Chapter Text
Seoul hasn’t changed much in the time he has been away. It’s undoubtedly busy, but people don’t care much about you unless they can’t snap something interesting for their Instagram profiles. It’s noisy, and it’s also hot, but it’s nothing compared to the sun back in America. Jongho himself has gotten a slight tan in the time he’s spent there, no matter how much he’s tried to avoid it. No sun protection can work that well there, and his complexion has always been caramel like: it’s totally unsurprising that he’s grown some shades darker.
No matter everything, however, he must admit he’s missed this city: the mindlessness of people, the appearance treasured over anything else. It all seems frantic. Not that it isn’t in America too, but it is different in a sense. Even though it’s been only for a master’s degree, of course, the time spent there has been enough for him to be able to name the differences out loud. Jongho must say he doesn’t dislike the openness of Americans, but he much rather like the demureness back in his city. It’s completely understandable when he’s basically been born and raised there.
His trip has also changed him, however.
Obviously a couple of years won’t simply wash out over a person like fresh water, they’re more like a stain one brings with themselves for a bit. Or at least until another blotch gets over it. As such, he can’t really say he’s the same person he’s been when he’s packed up his stuff, no. Jongho’s a bit more confident and open, and though he sort of feels embarrassed at admitting it, he’s fairly more interested in sex and dating now – although to say that he was completely clueless it in the past would be a straight up lie.
If he may use a joke, he’d say that America has woken up the gay in him – because he is, hell, he is so very gay. Or at least now he doesn’t care about widening eyes and judgment as much as he did back when he was still young.
Does this translate in him low-key flirting with anyone masculine presenting? It may as well be.
It is also undoubtedly the reason why he’ll get in a mole of troubles in the following month.
The first time Jongho crashes on the cause of his dismay, it is a hot Sunday and he’s running down his usual route. There’s nothing better, he thinks, than a good run to wake up your muscles. He’s not even a kilometer in but he's in fact already feeling more energized: a sort of electrical sensation is in the same spots where ache is blossoming. It’s indeed fueling.
Certainly Jongho didn’t expect to be run over by a stupid dog in that fine morning.
Wireless earphones on, he dashes forward instead of getting to his usual jog in that part of the road, perhaps too taken by the energizing Spotify playlist bursting in his ears – that’s their goal, though. Despite the fact that it’s hence undoubtedly his fault for the crash – because that tract is the one where people usually take their dogs on a walk – the brunette still curses when said honey blonde beast runs straight on his legs, making him stumble. How the hell did he not notice it? Jongho can’t bring himself to find an answer as busy as he is in not scraping his elbows when he falls down – he fails, miserably so.
And in between the clownery of it all, the stupid dog decides to jump on his chest, clearly happy with its doings if one is to interpret what its tongue peeking out of his mouth as he clearly smiles – a bastard, really – means. At least Jongho has someone to hold accountable for any hurt. It’s just that the beast could stop stupidly pressing his two front paws in his torso, unrelenting even when the pained runner tries shushing him away. But then:
“John!”
A panicked voice calls, and both dog and human turns its way. It’s a reflex, Jongho would say: John was the name he used in America. Certainly it is comical to think that it’s also the one said stupid dog uses. It almost feels like destiny.
The golden retriever leaves him alone when the owner – he supposes he is, but could as well be a dog sitter – rushes to them, barking and wagging his tail. And Jongho doesn’t really blame its enthusiasm: said person is really a vision from heaven – even in his wrecked state, he has a pair of working eyes to appreciate beauty. Honey blonde hair slightly curly, a tall nose that is almost hooked, pretty pink lips with a very defined cupid bow that look extremely kissable in overall. The stranger has two round brown eyes filled with sorry, the sentiment mirrored in the pout he’s sporting, hands – oh Jesus, his fingers – reaching forward in a sort of defensive stance. His mouth is already opening up to mutter what he thinks will be apologies.
Not that he really needs to talk, to be fair: Jongho thinks he’d forgive him everything. And with a face like that, who would ever dream of holding anything against him? It just seems impossible.
“I’m so sorry.”
The blonde in fact plays by his expectations, and someone at the back of the other’s brain starts playing the wedding march. Now, Jongho won’t lie: he’s a veteran when it comes to imagining a life with strangers on public transportation. It’s certainty that everyone does it, but he is just on another level with the whole soundtrack thing he has going on.
Although if he and the dog owner – or sitter – were to marry, the stupid beast would have to bring them their rings, and he isn’t so sure he’d be up to it.
“I lost my grip on the leash.”
