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A inhale, and an exhale. A gentle breeze. A ray of warmth, a beam of sunlight. A smile.
Jaemin opens his eyes slowly, his smile already turning into a giggle. When he gets out of bed, he doesn’t go to the bathroom, he doesn’t make a cup of coffee, he doesn’t even rub the sleep out of his eyes.
He just goes straight to his windows, then opens them, one by one.
Because today he wakes up in Paris.
Ah, Paris . The city of love, and the city Jaemin is very much in love with, even only after being here for less than a week. He basks in the morning sun, feeling it hit his skin, smiling when he looks down and sees the side street of his apartment starting to get busy.
Not long after though, he gets back to reality as he quickly gets ready for the day. Then, he’s out the door and savoring the wonderful summer air of France.
Jaemin is an exchange student for a semester in Paris, an opportunity he’s extremely grateful for as an art major. He’s one of the top students of their batch, so he’s the only one from their school (maybe even from the whole country) to receive such a prestigious exchange scholarship.
He’s enjoying so much, and it’s only his first week. The museums in Paris are absolutely breathtaking in Jaemin’s opinion, and even walking through the streets or his campus gives him so much inspiration.
Today, he’s set for a day of classes. He doesn’t have that many close friends yet since it’s only been a few days, and his French is only just at the beginner’s level. But, he gets by. What’s most important for him is what he learns in class, and how he enjoys his time here in the city.
But of course, class is still class, whether it be in Seoul, or Paris. He internally groans when he hears his last professor of the day give them a homework just before class time ends, an essay due tomorrow at that. He sighs as he closes his notebook, full of notes that are, contrary to what he’s studying, quite plain and even messy.
It’ll be fine, he assures himself as he stands up after the professor dismisses their class. He slings his bag over his shoulder, then gets going to work at a cafe.
It’s his first time going to a cafe whilst in Paris, and like every place he’s been to in this city so far, the one he decides to go to is absolutely beautiful. It’s just a small one tucked away in one of the corners of the city, but it’s still packed with students and employees alike. He’s been planning to go to this specific cafe for a couple days now, ever since he passed by it on his way back to his apartment from the university.
He smiles as he finds an empty table, taking a seat and putting down his things.
But he only realizes his rookie tourist mistake when he’s handed a menu, full of French words and not a single picture. This is the first time he’s encountering such a problem here, realizing that he’s always went to touristy places with English translations, or with classmates who speak French fluently.
Jaemin swallows. He’s not even that good at English either.
Sweat begins to drip down his temple as he runs his eyes over the entirety of the menu, not a single word he understands how to say except for the basics. Sure, he understands words like coffee and bread and even latte, but there are practically seven different kinds of lattes on the menu and he doesn’t know what the hell to do. Problem is too, he only drinks specific kinds of lattes, because he’s lactose intolerant.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His nerves fill up his entire being when he notices a figure hover over him, and a voice saying French words he can’t quite piece together in his head, not right now at least.
He swallows, then looks up nervously to see a French waiter gazing at him confusedly, and Jaemin swallows a second time.
The waiter repeats the words, and all Jaemin can do is assume he’s asking for his order. He takes a deep breath, clears his throat, then turns to the waiter.
“Vous avez des lattes?”
Of course, they serve lattes, it’s literally on the menu, Jaemin thinks, but he can’t come up with another sentence to say right now. He’d do better if it were any other situation, but right now the nervousness, the panic is eating him up inside.
The waiter nods and says some more words, ending it with a somewhat questioning tone (or well, Jaemin thinks so). Worst part is, all Jaemin understood was, ‘Yes .’
Shit.
The waiter looks at him again, awaiting his answer. “Monsieur? Ça va?”
Jaemin can feel the summer heat suddenly hitting him so terribly hard, no air in his lungs and sweat dampening his skin. And despite all this, he shivers in his seat.
“씨발 (ssi-bal),” he whispers to himself, hands gripping onto his pants. What do I do?
He’s so close to just giving up and leaving, never to return to this lovely little cafe again.
Until he hears another voice, much deeper than the other, speaking in French too.
When he looks up, he sees an Asian-looking man with styled red hair and sharp features, conversing with the waiter in full French. All Jaemin can do is blink as he watches them talk, unable to process a single word they’re saying in his head.
All those French crash course videos, and for what?
He runs a hand through his hair, taking breaths in and out. And then, the red-haired man turns to him, crouching down a bit.
“Are you perhaps Korean?”
