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“So,” Renjun says, clicking his tongue as he looks around the room, taking every corner of it in. “Tell me about him.”
“Tell you about who?”
“Tell me about whoever has you this worked up over a single display? It’s so unlike you I have to assume that there is a man of some description involved in raising the stakes.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why? Scared I’m going to snatch him away?” The other scoffs, “We aren’t teenagers stealing each other’s boyfriends anymore, Donghyuck. I’m a little offended.”
“I’m not scared that you’re going to steal him.” Donghyuck sniffs proudly. “I’m scared that telling you will tarnish him.”
“Now I’m even more offended.”
“It isn’t because of you," he sighs, "it’s because of him.”
“Well, now I have to know.”
He pauses for a moment, pre-cringing at the reaction he knows that the other will have. “It’s Jaemin Na.”
“Oh God,” Renjun groans, rubbing at his temples. “You’re telling me that’s why this place looks all gothic and depressing? Mr perfect Facial Structure comes bulldozing into your life and now his ego is seeping off every wall in this place.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Don’t be like that, Donghyuck.”
He snorts, brushing past Renjun haughtily. “How else am I supposed to be?”
“Not disgustingly sensitive for starters.”
“I basically got laid off.” He shrugs. “I'm not writing at the moment, at least not professionally. Isn’t it better for me to have found something inspiring to invest in rather than to let myself spiral into an endless depressive state? I got up and used my inheritance for an installation rather than fueling my shopping addiction. I thought that you would be proud.”
“I don’t think that anyone would say that obsession is anything more than a mere distraction.” Renjun scoffs before pausing for a moment, pondering. “Though, I suppose if you’re going to let someone be a distraction from all of the spiralling awfulness in your life at the moment, Jaemin Na is a pretty solid muse to fall back on.”
Donghyuck gnaws at his bottom lip, something close to guilt swirling in his stomach. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You really care about him?” The other asks. “If you do, I’ll try my best to take all of this seriously.”
“It’s not you, really. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so touchy.”
“You like him.”
“You’re not asking?”
“No, I’m not.” Renjun sighs. “You’re the opposite of me. Whenever I like someone, I like to talk everyone’s ear off about them. I like to say their full name so I can get a feel of the last name I eventually want to be my own. You’re not like that, you've never been like that. When you like someone, you never talk about them properly. You give them stupid codenames and you keep details from the people who care about you." He fiddles with one of his delicate white gold rings. "It’s not bad, it’s just interesting.”
“I know it’s stupid. But it’s not like I’m keeping it under wraps for any bad reason. I’m just selfish, Jun. I feel like I’m sacrificing a part of them when I give other people access to what I feel and who I feel it for.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which one?”
“The one about whether you care about him.”
“You know that I like him.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t really matter. How many boys have you liked in your short twenty-three years, Donghyuck? How many do you still care for right now?”
“I hate how I feel. I feel like I can’t be happy if I don’t see him every day.”
“You’re becoming the person you hate,” Renjun says mournfully, shaking his head. “A stage-five clinger.”
“It’s not like that.”
“How isn’t it?”
“Because it’s inherently more. As he would say, our relationship isn’t just about attraction or something easy to fade away like that. It’s about art and influence and power, those things last forever.”
Renjun gives him this odd look, a half-smile. “You’re interesting.”
“How so?”
“Have you ever heard that quote? If an artist loves you, you can never truly die? You’re immortalising him forever.” Renjun giggles, “you like him that much?”
Donghyuck doesn't want to show his cards. Never, really, but especially with someone who knows him as well as Renjun does. “He’s inspired me.”
“It’s not just that,” Renjun groans, shaking his head as he looks around the room, but seemingly letting him off the hook. “Look how much he’s impacted you. You’re pouring yourself into him.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
Jaemin first approaches him at a party, some alumni event Donghyuck had been asked to play the piano at for investors and potential donors, showing them what they, or their kids, could become if they attended the same school he did. It’s all pretentious, but Donghyuck loves the piano even if it isn’t what he’s usually paid for nowadays, so he easily agrees. He’s playing something sweet and happy when Jaemin crawls towards him, slow steps in sharp, polished dress shoes. His hair is bleached blonde and falling over his forehead, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, and Donghyuck can barely look at him, averting his gaze as Jaemin stops just before him, palm just resting on the action frame of the instrument.
“It’s a pity they got you to play at a fundraiser,” he mutters, “all this talking is muffling your playing.”
“Do you have a request? Or are you just here to bother me?”
Jaemin laughs, head happily falling back before he focuses on him once more, his unblinking stare so intense it has Donghyuck freezing up a little, fingertips skating across the keys a little awkwardly before he regains his tempo.
“Play Ingenue.” Jaemin suggests, “I’m sure you know it, anyone half good at the piano does.”
Donghyuck nods, letting his hands slow before moving to play the transcendent piece, focusing on the movement of his fingers so he doesn't have to acknowledge Jaemin as he shifts to hover over the lid. Doesn’t have to acknowledge the way that his eyes drop to watch Donghyuck’s hands move for only a moment before his gaze flickers up, waiting to meet his eye as he sways side to side, nodding along to the song, a soft smile playing across his lips.
“You’re very talented, I didn’t even know you could play. I thought you were a writer.”
“I used to write.” He murmurs, “I did a few pieces for GQ, even a few for Vogue, but none of them liked me enough to take me on properly. So at the moment I don’t, at least not professionally.”
