Chapter Text
🔓
Donghyuck is losing his mind.
Scratch that, he has lost it. There is simply no other explanation for what he is about to do right now.
He is seated in The Bazaar of The Ritz-Carlton, (fancy grownup restaurant), in a sleek black dress shirt and slacks (fancy grownup clothes). The tables are so dainty and haughty, that he has no other option but to sit upright, his back as straight as a ruler.
Donghyuck reaches for his glass of Cabernet and takes a sip, hiding a grimace in his left palm as soon as the wine hits his tongue. Being a grown man is tough, he really isn’t built for this strenuous lifestyle. He eyes man across him, he is quietly enjoying the same drink, as though it doesn’t taste like disaster and death.
“I have no idea why I’m being held hostage here, when I can be popping it at Blades right now,” Chenle says grumpily as he stabs at a piece of edamame with his fork, lifting it to his lips. He brushes a dark lock that falls to his nose to the back of his ear as he chews, semi-glaring at Donghyuck.
“Because,” Donghyuck begins, holding a forkful of his pâté to his mouth, "you have a contact here that can easily get me in.” He chews on the meaty concoction for a while before speaking again. “Don’t worry, you can leave as soon as he arrives.”
“What do you want to discuss with him anyways? You guys hate each other.”
Chenle is doing that thing he usually does, where he pretends to be nonchalant about an issue, but he really wants to gossip about it. Donghyuck will be damned if Chenle of all people knew why he is truly seated in this uppity restaurant today, his mouth was basically a leaking tap.
“That’s simply not true,” Donghyuck bites back immediately, feigning hurt. “Jaemin’s one of my close friends.”
Chenle cocks an eyebrow, fork paused midway to his mouth. “This is no longer 2012, which I’m pretty sure is the last time you guys even held a civil conversation by the way.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Donghyuck takes another sip of the ogre blood called red wine and winces again. Seriously, how do people enjoy this shit? He downs his water to wipe the acrid taste from his tongue, but it only exacerbates the situation.
“You know you don’t have to drink that if you don’t like it, right?” Chenle says, a smile playing on his lips. He sits back and eyes Donghyuck in amusement, as if he just discovered a dumb little puppy. “You’re so weird, just ask for your regular soda.”
“Shut up.”
Chenle shrugs and takes a swig of his own wine, watching Donghyuck above his glass, as if to make a point. Donghyuck rolls his eyes.
Donghyuck checks his phone. “He’s thirty minutes late.”
“If you know him as well as you claim you do, you should know this is a regular thing,” Chenle says. He is watching Donghyuck in amusement again. “I just know...” he trails.
Donghyuck begins battling with his pâté just as Chenle gazes at something behind him. He looks up when Chenle doesn’t finish his sentence, creasing his forehead at his distant stare. “What’s wrong with you?”
In an instant, the wind brings the musky scent to him, and Donghyuck’s need of Chenle’s answer disappears. He represses the usual frown he dons in situations like this, and plasters a flight attendant smile on his face. Before he can even speak, the husky voice is hovering behind him, his breath fanning the soft skin of his left ear.
“Heard someone was asking for the king?” Jaemin straightens up just as Donghyuck turns to face him, meaning Donghyuck has to look up to face him, meaning Jaemin can look down at Donghyuck with that smug asshole face of his. As if that isn’t enough, he bites a corner of his bottom lip and winks at Donghyuck, throwing the latter into a state of invisible rage. Donghyuck shudders at his antics.
Chenle clears his throat. Donghyuck doesn’t have to turn to him to know that Chenle caught his shudder and would be using it against him later on. Instead, Donghyuck greets the man beside him, his voice pitched higher than he would have loved.
“Hi Jaemin! How’re you?” he says, sickly sweet, cringing and wishing he had a gun to shoot himself.
“Baby!” Jaemin stretches out his hand for a shake, and Donghyuck accepts it. He doesn’t actually shake Donghyuck’s hand though, he lifts it to his lips and kisses the back.
Donghyuck shuts his eyes tightly and swallows hard in disgust. He retracts his hand and wipes it on the side of his pants as subtly as he can manage. Not subtle enough for Jaemin not to notice though. The latter arches an eyebrow at him as he smiles. Donghyuck tries not to shudder again.
“Well, I’m gonna be leaving now, as per our deal,” Chenle announces, breaking whatever battle Donghyuck and Jaemin have already set in motion. His tone makes it blatantly clear he wants nothing to do with their mess anymore.
“What deal?” Jaemin questions, turning to face Chenle for the first time since he entered the restaurant.
“Ask him,” Chenle replies, a nod to Donghyuck. He grabs the jacket he laid on the seat next to him and pushes away from the table before standing up. “Bye Hyuckie, Jaem.” He utters nothing further as he walks away from them and out of the restaurant.
Jaemin, being the most annoying person you could ever meet, doesn’t take Chenle’s chair opposite of Donghyuck. Instead, he sits beside him, subjecting Donghyuck to his heavy musk and ridiculous proximity. Donghyuck fights the urge to get up and move to Chenle’s previous seat.
“I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” Donghyuck begins, but is cut short by Jaemin reaching for his glass and taking a sip of his wine. He smiles, takes another sip and repeats both actions till he empties the glass. All Donghyuck can do is glare at his audacity. “Don’t you have even a sliver of shame?” he asks, astounded.
“What? It’s leftover wine, not your period blood,” Jaemin replies.
Donghyuck’s mouth gapes in incredulity. He is still for a moment, trying to process whatever the hell that response was, till he finally realizes the entire situation is a mistake. It is a mistake being here, meeting with the most insane person in the history of insane persons.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I even thought this could work in the first place,” Donghyuck says, getting up from his seat.
“Woah, you look nice.” Jaemin’s eyes run down his body, lingering on his legs. If the eyes belonged to someone else, Donghyuck would have added appreciatively to that sentence, but they both knew Jaemin was doing that to mess with him.
Donghyuck smiles tightly, bottling up all the things he wants to really say to him. He pockets his phone and pushes away from the table. Just as he is about to take the first step, Jaemin grabs his hand. Donghyuck looks down at the fingers hindering him, the cold rings digging into his wrist bone.
“Why’re you being such a pussy?” Jaemin asks, the faux cheer in his voice finally replaced with the usual venomous undertow.
“Why’re you such a stupid bitch?”
“Ah, I was wondering when the real you will pop out. Hello, Donghyuck. Sit. I didn’t drive five miles here to see you chicken out.” He pushes Donghyuck’s chair back out from the table with his left leg and looks up at him.
Donghyuck stares back for a second. He doesn’t know why he is going through this with him, he really shouldn’t, but this is kind of his last resort, and if Donghyuck isn’t anything, he is stubborn.
Stuck in his ways, his mother would say, but it didn’t really matter if being this mulish had gotten him through life this far. He has made this plan, had debated and worked on it over the past month, after he overheard that awful conversation.
He sighs as he sits back down, keeping himself as far away from the enemy as possible. Enemy. Donghyuck shudders at how that term may change if all goes well today.