Jaemin’s eyes widen. That’s my language-
“I’m Korean too. I can help you.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Jaemin breathes out instantly.
He sees the man’s eyes turn into little moons as he smiles. “What did you want to order?”
“Uhm- a s-soy latte, if they have one of those. Please.”
He watches wide-eyed as the man once again turns to the waiter, then says a few words in French. Much to Jaemin’s relief, the waiter nods and leaves with a smile.
He breathes easy then, wiping some sweat that had formed on his forehead haphazardly.
“You okay?” he hears the man ask, to which he immediately stops his movements, slightly embarrassed.
“Oh, uhm, y-yes, thank you so much,” he nods with a small chuckle of relief. “I’m so sorry, my French is just … really bad. You really saved me, seriously, thank you.”
“It’s all good,” the man smiles. “Are you perhaps a tourist?”
“No, no, I’m an exchange student here for this semester,” Jaemin explains, a bit of proudness in his tone he admits. “W-What about you? Are you an exchange student too?”
The man shakes his head, charming smile still maintained on his sculpted face. “I live here, actually. I’m a resident, I grew up here. But my parents are full Korean, so I know how to speak it.”
“Wow, that’s cool,” Jaemin can’t help but murmur. At that moment, his coffee arrives, but his smile quickly turns into a frown when he sees the steaming mug placed in front of him.
“Did you want it iced?” the Korean-French man quickly catches on.
Jaemin immediately looks up, “Oh, yeah, but it’s okay! It’s not a big deal-”
But then the man is already calling the waiter again and exchanging some more French words with him. When the man turns back to him, he’s got that grin on his face again.
Jaemin can’t help but smile too, something about the other man’s smile being so contagious.
Seconds later, he’s handed a glass filled with ice.
“Thank you,” Jaemin says sheepishly, but sincerely.
“You’re welcome,” the man replies in French, which is something Jaemin finally understands, making the both of them laugh a bit. “I just got here anyway, so it’s not much of a bother.”
They smile at each other for a little too long, before looking away at the same time.
“Well, I better get going,” the man says, to which Jaemin quickly nods. “Right, right, yes go ahead. Thank you again.”
The man gives him a smile, before walking away again, further into the cafe.
Just a few minutes later though, Jaemin catches him standing in one corner, and when he looks around too, he notices that there are no more empty seats.
Jaemin bites down on his bottom lip. Cautiously, he approaches the man.
“Hey there. Do you maybe wanna sit with me? I’m just alone so, I can share my table with you.”
The man visibly inhales sharply, before smiling and nodding. “Sure. I’ll just uhm- go get my things.”
Jaemin smiles and nods then. He bites down on his bottom lip as he returns to his seat, gazing at his mug of coffee. Carefully, he pours it in to the glass with ice, watching as it melts some of the ice away.
“Hi,” the man says as he comes to his table with a bag and an iced coffee of his own.
“Hi,” Jaemin returns with a smile.
The man takes a seat across him and now that he’s finally on the same level as him, Jaemin can finally get a good look at his face at a closer distance, head-on.
He’s got a chiselled jaw-line, a tall nose, pretty long eyelashes, and a silver ear cuff on his helix. He has a mole beside his eye, and a naturally striking but kind aura. His eyes are sharp, but they smile with the rest of his face.
Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Please be gay.
After the man orders his drink, he turns to Jaemin with a smile. “Thank you for letting me sit with you.”
“Oh, i-it’s no problem at all,” Jaemin reassures as he shakes his head.
“Were you planning to study here?” the man asks, eyeing his bag.
“Yes, yes I was,” Jaemin nods. He takes out some of his notes and his laptop then. “What about you? Were you planning to study too? I-I mean not to assume or anything! But you just- you just look like a student too. Sorry,” he murmurs, wanting to punch himself in the face for stumbling over such a simple question.
“Don’t worry,” the man chuckles, nodding as well. “I am a student, actually. I’m a senior at Sorbonne University. Do you know it?”
Jaemin is unable to control the gasp that falls from his lips, “That’s where I’m studying now too!” He adds quietly, “I think we’re the same age.”
“Really?” the other man asks without honorifics, leaning forward with an arm on the table.
Jaemin smiles. “Born 2000?” he asks informally too.
The man chuckles and nods. He continues speaking informally. “What do you study?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink – an iced Americano, Jaemin notes in his head.
“Sounds cliché since I’m in Paris, but I’m an art history major. What about you?”
“I study science and design.”
Jaemin inhales silently. A double degree.
