Chapter Text
“Call me, ‘kay baby?” The man says, darting in for a final kiss on the mouth. Hyunjin turns his head at the last second, nose scrunched, and he laughs like it's all part of a joke. “I know you will. They all do.”
Hyunjin never should've given him the time of day. He puts a hand on his chest and pushes, eager to get him out of his house and life. “Okay. Bye now.”
“Ah, don't get jealous,” he says, pouting at Hyunjin like he's trying to console him— over what, he doesn't know. Hyunjin’s pretty sure the green on his face stems from actual cringe-induced nausea and not envy, but it's clear this guy lacks room-reading skills. “You definitely made me forget about everyone else tonight.”
“Mmh, that's nice,” Hyunjin mumbles, barely present, still shepherding him toward the door. He's already thinking about what Netflix show he'll put on when this Johnny Bravo wannabe gets the hint. “You're welcome, or whatever.”
He takes a step out into the hallway but pivots at the last second, grabbing the top part of the threshold and leaning back into Hyunjin's space. “I was made for casual, you know? I never want seconds.”
Who the fuck asked? Hyunjin thinks, but battles against himself to reel it in. A fight would only keep this guy around for longer. “Ah.”
“But you…” he bites his lip, giving Hyunjin’s body an appreciative once-over. It was tolerable (and expected) pre-fuck. Now it's just comically ridiculous. “Shit, baby. I have a feeling you're special.”
It's hilarious, really, how they've all got the same speech prepared. They think it's a trick up their sleeves, but they forget Hyunjin's already shaken their clothes off of them and seen it all. Chest puffed with pride, too-big of an ego consuming them from the inside. Nothing to hide— they never bother hiding it.
“I didn't come,” Hyunjin says, because it'll for sure bruise his self-perception so bad he will never contact him again. And because it's sadly true.
He blinks, breathes out a half-laugh. “What?”
Once they got in bed, he never bothered looking at Hyunjin, too focused on his own abs to spare a glance at the face that came with the ass he was fucking into. Hyunjin wrapped his fingers around himself early on, anticipating disappointment, but couldn't even get two strokes in before Bravo was groaning into his ear and going boneless next to him. Very unsexily, by the way. Hyunjin went soft just as fast as this guy reached orgasm.
“You came two minutes in and then flopped on the bed,” Hyunjin continues, like this man wasn't present for the whole thing too. Lost in post-nut haze, probably, and quite the speedy one. “Killed my boner so fast it's probably a new record.”
“Bullshit,” The guy tries to argue, but the tips of his ears are burning. Hyunjin is too tired to pretend to care— he ruined Hyunjin's night first.
“Go find another guy to lie to you to keep you happy,” he says, and starts to close the door. The guy hurries to take his hands off of the frame. “Now leave me alone. Good night!”
.
Maybe it's a curse.
They’re usually the ones to come up to him. Sometimes outright with their intentions, sometimes engaging in a small talk preamble. Hyunjin ticks off red flags from his list as the conversation flows, and only a selected few make the cut. There's a process. He doesn't fuck just anyone, thank you very much, and if he foregoes trials it's just because he's desperately horny.
Who doesn't have those days?
Whatever.
Meticulous or rushed, nothing explains his terrible bad luck. Why— why, for God's sake— are they all absolute shit in bed? Hyunjin can count the times he's had a satisfying orgasm at the hands of another person with the fingers on his own. He's tried to guide guys many times, offering his humble input on how to help them make it good for both, but they never take it well. Or they pretend to hear, and then continue to do things wrong. All of them nothing but mediocre dicks and heads as solid as rocks.
After particularly awful spells, he goes on celibacy strikes, and his box of toys welcomes him back with its very charming array of lengths and girths. Hyunjin's pace, Hyunjin's favorite angle, Hyunjin’s pleasure above all else. And while he brings himself to completion for the nth time, he thinks, just as he does every time— what do they gain by acting so differently off and in bed? If they’ve managed to charm Hyunjin enough to let them hit, why not keep up what got them there in the first place?
A mystery he's still foolishly trying to solve.
“Just ask Yang Jeongin to fuck you,” Jisung says.
Hyunjin frowns, missing the straw in his coffee. It digs on his cheek. “Who?”
“Campus Casanova,” Minho tells him. He takes advantage of Jisung's position, resting with his head on Minho's lap, and plucks out a strand of grass to tickle his nose with. “I've heard some wild stories.”
