au. romance. angst.
Meet me twenty-two sentences into the last chapter.
It's a forbidden romance of sorts. Do Kyungsoo, son of a prestigious professor and a model housewife, in a scandalous affair with Kim Jongin, the only son of a cut-throat CEO and once-upon-a-time-successful actress. They sneak around all day, their parents never the wiser, stealing candy bars and kisses in a shopping center.
It's the thrill of being caught that keeps their fingers laced together as they run through the sprinklers on their way home.
At least, that's what it was at first.
Jongin rolls over, back pressing against Kyungsoo's knee as he turns to look at the older, who sits there, cross-legged, a thin cigarette between his fingers. Jongin stares for a long moment. Kyungsoo pretends he doesn't know he's awake because he enjoys the attention more than he would ever admit.
Finally, Jongin stretches and takes the cigarette, inhaling deeply, ignoring the way Kyungsoo nudges him with his cold foot. "Hmm, what happened last night?" Jongin asks, unable to recount any of the details. The slight buzzing in his ears and the constant pounding in his head cause him to groan and fall back, Kyungsoo grabbing the cigarette just before his back hits the bed.
"You got drunk, I drove us back, you fucked me," Kyungsoo replies monotonously, taking another breath of the cigarette before standing up and tossing it in the trashcan. He wears boxers – Jongin's not quite sure if they're his or Kyungsoo's – and a t-shirt; Jongin noticed a month into their relationship – whatever it could be called – that Kyungsoo always pulls on something before Jongin wakes up. As if he's hiding something that Jongin always misses in the darkness, eyes too hazed over with lust.
"You make it sound so boring," Jongin says with a snort. Kyungsoo turns to look at him, a blank look on his face, then walks over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Jongin hears the click of the lock and knows there won't be a round two anytime soon.
He blames the headache on the hangover.
"I don't know why I have a cook when I have you," Jongin mumbles through a mouth full of food, stuffing down Kyungsoo's kimchi spaghetti hungrily. His headache has faded thanks to the help of Kyungsoo and Advil.
Kyungsoo hums, washing the dishes in the sink. Jongin senses something is wrong, but he doesn't say anything. After all, this relationship, for all purposes, is purely physical. That is why it was made, that is why it survives. For Jongin to mess with that fine line between physical and emotional would be dangerous.
So he lets Kyungsoo scrub harder than necessary as he cleans, drowning out the sounds with his chewing.
They do this every first Friday of the month. Jongin buys bags of candy, and they stuff it into Kyungsoo's backpack the night before. As soon as their last class ends, they head straight for the theaters, buying tickets for an old movie then sneaking into two others before midnight.
Their first movie tends to be one that has been out in theaters for a couple of months now, one that not many will watch anymore. Kyungsoo and Jongin sit at the back. There's a kiss here, a touch there, and before the movie even starts, their lips are mashed together, smothering moans as they press harder and harder into the kiss.
The kiss bruises more than just lips.
By the end of the night, after three movies and two bags of candy, Jongin presses Kyungsoo close as they walk back home – can it be called that? – together. The night is warm, but Kyungsoo is a soft breeze against Jongin's nape.
"Which was your favorite movie?" Jongin asks.
Kyungsoo shrugs. "None of them were particularly spectacular." He glances up before asking, "Yours?"
"I wasn't really paying attention." Kyungsoo stares at him, an eyebrow raised. "I was watching you instead." Jongin smirks when Kyungsoo pushes him away, but it's too dark to see the flush on the older's cheeks.
"My father is having an important banquet this Saturday evening," Jongin brings up one night during dinner. Kyungsoo doesn't turn, so Jongin continues. "He asked me to bring a date."
It doesn't seem like Kyungsoo reacts, but Jongin notices – wishes he wouldn't either – the way his jaw squares, his back stiffens, his fist clenches. He's hit with the urge to walk over and massage his worries away.
"So?" Kyungsoo bites with more venom than Jongin anticipated, more than he could understand.
"So I was hoping you could go with me," Jongin replies, tilting his head curiously in the older's direction.
Kyungsoo turns to him, a flicker of incredulity in his eyes before it vanishes, replaced with a stoic look. "You can't," he says, and Jongin wonders if he imagines the bitter taste in the other's voice.
