Kaisoo One Shots

Fall Into Place

Author: Kais

  Thick pads are pressed against the fronts and backs of Jongin's thighs; hot and sticky and soaking up all of the humidity the air surrounding him has to offer. It's uncomfortable, the kind that you never get used to even after years of dealing with it, and he hates it. So instead of focusing on the beads of sweat cascading down his back and the suffocating feel of his clothes, he concentrates on strong legs and the matted hair of someone on the other side of the field. It's better than wanting to die, anyway.

Foot maneuvers aren't exactly the kid's specialty, Jongin thinks he's probably on defence for a reason, but it's not like he knows shit about soccer. The only thing remotely interesting about the sport is when the players clash into each other like titans.

Maybe he's a tad bit biased, though. The football team-- which is what Jongin plays, because it's thrilling and rewarding and he doesn't know the mechanics of any other sport besides this and he likes that-- and soccer team have a sort of rivalry that's been going on since the very beginning of time. He has no problem hating the soccer players along with all of his teammates because they have to share a field and a locker room and it's just not fair. One can't blame him when sixty boys are all stuffed into one room. It smells like perspiration, piss, and animosity in there.

Hating soccer doesn't mean he can't appreciate the fine block of a right-back immediately before the other practicing team is about to kick a goal. Foot maneuvering, no; strategy, yes.

"Look at that faggot," someone appears beside him, and it takes him not even a second to recognize his best friend's voice. "Minseok," Sehun sighs again, and Jongin sees him trailing after the soccer player with his eyes. "Sometimes I wish I didn't play football just so I could kick his ass in soccer."

Jongin snorts lightly, but his eyes still fall back to the other player, the one with black hair that covers his forehead, thick thighs, and wide eyes. "They're all fags," he finally replies, taking the football from Sehun's hands and tossing it up and down in his own. "Every last one of them."

Sharing field and storage space isn't the only running hatred between the two biggest teams at their school. It goes much deeper than that, rooted in the way each of their minds work. To put it simply: it takes a certain kind of person to play football, and it takes a certain kind of person to play soccer, but it also takes a certain kind of person to stay out of it all. The last kind are the weakest, and are treated the lowest in the hierarchy of the school.

First and foremost are the football players.

Second are the soccer players.

Nobody knows why it's like that, but it is, and it's been that way for years and years. Nobody is going to change it.

The population at their school is extraordinarily small, and with absolutely no diversity. Every one in the school is from Korea, from a middle-class family, and they all live in the same small ass, shitty town. It's all boys, too, and outsiders would think that it would encourage the growth of homosexuality in young boys, but honestly, it's just made them all more prejudice. Jongin can't say he isn't, but he sure as hell doesn't take it as seriously and as far as Sehun.

It isn't until the next day that Jongin actually gets close enough to their side of the field to listen to what's going on, but something about it puts a flair in his stomach. The boy-- the small one with good strategy-- is standing in his assigned position for the day, center-back, and the right-back beside him.

"Hey," the guy calls out, and Jongin thinks the guy's name is Baekhyun, but football and soccer players don't associate with each other, so he's not quite sure. "Try not to stumble over your own feet today, huh, shorty?"

Jongin doesn't know why he's calling such names, he's as short as the other dude. Plus, aren't they all supposed to be a team? No one on the football team ever patronizes another player, it creates rifts that aren't needed and they wouldn't be one of the best teams in the country if they had those.

The other boy doesn't respond with words, but with his body. Three out of seven attempts at goals by the other team are blocked by him alone, and Baekhyun, if that's his name, blocks no one. It puts an odd smile on Jongin's face, but he doesn't know why. Maybe he roots for the underdog, who knows.

When practice is called to an end, both teams ending at the same time every day of the summer and fall, all of them file in to change, some running into the showers for the first grab at the hot water and some just heading for their bags and leaving so they can take a shower at home.

"You know," Sehun starts loudly enough for the entire (all twenty square feet) room to hear. He's topless with a towel around his waist, since he likes to shower now and not have to worry about it later. Jongin never does, who knows what's in that water or on those floors, but he has to wait for Sehun since the latter's mom is giving him a ride home today. "Sometimes I'm afraid to shower. Who knows what Minseok might do?"

From the other corner, he hears Minseok give a long sigh, and glances over to see him and the small boy staring at Sehun with dead eyes. (Jongin would have died a long time ago too if he had been made fun of by Sehun for as long as Minseok has.) The way Minseok's face falls, pupils dull and listless, sagging like the stance of his body, makes him a little angry. What right does his best friend have to do that to another human being?

"Come on, Sehun, lay off," he tries, the metal of the lockers biting into the skin of his back, but Sehun shoos him away with the wave of a hand. By power of authority, Jongin has to listen to him. Sehun is captain and the most popular kid in school, one rebellion could cause him to be sent to the top of Sehun's shitlist, which is currently occupied by Kim Minseok-- and Jongin only knows his name so well because of the countless times Sehun has followed that with a malicious "faggot" or "queer".