The waiter comes by, but Jaemin brushes him off, saying he didn’t need anything. Donghyuck orders himself a grapefruit soda, finally ditching the grownup façade he had been torturing himself with. It arrives minutes later, the glass tall and cold, just as the man seated beside him.
“So?” Jaemin attempts to resume their conversation. He reaches forward, plunges Donghyuck’s fork into his foie gras and takes a bite. “Hmmm, this’s good.”
Donghyuck pushes his plate towards him and Jaemin grins at the gesture. He eats the last piece without so much as a thank you. He reaches for Donghyuck’s soda next and the latter swats his hand away with a rolled napkin. Jaemin grins again, but leans back in his seat, watching Donghyuck like a lazy cat.
Donghyuck breathes before he starts his speech, terribly anxious at what Jaemin’s response would be like. He forges forward nonetheless.
“So, you know Grandpa Lee, my grandfather, is retiring soon due to health reasons.”
Jaemin nods. His short attention span has won, his eyes are no longer on Donghyuck, but instead by the door of the restaurant, scaling the new patrons as they walk in. Donghyuck snaps a finger in his face to bring his focus back. Jaemin rolls his eyes, but keeps his gaze on him.
“Well, my father’s going to be made CEO,” Donghyuck continues. His eyes on Jaemin are like a hawk, keen, searching.
“Wow, congratulations to him. What does that have to do with me?”
“You know he’s the current head of the LeeTech subsidiary, right?”
Jaemin raises an eyebrow just as he snorts. He gives Donghyuck a bemused look. “What’s this? You wanted to see me just to gloat to my face that you are going to be a sub-head before me?”
“No, Jaemin. I’m not getting it.”
If Jaemin snorted before, he full on snickers now. He sucks in his lips and stares, just to let Donghyuck know he is truly holding back a more derisive laugh. “Tell me, why’re you narrating your failures to me? All those years studying and kissing the miserable asses of your family, they still think you aren’t good enough?”
Donghyuck looks away, refusing to confront the blatant truth in his words.
“Who’s getting it?”
“Yeri.”
“Yeri?” Jaemin all but yells. Donghyuck turns back to face him, and his heart is somewhat comforted by Jaemin’s widened eyes. “What the fuck does she know about tech development?”
Donghyuck shrugs, a tad elated that he wasn’t the only one that thought the idea was terrible.
“Why were you overlooked? I mean, Yeri already handles the resort and hotels.”
Donghyuck recalls the discussion he overheard and tries not to have another mental breakdown about how his family saw him as nothing but a child. His father, his first hater, had spoken about how Yeri could handle both companies on her own. His own mother had betrayed him. Donghyuck always thought she had his back, but she had agreed with his father, saying Donghyuck was still young and inexperienced.
“They think I’m still young and…” Donghyuck trails, not knowing what to say to explain the ridiculous situation.
Jaemin furrows his eyebrows in expectation, leaving Donghyuck with no other choice but to continue speaking.
“Unsettled.”
“Unsettled?”
“Single. Not married,” Donghyuck replies with a sigh. “You know how crazy my family can get about… values like this. They don’t want a bachelor in that seat.”
“Bachelor? You’re like ten,” Jaemin scoffs. Naturally, Donghyuck would have agreed with him, laughing it off. But, Jaemin expressing the same sentiments as his parents had done, although unintentionally, has him wincing and considering that they probably were right. Everyone still saw him as a child.
Donghyuck takes a sip of soda to buy time. It’s only right he pauses before he asks the most insane question he will ever utter in his lifetime. As the clock ticks by, Jaemin growing impatient by his unexpected silence, Donghyuck decides to just rip the band-aid off.
“I need you to date me.”
If Jaemin had a drink, he would probably be in an ambulance by now, the liquid going down the wrong pipe. Instead, he chokes on air as he stares at Donghyuck in disbelief.
“You need me to, what?” he squawks. “Me?” he points to his chest and looks over his shoulders, as if Donghyuck was talking to someone else behind him. He faces Donghyuck again. “Me and you?” He laughs this time instead of choking, scornful and belittling as he could be.
Donghyuck bites down an acrid response, a lot of words that would do him more harm than good. Instead, he forges forward with an elucidation. “It’ll just be for a couple of months, honestly. You’d be free to do whatever, I really don’t care, I just need it to look real enough before the old man dies.”
Jaemin stops laughing when he sees Donghyuck is serious about his request. He keeps a scrutinizing gaze on him, before finally speaking. “You’re definitely not on my level.”
“What?”
“I said, you’re not on my level. I’m definitely out of your league.”
Donghyuck frowns, confused as to where the conversation was headed. “Excuse me? What do you mean I’m out of your league?”
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Jaemin begins, sitting up. He shakes his wrist, just to show off a gold watch. “I’m handsome, rich, good at my job, have awesome abs, and you’re…” he trails as his eyes wash over Donghyuck’s frame. “You simply can’t catch up.”
“I’m literally all of that?” Donghyuck shrieks, hoping the shrill tonation of his voice didn’t emerge as a whine.
“Really?” Jaemin asks, his eyebrow to his hairline, a smirk on his face. “Including the abs?”
Donghyuck purses his lips. His gaze is back on the soda in front of him, coral with swirls of yellow, the ice cubes already melted to half their original sizes. He wonders if the drink would be cold enough to freeze Jaemin’s brain forever if he poured it on his head. He is seriously considering this idea. He really, really, is—
“You need to woo me for me to even consider this,” Jaemin interrupts contemplation. “Like, me and you? I need to be convinced.”
There is a limit to how much insult Donghyuck can take, and Jaemin fascinately seems to reach it every single time they meet, which is as scarce as Donghyuck tries to make it be. The fact remains, Jaemin is a grade A asshole with a potty mouth. He never fails to make sure Donghyuck feels the effects of his disdain, no matter how civil Donghyuck tries to be.
To outsiders—fuck that—even to their loosely-knit friend group, Jaemin is a sweetheart most of the time. He seems to drop the act (yes, an act), whenever Donghyuck makes it inside a room.
Donghyuck has no idea why he considered this plan in the first place.
“You know what, never mind. Fuck you and your stupid abs. Asshole.” Donghyuck makes it out of his seat and away from the table before Jaemin can hold on to him.
He heads out the door, away from the gigantic building and the hoity toity people it held, and stands by the revolving door outside, the breeze in his hair. It was long, the curly mess, too long and way overdue for a haircut. Donghyuck tries not to think about how this setback to his plans has dampened his spirit.
Truth is, even though they hated each other, Donghyuck thought they were still on accomplice-terms. Jaemin could be an asshole, but he should be able to help someone out if they desperately needed it. Not that Donghyuck was desperate or anything, of course.
What he was asking for shouldn’t have bothered Jaemin either. It is not like he was settling down with someone soon. Or ever.
Donghyuck tries to keep his eyes from getting wet. Of course the tears weren’t from the embarrassment of Jaemin turning him down in the most insulting way possible. They were from the little hiccup his plan was getting.