“So now you just play other people’s songs? You’re a slightly more sophisticated DJ? That makes you happy?”
“That's rich coming from someone who was just saying how talented I am, and how it’s such a pity that they hired me for an event like this.” He scoffs. “Are you trying to bully me into redeveloping a passion for something?”
“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, somehow getting even closer, his smile somehow getting wider, “is it working?”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
Really, Donghyuck is lucky. Trust fund kid of a doctor and a well-known socialite who was superficially invested in the arts enough to purchase a gallery space in West End, a gallery space that Donghyuck now spends most of his time in, circling out mediocre art piece after mediocre art piece to fill his empty days with something. Donghyuck is lucky, sure, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t lonely.
Which, really, is where Jaemin comes in.
“Oh,” he says one day, lowering his black and gold Greca Versace sunglasses, “this place is drab.”
“You’re a stalker.” Donghyuck answers, clicking his tongue as he flips through email after email of potential installation candidates, none of them really hitting the nail on the head. “How did you even find me here?”
“Please, you’ve geotagged this place countless times. It wasn’t hard to assume that you’d be here.”
“You’re still a stalker… just because it’s on Instagram doesn’t mean you’re safe from judgment.” He sighs, powering down his iPad to shoot the other a withering glare. “What are you even doing here?”
“You’ve charmed me.”
“Okay, Mr Darcy. Can you talk like a real human for two seconds, please?”
“I just think that you’re lovely.” Jaemin shrugs, “I get that it might sound a bit devoted, but it’s true.”
“You don’t know me. Not really. I don’t even think we talked once in school.”
“So what? Go out with me anyway.”
“I’m barely convinced that you’re not a cryptid, Jaemin. Why would I willingly go on a date with you?”
“Oh, Donghyuck,” the other simpers, skipping across the room like a total freak. “I’d treat you so so so well.” He promises, dropping to prop his chin up against the front of the desk Donghyuck was sitting at, blinking up at him adoringly, “won’t you let me?”
As we’ve already established, Donghyuck is lonely, almost pityfully so. Really, he’s a willing target for Jaemin’s assumed temporary attention, glad to be considered at all.
“Fine.” He says, “we can have one drink.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
“Gothic culture is old,” Donghyuck finds himself telling Jaemin on their third dinner date, watching as the other’s features twist beautifully in disagreement, enhanced by the dancing candlelight between them, “it’s rooted in the Middle Ages, no one cares about it anymore. My mother will actually kick me out if I have another tepid exhibition.”
“You’re wrong,” Jaemin argues, “horror and beauty will always draw people in.”
“Oh," he answers, purposefully girlish, "is that how you got such a high body count?”
Jaemin whistles, throwing his hands over his heart dramatically. “That question alone proves how old-fashioned you are, how frigid your approach is. You are a curator, Donghyuck. You can’t always play it safe.”
“Many successful people within this space are cautious.”
“Yeah, but they are all old and boring.” Jaemin pointedly returns, “you are not, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
“While I’m sitting over here just trying to figure out why you are still here.”
“You feel like I’m wasting your time?”
“No,” he answers honestly, taking a swig of the wine in front of him, lifting his tongue to the roof of his mouth to let the taste swirl around his mouth delicately. “If anything, I feel like I’m wasting yours.”
Jaemin studies him for a moment, his eyes kind instead of calculating. Subtle changes since that first night he had gotten all up in his space. “We should have sex.” He eventually says.
“Why?”
“You don’t want to?” Jaemin asks, seemingly genuinely shocked, “it’s our third time going out. Usually I’m more impatient, but I just assumed that you were one of those people who waited until the third date to make a move.”
Donghyuck is one of those people, but that’s none of Jaemin’s business. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why? Don’t you want to?”
“I don’t.” He shrugs. “Because I feel like we view sex differently. I think if we did I’d become too fond of you. I think I’d get attached.”
“I don’t want to sound all full of myself or whatever, but I think that you’ll always have a soft spot for me,” Jaemin warms, smiling hungrily over the rim of his glass, eyes twinkling. “Even if you don’t fall into bed with me.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Well, the way you look at me for starters. But also how much of your time you’ve let me take up. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would drag someone along just for the fun of it.”
“You mean like you?”
Jaemin blinks slowly, letting his words wash over him. “My reputation precedes me.”
“It’s one thing to get around,” Donghyuck nods passively. “It’s another to leave a string of broken hearts behind so carelessly.”
“I’m not like that anymore.”
“I’m meant to buy that you’ve had a personality transplant since we graduated?”
“Am I meant to buy that you don’t want to sleep with me because of that?”
“I already told you, I think we view sex differently.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re reputation does precede you, Jaemin.” He responds, point-blank. “You’ve been praised for your looks your whole life. Sex isn’t something that comes from connection or love or even attraction for you. It’s something that you think you’re entitled to.”
“That’s really what you think of me?”
“How could I not?” Donghyuck shrugs. “So, no, I can’t sleep with you. Because it’s different for us. Because if I do, I’ll want to continue to sleep with you, to be with you. And I can’t allow that.”
“Oh,” Jaemin responds, sounding confused. “You’re scared to commit?”
“Having sex with you isn’t a commitment. I wouldn’t allow it to be.”