“Wah!” Jisung bats his hand away, spluttering like it went into his mouth instead. Minho giggles and pushes him back down, now running it along his boyfriend's jaw. “Hyung, come on. I was gonna say something.”
“Sorry,” He says, but he's clearly not. He flicks the grass away and replaces it with his thumb, slides it gingerly up and down the side of Jisung's neck. “Go on, jagi.”
Hyunjin sips his drink and looks the other way. Ugh. He hates them— always staring at each other and sharing small, intimate smiles; moving as one because after so much time together, the lines are bound to blur. They're nasty show offs, but also his favorite people on Earth. Hyunjin rooted for them from the start and established a break-up ban as soon as the happy news reached his ears: either they stay together forever, or they pay for Hyunjin's therapist when he stops believing in love and refuses to leave the house as a result.
Looks like he has nothing to worry about, so far.
“I heard people cry during and after, because he always says no when they beg for a second night,” Jisung relays, eyes wide. His pupils jump between Minho and Hyunjin as he waits for their scandalized response. It's juicy gossip, after all. “I think it's true, for the record. Too many testimonies.”
“Eugh. If it is, he sounds like a prick,” Hyunjin says, mouth curling. First in disgust and mere seconds later, in thought. He sighs. “But if he comes with an actual good fuck, I just might. I'm starting the desperate stage of my cycle.”
“Well, there seems to be plenty of evidence in his favor,” Minho points out with a shrug. “You should go for it.”
“Definitely yes!” Jisung nods enthusiastically. He springs up but doesn't go too far, melting against Minho's chest as soon as strong arms pull him in; magnetized to always find their way around Jisung's waist. “And then you have to tell me the full details. I only ever hear chunks in the hallways.”
“Sure,” Hyunjin laughs, crossing his fingers. “Let's hope he's as good as they say.”
In support, the lovebirds cross theirs too. Prayer circle so he can finally get fucked how he deserves— what friendship is really all about.
.
Hyunjin finds him on Instagram two minutes after opening the app, but the account is private and amasses a mighty total of fifty followers, which comes to him as a surprise. The only photo he has access to is Yang Jeongin's profile picture: a close up shot from above that makes his head look huge and his smile a little goofy. It's… cute. Fun. It makes him laugh through his nose, sudden and genuine.
Far from what Hyunjin expected coming in, though. He pictured embarrassing thirst traps, a lot of tongue action and random underwear brands peeking out his jeans— the predictable Fuckboy Special. If he's honest, being hit with nothing was at the bottom of the list, almost seemed absurd to include as a possibility. How is he fucking his way around the school if finding him is an odyssey to begin with?
Maybe the mystery is what draws so many people in, Hyunjin thinks, trying to make sense of it.
He clicks out without getting his usual preliminary taste and lets his phone drop with a thump against his belly. Well, so be it. He'll have to find Jeongin the old-fashioned way: by asking around and keeping an eye out for the face he was able to put to the name. He's aware it's more like a distorted glimpse of it, but those are the crumbs he has to work with.
Hyunjin's sure Jeongin has a perfectly normal-sized skull, so he dismisses the fish-eye angle to concentrate on messy blonde hair and crinkled brown eyes, the peek of clothing style he's seen. It's an active, daily search— thorough, sure, but frustratingly fruitless. Aside from his quiet presence on social media, it's as if Yang Jeongin doesn't exist.
And then, my mere coincidence, he hears it.
There's a group of friends sitting on the table next to his, gathered closely to gossip through too-loud whispers and enthusiastic hand gestures. Hyunjin's ears tune in instinctively, bored out of his mind as he finishes what's left of his rushed lunch.
“Minhee said he made her cum so many times she was shaking like a leaf,” a girl shares. “She has a boyfriend now, but still thinks about Jeongin once a week.”
A guy hisses. “Having to match or beat Yang’s game? Tough.”
Hyunjin perks up at the name and starts to pay more attention. He pushes bits of his salad around with the fork, feigning indifference. A pea to the right, two carrot slices to the left. Yummy!
“I heard a few had to back down when they saw his cock,” Someone else jumps in. “Apparently, it's huge. Like a third leg.”
Hyunjin's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, jaw dropping open just as the rest start to echo his exact thoughts.
“... Oh my God?”
“No fucking way.”
“I bet I could take him.”
The whole circle starts to laugh. Hyunjin sneaks a glance over his shoulder and catches them slapping their friend playfully, the guy's ears burning red from the attention.
One of them dissipates his cloud of confidence with an easy, “You can't even talk to him, man.”