"Says who?" Jongin demands, and he doesn't know why he's so angry, so torn when Kyungsoo looks away. He wants to reach over and pull Kyungsoo's face to his, smother kisses all over until Kyungsoo says he'll go. But that's too much, or maybe too little, so he clenches his fist and plants his feet into the ground, waiting for Kyungsoo's reply.
"Says everyone," Kyungsoo snaps, digging his fingers into his palm. "Says your parents, my parents, society..." He hesitates before mumbling, eyes cast on the ground in front of him, "You, me."
"But I'm asking you right now," Jongin insists.
Kyungsoo laughs, but the sound is stiff and bitter, not the melodious hum Jongin is used to. "Right," he mutters. Jongin leans in, but when Kyungsoo's eyes flash up and they glisten a little too much in the dim lighting, he falls back. "I don't think we're hearing the same question, Jongin."
"No, I think you're over-thinking this," he replies softly, carefully, ignoring the way Kyungsoo's shoulders droop.
"Right," he mutters, averting his eyes now. "Maybe I am."
"Just come with me. It'll be fun," Jongin promises. They know it's a lie, but Kyungsoo doesn't pull away when Jongin presses his lips a little too roughly against Kyungsoo's.
They know what this evening means. That is why Kyungsoo holds his breath when Jongin tells him he looks good, why he fixes Jongin's tie with trembling hands, why he keeps looking down at his watch.
Jongin notices but presses his lips together, pulling Kyungsoo closer. He knows it's not enough though. Nothing will ever be enough, but that's how it's supposed to be. So he thinks.
When it's time for them to step out, Kyungsoo freezes. His eyes widen, and he stares at Jongin almost pleadingly, but Jongin can't meet his gaze, can't even take a breath. All he can do is gently tug on Kyungsoo's wrist, pulling him out.
The flashing lights sting in more ways than one, but it's a nice excuse to tell people why their eyes are red and watery.
It doesn't work.
Despite the flicker of horror that passes Jongin's parents faces, it's quickly disguised with a polite smile at the pair. "Glad to see you took our advice for once and brought a date," his mother says, lips too red and hair too shiny.
"Yes," his father agrees, although his expression is slightly reserved. "It's nice to meet you..."
"Kyungsoo," the smaller replies with a small nod. "Do Kyungsoo."
Jongin's parents raise eyebrows at that. "Son of Professor Do?"
Kyungsoo nods weakly, and Jongin squeezes his limp hand.
"Huh. Well, it's a pleasure meeting you, Kyungsoo. Do you mind if we speak to our son alone for a moment?"
Kyungsoo steps away quietly, and Jongin clenches the hand that was once holding his. This feels wrong.
When his father's face sobers, he knows this is wrong.
"Jongin, I always knew you to be a troublemaker, but going and screwing around with a professor's son is an all new low for you," he whispers, almost hisses.
His father's words never had as much impact before, because Jongin actually flinches.
"We know you're just trying to spite us, Jongin," his mother says quietly. "But this isn't the way to do it. He seems like a nice boy, and this isn't fair to him."
Jongin wants to say, It isn't like that, but it is. He wants to say, But you use people too, but Kyungsoo isn't just "people". He wants to say, Aren't you ashamed, aren't you embarrassed, but he realizes that he's the only one who is.
When he finds Kyungsoo again later by the food table, talking quietly with a young man, Jongin is overcome with anger and something else. He blames it on his parents, and pulls Kyungsoo away. He doesn't know where he plans to take him, but anywhere away from here sounds great.
His mind keeps screaming, it's not fair, it's not fair.
The plan doesn't work, because Jongin was supposed to get under their skin, not them under his.
(And because Kyungsoo wasn't supposed to look so good in a suit, smell so nice in cologne, or act so melancholy because their time is up.)
On the car ride home, Jongin fingers tap against Kyungsoo's thigh to a beat that may or may not be his heart. With his other hand, he takes Kyungsoo's shaking hands and kisses the fingertips.
Kyungsoo looks at him, eyes achingly blank, and Jongin can't help it. He leans in and presses his lips to Kyungsoo's moist ones, and thinks he's imagining the taste of tears on them. When Kyungsoo doesn't react, he presses harder, eyes squeezed tight as he brings his hands to Kyungsoo's face.
It doesn't go beyond that, though; it's just lips to lips, soul to soul. Kyungsoo finally responds, pressing back with his own fervor that Jongin doesn't understand until much later. The kiss is devastatingly desperate, and Jongin doesn't know if he can pull away, doesn't know if he wants to.