When he looks back over at the two soccer players, those wide eyes are pointed at him, only him, and it sends the faintest of shivers down Jongin's spine, because those eyes are too pretty to be a male's. It kinda makes him start wondering: where has he been all this time? How have his eyes just skipped over the entirety of his existence?

"Come on, Kyungsoo." Minseok's sigh is resonating, bouncing around the empty recess where Sehun's heart is supposed to go. This is the first time Jongin hears the echo.

"Kyungsoo," he mutters once the two are gone from the school, probably, and it tastes sweet on his tongue, like the honeysuckles he and Sehun used to pick as kids. (He always wanted more.)




--




There's a sort of buzz-- a tingling, really-- that washes across the expanse of Jongin's tanned skin and raises the hair on the back of his neck when his body is heavy with the weight of someone's gaze. Sometimes he's not sure if it's just him or if everybody has the sixth sense, but it's definitely creepy.

He has it now, sitting in his too-stuffy collared uniform, jacket constricting his already tense muscles as he snaps his neck to the side just in time to see wide eyes slide off of him and onto the board.

This is how it's been for a couple of weeks now. Kyungsoo, and Jongin really enjoys saying that name, keeps staring at him since he tried to stand up for Minseok in the locker room. He's either pissed or grateful, but Jongin can't tell because of the stoic features that contrast greatly with the gentle slope of his mouth and nose, even the crescent of his upper eyelids are a perfect parabola. And on the field occasionally, when they're on break and Sehun is too busy with Junmyeon (the equipment manager, poor guy) in a headlock, he'll find Kyungsoo's eyes across the expanse of the yard and neither will look away until there's an outside force that makes them.

But Jongin doesn't like to think about the fact that he's the one searching for Kyungsoo's eyes too, sometimes, hatred aside.

This initiates a war inside Jongin's head.

Now Jongin has always been pretty confident, because he has no reason not to be. He has the looks, the grades, and the personality that reflects the traits he honestly has, like loyalty and perseverance, and he knows himself (for the most part). Not only that, but he considers himself pretty open-minded, as compared to Sehun's bigoted ass. But he has no confidence in this area of being attracted to a boy, no matter how pretty, because it's going against the natural flow; because he's always let himself be led into a life of normalcy.

He's letting himself be poured into a mold on the assembly line of death.

This isn't a matter he can discuss with anyone, either. Now he has to decide for himself: is it enough?

And the way Jongin wakes up the next morning, sheets soiled and Kyungsoo's name on his tongue, tells him it is.

This is not good. It hits him like a ton of bricks-- wasn't he just picking his fun with Sehun over Kim Jongdae being a fag?

Jongin likes to think of himself as a pretty flippant guy until he settles down with determination on something certain, and the concentration he has can be unbelievable, so he doesn't want to jump to conclusions on something that could possibly determine the rest of his life.

The easiest thing to do is watch Kyungsoo; how he looks, acts, walks, runs. He'd ask around about the senior, but word would get back to Sehun, and he definitely doesn't want that to happen. Being under Sehun's cruel thumb is worse than death, so the path of least resistance leads him to let Kyungsoo make the ultimate outcome.




--




It feels like Kyungsoo knows, somehow, about the revelations going on within himself. The looks they share now are almost secretive, knowing, full of compatibility, yet that's compromised by the invisible wall of society.

Those knowing looks don't cover up the fact that it's all too easy to see right through Kyungsoo, from the way he stares a little long at the other boys in the locker room to the way he carries and presents himself.

It brings him to a new realization.

The only reason Kyungsoo is friends with Minseok, and whether this happened on purpose or not, he doesn't know, is to hide in his shadow. If Sehun is too busy looking at Minseok, there's no room for Kyungsoo, and that's just how he wants it. A free ride under the cloak of secondhand pain.

It's admirable, actually.

Jongin finds himself watching Kyungsoo a little more than usual and ignoring the way Sehun curses so violently when he sees one of the benchwarmers, as they call the boys who don't participate in sports, and Minseok. In class, on the field, in the changing room. And Kyungsoo knows he's watching, too, even with one word never shared between them and a great divide.

They're broaching Autumn now, the field littered with frost in the early hours of the morning so practice is scheduled to the afternoon instead because it'll be too slippery now. He doesn't really mind. Morning practices are a bitch, even if they do get to ditch the soccer team doing it so early.

"Yo," Sehun and Chanyeol approach him at the same time, the three being the only ones in the otherwise empty gymnasium. They usually hang out here when they arrive to school before the bell, but now they have a couple of hours to kill before the bell signals for them to move their asses to first period.

"What's up?" He asks with a groggy throat, sleep still shrouding him.

"Oh nothing," Sehun smirks, side-eyeing Chanyeol. "We were just gonna go sabotage Minseok's locker. You wanna help?"

That wakes Jongin right up, and before he can even register the movement, he's sitting on the floor instead of laying and his eyes are wide open. "Why are you always picking on that kid, Sehun? He didn't do anything to you."