“Sure I can!” he argues.
“Then go do it, Romeo!” A girlfriend encourages, patting his shoulder with a smirk. “Take the chance while he's here!”
Hold on— rewind. Hyunjin snaps his head up so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, scanning the sea of students idling around with an excited tingle on his fingertips. A few feet away, two or three tables over, a head of dyed blonde stands out from the rest. Pen twirling between his fingers, tongue poking past his lips. Normal-sized skull, just like Hyunjin accurately predicted.
That's his guy.
He gathers his things in a haste, set on his next move but still making a brief detour to throw away his trash like a model citizen. He fixes his hair and clothes, then applies some more colored chapstick on his lips; smacks them a few times for the sake of better coverage and therefore effect.
Breathe in, breathe out. Leap of faith and lust.
“Hi.”
Jeongin’s pen flies from his hand, bouncing on the floor until it stops near his feet. “Shit,” he mumbles, diving for it without thinking and hitting the corner of a book on the way down. It catapults into the air, lands unfortunately— and oddly— open, guaranteeing dirtied, wrinkled pages. “Fuck.”
“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,” Hyunjin says after a guilty wince. Not a promising start, he'll admit, but thankfully not irredeemable either. He points at the empty seat closest to Jeongin. “Can I sit here?”
“Sure, uhm,” Jeongin looks back just for a second. Still hunched down, he grabs the book and turns it over to brush some of the dust off. “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.”
“Great!” Hyunjin settles in a heartbeat, ass-to-chair and his bag on the floor, right between his legs. He crosses his arms over the table and leans forward, inching further into Jeongin's space. “So, I was thinking—”
Jeongin bumps his forehead against the edge, finishes straightening up with his fingers rubbing the soon-to-be bruise. His whole face seems to be on the cusp of burning. “Oh, God.”
“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks, eyes wide.
He was aiming for a flirty smile and a sultry gaze, but his whole demeanor softens worriedly at the growing red splotch on Jeongin's skin. Jeongin waves a hand in the air to dismiss his concerns, nodding a few times.
“Yup, totally,” he says. Thumb and index brought together to form a circle, his other fingers kept upright— O. K. “Just peachy.”
Hyunjin chooses to believe him. He retraces a few steps back to the original plan, licking his lips and batting his eyelashes a little extra. “I'm Hyunjin.”
Reload.
“Jeongin,” Jeongin says, pointing at himself. He realizes how silly he looks after the fact, dropping his hand on top of his notes with a sigh.
Hyunjin giggles, following the brief path over Jeongin's knuckles with his own fingertips. “I know,” he admits.
Jeongin glances down at his bold touch, then up at his face with a bewildered frown. “You… do?”
“You've got quite the reputation around here,” Hyunjin smirks, biting his mouth and tasting cherry chapstick on the tip of his tongue. “The Yang Jeongin.”
Aim.
Feed his ego, play the part. The plan is to puff his head bigger than it already must be, judging by the stories: a serial one-night-stand-er with a never ending string of frivolous encounters on his back. We both got what we wanted, now leave. Hyunjin can deal with that— unfortunately, he's basically a professional. His statistics say few know how to use their mouths for something other than bluffing, but he's eager to find out whether Jeongin's the exception.
A blink. A gulp. “Ah, that…”
Wow. Maybe he's not used to people approaching him first. Maybe he's a beast in bed but shy to be called out as such in public— that would certainly be a first, but Hyunjin's already been surprised by this man once. Either way, he pulls his hand back to himself and tones the coy act down.
“I was actually wondering if you'd like to drop by my place sometime?” He says, message precise yet sufficiently implicit so as not to be considered crude. He shrugs for added nonchalance. “We could have some fun together.”
Shoot.
“Oh,” Jeongin blinks again. The few shades of pink that had subdued as Hyunjin talked return with full force, crowding on the height of his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. Yeah, this is definitely not his everyday experience. “I— Wow. I. Well, uhm.”
Hyunjin rises from his seat and throws his bag back over his shoulders. “Think about it, yeah?” he says, smiling down at him. Friendly, even if the proposal is anything but. He grabs Jeongin's pen and scribbles something quick on the corner of his notes. “Here's my number. Text me whenever.”
Jeongin's eyes go wide, and he traces the digits fleetingly before focusing back on Hyunjin's face. It earns him a wink and, right before Hyunjin turns to leave, a flying kiss. He ducks his head to hide the way his mouth twitches into a small smile, but a glimpse of it is all Hyunjin needs to celebrate his success.