While he’s busy daydreaming, the blonde has scrambled to help him up on his feet, worriedly checking him out. The way he vigorously brushes the dust off his clothes is the most non Korean thing he could do, though, and it works as a needle popping off the ball of marriage and cake and golden rings in his mind.
“It’s fine.”
Jongho almost dumbly pushes out, stuttering a bit. His hands are already sweating, his nerves doing their best in betraying him. Yes, the fellow is indeed cute, but what the hell.
“No, it’s not.”
The dude stumbles a bit in answer too – that saves the other a bit of face at least, still looking mortified.
“God, I think I’ve got you some bruises.”
He even mumbles, looking at the redness on the runner’s uncovered knees. Jongho notices them right at that moment too – not without a couple of a curses in his mind. Yet, the other still feels too cute to blame, and the way he’s now taken to scold his dog is enough for him. Although said homonym doesn’t seem to care much about the frown his owner is sporting.
“All is fine.”
Jongho hence reassures again, but the dude grabs a hold on one of his hands as soon as he gets them in front of him, expression slightly panicked. Has he been to America? The probability is very high seen the way he moves around.
“Can I fetch you a coffee as an apology? Please, I’m really way too mortified to let you go your merry way with just an apology.”
Now, normally, Jongho would’ve refused: he’s still got a few kilometers to run and he’s sweaty, so arguably not in his best attire for a coffee date. Yet, the way the blondie is pushing his lips in a pleading pout is pushing all of his buttons in the right ways. He’s becoming so weak for a man he doesn’t even know that he's almost ashamed of himself. Has living in America turned him in what they usually refer to as a simp? With the way he agrees to the coffee based solely on the other’s pretty face, it must be like so. Reasoning all but suggests to follow an unknown man – whose dog has run him over, moreover – anywhere.
And yet, when the blonde releases this breath he’s been holding – strangely relieved at his answer, Jongho can’t help but think that he is the most innocuous person he’s ever met in his life. On the contrary, he thinks he must be the one to be scared to drag an unknown muscular man with the biggest of dark circles – genetics really aren’t on his side for this, plus who the hell would even wear makeup to conceal them when going on a morning run – with himself.
“Oh, well,”
The cutie audibly clears his throat, eyes quickly getting down on his hands when Jongho stares back at him with an interrogative stare.
“I just straight up assumed that you like coffee, but I can get you whatever you want.”
He apologetically pushes out, and the other can’t help the snortle blossoming in his throat.
“Do you have a place in mind?”
He however simply asks instead of confirming his liking for the dark beverage, and it has the other beaming.
Jongho has to be honest: he had secretly hoped that the Café in question wouldn’t allow dogs, but apparently the other knows his way around that neighborhood pretty well, or else, he wouldn’t be staring at John while waiting for his Americano. Stupid dog. He seems well behaved now that they are in a place full of people, tail wagging as he looks around with his tongue out. The ridiculous collar with the writing ‘Good boy’ makes the other snort, though he chokes on it because the blonde is already back to their little table.
“Sorry for the wait.”
He says, gently pushing the beverage his way. And as Jongho takes a sip, he throws him a smile.
“I was right.”
He whispers more to himself than to the other, but the brunette questions:
“About what?”
Anyways. It has the blondie cutely scrambling, a pinkish hue making its way on his cheeks.
“You do like coffee.”
He mumbles, index pointing to the white paper cup. His lips curl up in a – dare he say gorgeous – smile when Jongho follows the way the finger is pointing at, probably finding that extremely cute. Before he can say anything about it though – yes pretty stranger, I do like coffee, the other is already asking:
“What’s your name, anyways?”
Leaning on his elbows on the table they’re occupying. Jongho only then notices his creamy drink, wondering how the hell one won’t get cavities from it.
“John.”
Lost in his thoughts as he is, the brunette doesn’t realize the name that has slipped from his lips until after he’s said it. Stupid habits. As he scrambles to correct himself though, he halts when the blonde instead beams at it, and he’s confused until he finally remembers. The dog.
“Just like John!”
The fellow in fact exclaims out loud, then clearing his throat in embarrassment.
“I mean –“
He starts, a chuckle following.
“Just like my baby.”
He specifies, hand reaching to caress said golden retriever on his head. Oh, to be the baby of the charming stranger, Jongho can’t help but think, although he shuns the thought fast enough.
“And yours?”
He asks when he remembers that basic manners are a thing, and it has the blonde beaming again.
“What’s your name?”
The smile he gives him makes his heart skip a beat.
“I’m Yunho.”
Yunho, although he seems soft and more like someone you’d want to cuddle, is as much of an athlete as he is.
