waves a hasty goodbye, and almost walks right into the double doors. He manages to escape from the bar unscathed, left only with burning cheeks, a raging boner and a clouded mind.
If he climbs into bed in his work clothes and forces himself into a wilful sleep, it’s no one else’s business but his own.
–
He doesn’t hear from Jeongin for a while.
Of course, Jisung has only himself to blame. Why did he run off that day? What if Jeongin hadn’t been flirting with him? Calling someone cute doesn’t necessarily equate to flirting, right? Or maybe Jeongin was drunk. That would explain things… right?
“Let me get this straight,” says Felix. “So you’re telling me that your friend ran out of the bar after his childhood-”
“-Not childhood, it’s my—our—his university friend-”
“-Okay, so this university friend flirts with him, your friend runs away, and now you’re worried that your friend offended the guy,” continues Felix. A dog barks in the distance. They’re both hovering over the examination table at Felix’s clinic, where Jisung had just witnessed his friend tape together a bird’s wing. Cool, but not cool enough to convince Jisung to switch jobs from UI/UX design to reviving a small, yapping poodle back to life. “Why did you—your—friend run away again?”
“Because this is his kid,” Jisung blurts. “His kid that he raised.”
“Metaphorically, you mean.”
“And the kid he’s seen with, like, braces and overalls and his mum picking up from campus. I’m basically his brother.”
Felix leans against the table. “You know, you can just say that this is about you and Jeongin.”
Panicked, Jisung splutters, “No. No. No, this isn’t about Jeongin-”
“-You were begging him to poke his tongue out for you to see on Friday,” Felix deadpans. “We had to drag you away before you could pull his tongue out yourself.”
Jisung lets out a pathetic shriek and hides his face in his hands. “Did I really?”
“Yeah, dude.” Felix casts him a pitiful smile. “It was honestly kinda sad to watch.”
“Maybe he really did think I was bitchless.”
“...You are, though?” When he receives a deathly stare from Jisung, Felix snorts. “Come on, man. He obviously likes you.”
“Pssh, no.”
“And why are you denying that?”
“Because he probably looks at me like I’m his older brother.”
With a quirk of his eyebrow, Felix says, “Do older brothers ask for a kiss from their beloved dongsaeng, though?”
“It was just one time!”
“Several times!” Felix corrects. “Remember when we won the inter-district dance competition?”
(They’re huddled together in the back of a Chinese restaurant, passing around plates of dumplings and spring rolls and carrot cake. Right next to him was Jeongin, the star of the night, who had practised his backflips over and over again each practice, only to nail it to perfection on-stage, showered in the cries of the audience members watching them. With a loud squeal, Jisung wrapped an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Aw, look at our little baby! He’s all grown up now!”
“Hyung, I’m not your baby-”
“-How about giving your big brother a biiiiig kiss, huh?”
“Hyung—Hyung! No! Get off of me!” There’s a loud thunk, and then: “Oh, god, hyung, your head is-”)
“Your forehead was bleeding,” Felix wheezed between his manic laughter. “That was fucking hilarious, dude.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh at Harry Potter and the scar on his forehead,” Jisung grumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest with a grunt. “Okay, whatever, but that was back then. This is now.”
Felix shrugs. “And maybe now you have feelings for your little brother or whatever you call him,” he points out. “If you don’t like him, then you at least feel attracted to him. I don’t blame you, man. He got hot .”
“Right?” Jisung drags out a sigh. “When did he get so confident and shit?”
“Probably after you graduated, y’know, when he didn’t have to keep up the ‘little brother’ act around you anymore,” Felix says. He takes his clinical tools to the sink, and with it an unspoken end to their conversation. “You crushed his potential, Jisung-ah.”
Sighing, Jisung runs a hand through his hair irritatingly, still replaying the incident at the bar in his mind, when his cell phone chimes.
adult bread (>.<): hi hyung
adult bread (>.<): can we meet up?
–
“I didn’t think you would show up.”
“Ah,” Jisung swallows. He kicks a pebble at his feet. “Sorry.”