In return, the man laughs lightly. “I don’t look it, don’t I?”
“No, no, you do!” Jaemin immediately says, shaking his head profusely. “You do look it.”
The man laughs at his words, making him feel at ease in an odd way. “Thanks. You do look like you’re an art history major too, if that matters to you.”
Jaemin smiles, shaking his head. He lifts his drink to his lips and takes a sip. “And what does an art history major look like, mister double degree student?”
“Like my type?”
Jaemin pauses all his movements. He swallows the coffee in his mouth, then puts down his drink. He feels warmth rush up to his face. He blinks, a bit fazed.
The man across him plays with his own fingers, before sighing, a small smile on his lips. “I guess that was the wrong thing to say?”
The exchange student laughs then, “No, it was good, it was good!” he immediately says whilst laughing. “I just … I just haven’t had someone openly flirt with me in a while,” he exhales.
The man leans in then, his small smile turning into a smirk.
“Was I flirting though?”
Jaemin crosses his arms on his chest, a wide grin displayed on his face as he scoffs and returns with the same tone, “Were you not ?”
“Was I?”
“Were you?”
The man shrugs playfully as he takes a sip from his Americano. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
“ You tell me , French boy!” Jaemin returns, the both of them bursting into laughter afterwards. Jaemin can feel his cheeks beginning to hurt.
He gives the man a look. “So?”
“What?”
Jaemin rolls his eyes playfully. “ So , are you flirting with me?”
The boy sighs and puts down his drink. “Depends,” he hums.
Jaemin snorts and leans back on his chair. “Depends on?”
In contrast, the boy leans forward further, levelling their stares, but not in a way that’s threatening nor intimidating. Only in a way that makes Jaemin’s heart beat a couple seconds faster.
“Well,” the man starts, “Would you tell this French boy your name, mister art history exchange student?”
Jaemin’s lips stretch upwards at an instant. He sits up, then extends a hand to the man.
“Jaemin. Na Jaemin.”
The boy smiles, taking the exchange student’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, monsieur Jaemin.”
Jaemin giggles. In French, he asks, “And what is your name, monsieur?”
“Jeno,” the man replies, eyes dazzling and gaze unwavering. “Lee Jeno.”
Lee Jeno.
Lee Jeno.
Lee Jeno.
Jaemin imprints his name in his mind, highlights every character, makes bold every stroke, fills up a whole page with it and bookmarks it with a fold on the corner.
“Lee Jeno,” he breathes out. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
The rest of the afternoon, they actually spend studying as Jaemin had told Jeno that he had an essay to finish. They worked silently then, but Jaemin definitely couldn’t help but steal one or two glances at the French local. His intense concentration as he types something on his laptop, his lips that stretch to a thin line as he writes something down on his notebook, his eyes that grow and remain round as he reads something.
Jaemin smiles at the sight.
Little does he know, Jeno has been stealing a few glances too; maybe one, maybe two, maybe twenty-seven.
When Jaemin finishes his essay, it’s already 7pm. He closes his laptop, and he sees that Jeno does the same with his own. He narrows his eyes at the red-haired boy cheekily.
“Were you waiting for me to finish?”
“And if I was?”
Jaemin chuckles, and his smile retains as he sighs and sits up.
“Do you want to exchange phone numbers?”
“Only at your front door. May I walk you home?”
Jaemin scoffs, despite feeling his cheeks flush. Geez, what a smooth talker.
He shoves his things into his bag, then rises up to his feet.
“Come on then, French boy.”
French boy smiles and stands up too.
“Lead the way, monsieur.”
Jaemin chuckles, then they walk side by side to his apartment.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), Jaemin’s apartment isn’t too far. It only takes three minutes, about thirty sentences, and twelve more pages filled with Lee Jeno in his mind, before they arrive at his front door.
In that short amount of time and few number of words, Jaemin finds out that Jeno doesn’t live far from the campus either, but he’s to the university’s right, whereas Jaemin’s apartment is to its left. He rides a motorcycle around the city, but chose to walk today since all he had was class. Both his parents migrated to and currently live in the countryside of France, where he was born and raised. He only moved to Paris for college, so he lives alone in his own apartment as well. He also learns that Jeno found out he was Korean because he heard him curse, much to the latter’s embarrassment.
“So.” He sighs as they finally stop at the doorstep of his apartment.
Jeno stops right in front of him, hands in his pockets. “So.”
They share a single look, then Jaemin takes out his phone. He opens it to his contacts application, then hands it to the French boy in front of him.