Jongho knows because that day at the bar that has been the thing they’ve talked about for half an hour, all culminating in the blonde actually asking for his phone number. Because he’s evidently the one with more balls to approach a stranger, yes. In his defense, Jongho would say that he has his way of doing things – flirting, to put it bluntly – and that if the planning to get aforementioned number would’ve laid on his shoulders instead, he would’ve simply roamed the same park for the next few days in an effort to find Yunho again. Maybe build this up slowly.
In hindsight, however, he has to admit that this is better.
Yunho’s a chatting machine, and he’s simping so hard that he’s by then convinced that America has washed out all the shame present on him in the little time he’s spent there. But to be fair, he doesn’t blame himself for the internal squeak – that he hears so very clearly – he releases whenever the blondie texts him something silly.
He thinks the taller boy feels the same magnetism he does for him.
Jongho doesn’t really blame himself for kind of wanting to fasten the process of their flirtation, although he likes to take his time. This Yunho person is more appetizing that he thought he’d be, or maybe he's super horny ever since coming back from America, and would even fall in love with the walls of his home. Whatever it is, he isn’t even surprised that he finds himself launching stares here and there the next time he goes running in that same park where he’s met the blondie.
The next time Jongho meets Yunho isn’t when he tries searching for an accidental meeting, though, but when the taller boy actually asks him out on a date.
If the brunette has to describe the feeling in his chest, he’d say that he’s feeling as excited as he was on his dates back in high school. Annoyingly so, although when Yunho waves him from afar, blonde hair curly and tones of light blue and white in his outfit, he’d say that anyone would feel just the same. The knot in his throat is totally justified when this person looks like prince charming out of a fairy tale.
However, Jongho knows how Korean dating goes.
The slow vexatious process of having three dates before one can even try to hold hands seems stupid now that he’s been in America. And Yunho himself seems to be yearning for touch on that first evening they spend out, hand painfully close but none of them taking up the needed courage to finally build a bridge in between them. However, Jongho thinks that a stare could potentially reveal much more than touch can, and if he reads the same mirrored shyness in Yunho’s one, he can say that he’s pleased for that night – if one is to put the fact that he’s paid for that bountiful dinner aside. The way their hands awkwardly bump against each other is enough touch for him to be satisfied.
That’s the first time the blonde disappears for a bit.
Jongho thinks that in hindsight, he must’ve been more attentive. However with the way Yunho reappears just two days after to frantically apologize, he simply brushes the issue under the rug instead. It happens, arguably. One can’t really say the opposite when it comes to people who work such as him and Yunho. And then when the blonde smartly asks him for a date not even five days after their first, the brunette is basically sold to this man. Two days of disappearance won’t really crack his crush – they should’ve had, really.
On this second date, Yunho takes John – the dog – with them. It makes Jongho realize that he’s still not told him his true name, although he doesn’t even in that occasion. He doesn’t really know what is blocking him at that point, if the fact that he will pass as a big ass liar if he reveals it or the way the blonde sometimes call him ‘Jojo’ to shorten it. One must admit that the appellation is pretty cute. One can also agree that John is actually his American name, so what he’s told is only half a lie.
Jongho decides it’s not that bad of him to hide the information for now.
And if anything, him and his dear dog having the same name could also help him in this flirtation. He doubts he would’ve gotten the number in the first place, if not for the golden retriever running him over and he and his owner strangely clicking together. So ironically enough, he has a sort of debt towards the pet.
“I think your dog is crushing on me.”
Jongho even jokes at some point, by then tired of the way John bumps his head on his leg to get scratches behind his ears. He still gives him said attention, however, leaning down to appease the fur ball until his eyes slip closed in satisfaction. And the idea of almost using the dog is successful after all, as Yunho is staring at them with a dreamy expression as he lets an:
“I don’t blame him.”
Slip out. Although he audibly clears his throat the moment Jongho throws him a curios stare. The blush that adorns his cheeks is adorable.
The blonde is more impatient this one time, it seems. His hand hitches close to his thigh as they are sitting on a bench, wanting to reach out but still not daring to do the first move. Yunho holds a slight tension in his shoulders, biting his lips nervously when he thinks the brunette isn’t watching – but he is, oh if he is – and avoiding his stare when it isn’t necessary. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide his feelings with all of himself.
So then Jongho decides to put the years spent in America into use.
Looking at the other’s struggle is certainly making innocent amusement blossom in his stomach, but he too is starting to despise this whole Korean ritual regarding touch and properness. His hand instead gets closer inch by inch, testing the ground for a moment before laying over his.
He thinks he may try being brazen for once.