They make love for the first time tonight.
When Jongin wakes up to an empty bed, it's colder in more ways than one.
He attempts to pull the sheets closer to salvage as much warmth as he can left, but they smell of Kyungsoo so he throws them to the ground and curls up, naked and exposed.
A week passes.
Jongin stops drinking.
Two weeks pass.
Jongin can't stop drinking.
Three weeks pass.
Jongin sometimes forgets his name in the morning, too busy scribbling down another's instead.
Four weeks pass.
Jongin no longer gets out of bed, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to imagine Kyungsoo beside him.
It's the first day of winter when Jongin receives a text. That wouldn't have meant much had it not been from the phone Jongin charges everyday, the one he doesn't ignore and toss around, the one right beside him in bed that he clutches to his heart with hopes in making it ring.
meet me 22 sentences into the last chapter
Jongin stares. He remembers somewhere in the back of his mind, behind all those mindless talks of what to eat and messing around, Kyungsoo majored in literature before changing it to social science on behalf of his father's urging.
what r u talking about where r u
He types "I miss you" but quickly erases it because this is not how it is supposed to be. Even though it's what he wants, what he needs, it's just not possible. He can't do it.
There isn't a reply. Jongin didn't really expect one, although he let his heart hope all the same.
(Kind of like everything else he does for Kyungsoo.)
After talking to two of his literature major friends – the only two he knows – and hiring various tutors, he comes to the conclusion that Kyungsoo is asking to meet him twenty-two days into Winter. By the time he comes to this realization, it is December 30th, nine days in.
He sets up a calendar to keep track of the days.
He's not sure where to meet Kyungsoo, but he thinks he may have a clue. For now, he practices what he will say to Kyungsoo to make him stay just a little while longer. Just long enough.
This is Jongin's first New Years without Kyungsoo in two years. It hits him like a pile of bricks because he never noticed how long they had been together until they were apart.
The first few days of January are spent trying to pick up the pieces Jongin left behind before Kyungsoo left.
He remembers their first meeting; it was on their college's campus. Jongin heard all about the older, so he followed him like prey because not everybody could say they slept with the professor's son, and Jongin liked being "not everybody".
Of course, he hadn't expected the son to be as talented as he was, to come back for more night after night because fucking Kyungsoo was like an art compared to fucking anyone else. The way his back arched perfectly, the pale skin of his thighs, the flush on his cheeks – yes, he was an art, and Jongin the proud artist.
There are other memories, less hot yet more passionate and even Jongin doesn't quite understand them. The way Kyungsoo would peck every inch of his skin, soft and gentle; the way his hands fit so perfectly in Jongin's in the cold weather, the hot weather, any weather; the way Kyungsoo made everything, even the small things, memorable.
Jongin feels his chest tighten. He takes heart relief pills, because little boys do not know there is no medicine for heartbreak.
Tomorrow is the twenty-second day of Winter, January 12th. Jongin can’t count the number of times he’s circled the date in red, blue, green, black ink. There are blotches of ink that look vaguely like hearts, and in Jongin’s messy scrawling is Kyungsoo’s Birthday.
He wonders if Kyungsoo planned it this way on purpose. He probably did.
Jongin spends the entire day contemplating whether or not to buy Kyungsoo a gift. When they were in their psuedo relationship, Kyungsoo made it a point that gifts of any sorts were not allowed. They created attachment, he had said.
But as Jongin pays for a Pororo keychain, he tells himself it doesn’t matter because the attachment has already been established; it'd been established the day Kyungsoo left.
Maybe it’s ridiculous for Jongin to go out at midnight, bundled in a large coat, keychain and cellphone stuffed in his pocket. But if he knows Kyungsoo the way he thinks he does, then he knows he will be there.
The streets are covered in a thin layer of snow, the dim glow of lamplights casting soft shadows. Jongin follows the tracks left by the cars that come and go, hoping they’ll lead him to Kyungsoo.
They lead him full circle, back home.
Kyungsoo is sitting at the front door.
“I was just about to leave,” he murmurs, eyes level with Jongin’s.
Jongin takes in a deep breath. It’s been a long time since he heard that voice, soft and smooth. Though it’s rougher now, it’s still undeniably his – this voice that whispered stories in Jongin’s ears, called Jongin for dinner, murmured “I love you” so low and desperate their last night together Jongin thought he imagined it.