Sehun's cheeks heat up, for some reason unknown to man (Oh Sehun never blushes), but maybe it's in anger because the next thing he's spewing out is, "he's the scum on the bottom of my shoe. I can't fucking stand him-- him and that fucking soccer team. He knew what the fuck he was doing when he signed up to join, and I take that as a personal war. Fuck him."

"Whoa man, chill," Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow, hand resting on Sehun's shoulder before he's harshly smacked away.

"Whatever," he spins with a dramatic flourish and walks away, Chanyeol racing after him, and all Jongin can think is that he doesn't want to follow. Not now, not ever again.




--




Jongin stares over the rows of scratched up desks at Kyungsoo, eyes only blinking occasionally in case he misses a glance back. He watches, and watches, and watches. Salvation only comes in the form of dark brown irises, and they spend the remainder of class with eyes on each other; Kyungsoo over the smooth expanse of a square jaw and deep double lids and Jongin over the subtle swells of pink lips, with the occasional glimpse of a daring pink tongue.

Nothing much changes during practice, either, eyes still stuck like glue. He does get a good scolding from Sehun for running into the wrong in-zone with the ball. He wondered why nobody was trying to stop him. Now that he thinks about it, maybe those yells weren't cheers after all.

By the end of the day, under the blistering, grueling sun that's starting to set low on the horizon with red bleeding into orange bleeding into yellow, both teams are soaked with sweat and ache down to the bone. When it's season-- a time where the sun will set long before they get out of practice and their morning practices will be brightly lit-- they're going to be in the worst pain ever, so all they do is pop some pills now and get over it. At least that's what Sehun tells them to do.

Jongin stands at the end of the bench on his row, the space between all the rows completely open except for two walls of lockers on opposites sides of the room, and the showers adjacent to those. Kyungsoo stands by the lockers, not changing and just wiping down the sweat that's accumulated on the back of his neck and face. They gaze at each other for a quick second before Jongin licks his lips and looks down at the ground. He hopes Kyungsoo will get the message.

"You coming?" Sehun raises an eyebrow at him, most of the others gone, but it still isn't empty enough.

"Nah," he shrugs off the question, hoping his friends won't pry into it too much. "I'm gonna catch a later bus. Go ahead without me."

"You sure?" Chanyeol continues on, "because we could wait with you."

"It's really fine," he insists as he hears Kyungsoo telling Minseok that he wants to catch a shower now that everyone is done, and he feels happy knowing that Kyungsoo heard him. "I have some tutoring in math, it's fine."

His friends shrug, taking off without another word and the dead, eerie silence that follows the door slamming shut has Jongin's ears buzzing and stomach twisting in anticipation.

They're alone.

With a tiny sweep of the room, Jongin turns to face Kyungsoo, whose back is against the closed lockers, arms dangling by his sides, and eyes on the dip of the loose shirt Jongin wears over his shoulder pads.

His legs feel heavy as he walks across the locker room, but some of that could be the weighty material of his pants he still hasn't taken off. Even his hair is still soaked with sweat, and he probably looks gross with the black paint smearing across his cheeks, but as he watches himself swim in the black of Kyungsoo's eyes, he can't bring himself to care.

Jongin lets one hand rest on the space above Kyungsoo's head, palm flat against chilled metal and it hits with a bang, their bodies almost touching in the most intimate of places with the smaller's mouth ajar. "Jo--" he starts, but Jongin stops it by swooping down and pressing their lips together, Kyungsoo's upper lip caught between his and he pulls slightly.

Jongin almost hates to find out that he likes kissing and touching boys much more than girls. He knows he should be scared of this-- of thinking of a boy in such a way-- but all the sermons at church turn into a blur of words in his past that he doesn't feel like reconnecting with since Kyungsoo's lips fit so perfectly against his (and Jongin wonders if the other is thinking the same thing).

The kiss isn't rushed; it's the perfect kind of slow that melts a symphony of feelings into the pit of their stomachs, and it's only when Jongin cups the side of his face with his free hand that the symphony speeds up and falls into place in their hearts.

He pulls away only to watch the way Kyungsoo's eyes slowly flutter upwards, then leans back down to kiss him again before pushing himself off the wall. His movements are lethargic as he grabs his bag and swings it over his shoulder, muscles weighed with feelings he's never had before and it's only once he's out of Kyungsoo's sight that he realizes he's so achingly hard it's painful.

The seal of their lips signs a deal unspoken yet mutually understood: tell no one.




--




The next day neither teams have practice, so the only way Jongin is able to see Kyungsoo is during class when they talk about Shakespeare and the methodical use of iambic pentameter. They cut the love-sick glances, because when it comes to something as risky as this, it's best to avoid all contact.

Nobody has any idea that Kim Jongin even knows who Do Kyungsoo is, and they both want to keep it that way.

But the day after that is a completely different story.

Practice resumes, more backbreaking than the last, and Sehun seems pissed. He calls Chanyeol out on every single little thing, from the way he holds the ball as he runs ("you're gonna fumble when you go to throw!") to the way he blocks when he's on defense ("you'll get called on excessive blocking, you meathead!").