They’re sitting on a bench at Haneul Park, facing in the direction of the river. The iced Americano that Jisung had bought right before meeting up is now forgotten in his hand, condensation dripping off of his wrists. As the sun dips down to the slumbering horizon, Jisung turns to face his friend. “Look, I’m sorry about that day,” he says. “I just… had work I forgot about.”
Damn it. Lying again? Jisung thinks of something else to add. A truth. “I didn’t mean to, like, offend you or anything. I really liked meeting up and talking to you that day.”
“...Really?”
Beside him, Jeongin is dressed nicely in a polo shirt and slacks. The wind ruffles up his hair, and he lifts a hand to pat it down. He even smells super nice. Jisung makes a mental note to ask about his cologne. “Yeah, I really do,” Jisung admits. “Sorry if it made you think otherwise.”
Jeongin lets out a laugh. He shoves Jisung lightly against his arm. “Don’t be so formal, hyung,” he says. “It’s weird.”
“What’s weirder was that you didn’t text me at all!” Jisung cries. “I thought I upset you.”
“Well, what if I was waiting for you to text?”
“I…” That’s an option Jisung didn’t think of. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at texting.”
“...That’s fine.”
There’s a different expression on Jeongin’s face again. Jisung can’t make it out. It’s somewhere between the face of a lost child and the look of indifference, framed by a thin-lipped frown. He gazes elsewhere, almost like he doesn’t know what to say next.
Jisung lets out a long breath. He shakes the plastic cup in his hand, ice cubes rattling against the sides, and sips on the straw. Loudly. At the intruding noise, Jeongin cracks up. “What the hell?”
“Nothing,” Jisung smiles. He likes seeing Jeongin smile. And then, because the mood seems almost right, he dumbly adds, “When did you get that piercing?”
“What, the tongue?” As if to mock him, Jeongin shows it off to him. It’s simple, really, a metal through the muscle, but Jisung almost feels like he’s on fire just looking at it. “I got it as a graduation gift from my parents. Not like I told them, but the money was at least from them,” he explains with a sheepish grin.
Goodness gracious. This is no good for Jisung’s heart. A tongue piercing, a cocky bravado, and a rebellious Jeongin all in one? He tries not to stare holes into Jeongin’s tongue. “Wow. That’s, well, brave of you. Proud of ya, kiddo.”
With an awkward chuckle, Jeongin says, “Again with the kiddo?”
“What! It doesn’t matter if you’ve graduated. You’ll always be a year younger than me.”
“By only a few months, you mean.”
“Not in the same year though!”
They bicker like this, back and forth, with Jeongin giggling in between each one of Jisung’s antics. And again, Jisung is transported back to the moments they shared in university, two brothers joined at the hip, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. Nothing has to change between them, Jisung decides. Jeongin just so happened to get hot. And a tongue piercing. Screw Felix and his psychological manipulative warfare in his veterinary clinic. He doesn’t have feelings for the kid at all.
And then Jeongin asks, “Do you want to get ramyun at mine?”
–
Perhaps Jisung should get someone to hook him up with Gen-Z lingo. Or, at least, an Instagram account.
As Jisung slips his sneakers off at the door, he peers around the apartment. Aside from the furniture and a Spiderman poster, the rest of the room is bare. “So how long exactly have you been living here-”
He stops mid-sentence when he feels a hand sneak around his hip. Startled, Jisung lets his reflexes get the better of him and elbows Jeongin in the stomach.
“Ow!” Jeongin yowls. “What was that for?”
“What was that for?!” Jisung cries. He points at Jeongin’s hand, like it’s a scandalous being. “What—I thought you said we were eating dinner!”
“I-” Jeongin pauses. He slaps a hand comically over his hand, like a cartoon character, before saying weakly, “I meant to have sex, hyung.”
“Sex?!”
Jisung leans back against the wall. The signs were there: the two of them walking side-by-side on the pavement, Jeongin grazing his arm against Jisung’s. The side-glances he kept giving. It all crashes down on Jisung in sudden realisation. “Oh. You want to have sex with me.”
“Yeah,” Jeongin hisses, clutching onto his abdomen. “I really wanted to have sex with you.”
“...What about now?”
“I’m in fucking pain, that’s what. Why is your elbow so sharp?!”