“I think it would be,” Jaemin argues. “Because even if you don’t, you’ll still think about it, about me. I’ll always be the one who got away, I’ll always exist as a reminder of the risks you were too scared to take.”
“This isn’t about me being a pussy,” He cuts in, annoyed. “I’m not frigid and I’m not unsure of myself and about what I want.”
Jaemin leans in, smiling hauntingly wide, as though he wanted to catch the whisps of Donghyuck’s fading anger, to taste it on his tongue.
“Then what are you so worried about?”
“I don’t think that you actually like me, Jaemin,” Donghyuck says, waving for the server to bring over the check, waiting for Jaemin to offer up his card, for him to treat him as well as he had promised weeks ago now, pointedly ignoring the way that the other’s smile dims. “And I don’t bother sleeping with people who can’t even give me that.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
He doesn’t hear from Jaemin for a few days after that, and when he does it’s only two words lighting up his phone screen from where it rests on his windowsill: Come outside.
“You really aren’t helping your case with the whole not a stalker thing,” he giggles, squinting down at Jaemin as he waits for him down the bottom of the stairs leading to his brownstone. “How did you even get my address?”
“Google.”
“You did not.”
“Fine, I tortured your real estate agent, is that what you want to hear?”
“You’re funny.” Donghyuck shoots back blankly. “What are you even doing here?”
“I thought we could maybe go and see a film?” Jaemin grins, holding out his hand expectantly. “Something old and dramatic that we can pretend to be interested in while secretly sneaking glances at each other. What do you think?”
“I think you’re demented.” He whispers, “I feel like you’re trying to Stockholm syndrome me.”
“I promised I’d treat you well,” Jaemin shrugs, jutting his hand out further, waiting half impatiently for Donghyuck to take it. “And you said you’d let me.”
The truth is that Jaemin is weird. The way he looks at him makes him feel like he’s always being watched. He’s more paranoid now, convinced that he always needs to push into a public place, jolting every time he hears camera shutters echo around him. But he’s also gentle. And even if he does only see Donghyuck as some experiment, as someone to string along, at least he’ll be living lavishly while he’s being studied. “Okay,” he nods, biting back a smile as Jaemin dips to mouth at his neck, his lips curving into a soft smile against the sharp corner of Donghyuck’s jaw.
“Dance with me,” Jaemin whispers as they wait for the movie to start, classical music echoing faintly around the empty room.
He lets his head lull to the side, watching as Jaemin stands to move around by himself, admiring the way his mathematically perfect features look with the warm light of the room reflecting off of them. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” the other shrugs, doing some weird two-step, shimmying his shoulders forward to try and entice Donghyuck out of his seat. “Why not?”
And really, Donghyuck can’t argue with that, so he lets Jaemin pull him to his feet. Easily letting the other drag his arms back and forth until they’re doing some version of the old-timey twist, giggling as Jaemin spins him out before pulling him back in, twirling him delicately.
They move together for a moment, drawing each other in and out before Jaemin draws him close, pulling one of Donghyuck’s hands to rest on his shoulder as he settles his own palm in the dip of his waist, slow-dancing up and down the aisle.
“Will you ever write about me?”
“I don’t think you’d like what I’d write if I did.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I think you might be awful.”
“Interesting.” Jaemin frowns, tilting his head to the side a little with his confusion. “Why?”
“Because I feel like even though you’re giving me all this time, one day you’ll wake up and you’ll be fine with acting like you don’t know me. You’ll be thoughtless instead of kind. It feels like you get off on acting like I’ve given a part of myself to someone who isn’t worth it but I don’t know it yet. Like I’ve given my time to someone who couldn’t actually care less.”
“I think it’s a pity, Donghyuck, that genius lasts longer than beauty.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Of course you possess both but you’re reckless with your beauty, it’s like you don’t know the extent of your allure. Which probably is why you think that I’m cruel,” Jaemin whispers. “I’m not trying to be, at least not all the time. I think I’m trying to keep you from becoming careful about your beauty, I’m trying to save you really.”
“You think your attention will make me self-centred?” He scoffs. “Or self-conscious?”
“It’s not like that.” The other sighs. “I understand that you don’t think that I like you, but it’s not that I don’t. It’s that I don’t want you to become careful about your beauty. I don’t want you to become aware of what your beauty can buy, of what it can be exchanged for. I don’t want to be the driving force of that realisation, I couldn’t bear it.”
“You want to keep me unaware?”
“That sounds creepy,” Jaemin laughs, not even blinking when Donghyuck purposefully trods on his foot. “You should know that it’s for purely selfish reasons. I think that your cluelessness about the extent of your beauty only enhances it.”
“You place youth and beauty on too high of a pedestal.” He chastises. “Besides, I think you’re wrong.”
“About what?” Jaemin asks, amused as Donghyuck wiggles out of his grasp to jerkily spin him around. He only lasts a moment before he reaches for Donghyuck again, pulling him close until they’re chest to chest.
“About beauty and genius existing as two separate entities,” Donghyuck explains. “Beauty is a form of genius, it’s one of the very few ultimate truths of the world. Yes, beauty standards shift at times, but they always fall back on a defined face, soft skin and an educated tongue. And those who are blessed with all that, have an indisputable air of power around them. The power of being unquestionable. That comes from beauty and genius both.”
“That was beautiful.”