Jongin sits down and rubs and his temples once Sehun finally calls the meet to a long-awaited end, hanging his head low to answer the curious glances of Kyungsoo. Am I supposed to stay?

Yes, he answers back, tongue running over the bottom of his top teeth. He's not really sure when these secret gestures, signals of words, came about as general knowledge, but he likes the way he can communicate without speaking.

The same can't be said for Sehun.

Said boy slams his locker when he's done changing, and Chanyeol bows his head as he leaves also, neither explaining to anyone what the fuck is going on. Jongin doesn't really care, as long as they keep him out of the drama.

He's just glad he doesn't have to make up excuses to anyone. He simply locks the door once everyone is gone, face cleaned from black paint, but his football uniform still adorns him. Kyungsoo looks almost unsure as he strides over, and Jongin knows what he's thinking.

He honestly can't answer.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo starts, and the low tones send a jolt of pleasure down his spine. Before he can say anything further, he's being drawn into Jongin with the crook of his elbow behind Kyungsoo's neck and a hand squeezing his hip. The fine material of his soccer shorts feels like silk under Jongin's fingertips.

It starts off slow, just like last time, two sets of lips moving in sync alongside the palpitations of their hearts with emotions coursing through the blood in their veins. Kyungsoo opens his mouth obediently when Jongin's tongue runs across his bottom lip, then across the ridges of his teeth, and finally tasting the sweet flavor of his name on Kyungsoo's tongue.

Kyungsoo rests his hands on Jongin's sides, thumbs rubbing gentle lines into the thin material of holey jersey. They don't even pull back for air and decide instead to beg for breath in each other's mouths, slowly inhaling oxygen along with the scent of lust-driven adrenaline.

The next time they do this-- whatever this is-- Jongin's hands run over the curve of Kyungsoo's ass and to his thighs, fingers pressing in to lift, and the elder panics, wrapping his legs around a strong waist and arms draping across broad shoulders.

Their cocks push together from the force of him trying to keep Kyungsoo against the lockers, Jongin gasping against his lips and rutting lightly. Kyungsoo is more of the aggressor this time; he takes Jongin's bottom lip between his teeth and pulls, letting it come back with a pop before his tongue is shoved down the football player's throat.

A few rolls of Jongin's hips has Kyungsoo's moans fanning out across the room and he suddenly becomes jealous of all the surfaces that are going to soak up the vibrations, and of the face of the locker that gets to feel Kyungsoo's heated skin against it. "What are we doing?" Kyungsoo asks in a whisper against Jongin's lips, nails digging into his shoulderblades.

"I don't know," is the only response, because it's the truth. Jongin doesn't know what they're doing. He's never done anything like this with a girl, let alone a boy.

The pace of their bodies increases, the smaller arching against him, chests pushed together tightly, and his hips start rolling also. Tiny, soft hands come to hold both of Jongin's cheeks as he licks into Kyungsoo's mouth again; heavier, hotter, and with another rut, he's coming inside of his pants, the stain probably permanent.

He doesn't stop until Kyungsoo comes too, soaking his boxers with white running down the insides of his thigh. Jongin wants to lick it up, but he doesn't have the courage or the patience. His first priority is showering and changing out of his soiled clothes. He'll leave it for Junmyeon to wash.

When Kyungsoo exits the room, much sooner than the younger does, he no longer knows Kim Jongin.




--




Kyungsoo stands alone in the locker room, clothes shed and folded neatly on the bench. Their morning practice ran hard, the sun beating down relentlessly and he knows he's going to be exhausted for the rest of the day, especially since they have a game later.

Jongin is long gone, skipping his shower (ew, Kyungsoo thinks) and heading out with Sehun, oddly leaving Chanyeol behind to walk out with Minseok when Kyungsoo told his friend he needs to shower.

It's unnervingly quiet when he turns on the shower, knuckles bleeding white against the knob because something just doesn't feel right. But nothing happens as he starts to lather up his hair, or rinse his face with soap, and his shoulders turn lax into the warm water cascading down his back.

Kyungsoo screams when something warm presses against his back, skin melding onto his and fingers prying into his hips, and his voice bouncing off the walls and it's embarrassing even to his own ears. "Shh," the person hisses, lips then trailing down his neck and he leans into it, the plush skin so familiarized with his body that heat instantly trails down to the bottom of his belly.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo gasps out, the palms of strong hands trailing down to grab hold of his cock. "What are you doing?" He asks when Jongin presses himself into Kyungsoo's ass, free hand grabbing the elder's jaw to turn his face for a kiss.

"You looked sexy today," Jongin tells him, breathing out against his lips. That's when he flips Kyungsoo around, back against the cold tile so Jongin feels him up with fingernails raking down soaking wet skin. Both of them have water dripping from their hair and into their eyes, traveling down their chins to meet at the space their chests are touching.