Or so he would like to tell himself.
He walks to one of the pillars of the portico and leans against it, his back to the cemented stronghold. He closes his eyes. He just needs to take a breather before he heads back home to cry a little. Or a lot. Whatever, mind your business, he’s just a guy.
“Why are you just standing there?”
The musk is back. As the seconds pass by, the scent grows stronger and stronger, Donghyuck willfully ignoring the problem in front of him. Well, he tries to, until a slimy hand makes it to his ear, pinching the lobe between two fingers.
“Fuck off, Jaemin.”
“That’s a 180 from what you were telling me inside. What changed your mind, baby?”
Donghyuck opens his eyes.
Jaemin is taken aback. He puts the hand terrorizing Donghyuck’s ear down and stares at him. Something unreadable, indecipherable. “Are you crying?”
“Fuck. Off.”
“You know damn well I ain’t gonna do that now. Jeno’s going to bite my head off.”
“What makes you think Jeno’s gonna know about this?”
“You tell Jeno everything.” Jaemin clenches his jaw, his stare morphing into a glare. He is silent for a while, probably contemplating on how to mess with Donghyuck some more. Well, Donghyuck thinks this, until,
“What do I get from this?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Donghyuck would have stepped away from pillar if Jaemin was literally locking him in, his legs on either side of Donghyuck.
“What? You want me to apologize?”
Donghyuck sighs. He looks down, his eyes meeting Jaemin’s chest. Of course the bastard has half of his white shirt unbuttoned, a silver chain glinting underneath the starchy fabric. There’s an odd pendant on the chain, something like owl… oh, of fucking course, it’s a lion’s mane. Probably to represent the psychotic Leo that he is.
It’s beautiful though. Donghyuck wipes the thought out of his head.
“I made a huge mistake coming to you,” Donghyuck begins, ignoring the smirk seeping into Jaemin’s visage. “You’re an awful, awful person, with nothing in your tiny head but hate for me.”
“Really? Tell me more.” Jaemin cocks his head to the side, clasping his hands to the back. His shirt opens up as a result, the chain more visible to Donghyuck. More tempting.
Donghyuck resists the urge. He really does, he really tries his best, but his forefinger ends up on the silver lion anyway. He pokes on it, unwittingly of course. It’s delicate, the circles of the lion’s eyes merging into the swirls of its mane.
Donghyuck doesn’t want to look up to see Jaemin’s expression. He doesn’t know why he is doing what he is currently doing either. His finger trails downward of the pendant before moving back up.
“You wake up, thinking of how to annoy me. You brush your teeth, thinking of how to annoy me. You go to work, thinking of how to annoy me. You have your dinner—”
“Let me guess this one,” Jaemin interjects. His voice is amused. Quieter. “I think of how to annoy you?”
The musk is even nearer now, and Donghyuck doesn’t know how Jaemin’s face got this close enough for him to smell his minty aftershave. Or perhaps he knows and is ignoring it. He has no idea why his finger has completely left the pendant and is drawing circles on Jaemin’s firm chest either.
The tension is strong, palpable, unsettling, at least for Donghyuck. He looks up to see Jaemin’s dark eyes gloating at him. He is confused for a second, until Jaemin glances down and back up, reminding him of what he is doing. Donghyuck flinches and tries to remove his hand, but Jaemin is quick enough to grab it.
“D’you do the same?” Jaemin asks. He is thumbing the inners of Donghyuck’s palm, rubbing in soothing circles.
Donghyuck looks at his hand held captive in between their chests, the sensation of the unexpected caress numbing his brain. “What?”
“Think about me every waking moment? It seems like you are speaking from experience.”
“I do not think about you at all.”
That was partially true. Donghyuck once thought of replacing his shampoo with shaving cream, wanting to see the annoying golden locks Jaemin always gelled to the back gone. Only once. This morning.
Ok, a lot more than that, sue him.
“Why did you choose me then?”
“You were available.”
“Everyone you know, that we know, is available.”
Jaemin has him there. Everyone is single right now, some weird luck going around the friend group. It was great, really, because everyone was basically always free to hang out with, without a partner latching on to them, making everything awkward.
“You’re a whore?”
It was low, but it was partially true.
Jaemin pays the blithe remark no mind. “So, that’s it? You want to get in my pants?”
Donghyuck scoffs. “You wish.” He tries snatching his hand away, but Jaemin grips it tighter. He looks up and frowns at him. “Let go, Jaemin.”
He ignores Donghyuck’s request. “Real reason.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’m agreeing to do this? Don’t I deserve to know why?”
Donghyuck watches him keenly, waiting for any sign of jest. Jaemin is staring back at him, serious and patient, well, as patient as he can be. He is Jaemin after all. “Everyone else is too dumb for this to work out,” Donghyuck tells him, eyes back down at the hand Jaemin is now squeezing.
“Nice way of calling me the smartest in the group.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes at the predictability. Trust Jaemin to make this all about himself. “Second smartest,” he corrects with as much pettiness as he could muster.
“Smartest. I’m a Columbia man after all, while you went to, was it Corny… Carny…”
“Ugh,” Donghyuck grunts as he pushes away from the pillar and shoves Jaemin with their intertwined hands. “Can you ever not be annoying for one second?”
Jaemin staggers backward, tittering, his hold on Donghyuck’s hand loosening by the second. Donghyuck doesn’t let go—can’t let go. He isn’t sure he wants to lose the warmth that came with being held on to. He convinces himself that he feels this way because he is touch-starved.
“Are you really agreeing to this?” he asks Jaemin.
“Well, let’s say I’m at 80% right now. I still don’t know what I’m getting from this.”
Donghyuck was expecting this, heck, he made his entire plan with this in mind knowing Jaemin would definitely want something in return. Honestly, if he was put in the same position as Jaemin, he would want something out of a mess like this too. So, he makes his offer, confident enough that it will get him what he wants.
“The diagnostic software. I’ll do it. I’ll collaborate with you.”
A moment of silence.
Donghyuck shifts uneasily as he watches Jaemin, waiting for his reaction. Jaemin’s eyes were also on him, staring intently, probably to confirm that Donghyuck wasn’t playing him. Donghyuck did not avert his gaze, just to assure him that he was not.
Jaemin finally lets out a scoff. “Wow,” he exclaims, widening his eyes and stepping away from him, their hands now down and even more loosely connected. “Lee Donghyuck, how desperate are you?”
Donghyuck purses his lips, biting back his response. He is slightly mad that Jaemin now knew how far he was willing to go with this.
“The last time I asked you for this collaboration, you told me you would rather, and I quote your exact words, ‘stick a ten foot pole so far up my ass, it came out of my nostrils,’” Jaemin says, scrunching his face in disgust.
Donghyuck winces at the recollection. “I’m a changed man now,” he says behind gritted teeth.
“A desperate man,” Jaemin corrects smugly. “I can probably ask you for anything right now and you’ll do it.”