“I’m not unaware of my allure, Jaemin Na.” He says softly, smiling. “If you need to think that to deal with all of this, then feel free. But the truth is, if I was, I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
Jaemin spreads out through his life, clinging to any time or anything that Donghyuck can convince himself is worth giving up to him. So Donghyuck lets Jaemin book all the broke contemporary gothic artists in New York that he can stomach. So Donghyuck spills about Jaemin to Renjun as the art comes rolling in.
Mark, Renjun’s boyfriend, isn’t really a good influence on Jaemin.
“Dude, I mean, with a face like that I think you could do anything. You could probably run for president if you wanted.”
“Mark,” Donghyuck sighs, begrudgingly taking over Mark’s boyfriend duties and helping Renjun in his garden as Mark makes desperate goo-goo eyes at Jaemin. “Close your mouth, you’re drooling."
“I’m just saying,” Mark argues, raising his hands in surrender. “If I looked like that I think I’d get whatever I want, from whoever I wanted.”
Renjun clears his throat pointedly, fixing Mark with an almost deadly stink eye. Donghyuck stupidly lets his eyes trail over to where Jaemin is sitting, watching warily as Mark’s words wash over him.
“Not that I want anything from anyone other than you.” Mark rushes out, pouting at his boyfriend. “I’m just saying that if I was Jaemin - ”
“It’s funny you’re working on that one.” Jaemin cuts in, zeroing in on where Donghyuck is carefully trimming Renjun’s white lilac bush.
“Why’s that?”
“Cause white lilacs symbolise purity and innocence.” He lists off with a smirk. “And the pink flowers you were watering before…”
“The pink flowering thorn?” Renjun offers, sending Mark inside to wash the herbs he had been able to harvest, poorly hiding how impressed he clearly is with Jaemin’s knowledge of flowers.
“Yeah, that one.” Jaemin nods, “that symbolises pain and pleasure, the dichotomy of it. It’s so pretty, and its petals are so soft, but when you handle it carelessly, its thorns prick you. It hurts you, it makes you bleed.” He pauses for a moment, leaning over to dip the curve of his thumb under Donghyuck’s chin, lifting his face up slightly to let the sun shine over his features, to get a good look at him. “It’s just like you.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
“What’s like the grossest thing that you’re into?” He asks Jaemin one night they’re in his penthouse together, curled around each other on his couch as old sitcom reruns act as their background noise.
“Sexually?” Jaemin asks, not even looking up from his phone.
“Obviously.”
“I like the power of it.” He explains, still not looking up. “I like the idea of taking something from the person I’m fucking.”
“In what sense?”
“Like surface level, their pleasure. I like being in control of it.”
Right. “And deeper than that?”
“Someone’s beauty, or their brains, or their youth. I don’t know.”
“You like the idea of bleeding somebody dry?”
Jaemin powers down his phone then, looking over at Donghyuck with flashing eyes. “You make me sound like a serial killer when you put it like that.”
“But do you? Like it?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, trying to keep it cool, his hungry eyes betraying him as they so often do. “I like it.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
Jaemin, in true rich boy fashion, sweeps him away to the Hamptons as the summer heat starts to stickily creep into the streets of New York. Waiting for him with a blacked-out car and a bunch of blooming pink daisies in his fist.
Donghyuck’s writing in his journal as Jaemin slips into bed next to him that night, silk sheets cooling their sun-soaked skin as a wide wooden fan buzzes above them, pushing air around the room. Jaemin watches him as his pen slides along page after page, Donghyuck’s heartbeat pounding in his ears at the attention. Stupidly nervous.
“You can’t scroll on your phone or something?” he asks, eyes not leaving the page, the sounds of his pen scratching accompanying his words.
“No,” Jaemin murmurs, “I’d much rather look at you.”
“For someone who was so enamoured with me writing again, you sure do enjoy distracting me.” He sighs, closing the notebook slowly, keeping his place with his pen as he leaves it in the drawer of his bedside table for the next week. “I can’t focus when you look at me like that.”
Jaemin chuckles at that, lifting up on his elbow so that he’s hovering over him, eyes curious. It’s intimate, the way he’s crowding Donghyuck in a little. It leaves him helpless to meet his gaze, lying flat on his back in a way that offers him very few options other than looking up at the other. Jaemin takes advantage of their position, tracing the arched line of his jaw, floating up to thumb at Donghyuck’s bottom lip as Donghyuck takes it between his two front teeth - a nasty nervous habit he’s never been able to kick.
“Let me kiss you.”
“Ask me nicely.” He returns. And it's brave, really, to ask for something from someone who has probably never had to ask for something in his life.
Jaemin’s hand is still hovering by his face so it’s easy for him to let it drift to the side of his face, brushing the back of his knuckles against Donghyuck’s cheek before cupping the side of his face. His eyes flicker across his face, almost as though he’s weighing up whether Donghyuck is even worth it.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, “please.”
He nods, letting his chest fill up with the sweet tension between them. Jaemin must feel the same because he doesn’t break it, not at first. Instead, he dips to mouth over his neck, chapped lips dragging against sensitive skin. “Jaem,” he mutters, fidgeting a little under the other.
“I know.” Jaemin nods, towing his nose up the line of Donghyuck’s throat, inhaling deeply before he’s hovering over him again, licking over his lips to soften them before dropping to press their lips together. “I know.”