"And I didn't lock the door, either," Jongin continues, fingers now burrowing into plush cheeks. "Anyone could catch us." Kyungsoo lets his head fall into the crook of Jongin's shoulder, sucking hickies into the skin as he fucks Jongin's hand. "Touch me too," he whispers, bucking when Kyungsoo's palm wraps around the base and a thumb circles the head.

The water soon turns cold on Jongin's skin but Kyungsoo's tongue is still blazing; against his nipples then collarbones and neck, up until their mouths move together and tongues twirl. "You're not worried about someone seeing us?" Kyungsoo murmurs, the speed of their pace increasing.

"It would be a thrill, getting caught," Jongin replies breathlessly, letting his other hand fall from yanking Kyungsoo's hair to cupping his balls, catalyzing his orgasm until white is sticky in the hairs of Jongin's thigh. The younger follows right after, hips rutting into soft fingers holding tight around him.

They pant against other cheeks, chests heaving with exhaustion far beyond what any practice could do. "School's starting soon," Kyungsoo states, reeling Jongin in to press a kiss to his lips, then he's leaving to towel off while Jongin is still recovering in the communal shower.

But, once the first period bell rings, both of them are long gone, not even one come stain on the drain.




--




Jongin only knows Kyungsoo, or vise-versa, when hands are wrapped around forearms and tugging unknowing bodies into storage closets (or empty classrooms). Sometimes he'll force Kyungsoo up against a wall with their breaths coming out heavily from the rush; sometimes push him until he's bending backwards over some boxes, their trousers clashing messily; but his favorite is when he lifts Kyungsoo up to sit on a desk, legs opening wide so he can fit between them smoothly.

He loves it because those are the times he can take all the moments they have to properly touch Kyungsoo; to sweep his tongue over taut collarbones and a flawless neck, added to his hands inside a starched shirt to feather against pert nipples.

Occasionally Kyungsoo will draw him in like that, calves on the backs of his thighs and crotches brushing together, and they soil their school uniforms with stains of sin under the watchful eyes of inevitability.

Weeks work into months and Jongin is still folding them into the tight corners of closets, except with an added exception: when they sneak into each other's bedrooms.

It's too much of a risk for parents to see one or the other together, because it poses risks at school. They still don't talk, either, except for the occasional glance or sultry stare.

What they do at night is tentative, scary, unforeseen territory that has both of them cowering but even more afraid to lose the experience with each other. It starts out with sweet kisses, Jongin hovering above Kyungsoo with the latter's back against the bed and legs spread against the sheets. Then it moves to Jongin's tongue on Kyungsoo's jawline, trailing down to his chest and stomach where he sucks proud hickies onto a white canvas. Then it moves to the hard part, where they take off clothes, and Kyungsoo's hard cock feels funny in his mouth, because it's not really supposed to be there, but at the time it feels so right.

When Kyungsoo sucks Jongin off, it's a different plot they follow. His lips tremble from anxiety and hands shake as they tug colored briefs down tan thighs. Kyungsoo's tongue is testing, running against the shaft, but once Jongin's fingers tangle in his hair and push, long, drawn out moans filling his ears, he gains the courage to give it his all until Jongin is coming down his throat with a silent cry because their parents can't hear anything. If they did, it would mean certain death.

Afterwards they'll kiss, and Jongin will trap Kyungsoo's body with his arms and legs (and there have been a few times that Jongin takes Kyungsoo's hand and lets their fingers fall through each other's, palms clasped together, and neither really want to let go).




--




Sehun rolls another small paper ball as he sinks lower in his chair, slicks it up with spit, and stuffs it into the straw he saved from lunch.

Ready. Aim. Fire.

It hits the same spot the others have for the past twenty minutes, joining the growing pile on the back of Minseok's head, and Sehun snorts because it's supposed to be funny, but Jongin really doesn't find the humor in it anymore; not in the way Sehun calls out slurs or the way he takes the life of someone else and distorts it into a horrid reality.

"Hey Jongin, listen to this one," Sehun grins once the teacher is away. Jongin has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach when Kyungsoo turns around in his seat beside Minseok, staring with listless eyes that have dark rings lining the bottom (Jongin knows it's because they were up late last night watching movies and kissing through the majority of it, which only packs of a punch of guilt). "How do you get Minseok to sit on a barstool?"

"How?" Jongin sighs in return, leaning back in his seat so that it's on two legs and trying not to look at the way Kyungsoo's shirt has ridden up his back a little. He's getting a bit tired of humoring his best friend.

"You turn it upside down!"

The screeching of a chair has Jongin cringing and his chair flying back down to the floor. He's about to cover his ears when a thump is heard right next to him, and he turns to see Kyungsoo, nostrils flared in anger, and Sehun's shirt collar in his fists and the younger cowering for his life.

"Do you think those jokes are fucking funny?" Kyungsoo spits in disgust, but Sehun doesn't dare wipe it from his face.