Jongho still spies Yunho’s reaction with the tail of his eyes, sensing his tension under his palm. He’s almost afraid to meet disgust in there, but he is instead pleasantly surprised by the rose blush of the blonde’s cheeks, lips in a curved line of embarrassment and shyness. It has him smiling a bit, satisfaction washing over him when Yunho eventually turns his palm to ever so gently hold his hand in his.
If his heart thumps a bit on his ribcage because of it, he really doesn’t blame himself.
The silence that prolongs for a bit as they simply stay sit on the bench they’ve chosen to rest on after their dinner isn’t in the least awkward. Jongho fills his eyes with the sight of his shoes because he’s embarrassed even while he’s been the one to initiate the contact, although he takes to thumbing gently at the skin. Yunho’s got soft smooth backs of his hands, but he can feel the smallest of calluses on his palm, probably because of gentle weight training.
After all, the blonde doesn’t feel like someone who actively lifts.
Jongho swallows the burnt in his throat. If it were America, they would’ve already shoved each other’s tongues in their mouths, but it doesn’t seem likely at that point. A mere glance over Yunho’s side is enough for Jongho to understand that he’s already extremely shy at the mere act of holding hands already. He doesn’t blame him when he’s too feeling dazed, stomach churning on himself and heart going on a high speed marathon, but he actually yearns for a kiss more than he'd like to admit.
Not that he blames himself when the soft pillows of the other’s lips seems to be the most inviting of treats. Jesus, he really needs to stop staring there like an idiot.
And even John himself seems to be waiting for them to push it even forward, black button eyes that are a mixture of judgmental and curios. Jongho would gladly appease him, but alas, it depends mostly on the blonde right next to him.
Who obviously doesn’t kiss him. Yet. The brunette has to admit that the sound of Yunho clearing his throat to then disentangle their hands must’ve been the most disappointing for him at that moment. However, the blonde throws him a smile that is apologetic, and Jongho forgives him in a blink of an eye. Those lips really are his curse, no matter what type of expression is molding them.
And Yunho knows far too well how to make himself forgiven, to be fair. Which in that case translates to walking him close enough to his home, walking right next to him and smiling all the time their eyes meet, as if the other is the best news he could receive each time he stares straight into his face.
And Jongho be damned at that point, because he’s been thoroughly bewitched.
It must be the lighting from the streets, the rose blush on his cheeks and the stare that testifies to attraction, wet dark irises that are always coupled with a quirk up of the sides of his mouth. It put a spell on him, making his heart race even more during most of the road back. Jongho’s scared, at that point. Falling in love when still at the second date? This is a newbie mistake. Yunho could ghost him the next day for all he knows, and never make himself found again.
Has he forgotten how Korean dating works, or has he been purposefully ignoring that part? One shouldn’t catch feelings if not after the third final meet up.
Fuck, he can’t help but think, almost desperately wanting to reach out when Yunho waves him from afar, John now playfully bumping his head on his owner’s legs. Is this going to be the last sight embed in his memory? The sole possibility has his heart aching. And yet, Jongho doesn’t run to him no matter how much he wants to, nor does he beg him to stay and not be offended by his daring hand holding. If worse really comes to worst, he will probably blame it all on his stupid haste – the time in America be damned.
Though he’s not really at all prepared for when Yunho really stays silent the next day.
Jongho would like to say that he is taking it like a champ – America be damned for real, he even uses their expressions now – but reality is that he is incredibly disappointed. A frown settles on his lips as soon as he wakes up to no notifications from the blondie, and most of all, he is embarrassed of his own reaction: he isn’t a teen, he should be unaffected by it. And instead, here is, sour mouth and all at the possibility that he may have been the one to spoil it with his haste. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if he hadn’t hold his hand he would’ve still had a chance with him.
Jongho can’t help the overthinking no matter his best intentions: ghosting is a thing there, and no explanation on the mistake is usually given. Most times one can only second guess himself to pin point all the things that could’ve been it, the breakage of the bond they were trying to build. It’s irking now that he’s been in America, however, he thinks it’s just the perfect excuse for cowards to hide behind. And it seems that Yunho is part of that category too, seen how he’s behaving.
Jongho spends the entire day after with a grouch.
He had totally forgotten how it felt to have a door slammed on his face, to be fair. Now he remembers: the frustration, the growing burnt in his throat when he thinks that everything’s basically ended in a mere minute. To have merely himself to blame, as to be fair, it would’ve all been avoidable if Jongho hadn’t so recklessly caught feelings for someone much closer to a stranger than anything else to him.
He thinks he may want to hit on people he’s sure have been to America from now on. At least to be handed a reason as to why it won’t click in the other’s person mind, and not to instead be left to wander in the dark of the trillion of possibilities. Maybe Yunho’s never liked him to begin with, and the hand has merely been the last drop to his patience. Maybe he’s struggled to try and make it work in his mind, whereas Jongho’s been swoon over him like a novice.