“Here.”
Jeno smirks, before taking out his phone and handing it to Jaemin too. They type out their own details on each other’s phones, before returning them to their owners.
“Will you text me then?” Jeno asks as he slides his phone into his back pocket.
“Depends,” Jaemin hums cheekily.
Jeno rolls his eyes. “Depends on?”
“Do you want me to text you?”
He watches breathlessly as the other man laughs. Without a word, Jeno takes out his phone, then begins typing something. A second later, as expected, Jaemin’s phone sounds a notification.
He only takes his eyes off of Jeno to unlock it and read the notification.
Yours is the only text I ever want to receive.
Jaemin bites down on his bottom lip. He types out his reply.
Hi.
He hears Jeno’s warm chuckle from across him. Then, the sound of another notification.
Hi.
They both fall into soft laughter then, the sound of other people talking, or motorcycles passing by becoming muted for the two of them.
“I guess I’ll see you around campus?” Jaemin says.
Jeno nods and chuckles. “You will.”
Jaemin smiles back, before he’s finally beginning to enter the front door of his building. “Good night,” he says as he looks back.
“Good night, Jaemin.”
Later on, when he’s in his bedroom, Jaemin’s phone dings again. He immediately hops on his bed to have a look at it.
jeno the sexy french guy i met at the cafe ;)
pssst
you there?
Jaemin rolls his eyes as he notices what French boy had set his own contact to. Well, not like what he set up on Jeno’s phone is any better.
cute exchange student from korea i flirted with >.<
no, clearly i am not here whilst i am typing this message
jeno the sexy french guy i met at the cafe ;)
oh, so the cute exchange student i’m taking on a dinner picnic by the eiffel tower, which is a tourist-essential activity might i add, this saturday isn’t there?
cute exchange student from korea i flirted with >.<
hahaha
are you asking me out right now?
jeno the sexy french guy i met at the cafe ;)
and if i am, kind master of the arts?
what shall be your answer to this lowly servant?
cute exchange student from korea i flirted with >.<
hahaha
hmmm
i’ll think about it
jeno the sexy french guy i met at the cafe ;)
are you doing anything now?
cute exchange student from korea i flirted with >.<
none of importance, if that’s what you’re wondering, oh great double degree monsieur
im just laying in bed hahah
Jaemin gasps when suddenly his phone screen changes to an incoming call, and in big bold letters at the top, is none other than jeno the sexy french guy i met at the cafe.
He sits up, presses the green button, the puts his phone up to his ear.
“I’ll think about it, huh?”
Jaemin shakes his head, smiling. “Well, hello to you too, Jeno the French guy I met at the cafe.”
He hears Jeno’s muffled chuckle on the other end.
“Hello, cute exchange student from Korea I questionably flirted with.”
Jaemin giggles, “Questionably?”
“Arguably.”
He rolls his eyes. “So, why’d you call, monsieur Lee?”
A short pause.
Jaemin can hear his own breathing in his ear.
“Must I need a reason to call the boy I take interest in?”
Jaemin bites down on his bottom lip.
“After one meeting, perhaps you do.”
“Then, let’s say I just wanted to see if my phone worked. I haven’t been able to call anyone for days now, you know? Thank goodness it finally worked tonight, what a great coincidence it was you who I was able to call!”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Another soft chuckle . “Am I?”
“Incredibly.”
“Do you hate it?”
“No,” Jaemin replies without even thinking.
He hears French boy’s smile through his words.
“Then that’s enough for me.”
Jaemin smiles too.
“You going to bed soon?”
“Maybe. What about you?”
“Maybe too,” he returns. “You should rest, you must’ve walked a long way back home.”
“Aw, are you worried about me, kind monsieur?”
Jaemin plops back down onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“You wish.”
He hears awfully unrealistic impressions of gunshots to the man’s chest and pain on the other end of the line, making him roll his eyes playfully.
“Well, I’ll see you this weekend,” he says before Jeno can get another choked up grunt or yelp out.
And finally, the noises stop. He can practically see French boy’s smirk.
“Is that a yes?”
“Good night, Jeno.”
A few more pages of Jeno are written in his mind when the call ends, just as Jaemin lies on his side, hugging his own pillow with an uncontrollable grin on his face.
–––
They text every day for the rest of the week. Just small things, but Jaemin relishes in getting to know more about French boy.
“What was your class just now?”
“What’s your favorite class?”
“Do you have any recommendations for Parisian food?”
“Do you get cold easily too?”