The only reason Jongin isn't intervening is because he isn't supposed to know Kyungsoo, and he also is supposed to care about Sehun, but he doesn't, so the only choice he's left with is to stare blankly. Minseok is the one that has to come and grab Kyungsoo's elbow before he actually throws the first punch, though it is a fight for him to let go. The two leave the room with surreptitious glances back from Minseok, furious ones from Kyungsoo, and reassuring ones forward from Jongin.

"Stupid fucker," Sehun snarls once the door slams behind the them, everyone in the class now staring at the two of them sitting in their seats with embarrassment up to their ears.

"Maybe you shouldn't have taken it that far," Jongin suggests timidly, trying not to sound like he's a little more biased than he should be.

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to fucking destroy that other kid," he states with determination, and it makes the bile in the elder's throat rise. "What the fuck is his name, anyway?"

"Don't do that. Please just let it go," Jongin half begs, half demands. If it were up to him, he would just sweep Kyungsoo off his feet and take him as far away from here as he could so no one would ever bother them again, but he can't, so he'll make sure their lives here are no worse than they were before they got to fooling around.

"Why?"

Jongin gazes around the room to see that most everyone has gone back to their own devices and only a few are staring out of the classroom window to try and see where Minseok and Kyungsoo went. Rumors will probably be spread by the end of the period, but as long as no one hurts Kyungsoo it's okay.

"I don't know."




--




Kyungsoo isn't as lonely as Minseok is, he has a few friends, but not as many as Jongin. And there are people like Baekhyun who, despite his earlier malice towards Kyungsoo, like to put him in a headlock while Jongdae pats his ass. Foolery, really.

Jongin starts to think something is wrong when he feels rage bubble up and pop on the surface when he slams into Chanyeol as hard as he can-- and Chanyeol doesn't even have the ball.

Maybe it was okay to touch boys, but to like them? Love them?

Jongin still doesn't know.

It doesn't help that they haven't talked about what happened with Sehun, so he doesn't know where the hell that sudden defence for his friend came from, but it strips him of his nerves nonetheless.

It only makes him feel worse when he sees that Kyungsoo's laughter is because of someone else and not because of the way Jongin tickles him accidently (when he's dragging Kyungsoo's closer and his fingers dig into his sensitive side) or because Jongin said something stupid again (like when he imitates Krong as they watch Pororo together in the darkness of his room).

He definitely knows something is up when the words don't look at anyone else but me almost claw through his chest, but he manages to suppress it just in time, and instead decides to kiss Kyungsoo until the words go away, disappear completely.

(They don't.)




--




"Were you angry today?" Kyungsoo whispers with his head on Jongin's clothed chest, fine brown hair tickling his chin.

"No," he replies lethargically, running his fingers through the strands, hoping Kyungsoo can't hear the wobble in his voice. "Why?"

"Seemed like you were going pretty hard on Chanyeol," the elder says and looks up at him, the brightness from the tv creating a show of lights on their skin and the low volume serving as white noise. Kyungsoo hesitates for half a second before lifting himself and throwing a leg over Jongin's hips to straddle him, hands folded on his sternum with his face propped on his fingers. "Tell me about it."

"It's nothing," Jongin assures, hands gently caressing his arm then down his sides, which makes him giggle silently. "Just..."

Kyungsoo soaks in the silence that follows, but not for long. Then he's crawling up the bed, letting his body rest on Jongin's once they're face-to-face so that he can brush their lips together in a chaste kiss that leaves their heads reeling. "Just what?" He breathes over Jongin's face, pulling back slightly until he's tugged back in by a hand on the back of his neck.

"Does everybody," Jongin bites his lip hard, deciding just to fuck it because he has this immense feeling and he knows it's not going away any time soon. "have to constantly," hands go down to grip at thick thighs and a pert ass, bringing them closer yet not close enough, "touch you?"

"You're jealous?" Kyungsoo grinds his hips downward with the help of Jongin's hands bearing down into him, the tv now completely ignored.

"Just stop," he gasps at a particularly hard thrust, "letting them touch you." Jongin lifts his head to take Kyungsoo's lips back, to reclaim them and bite them until the skin is completely raw and bleeding. "Only I can touch you." It comes out as barely a murmur, but Kyungsoo hears it anyway, and they don't talk again until they moan each other's names as they come in their pants.

Jongin knows how possessive and domineering it sounds, but he doesn't regret one syllable of it.

Kyungsoo's parents aren't home tonight, they're away at a meeting for Boosters of the high school, but they still have to be cautious in case there's anyone else lurking around or his parents come back early.

They curl into each other once they're cleaned, Jongin's chest to his back and arms secured around his waist like the most comfortable seat belt in the world. Kyungsoo can feel the other's gaze on the side of his face like a boulder, but he doesn't mind it all that much because it's only the shroud of themselves that he's wrapped in that matters.

And he could never define what that is.

(And Jongin finally thinks it's okay to like boys. Love is a different story, though.)




--




The helmet sits heavy on Jongin's head as he trudges into the locker room, eyes squinting from the beads of sweat falling into them. He's tired, rightfully so, until he sees Kyungsoo there, feet scuffing quietly, almost tensely against the ground as he walks up to Jongin with a smile on his face, and suddenly he feels like he has all the vigor in the world. "Hey."