Either way, one can honestly get lost in this type of mind games. The brunette himself knows that he might as well give it a rest, more so for his own mental health than anything else.
Certainly it is not expected for Yunho to actually contact him again a week afterwards. And certainly Jongho expects anything but his own reaction being throwing himself in his arms without even touching the topic of the ghosting. His heart – stupid, stupid heart – yearns to see him and have the confirmation that it’s all been a misunderstanding, no matter how stupid he himself thinks it is. But the issue with job being tiring, and the hectic working rhythm he too has to abide to make him believe that there really are the best intentions under the blonde contacting him again.
Had he known better, though. Had he given it a halt right after that, then maybe Jongho would’ve saved himself from the worst betrayal he’ll get.
Instead, the brunette accepts the third date with hope. He even dumbly feels like he’s finally crossed the finish line of their flirtation. It’s not his fault, not completely, as third dates usually mark the beginning of people’s dating story. The thing is that for him such could also be untrue. In fact the only thing that is marked with that date for Jongho is the peak of his troubles. Though he could’ve never imagined it.
Yunho picks him up in his car that date night, and the darkness aids whatever childish fantasy Jongho has in his mind instead.
His reasoning is let go in favor of the stare the blonde sends to him, the usual apologetic edge in there but mixed with something that makes him think that no matter what bad he’d think of him, he really is as in love as him. And Jongho believes it, although it’s the most foolish of him and a part of his soul knows, deeply in his chest where he decides to lock every doubt up.
For the present moment, he instead decides that his beating heart and the feelings in the other’s brown eyes are enough. The mouth that speaks an apology soon after he sits in the place next to him is the last piece needed to sign his sentence. Jongho singlehandedly throws himself into the depths of hell.
No matter every logical reasoning, he believes him. The decision to finally fill the gap in between them is what follows, left hand reaching to his cheek perhaps with too little caution given everything. But Jongho thinks he may as well die after this, or be as damned as heaven deems necessary: he needs to know what those lips taste like to be able to recall the sensation whenever he’d like to.
And if Yunho were to disappear again – the mere possibility has his heart aching – at least he could say that he knows what he is like when he kisses, what his scent is when he’s closer than arm distance.
And if the blonde wants it as much as he does, then maybe he’d stay, maybe he’d want his lips again after that first kiss. Or maybe he’d just be another pretty guy he’s kissed on their third date, who knows. Jongho hopes that the way Yunho takes his hand in his isn’t merely to take it away from his face. But then the blonde lays both on his thigh, squeezing a bit, and he knows for sure that he isn’t the only one yearning.
It is the most delightful of realizations with the fact that the blonde seems to not have a destination in mind, merely driving them through to find a place where they can be with each other.
But he’s as impatient as he is, for sure, and as Jongho gets his hand free from under his to check a notification in his phone, his instead lays on his thigh, firmly gripping. It wakes up all the lust the brunette has in himself, having him bite painfully on his bottom lip. He isn’t in the least surprised that at some point Yunho just parks close enough to a streetlight – yet in a space that is dark enough, unmoving even when Jongho removes his seatbelt.
The youngest doesn’t need for him to talk to know what the stare he sends him means.
They reach for one another at almost the same time yet, hectic hands that take a grasp on each other’s clothes, breaths mixing at they get closer and closer. Jongho meets the other’s eyes when their noses brush together, and he feels like choking. His heart doesn’t give him peace, swelling up and beating out of control when he thinks that he wants this person, he needs his hands on him like he needs air to breathe.
And then when Yunho finally kisses him shyly, the sensation is very much akin to falling down a bottomless gully no matter the softness of the peck. Jongho feels like he’s being torn apart from his feelings, hands cold but face unbearably warm with the blush that adorns it. Still, he closes his eyes and he lets it rock him gently, like a leaf floating on a choppy sea. A first kiss shouldn’t feel like home, and yet.
Jongho would scream if he could, but he’s too busy chasing after those delicious lips after they part from his the next moment, leaving Yunho breathless. He’s ravenous and greedy in contrast to the blonde, wanting to deepen their contact to the impossible, almost to a point where they’ll melt together. His tongue has tasted sweetness above saliva in their kiss, and the necessity to have honey in his mouth again has him acting with urgency.
It’s without a doubt that the anxiety of the blonde disappearing again is making his heart overpower any rationality he has left in himself.