It’s just a kiss at first, the slow soft movement of their lips together, and then it escalates. Jaemin’s hands begin to roam hungrily, dipping under his sleep shirt to drag his hands down the arch of Donghyuck’s spine, gripping at the curve of his waist desperately as he shifts, moving into the willing space between Donghyuck’s open thighs. After months of building this up, he feels almost desperate himself, bucking up against Jaemin, nuzzling into his solid chest as he dips his fingers under the waistband of the other’s sweats, nails biting against heated skin.
The next day, when Jaemin pulls him into the shower after him, it doesn’t feel like a sprawling leap of faith, instead, it feels like a lateral move. It makes sense for them to strip out of sand-filled bathers, giggling as the grains swirl down the drain. It makes sense for Jaemin’s fingertips to brush against his back, fitting around the dip in his spine. It makes sense for Jaemin to reach for his shampoo to use it on them both, gladly drenching Donghyuck in his Dior Homme shower gel as their dehydrated strands soak.
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
He meets Jeno at some poetry reading Renjun forces him to attend, pushing him until he’s suddenly up on the makeshift stage at the front of the room, spilling his guts out to a room full of young New York elites. He’s handsome, almost unbearably so, but he’s still shy when he asks Donghyuck if he wants to leave to go and get a drink. “I really liked your piece,” Jeno compliments, eyes on the pavement in front of them as they walk, his coat stiff around Donghyuck’s shoulder to shield him from the nightly summer breeze, “you’re really talented.”
“You’re sweet, but I didn’t even know that I was gonna get up there until I got there. It wasn’t like polished or anything.”
Jeno stops out the front of some dive bar across from a sprawling park, his blonde hair looks golden under the street lights above them. “Then I can only imagine how incredible you’ll be when it is.”
He’s still shy as he holds the door for Donghyuck, ushering him towards the bar. He learns a lot about Jeno that night. He learns that his favourite drink is a dirty martini. He learns that Jeno’s parents live in California and that he grew up with his Grandmother back in Korea and gets awfully homesick from time to time. He learns that he’s an actor, and not just in the way every second person their age in New York is an actor, he’s actually had acclaimed roles.
Jaemin is, predictably, very jealous of Jeno.
“I don’t understand what you like so much about him.” Jaemin hisses, wrapping a possessive arm around Donghyuck’s waist at the next event they’re at together, narrowing his eyes at an unsuspecting Jeno who waves over at them both with a friendly smile on his face.
“He’s nice, maybe you could take a leaf out of his book.”
“I’m nice.”
Donghyuck chuckles at that, “you are not nice.”
“You like it when I’m a little mean,” Jaemin mutters, tightening his grip where his fingers still rest on the curve of his waist.
“Well,” he sighs, wiggling out of Jaemin’s hold to make his way over to where Jeno was waiting with two glasses of champagne and an eager look on his face, “then I guess you have nothing to worry about.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
“Are you ever scared that you’ll amount to nothing?” Jaemin asks one day as he shoves his way into the studio. He has a rather unfortunate pimple blossoming on his forehead and Jaemin is genuinely so shallow that Donghyuck can’t help but wonder if the other’s dreary mood is entirely linked to the blemish on his face.
“No, I’ve already amounted to something.” He answers honestly, gesturing at the art-filled walls surrounding them. “I’ve got this and my writing and my family and friends. Why would I worry about that?”
“I don’t know,” Jaemin sighs, “I guess I’m just worried about not being celebrated, of not being awarded.”
“Your good looks aren’t enough?”
“You shouldn’t joke about this.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he laughs, “am I meant to take you seriously?”
“You really aren’t worried about being remembered? You aren’t terrified of being temporary?”
“I’m twenty-three years old, Jaemin.” Donghyuck shrugs, taking a drag of the Starbucks cup Jaemin passes over to him. “I think it’s a little early for me to get all caught up in what my legacy will be. Besides, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with being temporary. It’s the way of the world, the circle of life. Really, you sound disgustingly nihilistic right now.”
“I think there’s something upsetting about things being temporary. There’s nothing wrong with me thinking that.”
Donghyuck turns to look at him, gaze softening. “What are you actually trying to say?”
Jaemin, for the first time in the entire time Donghyuck has known him, has nothing to say.
It’s raining outside, it’s bad, so bad that the wind is whipping the droplets almost violently against the closed windows of the studio, the sound echoing around the room. Jaemin looks as untouched as always, and maybe Donghyuck kind of understands the other’s anger towards the undefined mass that is things being temporary because he looks like Donghyuck has never even gotten his hands on him. It looks like no one has, really.
And that just won’t do.
“Come on.” He says, dropping his cup off at the front desk before grabbing at Jaemin’s wrists. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Outside.”
“It’s raining.”
“So?”
“So I don’t want to go outside.”
“Don’t be such a loser.”
“Really? Resorting to name-calling?”
“Fine.” Donghyuck scoffs, letting the wind pick up the door as he lets go of the handle, the echo of the slam radiating warmth through his chest. “Stay here and wallow in your boredom and whatever it is that’s bothering you so badly that you can’t speak. I’m going outside.”
It takes Jaemin a little over two minutes to join him.
“You’re crazy,” he spits, his fringe losing its usual bounce in mere seconds, sticking to his forehead gracelessly, “I think that you’re actually insane.”
“It’s just some water, Jaemin,” he says, dancing on the spot in the puddle-filled gutter, doing grand wavy gestures with his arms, beckoning the other closer. “Come on. You’ll be fine.”