Moving forward, it's only a matter of patience.
Easy.
.
How hard can it be to type a few words and hit send?
Seriously. Hyunjin can't believe Jeongin’s just ignoring him— basically the most humiliating way to get rejected in the history of ever. No made-up excuse, no ghosting, no standing-up. Hyunjin can't hate his guts if the guy doesn't give him enough material to work with. Like, anything at all! Now he's stuck frowning at random things in his line of sight throughout the day to make up for it: a vending machine, his airpods, the back of someone’s head or Minho's face.
(That last one grants him a headlock, knuckles grinding harshly on his skull as Jisung sits nearby and doesn't come to the rescue upon Hyunjin's pleading whines. Films it instead. Does that count? Can he blame Jeongin for the attack and despise him in peace, pretty please?)
The latest victims to Hyunjin's scowl problem are his books, scattered on the table he snatched right before the school’s library became too crowded. Open to pages he's already skimmed thrice, filled with words that can't seem to stick for long when he's busy debriefing with himself in his head. Was it something he said? Something he did?
He freezes— something in his face? As in… Oh, God. Like oregano from his salad, lodged snugly between his teeth. He didn't check once. Was he born yesterday? Hyunjin flies his hands up to his face and silent-screams into his palms.
“Um. Hyunjin?”
He snaps his head up with a gasp, cheeks pink. Jeongin stands in front of him, mouth pressed into a shaky, tentative smile as he holds onto the straps of his bag with white-knuckled force. Both, like a little kid on their first day of school. Hyunjin sits up straight and tries to gather the mess of notes he's made into a smaller, less chaotic pile; aiming for collected and busy rather than fuck-I-was-just-thinking-about-you.
He clears his throat. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Jeongin echoes, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. Hyunjin pretends to go back to reading from his book. Nonchalant on the outside, very much acutely aware of Jeongin meaning to say something on the inside. He waits— has been doing so for a whole week. “So. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not texting.”
Hyunjin has to swallow back a scoff. If that's the best he's got, eternal avoidance now seems the better option. “It's whatever,” he says without looking up. “I got the hint.”
“That's not— I didn't know how to— ugh,” Jeongin surprises him by shrugging his bag off and pulling a chair back to sit. “I just thought I'd save us both the trouble,” he tries to explain. Hyunjin watches him fiddle with his rings, still running away from eye contact. “It would just be… embarrassing.”
Wow. How nice of him: Hyunjin wanted a reason, and Jeongin served him one on a silver platter— he’s officially pissed off. He might’ve been fooled by Jeongin’s pretty face once, but it won't save him from this crossing of a line, that's for sure. Calling Hyunjin a shameful fuck? Who does he think he is?
He glares at Mr. God Complex dead-on, fire simmering in his irises. “Did you just come here to be fucking rude?”
“N-not like that!” Jeongin stutters in a rush, quickly waving his hands in the air. Yeah, right, Hyunjin thinks. Try to save yourself now. He crosses his arms over his chest with an eye-roll so deep his head hurts. “Sorry, I’m serious. It’s me— I would be embarrassing, because…”
Jeongin hesitates, reluctant to finish his sentence. Hyunjin raises an unimpressed eyebrow and urges him on with slow, growingly-irritated blinks. Jeongin slumps with a sigh, giving in.
“... It's not true.”
Hyunjin’s not in the mood for half an excuse. Immediately, he snaps. “What are you talking about?”
“The rumors— all fake. Every single one,” Jeongin blurts out, stretching his arms to the sides to indicate how much he means it when he says ALL. The words crash into each other on the way out, hurried and free, like it’s the first time he’s telling someone about it. “I don't even know how it started, I barely talk to people here. It’s crazy!”
It takes a second for the information to click into place, but when it does, Hyunjin has to put herculean effort into not unhinging his jaw as it drops. He leans forward, as much as the table between them allows, and loudly whispers, “Are you serious?!”
Jeongin nods, ears red. Hyunjin squints at him.
“You’re not joking with me?”
“I wish,” Jeongin winces, shrinking on the chair with a bashful shrug. “Like I said, it’s embarrassing.”
Hyunjin thinks about the bits and pieces he’s compiled these past few days, from Jisung’s own snooping to passing conversation. How he fucks them so well their legs go numb, eats them out so expertly they cum in record time. Sweet and attentive, he heard once. Knows exactly what he wants and how to give it to you just as good. In empty classrooms, party bathrooms, their bed, against any wall.