"Hey," he greets in return, hands by his side, and they stand there in front of each other, shoes rooted to the ground.

The air in the room sticks to their skin when Kyungsoo's hands come to rest on the sides of Jongin's helmet, lifting up slowly to reveal knotted hair and red, heated cheeks. "You're a mess," Kyungsoo asserts in low tones, but his smile is distant and his eyes soft, fuzzy around the edges of dark irises that Jongin wants to get lost in.

His helmet rests between them as he steps forward, Kyungsoo retreating, walking backwards until there's a clang of his back hitting something. Jongin doesn't look away from him as his arm comes to rest over Kyungsoo's head, forearm flat against the metal, and his other hand curving around Kyungsoo's neck, a steady pulse under his palm. Jongin only lets the connection break when he focuses on pink lips and leans down to catch them.

The metal locker is hard yet familiar against Kyungsoo's back, the sharp edges of the square holes stabbing him painfully but he doesn't really mind it because of the pleasure shooting through his spine as their tongues connect, numbing his body except for the concentrated heat in his cock.

Jongin's hips snap forward a few times, the hand previously on his neck now holding Kyungsoo's thigh against his waist. They pant into each other's mouths, skin buzzing, hearts racing, and minds shut off from the world outside the locker room.

"I think I like you," Jongin whispers first, pulling back for a second to admire the sweat marring Kyungsoo's face, not from practice, but from just the two of them moving against each other. It's an odd sort of pride that fills him when he knows he's the one to get the elder all hot and bothered, begging for more of him.

Kyungsoo bites his lip before replying, shoving Jongin until he's sitting down on the wooden bench behind them. He crawls over Jongin, straddling him more intimately like that night weeks ago, arms strung around his shoulders loosely. He's perched in his lap but not awkwardly, since Jongin has his legs open and is supporting Kyungsoo with hands on his hip and lower back. "I think I like you too," he mutters very plainly, eyes locked with Jongin's.

The relief that floods his chest is surreal. After countless sleepless nights thinking of feelings and confessions, he's glad to say it wasn't all for naught. The befuddlement of his brain since the beginning of the year has been a journey, and now he's at a clear end. It's like putting on glasses after years of being blind.

They kiss sweetly-- like lovers reunited and affection newly sparked in their souls.

But they also don't hear him coming until it's too late, the door slamming shut a millisecond too late for them to spring apart, and they stay frozen under a heavy gaze after their necks snap towards the noise. Kyungsoo and Jongin stare back at him, lips growing colder by the second, knowing he must be shocked by the unhinged jaw. Hell, just their position alone is startling, and now he just saw them kiss.

Those seconds turn into one of some of the most intense in Jongin's life, and he's sure Kyungsoo's too.

"I'm telling Sehun."

It's a shaky, trembling voice, vocal cords soaked in fear, but Jongin doesn't really blame him.

"Minseok, please," Kyungsoo tries, crawling out of Jongin's lap to approach him. Minseok holds out a quick hand for him to stop, and he does so immediately. The person with the leverage here is in control.

"You let me get shit on day after day for being gay," Minseok says, hand anything but steady in the air, "and here you are, about to fuck a guy."

Before either of them can refute-- try to do, say something, stop him, they're begging on their lives-- Minseok is out the door, eyes too watery not to have Jongin's vision blurring too.

They fucked up.

It's something they both realize as they stare at each other, shoulders slumped and tongues glued to the roofs of their mouths.




--




They meet up later at Kyungsoo's house, their hearts weighing heavy, and neither speak nor look too lively as Jongin introduces himself to his parents. They're screwed anyway, what does it really matter if he sneaks through the window or knocks on the door? (And Kyungsoo seems to ask this too, for he doesn't say anything the entire time his parents are going off on an impromptu Q&A session.)

Afterwards they head up to his room, the air melancholy and as tight around their necks as nooses when they sit on the bed, eyes on the ground.

"So what are we going to do?" Jongin skips straight to the point, a sigh lining the bottom of his chest but he doesn't bother letting it out.

"We get through this together," Kyungsoo says shyly, letting his fingertips dance over Jongin's palm before their hands lace together under the blue tent of Kyungsoo's lamp light.

Jongin stares at their fingers, liking the way he can barely tell whose finger is whose, before asking, "then what does that make us?"

"I guess," Kyungsoo starts, hand leaving Jongin's to tug him by his uniform tie until he's looming over the soccer player, hips between thighs and fingers tangled together again, "that means we're together."

"So like, I'm your boyfriend?" Jongin questions almost smugly, nose running across the shadow of Kyungsoo's collarbone. "And you're mine?"

"If that's what you want us to be," he moans in reply, body swathing in heat and arousal.

"I want you," Jongin mouths against his chest, the buttons of the shirt deftly unclasped just seconds ago, but his eyes are trained to Kyungsoo's half-lidded ones. "I want us."