Jaemin sighs, shaking his head as he steps forward, and it really feels fated the way that his ankle gets stuck as he tries to step down to where Donghyuck is and then they are both on the ground, giggling awfully at each other as their close get all muddy, rolling on the pavement.
“Thank you for messing yourself up a little to be with me,” Donghyuck whispers, trying to bite back his smile as Jaemin looks down at his dirtied clothes with mournful eyes. “Even if it’s just for a little bit.”
Jaemin might not be the one for him, and he might be so shallow and image-obsessed that Donghyuck is convinced that he’d sell his soul to look how he does now forever, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not unfeeling. And when Jaemin’s eyes drift to focus on Donghyuck instead, hope filtering into his gaze, it takes an immeasurable effort not to fling himself into Jaemin’s strong arms and let himself drown in his embrace.
“I adore you.” Jaemin eventually murmurs, pursing his lips up into a pout.
“What?”
“I do.” Jaemin laughs, throwing his hands up in the air, but still making no move to stand up and out of the gutter, making no move to get away from Donghyuck as the rain still falls around them. “Is that really surprising?”
“Yes?” He shrugs, “I thought I was some experiment to you.”
“Like a plaything?” The other fills in, still laughing. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
“I don’t know, why don’t you explain how you feel to me?”
“Because I don’t want to, I’ve never wanted to.” It’s why he writes instead, sprawling pages holding back and forth contradictions of how he sees Jaemin, of how he feels about him.
“I don’t want to be temporary, Donghyuck.”
If an artist loves you, you can never truly die.
“You won’t be,” Donghyuck scoffs, standing and fruitlessly trying to dust himself off. “You’re beautiful and influential and powerful, Jaemin. You will never be temporary; you will always be a part of this city, while the rest of us just fade away. Just as you’ve always intended.”
“I’m not talking about me, for once,” Jaemin responds, still on the sidewalk. “I’m talking about us.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” He answers, “you and I have never said that we are anything, let alone exclusive.”
“I’m assuming that you haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Well, considering that you can never say no to a good time, I can’t assume the same for you.”
Jaemin’s eyes cloud over with guilt, and it’s not a surprise. He knows Jaemin and has known of him for even longer. He knows that he’s unreserved, that he’s unabashedly chased pleasure since his brain has been aware to seek it out, almost always getting the follow-through in a way that sex probably almost feels like a habit to him.
“We aren’t nothing though,” he whispers, “we both know that.”
Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know what to do besides sinking back to the ground next to Jaemin, letting the rain continue to soak them both together, curling his face into the other’s shoulder, biting at the inside of his mouth as he tries to come up with something that could ground Jaemin.
“We aren’t nothing and we aren’t temporary,” he eventually promises, pushing back to give Jaemin what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Regardless of whether we’re in each other’s lives like this for only a week more, or for years.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I believe that we are all just portraits of all the people that we’ve loved. I have my mother’s eyes, and my father’s lips, and now I’ll have your pride and your passion. I know that.”
Jaemin lifelessly lulls his head to the side, resting his weight back on one palm to cup his face, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly.
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
“Let me read it,” Jaemin murmurs one night, pressing kisses down the curve of his spine, angrily eyeing the journal in Donghyuck’s hands as he moves. “Please.”
“Why?”
“I suppose I’m jealous of it.”
“Of what?”
“Of who you see me as. Of the boy you wrote about in those pages, the boy I once was.”
“You speak as though you’re on your deathbed, don’t be so dramatic.” He laughs. “We’ve known each other like this for, like, less than a year.”
“So you won’t let me read it?”
“It’s not real, Jaem." He murmurs, keeping his voice airy as he lets the other down easy. "It’s not concise. It’s just random scribbling I’ve been doing.”
“You don’t think that I’ll appreciate it?” Jaemin asks, purposefully widening his eyes so he looks all innocent. Bastard. “I love it.”
“You love it?”
“Yes, I feel as though it’s a part of me. If you let anyone else read it, I’ll be heartbroken.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Why? Cause it’s only for me?”
If an artist loves you, you can never truly die.
“No. Because it’s not a part of you, or at least not only a part of you. I’ve thrown myself into those pages. They aren’t for anyone else, not even for you really.” He says, hugging the journal to his chest. “They’re for me.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
For someone who was so terrified about being temporarily in Donghyuck’s life, he sure is comfortable leaving it without a word’s notice, probably getting off on the idea of leaving him high and dry.
“He’s so predictable,” Renjun curses, “we should have seen this coming.”
“I did see this coming,” Donghyuck responds, frowning over at his friend, his use of we that clearly includes himself and Mark and his pitying eyes. “He’s flighty and non-commital to a tee. He was with other people while we were together, if we’re being honest he’s probably just shacked up with one of them. I’m sure I’ll hear from him in a week or two.”
Except he doesn’t. And the expected two weeks painfully stretch into two months of no Jaemin. He isn’t even there for the official opening of the new installation that he had devoted himself to for months.
Jeno, on the other hand, is. “I’m sorry,” he whispers later in the night after hours of walking around together, introducing themselves to the room.
“Are you going to say that I deserve better? That you could treat me better?”
Jeno laughs at that, his nose scrunching up. “I don’t need to tell you that, you already know them.”
“Oh.” He answers a little dumbly.