“H-Happy birthday,” Jongin stammers, stepping forward but quickly falling back, as if getting too close will make the spell wear off.
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen slightly, as if surprised Jongin remembered, before returning back to their normal size. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “Twenty-two is a big number,” he adds thoughtfully.
“It’s not that big,” Jongin mumbles.
“Not as big compared to twenty-one, right?” he asks, smiling softly. Jongin’s heart skips a beat. “Two days left.”
Jongin laughs a little. “Don’t remind me. You know how I feel about growing up.”
Kyungsoo stares, eyes unreadable. “Right.”
Jongin gulps. He’s said something wrong; he knows it. “I – uh – I got you something.”
He fumbles with taking the keychain out of his pocket, his gloves making it slippery. He drops it, but the snow cushions the fall. He reaches to grab it the same moment Kyungsoo does, and their hands touch.
Even though the fabric, Kyungsoo’s touch seems to burn.
Their eyes meet, and Kyungsoo’s eyes scream a million questions but Jongin can’t answer any of them. So he settles for one of them, replying by lacing their fingers together. It’s awkward with the gloves, with the gap between them created with time and yearning. But Kyungsoo looks up at him, and suddenly only one question is left now.
“Can I stay the night?”
Jongin wakes up, a rush of fear clutching his stomach at the emptiness beside him. He nearly falls out of bed, scrambling to get dressed because he will not let Kyungsoo run away this time. He stops midway putting on a shirt when he hears the sound of oil hot against a pan, frying what smelled like eggs and bacon.
He stumbles out into the kitchen, losing his breath when he sees Kyungsoo standing in front of the stove, making breakfast in pajamas. He’s not sure what overcomes him, but his vision blurs and he hurries over to bury his face in the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, stiffling a sob.
Kyungsoo stiffens, but he lets Jongin stay. “Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.
“Of course not,” Jongin mumbles, sniffling. “I thought you – you –”
“Left again,” Kyungsoo finishes for him quietly.
Jongin lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“No, I don’t plan to leave again...” he murmurs softly, voice vibrating through Jongin. “If you don’t want me to.”
“Why would I ever –”
Kyungsoo glances at him, and Jongin’s lips tighten. “Did you forget already?” he asks almost mockingly, walking over to place the food on the table.
“I never said I didn’t want you,” Jongin denies, shaking his head. No, the thought never crossed his mind before.
“You never said you did either,” Kyungsoo points out, eyes not meeting Jongin's. It's not accusing, but even in the softest of tones, it sends a ping of guilt through Jongin's heart.
“And what was I supposed to think? That was our last night. That was our plan, remember?”
“The moment we reveal ourselves to your parents, we stop, because that was the only reason we were together.” Kyungsoo pauses, then adds cynically, face twisting bitterly, “Oh, and the sex.”
“But you can’t let go of your playthings and I refuse to be just that, so I helped you. I left. I figured you’d get over it, but”– Kyungsoo glances at him and laughs, almost hysterically –”but I call your house one day and guess what’s on the voicemail?”
Jongin’s throat feels dry.
“I don’t blame you for not remembering,” Kyungsoo says, shaking his head. “I didn’t even remember. We were probably drunk or something. Aren’t we always, after all? Anyway, it was us, and we’re drunk and giggly and stupid, but you say something.” Kyungsoo pauses thoughtfully, glancing at the phone at the edge of the kitchen counter.
“You say, ‘This is Jongin and Kyungsoo’s home phone. Leave a message but we’ll probably never call back.’” Kyungsoo shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “Of course, your voice is slurred and I’m hiccuping in the background, but you said it.”
Jongin doesn’t understand.
“You said ‘home’, you said ‘we’, as if we were – a couple.”
Jongin can’t tear his eyes away from Kyungsoo, even as tears stream down the older’s face. Kyungsoo, who Jongin has always known to be strong-hearted, calculative, cunning – not this weak, crumbling, bitter boy in front of him.
“So I texted you that day, asked you to meet me last night. I wasn’t sure you’d understand, but I figured I could give it a try. I was going to sit outside until one, and if you didn’t come out by then, I would’ve left.”
“That’s not fair,” Jongin says softly.
Kyungsoo snorts. “Right, because anything about us is. But hey, you showed up, didn’t you? I didn’t think you would. In fact, I even thought you might’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend now or something. Real one, fake one – just someone.”