When Yunho releases a choked sound, Jongho finally halts, having deemed the bruising action to be enough. And yet, despite expecting to see accusation in the other’s eyes, such feeling isn’t there in the least, rather, the glossy layer over them speaks of desire. The same that is burning at his stomach, leaving his throat dry.
And then when Yunho reaches down on him, feeling his bulge above his jeans, the brunette forgets how to breathe. A little whine slips past his lips before they are getting kissed again, and Jongho swears he’s on fire, the friction of the fabrics making him wet already. Yunho sucks on his bottom lip while cautiously exploring, big palm that rubs up and down slowly, making him tense up and then melt like ice on a hot sunny day.
Jongho’s brazen, he pushes onto the touch to state that he wants it, that he needs what he is giving him, and the thumb that presses on his length in response has him releasing a shameful moan. He grips on Yunho like he’s his safety anchor, not caring enough about the wrinkles he’s creating on his immaculate outfit, the crackle of leather filling his ears apart from the wet sound of their kisses.
If anything, he feels like he’s getting drunk on the most delicious of liquors.
His hands only release the grip to roam in caresses when Yunho leaves his lips for a mere moment, catching his breathe. With their foreheads connected, Jongho takes a plunge back into the dark pools of his eyes, feeling the slight sting of his undercut before on the softness of his curls right beneath his fingertips. Yunho seems all but rough, only smudged edges and cotton fabric where one may as well take a rest.
And yet, he seems to love fiercely, which makes the brunette even more drunk on love.
Jongho knows that he shouldn’t let himself go like that, but he finds himself lured into the sweetness the other presents to him, and it intoxicates him. His heart swells up when the blonde kisses him in a gentler fashion, still petting him to full hardness. But then Jongho blunders again, and as his hand shifts down to try and reciprocate it, Yunho startles like he’s been suddenly woken up from a dream. His wide eyes are akin to a cold shower to Jongho.
“Sorry. Oh god, sorry.”
He mutters, and he gets away like he’s become a piece of hot iron. The brunette won’t act like that has been as painful as a knife shoved into his chest, but it is.
“It’s okay.”
He quickly throws his way, but Yunho is already shaking his head like he can’t begin to fathom what he’s almost done.
“I don’t know what got into me.”
He in fact whispers, hands getting on the driving wheel, grasping like they need to anchor onto something that is not Jongho.
“I’m fine with it.”
The reassurance doesn’t work to soothe the other’s panic in the least. But before the brunette can say anything more, Yunho interrupts him:
“I’m taking you home.”
He says, and the engine is on the next moment. Jongho feels like the world has been engulfed in the coldest of winters.
After that car experience, the brunette decides that he’s had enough with dating.
His heart is thoroughly pierced by the way Yunho has gotten to ghosting again, only leaving him with a rushed apology after that night. To say that he’s not angry would be an understatement, but most of all he’s disappointed in himself.
How could he have thought that they were going to be okay with the presupposition of a person disappearing at any given time?
Jongho should be better than this, and yet, he’s as delusional as anyone else. To think that he might have a chance with someone he barely knows, and merely by something he thinks he’s seen in his stare. What is he, ten? If he could, he’d gladly slap some sense inside his past self. Instead, he’s left with dust in his hands, a stupid apology and silence that leaves him to drown in his own self-doubts alone. He hates that above all he blames it partially on himself: perhaps had he played nice, acting caste and pure until enough time had gone by, it could’ve lasted more than it had. Instead, he’s let himself be swept away by his lust, eager to have that pleasure fast.
But Jongho’s everything but an asshole, and everything that has happened in between him and Yunho has been something that they have decided together. When the blonde has stopped, he’s done that too, when he’s simply brought him home, clearly upset, he hasn’t complained. Ad now Jongho’s the one left empty handed.
A part of him hopes that Yunho’s suffering too, to be fair. Stupidly enough, he thinks he may feel at least a bit better if he knows that he’s too feeling the bile rising in his throat, bitterness in his stomach whenever he thinks of the brunette. At least then he can say that they’ve hurt each other, and feel a little less like the loser of the situation.
However, Jongho doesn’t have any news of Yunho. He doesn’t even know his Instagram, nor does he have anyone to ask how he’s doing to relieve his burning curiosity. All he’s got is that empty chat, and silence that is as cold as winter.
He decides to leave it be, no matter everything.
It’s arguably been nothing more than a small flirtation, although it has left his heart in shambles. At least it proves that there is always a kernel of truth to any saying, and now he knows that the most innocent looking ones are really the wickedest. A thought back to the blonde’s exterior versus behavior is enough to have his mouth full with bile.