“I didn’t realise you wanted to have… to have s-sex with m-me!” Jisung stammers. “I thought you looked at me like an older brother!”
Jeongin sighs, lifting his head in agony. “Hyung, do you really think that?”
“Am I not your hyung?”
“You are, but-” Jeongin shakes his head, whispering something about how “this is such a bad idea”, before raising his voice again, “-I’ve liked you since we were in university, hyung. Don’t you get it?
“But you looked at me like I was your baby brother or whatever, so I didn’t say anything,” he continues. “And then we met on Friday, and you looked at me like that , and I thought, well, maybe I had a shot at this, you know? And then we had dinner, and then drinks, and then we had that heart-to-heart at the bench, and so I thought this might be it.”
His voice breaks a little at the end of his confession. It tugs at Jisung’s heartstrings. He’s stupid. He’s so, so stupid. “I’m so stupid, I’m sorry-”
“-It’s fine, hyung,” says Jeongin. He lowers his hand from his stomach, still wincing. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it. You don’t have to stay. Or, uh, I guess I can actually cook ramyun for us.”
There’s options. A) Jisung can run out of the front door right now and never look back. Cut off all conversation with Jeongin and never see him again. B) He could ask Jeongin to cook ramyun, and then he could run out of the door and never look back. C) He could ask Jeongin to cook ramyun and then have sex with him.
D) They could have sex right now.
“Jeongin-ah,” Jisung says. “Look, I have something to say, too.”
“Like what?” Jeongin is all flushed pink, too embarrassed to even look Jisung in the eye, too scared of what’s next. “It better not be about the ramyun.”
“No, it’s just-” Jisung sighs. “-Of course I think of you as my baby brother-”
“-Gross-”
“-But I also thought you looked… different. All grown-up,” Jisung admits. “You have a car, a job, a stable life, and it made me proud to know you’ve done well since you graduated. That you’ve grown into a good person.”
“Is this the part where you turn out to be my biological dad or something?”
“No, fuck, just hear me out,” Jisung groans. He scratches the nape of his neck, nervousness prickling under his skin. “I just… I just thought it would be weird if I looked at you any different. Which I did. Which made me think, well, shit, I don’t think I should think of my younger brother-”
“-Ahem.”
“... My friend, like that.”
“Like what?”
“ Like I would do with any attractive guy,” Jisung concludes. “Who wouldn’t think you’re hot, Jeongin-ah? Felix did.”
“Felix told you he thinks I’m hot?”
“Only because I told him about the night I ran off.”
Jeongin furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you tell him about that? You said you had work to do-” Something passes over his eyes. Shit. “-Hyung.”
“Uh huh?”
A shit-eating grin grows on Jeongin’s lips. He takes a tentative step forward, and another, and another. He stops right in front of Jisung, only a small space left between them, and says, “Were you lying about that night?”
“No,” Jisung says, too quickly for it to be true.
“Really?” Jeongin smiles. He looks at Jisung silently, searching his eyes for approval, before settling a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight of his palm is hefty, warm, metal rings pressed into the fabric of his shirt. “Then should I tell you what I saw?”
“W-What did you see?”
“I saw my older brother, my hyung,” Jeongin says, tracing a finger on Jisung’s chest, “looking at me, at my body, at my tongue, all hot and bothered. And when I looked down, all I saw was-”
“-Fuck! Fine! I was lying, I lied to you, please just don’t finish that fucking sentence,” Jisung pleads. He squeezes his eyes shut with a curse. “I lied to you. I’m sorry, okay, I just felt really fucking bad about popping a boner right in front of you, okay? That’s embarrassing as hell!”
Jeongin chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in Jisung’s bones. “You should’ve known better than to wear skinny jeans, hyung. They show everything off. And… And you didn’t need to run off, you know.”
“I swear I didn’t mean to. I panicked.”
“Then maybe…” The shyness returns to Jeongin’s smile. “Maybe you can make up for that?”
Can he? Anxiously, Jisung exchanges quick glances from the curve of Jeongin’s eyes down to his lips and back again. “I… I can do that,” he says, and then softer: “Can I kiss you?”
When Jeongin smiles with the fullness of his cheeks, Jisung feels his heart skip a beat. Mustering all the courage left in his body, he leans forward and presses their lips together.