“But I’m not blind, Donghyuck, and I’m not desperate.” Jeno clarifies. “Right now you love Jaemin, and he loves you, and that’s okay.”
He looks up at Jeno then, knowing that to everyone else in the room, he was fixing Jeno with a lovingly fond gaze. And it fits, it is what he feels for the other, but not more than the clawing feeling at his heart every time he thinks about Jaemin, about the time that they’ve spent apart.
“You really think he loves me?”
Jeno pauses for a moment, considering. “I don’t know him very well,” he whispers, leaning down to bump their shoulders together sweetly, “but from what I do know, Jaemin seemingly doesn’t know how to love someone without swallowing them whole. And I think that you love in a way that makes it clear that you know everything but that.”
“So you think that we aren’t compatible?”
“We are young, Donghyuck. In the grand scheme of things, we are so young. Who really cares if the person you love at twenty-three isn’t the same person you love at twenty-eight, or at forty, or at eighty-three? It doesn’t matter.”
“Not to you?”
“No,” Jeno smiles, shaking his head, “not to me. You should go see him.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should. You two can finally hash it out, you can even yell at him for not being here. I think that it will be cathartic for you.”
“And what if he and I get together, for real this time?”
“This isn’t an ultimatum, Hyuck.” Jeno promises, “this is an opportunity for healing and growth and peace. One that I would be awful to try and keep you from.”
“What if I kill him?”
“Well, then he’ll get what he’s always wanted,” Jeno giggles, “forever frozen at his prime.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
It was a mistake for Jaemin to ever let Donghyuck up into his rooftop apartment, because the doormen recognise him, and even if they didn’t, he had memorised both the code for the elevators and for Jaemin’s front door. He at least has the decency to knock when he gets there, tapping his dress shoe against the plush carpet as he waits. Jaemin, at least, looks like he’s had a rough few days - lifeless hair, concave cheeks and sunken eyes.
“Donghyuck,” he says, irritatingly casually, “what’s up?”
“Just wanted to see if you were still alive, or if my e-invite to tonight somehow glitched out and said the wrong date just for you.”
“Don’t be petty.” Jaemin chastises. “It’s unbecoming.”
“You’re a coward.” He spits back. “You don’t even have the decency to text me before disappearing?”
“I’m not a coward.”
“Well, then you’re just a narcissist. You got confirmation that you’ve left a mark on me and then you discard me like it’s nothing, like we’re nothing, after you told me that you adore me, after you promised me that we had something.”
“How’s Jeno?”
“Leave him out of it.”
“Why would I? It’s all everyone is talking about.” Jaemin responds coolly. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, I get why they’re all obsessed.”
“The reason why you think it’s what everyone is talking about is because you’ve compulsively Googled me so many times that you’ve twisted your algorithm to only revolve around me." He snarks, the anger in his stomach twisting him into someone else. Mean and bitter. "If anyone is obsessed, it’s you.”
“No need to get your back up, I think that you two make a great couple.”
“You don't get to talk about him, not when nothing has even happened there. Not when you were never committed to me in the first place.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not. Which is funny considering that you were the one who once said that I was scared of commitment, that that was why I wouldn't sleep with you. ” He answers, tone short. “I get that you have this whole mindset of commitment being a rat trap and a prison sentence and a sprawl of adoring fans that assure you that it’s so cool that you’re in love with four people at once, but that is just yes men pandering to you to get something in return. Mostly just sex, I’m assuming.”
“You’re bitter.” Jaemin comments airly. “I get that this opening was a big deal to you, but you don’t have to slut shame me, it’s below you.”
“You think you’re so high and mighty, but you aren’t. You’re only relevant because of your face and your body and your reputation and when that fades, so will your importance. I mean, if we are being realistic here, you’re already a borderline nobody.”
It's a low blow, to go for Jaemin's importance, to target the perception that everyone around him has of him, but he can't really bring himself to care. Desperate for Jaemin to do something, to say something. “I wasn’t no one, not to you.” Jaemin spits, stepping off the doorframe to get all up in his space and he’s so close that it has Donghyuck’s hands slick and his stomach fluttering. “I was someone to you, I know that I was. And it’s cruel of you to act like you don’t care about not being with me because you do. I can feel it.”
“You want to lecture me about bottling away feelings?” Donghyuck returns, laughing meanly despite the way Jaemin’s almost crazed eyes flash at the sound. “You’re more than happy to act like the things I do don’t matter to you, that you are untouchable when I know that it rips you up inside to see me doing well. To even think that I could be with someone who is better for me.” He overfills, spilling everywhere with his words, hands shaking, “you loved me, I know you did. And you don’t act like it, you don’t act like you want me at all.”
“I did love you, maybe I still do,” Jaemin confesses, and it should maybe feel gratifying or it should be a rush of relief but it just makes Donghyuck feel sick to his stomach. “But it doesn’t matter because I know you. I know that this won’t last. So why would I beg for you? Why would I debase myself?”
“Because you should.” Donghyuck almost squeals back, throwing his hands up, violent in his anger. “It doesn’t matter if I push you around or if I tell you no because, after all this, it’s what you deserve. I want you to ask for it, I want you to beg me for it, just so I can tell you no.”
“Why?” Jaemin whispers, “why would you even want that?”
“Because it can’t just be me.” He confesses, “it can’t just be me that’s being weighed down by this, I can’t just be endlessly waiting for you. I can’t be the only one having to hear that you’re on dating apps again, that you’re going out with people. It makes me feel sick, being caught up on you like this.”