Now Jongho isn’t obviously blaming Yunho for wanting to back down from sex – or whatever they were doing, it’s the fact that he’s left him without any word that is irking, no matter any possible justification he can come up with.
Certainly he could’ve imagined the reason for it pretty easily, in hindsight. Instead, Jongho only finds out after a week, and from someone else’s mouth, moreover.
“I mean, how many Jeong Yunho with a dog whose name is John do you think are there in Seoul?”
Despite having reassured him that they’re talking about the same man numerous times, Hwi Young looks at the picture he’s showing him ‘just to make sure’ again.
“Yes, it’s him.”
Jongho would like to say that he’s frozen by it, but reality is that his rage is basically setting his body on fire.
It’s been a while ever since he’s seen Hwi Young, mostly because of work although he’s been sort of guilty of tailing after the wrong person instead of reconnecting with his friends after getting back from America. Certainly Jongho could have never imagined for Hwi Young to be Yunho’s colleague from work. Even less to speak about the blondie to him in the first place, to be fair, as he had promised himself to just forget it all.
But now that he knows the truth, he thinks he may be grateful to himself for being loudmouthed.
“So you got fucked over?”
Not even Hwi Young’s teasing will ever hurt as much as everything else does now. His heart is quite literally being swallowed by fire, his throat tasting bitter. How could he have been so blind?
Of course it was all because Yunho’s already busy with someone else.
Thinking back on it all, every puzzle piece fits in place now: from the avoidance to the need to flee once they’ve started touching each other that one night. The heavy guilt in his stare even when he had reassured he was ok with it. Jongho knows that Yunho’s just another piece of shit now. And yet, although he should simply let it go at once, swallowing the bile and moving on, he instead can’t help but press that call button once he’s making his way to his apartment after that night chat with Hwi Young.
Yunho should’ve ghosted him even then. But he doesn’t.
When the brunette sees him rushing to him whilst sitting on the same bench from their second date, he wishes the first thing that had come to him were tears. Instead, his hands get into tight fists, the will to hit something strong. The inhale he takes tastes like iron inside his mouth.
Yunho doesn’t even greet him, smile dying on his face as soon as their eyes meet, one fierce and angered, the other saddened and apologetic. His massive height seems to shorten once his shoulders slump, and he instead appears smaller, perhaps from the guilt. The brunette sincerely hopes it is from it.
“I’m sorry I disappeared.”
Then the other begins, and no amount of leftover affection can halt the snicker that leaves Jongho’s mouth, a wicked sound that has the blonde widen his eyes. In the brief silence that follows, Yunho seems completely shocked.
“You played with me.”
His mouth tastes the most bitter when he finally speaks.
“You have no shame.”
He accuses, and it has the other visibly scrambling. With a small tremble of his lips, the taller boy attempts to reach for him, but without any success. Jongho shuns the touch with a homicidal glare.
“What are you talking about?”
Yunho has the audacity to question, and it makes the other snap from his seat. Even from his shorter height, the move is enough for the other to take an involuntary step back.
Is he for real?
The brunette inhales sharply, hand grasping at the other’s shirt.
“Did you have fun, huh?
He challenges, delighted at the panic all over the blonde’s face.
“Did you enjoy playing me? Does your boyfriend perhaps get off on the thrill of being cheated on? What is it, champ?”
Yunho freezes. As his pupils shake in the slightest, Jongho finally senses tears prickling at his eyes. His hand loses the grip on his clothes too, but it is merely to push him away.
“Fucking asshole.”
He spits, and that seemingly wakes the tallest from his daze.
“Wait.”
Yunho calls when he sees him turning to leave. He chases after him, actually, quickly catching up because of his long legs.
“How do you know?”
Jongho scoffs, and the glance he throws his way has the blonde flinching away before he could even attempt reaching for him.
“Do you think that you could keep that a secret for forever? You really are a shameless bastard.”
Realizing the wrong approach he’s taken, the tallest then scrambles again:
“It’s not what you think it is.”
He tries, but the other’s more than ready to punch him in the face. His left hand tightens the fist it already is in even more.
“What else is it then?”
Jongho scoffs again.
“Do you think that I’m as stupid as you are? I’m not going to jump at anyone’s neck without enough proof to back it up. This is not you flirting with two people at the same time, I know that he is your boyfriend.”
Yunho bites his lips at it, lowering his stare. The fact that he looks so guilty and apologetic makes the brunette want to scratch at his exterior until the bastard that has pierced his heart will eventually come out. Still, he keeps his shaking hands at bay, inhaling deeply.
“You’re disgusting.”
He can’t help but attack, and the way the other simply takes the hit without replying has him even more irritated. Jongho snaps his way again, halting only when Yunho lifts his stare to him, and he sees it clouded with a thin layer of tears.