Several thoughts come through Jisung’s head at that moment. One: oh fuck, it’s been an excruciatingly long second since the last time he’s kissed someone. Two: Jeongin kisses like he's a ten-time World Champion of kissing. Jisung melts the moment he makes contact with Jeongin’s tongue, the metal sphere cold against Jisung’s warm mouth. Jeongin places a hand on the back of the other’s head, guiding him to kiss him back hard. Another hand traces the silhouette of Jisung’s body, before settling on his waist, fingernails digging into his skin. “Hyung,” Jeongin whispers. “Your waist is so small, you know?”
Jisung whimpers pathetically between open mouths.
“I bet I could wrap both hands around your waist,” Jeongin says, panting. “So small and so cute.”
Before Jisung can shut him up with another kiss, Jeongin nuzzles his nose in the crook between Jisung’s shoulder and neck, and he sucks at the skin there. Jisung feels his knees almost give out. Jeongin leaves sloppy kisses all along his neck, his jawline, before kissing him on the mouth again. “So cute.”
“Jeongin,” Jisung cries. “Get me on the fucking bed already.”
“How romantic,” Jeongin says with a roll of his eyes. Still, he grabs Jisung by the hand and drags him towards the bedroom. They both land unceremoniously onto the double bed, clambering over one another as Jisung fights for the upper hand. Sure enough, he finds himself trapped underneath Jeongin’s body as he’s smothered with kisses.
Jisung lets out a whine. “No, stop, get off of me, I need to-”
“-Act like a big brother and take the lead,” Jeongin finishes for him. “I know you well, hyung, but I’m the one who’s liked you for this long.”
“And what—shit,” he curses as Jeongin suckles another hickey onto his clavicle, “what did you even like about me?”
Jeongin smiles against his skin. “I liked everything about you. Your hair-” He runs a hand through Jisung’s long, unkempt hair. “-Your mouth-” He smacks Jisung’s lips again. “-Your heart.”
He waits for Jisung to nod at him, before lifting Jisung’s shirt up and over his head. He places his hands on Jisung’s chest, before mapping out the rest of his body down to his narrow hips. “Hyung,” he whispers, “you’re really pretty, you know?”
“Are you drunk, Jeonginnie?” Jisung asks, head dizzy with lust and confusion. “Why are you saying all this?”
“Because I really like you, hyung,” Jeongin confesses. He leans down, and without any warning at all, lays his tongue flat on his nipple. The metal piercing nicks at his skin, sending a shock down his spine. Jisung can’t help but jerk his hips upwards. It earns him a laugh. “Hyung, you can really get it up, huh?”
“Shut up!” Jisung wails. “I haven’t jerked off in ages.”
“What, since you met me that day?” Jeongin teases. He takes Jisung’s nipple between his teeth, nibbling like a fucking dog in heat. “Why? Did you feel guilty about getting off to your baby brother?”
Jisung groans. “You’re not going to let go of that one, are you?”
“Of course not. This is your fault, hyung.”
Everything turns hazy in Jisung’s thoughts. The hands squeezing his waist. The tongue piercing turning warm against his chest. When Jeongin tugs Jisung’s pants off (“Why are you still wearing skinny jeans?” “They accentuate my calves, goddamnit!”), Jisung pouts. “Why am I naked and you’re still all dressed up?”
“You could just ask me to take my shirt off,” says Jeongin. He grabs onto the collar of his polo shirt and peels it off, revealing tanned skin and rippling muscles. Jisung almost drools down to his chin. “There. Better?”
“Have you ever thought that you might just be the second coming of Christ?” Jisung says dumbly.
With a squeal of laughter, Jeongin says, “If my mother heard that, she would be truly offended, you know.”
“I’m serious!” Jisung protests. His hand comes up to Jeongin’s arms. “What the hell, man? Where did you get these biceps from? A superhero action figure?”
“No, they’re organic,” Jeongin says, which cracks both of them up. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.”
“I can’t believe I’m in bed with you right now.”
“Neither can I,” Jeongin admits. He leans down on his elbows, before capturing Jisung’s lips in a long kiss. Suave, very suave. “What can I do to be of service to you, my big ‘ol brother?”