Nothing but a bunch of concerningly elaborate lies, it seems. Who started it? Why keep adding to it? Why Jeongin out of all people? Hyunjin shakes his head, throwing away dozens of questions for the one he's most curious to know the answer to.
“And you're…?”
“Not a virgin,” Jeongin quickly clarifies, like he needs to salvage himself from further humiliation. He tugs the neck of his shirt down and clasps a hand around his nape, nervously rubbing at his warm skin. “Just, uh. First and last time.”
Hyunjin was simply going to ask whether he was okay with so many wild stories floating around, but pointing it out now would probably finish heating up Jeongin’s face so gravely it could blow up the whole place. Wisely— and politely!— Hyunjin keeps his mouth shut.
“And you're— you, and I didn’t wanna waste your time,” Jeongin rambles on, swallowing dry every time they make eye contact for longer than five seconds. “If I was sure I could make it good for you, I would say yes. In a heartbeat, I mean. You're… you. And— my God, is it too hot in here?”
He hooks a finger on his collar again, fanning himself with his other hand. Hyunjin’s lips quirk, terribly endeared, and a giggle escapes him. The more they talk, the more the made-up image of Jeongin dissipates to make room for the real him, vastly different in every sense. A bit shy, but still honest— much better than the version Hyunjin was originally told about.
He leans on his elbows and props his chin on his palms, grinning like a fool. “So you do like me.”
“Of course,” Jeongin says, gesturing to his steadily pink face. “I have eyes.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Hyunjin says, softening into an earnest smile. It's his turn to blush. “It does make me feel better.”
“Good, good,” Jeongin sighs, relieved. “Sorry I took a while. I didn't want you to, like, hate me? I just needed time to practice saying this without wanting to die first.”
Hyunjin chuckles. “I think you nailed it.”
“Not at all,” Jeongin shakes his head with a snort. Hyunjin notices the way his muscles shed tension slowly, shoulders pushing back more naturally as laughter loosens him up. “I prayed for the ground to swallow me whole at least five times.”
Tittering again, Hyunjin absentmindedly plays with his pen. Click. Jeongin's eyes are drawn to it, and after one look at Hyunjin's messy display of stationery he suddenly springs up. Hyunjin musters a few stuttered blinks as he licks over his front teeth and tries to remember whether he had something with oregano today.
“Sorry,” Jeongin says. Again. “You’re busy, I'll leave you to it. Thanks for hearing me out.”
Hyunjin reaches out to tap him on the arm before he can run away. Not this time, he thinks. “You don't have to go. If you've also got things to do, you can stay with me.”
“You sure?” Jeongin hesitates, glancing toward the empty chair and then up at the friendly glint in Hyunjin's face.
“Very. I work better when I have company.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Jeongin says, sitting back down and unzipping his bag to fish out his computer and books. Hyunjin pulls his own notes closer to give him more space. “You’re kinda saving me. I don't think I would've found a table at this point.”
“Ugh, I know. Rush hour is the worst,” Hyunjin groans. Jeongin nods in agreement.
It's surprisingly comfortable. They make sure not to distract each other when they're locked in, and it only takes a shared look to decide on brief chatting breaks in between productive streaks. Hyunjin learns a lot about Jeongin, but he still zeroes in on the fact that he's funny; easily the hottest thing a man can be— especially when he doesn't seem to realize it. He lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree every time Hyunjin laughs, genuinely just proud of his wits, and Hyunjin's heartbeat thrums loudly in his ears.
“We should study together more often. I got a lot done,” he says, right before they have to head in opposite directions. The sun is almost entirely gone by the time they walk out, time having rushed past them unnoticed. On its tippy-toes, whispering ‘don't mind me.’ “You already have my number— use it.”
Jeongin’s grin is blinding.
.
As soon as he gets home, Hyunjin sends him a follow request on Instagram. The acceptance comes within seconds, opening the doors to a string of posts equally as unserious as his profile picture. Around 1 AM, as Hyunjin's getting ready to sleep, a notification pops up on screen: Jeongin has liked one of his posts from 2020. Shirtless, sunbathing at the beach with Kkami curled on his lap— definitely a slip.
Hyunjin slides under the covers, snickering to himself at the thought of Jeongin panicking. His eyelids clip shut, but his brain keeps on running for a bit longer. It only takes a few minutes, the final decision just within reach.
I’m gonna be the second person ever that fucks him for real.
A leap of faith and lust, right?
(... and the timid spark of something warm).