“I could never –”
“But the sheets are still the same, my toothbrush is still there, my” – Kyungsoo laughs at this part – “my boxers are still left drying on hangers in the bathroom.”
Kyungsoo’s gaze softens like his next words. “And I realize you never moved on.”
Jongin doesn’t know how to reply; he himself was never quite sure. He knows Kyungsoo’s disappearance affected him more than it should have, that if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have waited for so long. But he doesn’t know what to call this desperation that has him holding on by thin strings to Kyungsoo so he cannot leave again.
Upon noticing Jongin’s desperate look, Kyungsoo sighs and leans back against the counter, already looking older. “The chapter ends in two days, you know. I guess you have until then to decide if there’s anything to really move on from.”
Jongin doesn’t understand what Kyungsoo meant by “the chapter” ending in two days, but he doesn’t let Kyungsoo out of his sight the entire day. Even when they’re sprawled out across the couch, watching a movie together with the lights off, legs on top of each other and fingers intertwined, Jongin has to look over to see if Kyungsoo is really there.
At night, Jongin presses sloppy kisses to Kyungsoo’s face, neck, chest... but it stops there. All he wants at the moment is reassurance, and it surprises even him that that is not in the form of sex; it’s in the form of comfort, arms around each other, sharing warmth.
His arms wrap around Kyungsoo tight in hopes of making Kyungsoo stay.
Time passes faster with Kyungsoo, and it’s both a blessing and curse, because Jongin hates the days but loves the moments spent with the older.
Kyungsoo wakes him up with a light kiss on his nose, breathing, “Happy birthday,” against his cheeks. Jongin pulls him close, resting his chin on the shorter’s head just to revel in the feeling for a little. They stay like this for a couple of minutes before Kyungsoo slowly pulls away, murmuring about breakfast. Jongin loosens his grip reluctantly, watching as Kyungsoo crawls out and leaves the room silently.
Jongin lies in bed, listening as Kyungsoo sings a ballad softly under his breath as he prepares their breakfast; it’s like his own little lullaby. He wonders what it would be like to wake up one day and find that gone again.
The thought sends shivers down his spine.
He still remembers Kyungsoo’s words from two days ago, ringing through his ears. But he can’t wrap his mind around them or what Kyungsoo is asking for. Isn’t this enough – being together?
That’s what they are, right? Together? Sleeping together, watching TV together, eating together, waking up together?
Jongin bites his bottom lip softly. There’s something missing.
“Jongin, get your ass out here or I’ll eat everything myself!” Kyungsoo yells, interrupting his thoughts. Jongin laughs quietly as he rolls out of bed, not bothering to throw on anything except a pair of boxers before he walks into the kitchen.
“As if you need the extra weight,” Jongin teases, causing Kyungsoo to glare at him. It’s nice when they can just play around like this, throwing insults carelessly without any impact. He remembers that this is how it used to be.
“Right, then I should just stop cooking then,” Kyungsoo says dryly, raising an eyebrow at Jongin challengingly.
“No,” Jongin replies coolly. “You know I think your chubby thighs are cute.”
He notices Kyungsoo’s cheeks go red. They look good that way, Jongin thinks as he chews on his kimchi spaghetti. Too busy thinking about Kyungsoo, he doesn’t notice the frown gracing the older’s lips now.
“What are you staring at?” Kyungsoo asks, flustered.
“What am I always staring at?” Jongin challenges with a grin. When Kyungsoo just stares at him, Jongin laughs and answers, “You, duh.”
“Why?” Kyungsoo demands, and there’s something about the way he says it this time, a mixture of hope and desperation there. Jongin finds it oddly familiar, but he can’t name it.
“Because I like to. There’s no other reason, is there?”
Jongin doesn’t miss the flicker of disappointment in Kyungsoo’s eyes. When he averts his attention to outside, he realizes it’s started snowing again.
The day is spent out with their old friends. Many seem surprised to see Kyungsoo still with Jongin, but they don’t say anything about it. They drink and play games, and Kyungsoo sits by Jongin, watching the entire time.
They get home late after eating dinner together alone at a restaurant Kyungsoo reserved for them. It was nice. Different, but nice. They never used to do things like this – fancy places out in public. Or anything in public, really.