Donghyuck is done with all the taunting and prideful remarks that have been slipping out of Jaemin’s mouth.
“Jaemin, you probably need this collaboration more than I need you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I may not end up getting head of tech, but I will still be the head of the R&D team, because of what I developed when I was twenty. I was able to execute my idea by myself, due to the nature of my job, but you cannot. You need a collaborator.
“Nobody wants to work on your project with you, because it’s high risk, it basically has no promise of it ending in success. The funny thing is that you pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you know this stagnation in your research is stalling your promotion in the company.”
“I’m comfortable with my position in the company. I love being on the ground floor, working on the cars, getting my hands dirty,” Jaemin retorts.
“Sure you do, but you also want to develop something substantial, something worth talking about, not just pretty cars. You have designed enough pretty cars, you want something more than that, or you wouldn’t have asked me of all people that night.”
Jaemin watches him with a resigned countenance, giving way for another moment of quiet to settle upon them. Donghyuck doesn’t keep his eyes on him although he knows he should, to gauge his emotions. He doesn’t, because there is no way Jaemin is stupid enough to turn down this offer.
Jaemin sighs, worn down by the truth in Donghyuck’s debilitating words. “This is blackmail, you know?”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Donghyuck responds with a snort.
“Alright, I’m on 99% now.”
“What’s keeping me from getting the last 1%?”
“I need to see how well we can work together without killing each other first. I mean, I’m not willing to sign a death contract by getting myself involved with you.”
It’s dramatic, but it’s sensible.
“Let’s meet up somewhere more private. You can come to my house Thursday night, or I could come to yours, if you’re free,” Donghyuck suggests. He is back to watching their hands again, still loosely intertwined. He wonders if Jaemin remembers they are still connected, if it doesn’t bother him as much as it is currently bothering Donghyuck.
“Is this you scheduling a booty call?” Jaemin asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Please, for the love of God, act sanely.”
Jaemin smiles at him. Something sweet, something more relaxed.
Donghyuck breathes out, something along the lines of relief, his apprehension built up over the day dissipating. Jaemin begins walking away from the building, dragging Donghyuck down the sidewalk, not caring about the wind that is blowing Donghyuck’s hair into his eyes so much, he couldn’t even see forward. He steps out of turn and collides into Jaemin. The latter turns back upon the impact, bewildered at the sudden action.
“What’s up with you?”
Donghyuck, momentarily blinded by the strands fanning his face and sinking into his nostrils and mouth, babbles something incoherent. Jaemin laughs at the absurdity of the situation, somewhat mockingly, and Donghyuck curses at him. That, Jaemin doesn’t miss.
He lets go of his wrist. Just as Donghyuck thinks that Jaemin is going to ditch him and leave him in his misery, he feels Jaemin’s hands on his shoulder, twirling him so that they switch positions, the wind to Donghyuck’s face now.
The breeze blows his hair backwards, away from his face, and his vision clears. Donghyuck opens his eyes to see Jaemin grinning widely at him, teeth out like a Cheshire cat. His gelled blonde hair remains intact, despite the wind’s desperate attempt to ruffle it.
Donghyuck almost gasps at how beautiful he looks.
Ew, ew, ewww, he chants adamantly in his head. He shrugs Jaemin’s hands off his shoulder. “I need to get a haircut.”
Jaemin scrunches his face. “Why? I love the long hair.”
“Blurregh,” Donghyuck gags, rolling his eyes. “Now I really need to get a haircut.”
Jaemin doesn’t push it. He simply shrugs and grins again. “How’re you going to walk all the way to your car with that?” he asks, nodding to his hair.
“I’m cabbing.”
“Why’re you cabbing?”
“Because it’s my life and I can do whatever I want to?”
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Alright calm down, Mr. Lone Ranger.” He crosses his arms across his chest.
Donghyuck’s eyes follow the motion, unwittingly of course. He watches Jaemin’s biceps tighten against the cotton sleeves of his shirt. Donghyuck really doesn’t want to reach out to mould his palm against Jaemin’s arms, he tells his stupid brain. He averts his eyes from the sight.
“D’you want your future boyfriend to drive you home? To that Brooklyn place of yours?”
“I’d rather die,” Donghyuck replies caustically. He has no idea where the anger is coming from.
Jaemin scoffs, something small. “Alright, suit yourself.” He steps away from Donghyuck and walks past him, presumably to his car.
Donghyuck turns back to face Jaemin, planning to hurl some nicely targeted profanities at his smugness, but the wind had other plans for him. Before he can open his mouth, all his hair is brushed forward and against his face, a situation far worse than before. Donghyuck’s fingers fly up to counter the attack, drawing his locks away from his face in a hasty motion, yet, still in a moment too late. Jaemin is gone by the time his eyes are free.
🔓
Donghyuck has absolutely no idea if he is making the right decisions in his life.
He stands in front of the bathroom mirror in his shared two bedroom apartment, running his hand through his hair. It is now short, shorter than it has ever been, and Donghyuck feels a bit exposed about how the lack of hair to cushion his face sharpens his features.
He is expecting Jaemin tonight. After their meeting two days ago, Jaemin had texted him at night, asking for his address, and promising to bring the flavour he knew Donghyuck desperately lacked to his apartment. Of course, Donghyuck had blocked him for that. Then unblocked him after about two minutes, he was supposed to be acting mature and all.
Now, you see, this desperate want for maturity didn’t just come overnight for Donghyuck. Hell, it didn’t even come immediately after overhearing his parents converse about how he was nothing but the youngest child to them, and probably all he will ever be to them.
Donghyuck knows he should not be put into a little box and labelled as such. If you ask about his achievements, he will list them off impeccably, the impressive puzzles fitting in nicely in an enviable timeline. He graduated from Cornell with his computer science degree by the age of twenty, spent two more years in that hellhole (or spectacular place as he usually describes it to anyone who interrogates him) and got his Masters.
He joined the family business before he even completed his Bachelor’s degree, coming up with a program that allowed ranked employees based on their availability, to create work schedules more befitting to them. This had been a huge hit and he was made the head of the Research and Development of LeeTech once he graduated.
Although Donghyuck had one of the best portfolios amongst the pool of applicants, there was no way he was going to evade nepotism talks. Meaning, he had to work harder than anyone else to prove he deserved his spot in the company.
Donghyuck is naturally a humble person. Most of the pizzazz of flaunting his family’s name or money never really enticed him. But, there is really nothing one can do when people decide to become your fan just because you are rich. Correction, your family is rich.
So, you see, the pressure is on him to remain perfect. Even if he doesn’t really care about his family’s status, he does care about what people say about him. He tries not to read tabloids and gossip columns, created for the unemployed dregs of society that find joy in ruining someone’s life for fun. It’s just… sometimes, his finger finds itself clicking on a random article about himself. Mistakenly, of course.
Oh fuck off. So what he spends some of his time buried underneath his duvet at night, scrolling through articles and on twitter, just to make sure nobody was making up rumours about his life? Yes, he has a troll account and all. It’s self defence, really! Haters shouldn’t be the only ones allowed to spew evil on the internet. The lower they go, the more Donghyuck digs and digs until he has reached the molten magma at earth’s core.