This is the first night that Jongin works Kyungsoo open with slick fingers and sweat running down the expanse of his neck, the vein in Kyungsoo's temple throbbing from having to be silent when the pain and pleasure mix together in immense measures. Jongin kisses him through it, but he's trembling with as much fear and confusion as Minseok had just hours earlier.

This is both of their first times, and Kyungsoo makes sure to whisper reassurances in Jongin's ear to get him to keep going because it doesn't hurt that much, you're not hurting me, I promise, it will feel good later. He smiles knowing that Jongin is so concerned, and he is so himself, but doing this with someone he knows, is comfortable with-- and maybe, just possibly, someone he loves-- is the most incredible feeling in the world.

Jongin thrusts into Kyungsoo when they're both ready, the adults having long since gone to bed, and it's a slow and steady process of waiting and kissing and nails digging into Jongin's back, but it's worth it when he sees the explosion of stars in Kyungsoo's face. They come fast-- their libidos high and experienced but nothing could have prepared them for the actual thing.

And it's not just the getting off part, either. It's sharing a huge part of their lives together, of being the closest they can ever be right after two different confessions, and it's honestly the best feeling in the world, if Jongin does say so himself.

This is also the first time that Jongin doesn't crawl out of the window at midnight, and instead he presses his lips to Kyungsoo's sweaty forehead, his arms around narrow shoulders and Kyungsoo's legs covering his. "Hey," the elder murmurs, reaching a hand up to push some hair out of Jongin's face, and it reminds him of the way Kyungsoo had looked at him earlier, so soft and comforting like Jongin was fragile, breakable in his gaze.

"What?" He asks, kissing Kyungsoo's fingers when they fly past, earning a giggle from the latter.

Kyungsoo burrows further into Jongin's side, turning off the lamp beside them so that the room is completely dark, and then maybe Jongin won't see all the love burning bright in the brown of his eyes, sparking off the tips of his eyelashes.

"I just want you to remember that no matter what happens, we'll be together."

"I like that."

So the seal of their lips signs a new deal of unspoken promises: love me now, love me forever.




--




The school is desolate with a thick coating of darkness lying upon it, the winter sun having long gone and practice ended hours ago. Sehun still sits in the locker room still, though, ass pressed against a solid bench and the room only lit by the moonlight that manages to seep past the blinds of the window on the other side of the room.

He drums his knuckles on the wood in a random pattern, his legs somewhat sore from the few laps he just ran after his extra math lessons. And he doesn't know why he decided to just come and soak in the atmosphere of the locker room, just sit there, hoodie wrapped tight around his frame, but that's what he's doing.

Sehun's muscles feel paralyzed-- or maybe it's his mind not ready to be contained to a home that feels like it has the bare skeleton of a family inside. He doesn't want to go back just yet.

The heater has been turned off for the night already and the fog of his breath contrasts against the black, and the cold bites into his cheeks, but he doesn't mind. The cold drives out all the thoughts in his head and turns it into a clean state of placidity. It's nice, every once and a while, to get away from himself and the rest of the world.

Even the silence, only interrupted by the occasional drip from a faucet in the shower, is appreciated. That is until there's a bang of the door hitting the concrete wall and a sudden yellow light pours into the room. Sehun snaps his head towards the source so fast he's sure he hears his neck crack.

The door is open and the light is flooding in but there's a black figure standing there, his silhouette outlined on the floor, and the sides of his face barely visible by the bending light. Sehun squints at the person, only to turn his lips up in a sneer and ask, "what the fuck do you want?"

"I need to tell you something," the person replies simply, voice raw on his ears.

Minseok is breathing hard and sweaty in the doorway, having run all over the school looking for Sehun only to find him no where-- except for here, now, sitting on a bench in the middle of an unlit locker room.

"Well, what is it?" Sehun urges, fingers curled around the edge of his seat. He finds what he thinks are the whites of Minseok's eyes and stares. He keeps his face stoic, mouth hard and set in a frown as he watches the way Minseok looks around the room almost frantically.

He's stalling for time, or he's making sure they're alone. Sehun doesn't know which is worse.

"What?!" Sehun screams through the reticence, "I don't have all day!"

Minseok flinches a bit at the words, and all the air in the room seems to gather around to hear what he has to say, so Sehun listens up too. The stagnant space between them seems charged with tension and an awkward, raging intimacy, because they've never been in the same room alone, not when Sehun needs an audience to laugh at his jokes. It's different, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice tells Sehun that it's important.

With a deep breath, the light now illuminating the curve of Minseok's lips, he gasps out a "nothing" and the door is slamming again, and the yellow light is taken away, and Sehun is left alone once more with only the comfort of blanketed dusk.

Sehun chokes unspoken thoughts down in his throat and stores them in his chest, his adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes glued to the door that's left a residual bang echoing through his ears.

But through the gaps of his ribs and breaths that are few and far in between, a small word slips between the crack of Sehun's lips and dies unheard in the frigid night.

"Wait."