“I…” Jisung blushes. “It’s been a while since I’ve. You know.”
Jeongin nods. “Yeah. They all told me how bitchless you are.”
“What! Come on! I can get some,” Jisung retorts. “Just not in the last few weeks. Or months.”
As Jisung turns his head away, furious, Jeongin sighs and presses his lips on his jaw. “We don’t have to do it,” he says. “We can do other things. I could suck you off.”
Jisung almost chokes on his saliva. Jeongin? Suck him off? With that tongue piercing of his? Oh, hell yeah. Get him on the programme already. “Whatever you want,” he says placidly.
He waits for Jeongin to pull his boxers down to his ankles. He’s embarrassed, though, when his cock flops up in anticipation. Jeongin, though, wears a serious look on his face, a man on a mission. He glances up at Jisung, locking eyes in the small distance between them, and wraps a hand gently around his dick. All blood rushes right down to his dick, and Jisung lets his head fall back with a whimper. “F-Fuck.”
“Damn. You really are hopeless, hyung.”
“Shut up,” Jisung hisses. His cock twitches in Jeongin’s hand. “Fuck.”
When Jeongin starts stroking, though, Jisung almost wants to bust a nut. The tight grip of his fingers around his cock, paired with the cool rings on his skin, is enough to make a man raise his white flag. He curls his toes as Jeongin continues stroking harder, faster, whining and cursing under his breath.
And when Jeongin takes him in his mouth, Jisung bites down on his lower lip so hard he draws blood.
The taste of copper drips onto his tongue. Jisung grips onto the mattress for life, as Jeongin licks along the length of his cock, tongue piercing sending him into shockwaves so hard he wants to scream blue murder. With one hand, Jeongin fondles his balls gently, the other hand holding onto the base as he continues suckling on his cock. His jaw is wide enough to take all of him in his mouth, and Jisung whines when he feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Jeongin’s throat.
“Jeongin, pull off, fuck.” It hasn’t even been two minutes. Jisung wants to set himself on fire. Throw himself off a building and everything. This is Yang Jeongin’s fault. “Pull off, I’m going to fucking come, oh god.”
Jeongin hums, and it sends vibrations tingling all over his body, and the tongue piercing and the rings and fucking Jeongin, and then Jisung comes so hard he sees starbursts in white vision before passing out for good.
–
“Shit. You actually made me ramyun.”
Jeongin laughs. “Well, I have to keep my end of the bargain up, right?”
“You’re a dangerous one, Jeonginnie,” Jisung huffs. “Luring innocent young men into your apartment with the promise of food.”
“I thought you knew what it meant!”
They’re at the dining table now, all washed up and dressed. Turns out that Jisung had passed out for a good few seconds, before regaining enough consciousness to jerk Jeongin off until he came all over Jisung’s face.
As night falls outside, Jeongin ladles some soup into Jisung’s bowl. “Hyung?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t, like, a one-time thing… right?”
Jisung stops slurping on his noodles. “It’s not. Why? Do you think it is?”
“It’s just that, I like that you think of me differently,” Jeongin says, “but I realise now that I don’t want this to be just sex to you. I like you a lot, hyung, since university. You were always so kind to me, and you still are.”
With a soft smile, Jisung reaches over the table to pinch Jeongin’s cheek playfully. “Aigoo, look at you, all worried about your feelings,” he teases. “Look, I… I definitely think I like you too, Jeongin-ah. I just buried that all under this whole brotherly love thing.”
“It’s all about you and your stupid brother agenda.”
“Yah!” Jisung huffs. He points his chopsticks in Jeongin’s direction. “Watch your mouth. If it weren’t for me, you would still be wearing those awful overalls.”
“Like your skinny jeans are any better.”
“You offend me.”
Jeongin grins. “No. You like me.”
Admittedly, Jisung does. He likes the Jeongin he met in university, all shy and compassionate and cute. And he likes the Jeongin he’s met now after all these years; confident and sexy and thoughtful. It may take time for him to come to full terms with it, Jisung thinks, but for now he wants to cherish this moment with Jeongin, his smile mirroring the other’s as they continue cracking jokes and swapping stories between them right into the night.