“I’m sorry.”
He croaks, and Jongho hears the sound of something breaking to pieces in his ears. Suddenly the cold air of the night cuts through his clothes like knives, and he is extremely aware of the burnt of his ears and cheeks. Each breathing pierces his chest like a well shot arrow.
Jongho realizes that he’s been in love with Yunho right at that moment.
Perhaps it wasn’t as deep as loving someone for years, but the disappointment he feels in his chest is because he had thought that he had won him over at last, to then be shoved aside like that. Yunho’s busy. Yunho’s got a boyfriend. It makes tears clog in his throat.
He’s been dumb. Undoubtedly, he can’t blame his own heartbreak if not on himself: this was a flirtation and any type of asshole could have come his way. He should’ve shielded himself better instead of falling for it so easily. Instead he’s let himself be coaxed by the other, falling for his sweet words.
Jongho shakes his head, then pushing the other away firmly. Yunho takes that without dodging again, even stumbling two steps behind. Before the shorter man can leave again, however, the blonde finally grabs firmly at his arm, a pair of wet eyes greeting him when he turns to him.
“I don’t want to hear another thing.”
Jongho hisses, ready to take off his grip. He feels like something it’s boiling in his stomach the more he stares into the brown – and seemingly sincere – eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Yunho however pushes out again, sounding devastated.
“I really like you. Please. Please do not leave.”
The other feels like he could suffocate by that alone. His heart aches at the broken sound of his voice, but his rage flares up in a second.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
He exclaims, and it has the blonde startling. Jongho may be wrong, but the same amount of heartbreak is seemingly enclosed in his eyes. He won’t let it bend him this time, however.
“What is next? Promising me that you’ll leave him because you are in love with me? I’m not stupid! I know that you’ll never do that.”
Yunho looks desperately in search for something to say at it, which has the other shaking a bit. His jitters are turning his stomach in a bit of a mess.
“Leave me alone.”
Jongho’s voice gets low now.
“I don’t want to see your face ever again.”
The sob it tears from the tallest has his heart definitely breaking in two. He feels close to tears too, although he purposefully lowers his stare to fight them back. He shouldn’t be this emotionally involved in this, he thinks. Yunho’s merely someone who he’s tried to date. Yunho’s undoubtedly an asshole.
Yunho releases his arm, sniffling as he brings said hand to his eyes.
“It’s not what you think it is.”
He tries again, but Jongho’s deaf to it.
“May this serve as a lesson.”
Is instead his bitter remark.
Making his way to his own car is like walking with a series of weights settled on his back. Jongho feels both void and heavy, burning eyes from the tears that he stubbornly swallows back.
He hasn’t dared look at Yunho as he’s turned away, knowing that seeing his heartbreak would’ve made his conviction shackle. He knows that he’s been silently weeping, however, biting on his lips like he needed that sting to ground himself.
Jongho honestly hopes that he suffers more than that. After the pain he’s caused to him, the blonde certainly deserves to be hit by karma. Also, this is undoubtedly all his fault. Yunho has a boyfriend, so why has he chosen to put him – and himself – through that? He could’ve left said partner before starting to see Jongho, if one is to believe that he actually likes him as much as he tells.
The brunette shakes his head. No, Yunho doesn’t love him. He merely wanted someone to trick to fill the void he probably feels in his relationship. Or even worse, to satisfy some sort of kink that revolves around cheating.
Jongho’s heartbreak is again swallowed by rage the more he thinks about it.
Is this how it works here? Back in America, no one had a problem in stating whether they wanted a one night stand or not. If he and Yunho had met there, he probably would’ve gotten his dicking and avoided developing feelings in the first place.
In hindsight, he thinks that would’ve been better. Casual sex here and there to satiate the need for it, no more abiding to the stupid three dates rule. No more feelings that can tear him apart from the inside out. No more surprises like that.
Jongho’s firm as he turns on the engine.
Yeah, he might do that from now on. Dating in Korea doesn’t seem fit for him after he’s tasted the way westerners do stuff. He may download apps to purposefully meet people just for sex. Find himself a fuck buddy and just go home to him when he feels the need for sex and cuddles.
But first he needs to forget Yunho.
He needs to shove the memory of the drug-ish taste of his lips to the deepest corners of his brain to avoid missing it. He needs to forget that he kisses like he needs it to survive, that he wears a golden ring on his index, and that his locks are soft and that his clothes all smell like fresh laundry.
And above all, he needs to come to terms that he’ll never have him, no matter how much his heart still holds onto the smallest of hope.
Where that comes from, he wouldn’t be able to say.