Besides, he has led many successful shutdown campaigns. For an article, that means hacking the site and replacing the hateful drivel with a looped gif of Lupita N’yongo’s creepy eyes in Us. Sometimes, those sites try to trace him, (seriously, the audacity of these bastards. Do they not know he graduated top of his class?) and he simply sends a tasteful virus their way.
Now, twitter, that is a different hellscape. He was suspended at least six times, before he finally got the memo that maybe he shouldn’t reply ‘kill yourself’ to every hate tweet he finds when he searches his name. Now, he sticks to tamer terms. Ugly bitch, go fuck a cactus, maggot brain… you know, very light yet effective words. His current fake account is going to celebrate its six month anniversary sometime this week. Maybe he will get some cake, some wine…
Oh, fuck off again! So what he is a loser with a terrible social life? It’s just, nobody really gets him. Except for Mark, and maybe Jeno—but they don’t really count. They are technically dumb.
Ok… maybe this is why he doesn’t have many friends.
Anyways, back to his life and the conundrum he is currently in.
He was scrolling on Twitter one peaceful night, this was some time after he overheard that miserable conversation. He was innocently liking all the beautiful tweets he saw about his casual look at a Wingstop he visited for dinner, giggling and kicking his feet when he saw that the official account of Sabrina Carpenter had liked one of the posts. 35k likes. Take that, haters!
It was a simple outfit, really. A cute black and blue striped shirt with blue baggy jeans. So what someone called him a 2000s teenage movie heartthrob because he was using his wired earphones? It was just a compliment! (He had squealed underneath the covers for at least two minutes.)
Ok, seriously, back to the real stuff. So, as he was scrolling innocently, he came across a poll. ‘Who was most likely to be in charge of the Electronics Subsidiary of the LeeLy Conglomerate when Grandpa Lee Dies?’ the tweet read.
There were three names on the poll. His sister, the first child and the bane of his existence, Yeri. His was the second name. The last belonged to his cousin, Doyoung. Like a sane person, he had clicked on his name and voted for himself.
36%.
2,428 out of 6744 people had voted for him. This would have brought joyful tears to his eyes if he hadn’t seen 61% next to Yeri’s name. Sixty one?! She knows nothing about tech and electronics! What in God’s name was happening on earth? Not only did she have his parents vote, she also had the public in the palm of her hands, all without knowing shit about computers!
The comments were worse.
| @worksleeprepeat
• Who is voting Lee Donghyuck? That boy looks twelve at best.
—• he needs to stick to his small cubicle in the basement they always put him
| @tinarubykim
• The only reason I voted for the baby was because Doyoung is clearly going to be head of the hotels when Yeri is made COO
—• ‘baby?’ 😭😭😭 i like donghyuckie but he is so weird
——• he is the youngest in the family, nobody is going to take him seriously
——-• did you see his outfit today? I can’t see him leading anything
| @factspitter
• Obviously Yeri. She has her life together already at twenty nine. She’s impressive.
| @nana15678907
• Ok but what does Yeri know about tech?
—• did well in the hotels and resorts division without going to school for it. It’s all about having a business mind.
—• still a better fit than the others, I’m sure the board would agree
| @sandrapark27
• I don’t understand why everyone is using Donghyuck’s age against him. He is just 4 years younger than Yeri. He can bring fresh ideas into the company.
—• well, at twenty five, Yeri already got married to Jongin of the Kim family and secured a deal that reduced the company’s expenses on transport, so…
——• Donghyuck is a genius in computers as Yeri is in business. Simple. He should stick to research.
At that point, Donghyuck had seen enough and closed the app. He was slightly… no, minimally… actually, no, terribly furious at their words. Seriously? All the time he spent slaving away with smelly classmates in Cornell, all the happy childhood memories he couldn’t form due to his parents forcing him to study all day? All the… other things he couldn’t remember right now but were also important. All to what? Be shut out of a very important conversation because he was young?
Donghyuck always had the eye on that seat. It hurt him a little that he wasn't taken seriously, so really, it wasn’t insane that he formulated a plan right there, right then. He couldn’t lose to anyone, especially not to perfect Yeri, with her perfect hair and perfect brain and perfect family. Honestly, fuck Yeri!
The plan was simple, really. De-babify Donghyuck.
He had opened up a new document with the same title in Microsoft Word and began typing a three step process of achieving his maturity goal.
1. Be extremely good at your job.
Donghyuck had laughed even as he typed this in. He didn’t want to toot his horn, but he was pretty darn good at what he did. He stopped himself from marking it as completed, a little bit of humility never hurt anyone.
2. Dress more maturely.
Bye Bye y2k heartthrob, Donghyuck had typed into the document, tears streaming down his face. It was time to be a man. Suits, Oxfords, watches, short hair, the whole shindig. It wasn’t going to be easy to pull this one off, but he could do it, he had said to himself. He valued comfort over stuffy formal clothes, but that had to change.
3. Get married.
Now you see, this was going to be a problem. He had no idea how people wanted to live with one person forever. In the same space too? Bitch, get the fuck out of my house!
He understood the concepts of roommates, heck he was currently living with one. But the situation whereby people willingly agreed to be stuck with one person forever screamed insanity to him.
However much he hated it, he knew most of the old farts on the board would pick a family man over a y2k heartthrob (he is not ready to let go of that title just yet). So, he came to a very fantastic and infallible solution.
Ding! Ding!! Ding!!! You guessed it right, fake marriage!
He just has to find someone on the same wavelength as him, make an airtight contract, and put on the best performance of his life for two years at least. Obviously, his old and crooky gramps would have done him a favour and turned into a ghost by then.
He had made another list, one for potential candidates (it consisted of a total of eight people he knew). Jeno was off limits due to obvious reasons. Dumb. No… best friend… yeah, that was the reason, best friend. Mark was also off. Another dum—sorry, cousin! Well, there was Jisung from school… dumb.
There was also Renjun. Donghyuck knew Renjun spied on him and reported to his father sometimes. Maybe he could kill two birds with a stone if he dated him? Get a husband and cripple all further attempts of invasion of privacy? He had laughed as he considered it, Renjun would definitely turn into a double agent and play both him and his father.
There was also Chenle. Well… they had beef (don’t ask), so nope. Sungchan was straight, Jaehyun still called him his baby brother, Felix was…
Donghyuck had screamed when he discovered he was on the last name on his list. He opened his phone and went through his contact list again, being more scrutinizing this time, until his eyes finally landed on his name.
It had come as a jolt as first, when he saw the real name hiding underneath ‘Worst person on earth,’ his shock. Then, he had put it aside, along with his pride, and added his name to the list. He had gotten up from his chair and paced his room in deep contemplation, making a mental list of the advantages and disadvantages frolicking with the devil would bring about.