Jongin is undressing when he spots Kyungsoo sitting on the bed, staring at the door. He frowns, stopping midway pulling off his shirt to sit beside Kyungsoo and wrap his arms around the smaller.
“If you’re thinking about going – don’t.”
Kyungsoo turns to him, and his eyes gleam with that same hope and desperation from earlier. “And why not?” he asks quietly, as if his voice would break if he tried to speak any louder.
“Because...” Jongin takes in a deep breath, like the fog’s cleared and the air is suddenly cleaner. “I think – I think I – I need you.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything; he just waits. Jongin continues cautiously; he’s never done anything like this before.
“I thought about what you said, and I – you – I need you.” He laughs nervously, because he’s trying to put the words together on his tongue but they fall out wrong. To steady his shaky hands, he leans over and grabs Kyungsoo’s.
He closes his eyes. “You can’t go because I don’t know if I can wake up another day and not have you there beside me,” he says slowly, breaths harder and harder to take. He feels Kyungsoo squeeze softly, and his heart clenches.
"Because I still remember the first time we kissed, touched, fu– made love. I still remember the first movie we watched together, the first time I heard you sing, the first time you showed up to my dance show, the first time – the first time I realized love you.”
He hears Kyungsoo stop breathing, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes yet.
“And I don’t know if you love me yet, but I know that you don’t want to go either. That’s why you brought your copy of my house key when you left, why you called me on the house phone, and” – he opens his eyes to see Kyungsoo staring at him, lips trembling and eyes overflowing with tears –”why you’re still here right now.”
“So stay. Tonight, tomorrow... forever.”
“Why does the last chapter end on my birthday, anyway?” Jongin murmurs into Kyungsoo’s hair later when they’re snuggled up in bed, under the covers and the moonlight. It’s stopped snowing. Kyungsoo’s breath caresses his skin soothingly.
“Because now you’re a man,” Kyungsoo laughs quietly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Jongin blinks. “No, not really,” he admits.
“Now we can be together, and start our own book – together.”
It's an odd romance of sorts. Do Kyungsoo, son of a prestigious professor, in a relationship with Kim Jongin, the only son of a cut-throat CEO. They live together in a small house, have a cat named Krong, and do scandalous things in bed.
It's the thrill of being in love that keeps their hands intertwined, flipping through the storybook of their lives together.
a/n: okay, this was not the story I planned to write for galaexo's challenge; I originally meant to use the quote. I had like the perfect summary and everything honestly ;_; but when it came to actually creating a solid plot that made sense to me, I just... fell flat. this story idea was actually a second attempt at changdictator's birthday prompt, but it wasn't fluffy so I scrapped this as well. this is still somewhat dedicated to her though because she definitely inspired it so... thank you, cha ^^ and thank you galaexo, for the challenge! lol I'm finally writing angst again. I kind of missed it... lmao retiring as a fluff writer you guys. (jk! as fun as it is to analyze jongin's character, I prefer stupidly-in-love!jongin best)
btw, I DID NOT PLAN FOR THEIR MEETING TO BE ON KYUNGSOO'S BIRTHDAY. AT ALL. I got the 22 days from a quote from a tumblr pic and so I used that, but then the first day of winter is on the 21st, and holy shit, do the math and you get kyungsoo's birthday. (21 --> 31st which is last day of december is ten days, then add twelve and BAM january 12th, my bao bei's b-day. I did the math for you lmao)
well, if it's any consolation, nobody died in this angst and they ended up together. if you ask my older friends from aff (cha, mei mei, teresa), they'll tell you that this used to not be the case lmao so kaisoo is softening me up and I am turning into (or am I already) a marshmallow.
seriously this fic is barely angsty omg what's happened to me
clarification time (if you were confused)!
on jongin's parents scene:
- pretty much is supposed to show that their relationship was more than just a game; it was a plan. more so jongin's plan than kyungsoo's to spite jongin's parents
- why jongin's parents don't overreact? two reasons: (1) they're in a public place and can't attract any more attention their son created by showing up with a male date, and (2) they think it's an act. they knowit's an act. they don't really think their son is gay (he's bisexual).
and jongin is also not always in love with kyungsoo; he only loves him when kyungsoo runs away, because he realizes he's become attached to him.
okay, thank you for reading and listening to my rambles. I wuv you guys. and much love to swabluu mei mei and channie for reading this over for me! you both are dears for putting up with me :')
and sorry this a/n is disgustingly long. I hate it too.