“I don’t think that I can handle this.”
“You’re right,” Donghyuck whispers, bottom lip all wobbly. “I don’t know why I even came here.”
“You’re lying.”
“Do you want to know what’s the real problem here?” He asks, arking back up in seconds, snarling at Jaemin’s attempt at dismantling his deflection. “The issue is that you could have anyone that you want, and you know it. That’s the most awful thing about you.”
Jaemin sighs, rubbing at his creased forehead before he steps back, ushering Donghyuck into his space, herding him like a small animal. It makes sense really, thinking back to Jaemin’s endlessly hungry eyes, the way he’s always wanted more and more without giving anything of actual importance up in return.
Jaemin seemingly doesn’t know how to love someone without swallowing them whole.
Of course he’s the predator, and of course Donghyuck is the prey.
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” He refuses, crossing his arms to really sell the whole petulant child act.
“I know.” Jaemin nods, holding his hand out, already knowing that Donghyuck will take it. “But we both know that you will anyway.”
˗ˏˋ𓆩†𓆪ˊˎ˗
“Tell me why you’re mad,” he says minutes later after he’s gotten Donghyuck calm on his couch, a bottle of rosé between them. “Without the yelling and the insults and all the dramatics. Just strip it down.”
“You mean beyond you just disappearing on me?”
“Yeah,” Jaemin shrugs, “I guess.”
“You guess? What do you mean you guess?”
“I get that I shouldn’t have just gone no contact. But I don’t think that’s the only reason why you’re mad at me.”
Donghyuck sighs, letting his spine fold around Jaemin’s fancy plush pillows as he studies the other silently.
“You believe in something worse than love at first sight,” he eventually answers, sniffling. “You believe in your endless potential, which means that you’ll always be looking for something better. For someone better. So you will never be with just me, you couldn't. Which is why you're seemingly fine to tell me that you adore me and that you want to be with me, when in reality, you're beyond happy to just drop me like I mean nothing to you. That isn’t fair, I’m worth far more than that.”
“You think that it’s my potential that I’m in love with, but it isn’t,” Jaemin mutters, and it makes Donghyuck have to catch his breath, the way that Jaemin is staring at him like he personally hung the stars up in the sky. “I’m invested in you, Donghyuck. More than you’ll ever know.”
Bullshit.
“Then why did you leave? Why didn’t you show up for me tonight?”
“Because I have frighteningly little restraint when it comes to you. I try to keep my expectations realistic, I try to keep my desires small. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop wanting everything when it comes to you.”
“You’re selfish,” Donghyuck responds, and it’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact.
“I am,” Jaemin nods, “I could feel that things were changing, that I was tarnishing you, and I couldn’t make myself leave you alone.”
It's more bullshit, sweet words spun to try and trick Donghyuck into believing him. “Until you did.”
“I had to,” Jaemin swears, “I’m selfish, you’re right, it’s why part of me hates that you’re doing well. But it’s worth it. Me feeling bitter is worth it, if you’re doing better.”
“I am,” Donghyuck sighs, “but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay or happy.”
“I missed you. I missed you from the moment that I left.”
“Yeah?” He breathes, pushing off the couch to crawl over to the other, giggling as Jaemin jerks forward to catch the rolling bottle of wine, cursing at Donghyuck as he leans around him to safely put it on the coffee table in front of them before it bleeds onto his carpet. “What did you miss about me?”
“You were right when you said that we hold sex differently,” Jaemin mutters, and it's probably the only honest thing that he's had the decency to say all night, “I think we hold relationships differently too.”
Jaemin’s unarguably right. Donghyuck wants to be with Jaemin in private, to hold him close to his heart like a priceless secret and Jaemin’s ego is far too big to be okay with that. He has to be the prettiest in the room, the most influential, he has to publicly stake a claim on what’s his.
But Donghyuck’s not really worried about all that right now. Jeno’s right - he’s young, who cares?
“That’s not what I asked you.” He murmurs, crowding Jaemin against the back of the seat, locking him in place with his thighs.
“I missed getting to wake up where you are. I missed your eyes, and your hands, and the way your eyelashes flutter whenever you let me touch you.” Jaemin lists off, dragging his hands up his dress pants to rest at his hips. “I missed getting to have you like this.”
“Who says you even have me?”
“You don’t want me anymore?” Jaemin asks, teeth glinting as he smiles meanly, unaffected as Donghyuck slips a hand between them to tug at his shirt, pulling it up and away from his stomach. “I don’t believe that.”
He’s cocky, cocky enough that Donghyuck is sinking on his knees in front of him just to shut him up, desperate for Jaemin to give him something - for the muscles in his legs to tense up, for a non-artificial groan to pass his lips. He’s left waiting, even after he pulls back with sore cheeks and a sloppy mouth.
That’s probably why it’s so easy for him to step away from Jaemin’s responding touch, why it feels like it’s nothing as he makes his way back over to the door, pocketing his phone and his keys, ready to order a ride to come and take him away from all of this.
“Are you going to leave?”
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, blunderingly caught between his head and his heart as he turns back to watch as Jaemin tucks himself back into his pants, still looking as untouched as ever. “Do you want me to go?”
“I want you to get me off again,” Jaemin says bluntly, before softening a little. “I want you to stay.”
So he does, for now.