From his internal debate, a great epiphany arose. Fake dating someone you hated meant there was no risk of developing feelings and everything inadvertently becoming messy. Besides, that devil was as ambitious as he was, even if he didn’t show it, so they would appear to be a great match, especially to the board.
Donghyuck could almost taste the victory on his tongue as he carefully crafted a text and sent it to Chenle, asking for his help.
Two weeks later and here he is, standing in front of the mirror and waiting for the said devil to appear in front of his doorstep.
Donghyuck catches his reflection one last time. He drinks in his drab indoor outfit, a black shirt with a pair of black shorts, his thick framed glasses perched unceremoniously on his nose bridge. He takes one long exhale before finally tearing himself away from the mirror, heading out of his bathroom to the living room.
He barely sits down on the shaggy grey sofa before he hears the doorbell. He gets up and heads towards the door, hands running through his hair in apprehension. He opens it without even checking to see who it was. He didn’t need anyone to tell him the devil had arrived, the cold air was enough.
Jaemin glances at him as soon as they are no longer separated by the steel barrier. He scrunches his face at Donghyuck, probably in disapproval of his too-casual outfit. Donghyuck ignores him.
“Chenle told me you don’t have a car. Why don’t you have a car?”
Donghyuck sighs dramatically at Jaemin’s words. He leans against the door post, crossing his arms against his chest, as he gives him a once-over. He looks nice, Donghyuck admits begrudgingly, olive green bomber jacket and brown baggy cargo pants. His hair is surprisingly not gelled back today, parts of it fan his face, mimicking side bangs.
Speaking of which, Jaemin is staring at his hair in what Donghyuck would call exaggerated horror. He comports himself when he notices Donghyuck’s grin, replacing his gaping mouth with a smirk.
“So, you really did cut your hair?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as Donghyuck imagines he possibly could. He takes a step forward, left hand emerging from his jacket’s pocket. Donghyuck will be damned before he lets Jaemin slide his nasty fingers through his hair. He smacks Jaemin’s hand before it can make it up, the latter yelping in pain from the sudden attack.
“What did you do that for? I was going to compliment you on how good it looks,” Jaemin says in hurt, rubbing on the sore spot with a scowl.
“Yeah… right. I’m not falling for your reverse psychology, Jaemin.”
Jaemin perks up at that, his scowl melting into a grin. “So you do know what I like on you,” he says in the most sleazy way possible, ending the statement with a wink.
Donghyuck wishes he could kill himself.
“Come in,” he tells Jaemin instead, stepping aside and waving him in.
Jaemin does as he says, crossing the door with his hands back in his pocket, strutting like he owned the place. He doesn’t even sit down—or look down for that matter—to take off his sneakers. He simply toes them off and stands on the top, waiting for Donghyuck to place a pair of slippers beside his feet like a fucking servant.
“Why thank you,” Jaemin says sweetly, as soon as he is in the slippers, ignoring Donghyuck’s death glare.
“I really hate you,” Donghyuck spits, unable to hold himself back anymore. He is directly in front of Jaemin now, matching gazes and all, just to let him know how displeased he really is.
“Donghyuck Lee,” Jaemin begins, clicking his tongue like he was talking to a child, “I’m so going to milk this arrangement you’ve made with me till you’re on your knees begging me to stop.”
Donghyuck takes a deep breath and tries to think of better thoughts aside from the one currently flooding his head, which consists of reaching forward and squeezing Jaemin’s throat between his bare hands. He steps back from him and walks into the living room instead, Jaemin towing behind him, snickering at his lack of response.
“So, why don’t you have a car again?” Jaemin repeats his previous question. His gaze is all over the room, taking in the overstuffed space with inquisitive eyes and scrunched lips.
“Because we have a functional public transport system and I don’t want to pollute the environment?” Donghyuck replies in mild annoyance.
Jaemin is doing that thing with his eyebrows again, shooting one so high up in his face that it almost touches his hairline. Donghyuck rolls his eyes before he could reply, which Jaemin makes sure he does in the most obnoxious way possible.
“Liar. You’re only pretending to be poor so you have a better shot at the seat. You’re on some self-made tech guru sob-story shit, aren’t you? I can bet it’s the same reason you are huddled up in this part of the city, sharing this small apartment with that doofus.”
“Excuse you,” Donghyuck interjects, holding one finger up like a caricature character in a comic strip. “Mark ain’t a doofus, he’s a brilliant artist and has been my best friend for two decades now. He didn’t ditch me like some others.”
It is Jaemin’s turn to roll his eyes. He mutters a ‘whatever,’ low enough that Donghyuck can’t hear, but visible enough that he can assume it from the movement of his lips.
“And my apartment’s not small, it’s quaint and cozy. It has character,” Donghyuck adds with a huff.
“Euphemisms for tiny, more tiny and ugly as hell.”
Fuck civility. Donghyuck lunges forward and smacks his arm harshly, making sure Jaemin feels the impact beneath the layer of his thick green jacket, even if it meant hurting his own palm. He smiles as Jaemin yelps and scoots away from him, rubbing the affected spot vigorously.
“I can see the fumes of that uglyass red thing with bulging eyes you call a car have infiltrated your brain. You can’t even take a punch like a man.” Donghyuck knows this is a knockout when Jaemin glowers at him. He wonders, however, whether he is more affected by the diss to his car or to his body.
“Excuse me, have you seen my guns?” Jaemin begins, looking incredulously at Donghyuck. “I’ve not spent at least half of my life in the gym for you to say that.”
“All talk and no action,” Donghyuck yawns, fanning his face with his fingers, like he was hot and tired of the conversation. “Mr. Noodle arms.”
Jaemin gasps in horror, widening his eyes to an impossible size. He begins taking off his jacket—ripping it off actually, and Donghyuck looks at him in utter amusement. It is so easy to rile him up.
The shirt underneath the jacket is white, a v-collared neckline that plunges low enough for Donghyuck to see the lion’s head again, with short sleeves. Jaemin rolls the left sleeve up with his right hand, exposing his upper arm. He brings his elbow up to flex the arm, turning to Donghyuck and pointing to his defined biceps as he nods his head erratically.
“Noodle arms?” he squawks, his voice comically high.
Donghyuck tries his best to hold in his laughter, maintaining a stoic visage, as Jaemin stares at him and waits for a response.
“I don’t know, man, I can’t see shit. You’re lowkey twinning with Timothée Chalamet right now, I ain’t gonna lie.”
Jaemin gasps again. “Timothée Chalamet?” he screeches, his voice pitched higher, if that is remotely possible. He points to his bicep again. “This is Nicholas Galitzine.”
Donghyuck’s mouth gapes in astonishment, before he bursts into a scathing laugh. If there is one thing Jaemin has, it is the audacity. “You wish,” Donghyuck says, looking at Jaemin in fascination at his shamelessness. He gives in and laughs again, falling back on the sofa to compose himself.
Jaemin drops his arm when he sees he is fighting a losing battle. His face is scrunched from annoyance, his eyes boring holes into Donghyuck. “Let’s see your guns then.”
“I don’t have. I really don’t care, I’ve accepted I’m a nerdy twink anyway.”
Jaemin snickers.
Donghyuck ignores the way Jaemin’s face adopts a softer semblance, looking at him with upturned lips. He brushes the warm tingling he feels at the bottom of his stomach away as he averts his eyes from him. He focuses on his comfortable tshirt, running the perfectly hemmed edge between his fore and middle fingers.
Jaemin’s eyes return to the room, more importantly to the coffee table. He crouches down beside the glass thing, examining the display books placed artfully at the centre, right beside a vase of artificial blue and yellow tulips and pink carnations.
“You’re subscribed to our annual newsletter?” he asks Donghyuck as he slides out a book from the middle of the pile. He thumbs it open, flipping through the pages riddled with vehicles and engines halfheartedly.
“Mark wanted to be supportive,” Donghyuck lies. Jaemin didn’t need to know he kept up with all of his works, for enemy related purposes, obviously. Keep your friends close, but your enemy closer… or so the proverb goes. Donghyuck is pretty certain the elders that invented the proverb knew what they were talking about.
“Hmmm. How’s he by the way, Mark? Is he still writing those little plays of his?”
Donghyuck frowns, a little defensive about how Jaemin was talking about him. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? We’re all friends after all.”
Jaemin snorts. “Come on Donghyuck, let’s not pretend our decade long beef hasn’t created a schism in this friend group, albeit a small one that everyone pretends doesn’t exist. Mark and Jeno go with you just as Jisung and Chenle go with me.”
“Well, Renjun…”
“Is a lone bastard.”
“Don’t be so crude,” Donghyuck warns.
“You hate him more than I do,” Jaemin rasps out, annoyed at Donghyuck’s faux courtesy. “He’s a fucking spy, dude.”
“He does it for the money,” Donghyuck says. Honestly he has no idea why he is defending Renjun. He is more bitchy than Jaemin could ever dream of being, yet they all remain friends with him for some reason, even though he reports all their goings to their fathers.
Of course, deep down, Donghyuck knows that he is standing up for Renjun because he wants to mess with Jaemin.
Jaemin’s interest in the coffee table wanes. He gets up and heads to the wooden shelf by the wall of the room. The bottom half served as an archive for vinyls and CDs of some sorts, while the top held some dainty figurines and ceramics, alongside some of the awards Mark and Donghyuck chose to display.
“Lee Donghyuck,” Jaemin says, examining a gold trophy. Donghyuck thinks Jaemin is just reading his name off the statuette, until Jaemin keeps on talking. “You know fake dating isn’t enough to get you what you want from your family, right?”
Donghyuck holds his breath.
The real reason Donghyuck settled with Jaemin for this was because he is smart. And right now, Donghyuck is slightly pissed he is actually putting his brain to use. Don’t get him wrong, Donghyuck is not manipulative. It’s just, asking someone to be your fake boyfriend is far easier than dropping a marriage bomb on them.
Jaemin tears his attention away from the shelf when Donghyuck remains silent. He watches him with an inscrutable expression, the trophy still in his hands.
“Were you going to rope me into a marriage later on?” he asks quietly.
Donghyuck stays silent some more, before nodding sheepishly, his lips pursed.
“I can’t believe—”
“It’s not what you think,” Donghyuck interjects. “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you at first.”
Jaemin scoffs. “Come on Donghyuck, if you want me to agree to this, you have to be truthful. You knew I’d never entertain the idea if you mentioned what you really wanted. You know how I feel about marriages.”
“I do, that’s exactly why I think we’d be a perfect fit.”
“How so?”
“Because I think marriages are stupid too, a huge scam if you ask me.”
Jaemin doesn’t look convinced. He turns back to the shelf to return the trophy, before heading towards Donghyuck. He sits beside him on the sofa, his hands pressed flat against his knees.
“We’re going to have to convince a lot of people,” Jaemin says, eyes trained on Donghyuck. “Chenle and Renjun would be the hardest, but it’s doable.”
“Are you agreeing—”
“I’m still considering the dating part, the marriage, you’ll have to give me time for that.”
“But are you still at 99%? You didn’t regress, did you?”
Jaemin looks at him in amusement, a grin threatening to split his mouth into two. “Donghyuck Lee, so desperate to have me as a boyfriend.” He wiggles his eyebrows and winks at him.
“Ugh, shut up Jaemin.”
For once, Jaemin does as Donghyuck asks. He reclines further into the sofa, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back before stretching out his legs. Donghyuck watches him from the side, watches his chest, if you want to be particular about details like that. The lion’s mane is glinting from the low neckline, rising and failing just as Jaemin breathes.
Donghyuck doesn’t know why he feels an irresistible urge to reach forward and touch it again. He stares long enough, unable to tear his eyes away, until Jaemin moves to sit back up.
Donghyuck looks down at his hand almost immediately, hoping Jaemin did not catch the remnant of his intruding gaze. It seems he didn’t, for Jaemin makes no move to taunt him. Instead, he asks,
“When does Mark get back home?”
Donghyuck lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone and checks it, widening his eyes in shock at how much time he had spent with Jaemin, unsupervised, with none of them ending up dead.
Yet.
“It’s 10:48 right now, meaning he will be here in the next ten to twenty minutes.”
“This is perfect,” Jaemin says, clasping his hands together in cheer as he rises from the sofa. “Get up!”
“Huh?” Donghyuck hums in confusion.
Jaemin’s back is to him. He heads to the coffee table and grabs the tv remote, flipping through the stations before giving up in defeat. He opens the YouTube app and begins searching for some music.
“What the hell are you doing?” Donghyuck asks grimly as he sees Jaemin type in “Sexy Playli—”
“Setting the mood.” He scrolls and clicks on the second one on the screen, and the room is immediately filled with Rocket by Beyoncé.
He increases the volume of the tv and turns back to Donghyuck, his hands on his hips. Just as Donghyuck is about to speak, Jaemin opens his mouth, rolling out the lyrics.
“Let me sit this ass on you,” Jaemin sings—no, screeches—along with her, sauntering and swaying as he nears Donghyuck.
Donghyuck really, really wishes God would strike him dead this instant.
“Come on, get up,” Jaemin insists in such a voice that has Donghyuck pushing reluctantly to his feet. He heads closer to Donghyuck, dragging him till they are close together. So close that Donghyuck could make up the shards of gold in Jaemin’s brown eyes, the slight creases of his lips, the tiny beauty spot near his left nostril. So close that he could smell the musky scent of his cologne.
Jaemin reaches both hands up to take Donghyuck’s glasses off. “Can you still see me?” he asks as he tucks in the handles, before placing them in his pocket. “How many fingers—”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes and swats his hand away from the front of his face. Jaemin chuckles slightly. They begin swaying together, trying to match each other’s pace.
“Ok, but why’s the music so fucking loud?”
“Because…” Jaemin trails, holding one of Donghyuck’s hands up and twirling him. He continues speaking when Donghyuck faces him again. “We have to pretend we can’t hear him when he comes in.”
“Who? Mark? Why do we need to do that?”
Jaemin doesn’t answer him for a while, instead he focuses on dancing, swaying and giggling whenever they misstep and bump their heads or shoulders slightly. After what seemed like the tenth bump, Jaemin slows down the dancing. He purses his lips and looks at Donghyuck keenly, his eyebrows drawn into each other.
Then,
“I’m going to kiss you just as Mark opens the door, ok?”
“What?”
“I said—”
“I heard you perfectly. I’m confused as to why you want to do that?”
“Well, you said you wanted fake dating, didn’t you?”
“Does this mean… are you finally at a hundred percent?” Donghyuck asks, hopeful.
“I mean, I’m still considering it, really. But to answer your question, yes. You know I don’t do things in halves, I’d rather die than fail at fake-dating you of all people. We need to test our chemistry out on Mark first.”
All Donghyuck can manage is an Oh. Frankly, he hasn’t thought this far ahead. Of course people have to believe the relationship is real, and one of the ways is being… intimate (ewwww) with Jaemin. He is slightly annoyed Jaemin is better at adhering to a plan than him, but refuses to admit this small fact.
“You seem nervous. You’ve kissed someone before right?”
Donghyuck glares at him.
“You’re so easy to rile up,” Jaemin says, chuckling.
Donghyuck tries not to think about how he held a similar thought towards Jaemin earlier on. A retort, a comeback is what he needed to blurt out right now, but nothing seems to make it past his lips as Jaemin draws him closer. He kind of feels nothing, yes, nothing, when Jaemin locks eyes with him.
He is thinking of nothing, when they have slowed their dancing down so much, all they are doing is standing, locked in each other's arms, panting silently from God only knows what.
So, it’s only fitting that their lips meet before Mark even makes it into the building.
Jaemin tastes… weird, but in a good way? He tastes like the food you have been adamant about not liking, till you have a bite and decide it’s the best fucking thing ever in the world.
I’m just being hyperbolic, Donghyuck tells himself, although he has no idea why his tongue is sinking deeper into Jaemin, why he is clutching the back of his white stretchy shirt, scared he would break it off sooner than he would like.
It’s just an act, practice, something they have to do for this to appear real.
Donghyuck moans into the kiss as Jaemin’s hand slips underneath his shirt and palms his back. He shuffles, desperate enough, till his hands leave Jaemin’s sides and settle in his hair. He is glad he didn’t gel it today, he thinks, as he runs his fingers through the strands greedily.
No kidding, Jaemin is strong. Donghyuck feels both of his arms circling his waist now, underneath his black shirt, pressing Donghyuck so close to his chest that he is certain neither of them can breathe. Yet, they persevere in this… practice.
He tips on his toes a bit, tilting his head to better slot their mouths together, which seems to invigorate the kiss that was slowly petering out into suckles. Jaemin pushes him backwards, and Donghyuck feels the back of his knees hit the sofa. He sinks down to it, taking Jaemin with him, till his back is laying flat on it, Jaemin on top of him.
He is licking down his neck now, Jaemin. Donghyuck feels this suffocating sensation in the pit of his chest whenever Jaemin’s tongue touches his skin, his stomach crumpling at the effect. It’s unbearable, the overwhelming feeling, and he bites down on his lips just as Jaemin finds his way to his chest.
Before Jaemin’s tongue can continue the torturous fire it was setting to his skin, Donghyuck opens his eyes. He had to be sane for both of them.
He gasps in shock when he sees the figure before him. Mark is standing just a few feet from them, mouth agape at the sight.
“Fuck,” Donghyuck mutters, drawing Jaemin away from him as he scrambles to sit up. He mutes the tv. Jaemin looks at him in puzzlement, before turning back to see what held Donghyuck’s gaze.
“Oh, hi Mark!” he says cheerily, like his hand isn’t still up Donghyuck’s shirt. Donghyuck pulls his hand away from his back.
Mark does not say anything. He walks back out, waits a couple minutes, then walks back in again. All the while, his mouth remains agape. Just as he is about to walk out again, Donghyuck shoots up from the sofa and grabs his elbow, standing in front of him to block another escape.
“You? And him?” is all Mark can muster, after staring at Donghyuck for hours. Jaemin snickers behind them, and Donghyuck sends him a death glare before turning back to Mark. He breathes deeply before he makes his case.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
Mark blinks back, mouth agape again, probably scarred for life. “You? And Jaemin?”
Donghyuck nods, lips flattened, to curb the laughter that wanted to emerge from within. Months ago, if you had told him he would be in a situation like this, swapping saliva with the person he hated the most in the world, just to get a seat at the table, he would have laughed his ass off. Now, he stares back intently at Mark, grateful that their plan had worked.
“How did it happen?” Mark asks. He turns to face Jaemin, eyeing him in apprehension before speaking to Donghyuck again. “I have so many questions. Like how long were you going to keep this from me?”
Just as Donghyuck is about to reply to Mark, Jaemin gets up and clears his throat. “I’m sure Donghyuck has all the answers you search for, but I must take my leave now,” he announces. He reaches for his jacket and slips it on quietly, his eyes on Donghyuck. “Baby, walk me out?”
Donghyuck feels as though he wants to throw up.
He smiles brightly instead, reaching one hand out to grab Jaemin by his arm and hug him slightly. Jaemin coos at his action while Mark scoffs and walks away from them, standing by the back of the sofa.
Jaemin drags Donghyuck to the small hallway, slipping into his sneakers as easily as he got out of them, still holding on to Donghyuck. When he is done, he twirls Donghyuck, so his back is to the living room.
Mark is pretending like he is paying them no attention, but Donghyuck knows from intuition that he must be subtly watching them from the corner of the living room. Jaemin seems to have thought this too, as he pulls Donghyuck in by the waist, in a movement so sudden that Donghyuck collides with his chest.
Donghyuck doesn’t know why he did what he did next, why he shuddered and instantly tried to step away from Jaemin’s hold. Technically, he knows why, it was a result of the reflexes built up over the years. But he and Jaemin have come so far today, or so he would like to think.
The look on Jaemin’s face is definitely not crestfallen, or so Donghyuck would like to believe. He pretends he can’t see it. It doesn’t seem to matter anyways, it is gone from Jaemin’s visage as quickly as it appeared.
“It’s so funny how you don’t recoil like this whenever I touch you in private. It’s almost as if you want me, but don’t want other people to know that.”
It came mostly as a whisper, the words, the accusation. Jaemin’s hand is still holding on to his waist, although loosely. Jaemin releases him and truly steps away this time. Donghyuck stares at him, confused as to why his brain can’t drum up a comeback to Jaemin’s words. Jaemin’s taunting, really, he corrects himself. It has to be.
Jaemin leans forward, and Donghyuck wins against his reflexes this time, remaining in his stance. A kiss to the corner of his lips, his lingering musk on the tip of Donghyuck’s nose, then,
“Good bye, baby.”
Jaemin whizzes past the door before Donghyuck can reply.
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