“Do your classes end at around 3pm too?”
“Isn’t driving a motorcycle scary?”
“What do you love most about Paris?”
“Anything you hate about it?”
There was so much to talk about, so much to know. Jaemin wanted to know more, to see more of Jeno. He wanted more lines, more pages in his book, and he wanted all of them to be filled with only Jeno.
And so the weekend arrives.
Jeno had told him to meet at the riverbanks of the Seine at 8 in the evening. The weather is luckily good and breezy, not too warm nor rainy either.
Within five minutes of standing there, Jaemin feels a tap on his shoulder. Excitement fills him and a smile grows on his face. He quickly turns around, but the adrenaline washes away when he sees it’s a French boy. Not the French boy he was hoping for though.
The man says a few words in French, and this time, he’s calm enough to understand that he’s asking if he could take a picture of him with his camera. Jaemin gives him a small smile and nods.
After taking the man’s picture, he gives him back his camera so he can check the photos. The French man chuckles as he scrolls through them. “You are a natural,” the man tells him.
Jaemin laughs and shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to say the word ‘hobby’ in French, so he just says, ”I like doing it too.”
“Really?” he hears a different voice say in French, and this time as he looks back, his smile grows wider quickly.
“Jeno,” he breathes out as he gazes at the him, and just like that, four more pages are added to his book.
“Hello, Jaemin-ah,” Jeno says in Korean this time.
After the other French man says thank you to Jaemin and bids them good bye, Jaemin finally gets to face Jeno fully.
And then he realizes he doesn’t really know what to say. Seems like Jeno doesn’t know either.
“Hi.”
Jaemin laughs. “Hi.”
He hears French boy sigh happily (or so he hopes), eyes squinting a bit from the sun. “Shall we?” he says as he holds up his woven basket.
Jaemin giggles and nods, holding up the basket he had brought too. “Lead the way, monsieur.”
Together, they walk side by side, following the local’s footsteps.
“So, which way is to the Eiffel tower?” he asks curiously as they walk further and further away from the Seine.
He hears French boy chuckle next to him. “I think you mean, how do we get to the Eiffel tower.”
Jeno stops then, and so he does too. He turns towards him. “What do you mean? Is it really far?” he suddenly panics.
Jeno shrugs, “Yep. Pretty far.” Jaemin’s about to panic further, until French boy finally meets his gaze with a cheeky smile. “Good thing I have a motorcycle, don’t I?”
His eyes turn to the shiny black vehicle just a few meters away from them, a sleek and pretty motorcycle.
“Wow,” he says in awe, “Is it new?”
“No, I just got it cleaned,” Jeno replies as they begin walking toward it. Then, he looks back at him with a smirk, “For our date.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes, but can’t hide the blush that spreads across his cheeks.
As they ride across Paris for a good couple of minutes, Jaemin eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at the beautiful views. The gorgeous buildings lit up, the music playing in some areas, the streetlights reflecting on the river Seine. Everything is so beautiful, even the way the breeze pushes his platinum hair back, the way it brings the smell of delicious bread to his nose, the way Jeno looks back at him with a small smile.
When they finally arrive at their destination, Jaemin can’t help but get off the motorcycle excitedly. Not because he terribly hated the ride, it’s quite the opposite actually, but because of that.
With round eyes and parted lips, Jaemin slowly begins walking towards the Eiffel tower, golden and grand and absolutely glorious , the sunset reflecting on its structure. There are people sitting down in the area too, eating and chatting in their own little picnics. The water is glowing, the trees are swaying, and everything feels too good to be true.
“What do you think?” he hears Jeno say next to him.
“It’s so beautiful,” Jaemin whispers, and equally beautiful, is the smile that grows on his face. “I still can’t believe I’m here.”
“I’m glad you are,” Jeno says, making him meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
For dinner, they sit on the tall walls surrounding the Seine like everyone else, facing the magnificent view of the tower. They bring out the food and drinks they brought in their picnic baskets, all kinds of breads, cheese, and college-student-wallet-friendly wine. They also brought their own pasta meals, which they both admitted to not cooking and just having bought at a restaurant.
Simple similarities like that make them laugh gently, blaming their blushes on the wine and the twists in their stomachs on the cheese.
“So how was your week?” Jeno asks as he takes a sip of the cheap wine they’ve put in even cheaper plastic cups.
“It was okay,” the exchange student shrugs, before drinking some of his wine too.
“Oh, come on,” French boy scoffs, leaning a bit closer with one hand pressed on the concrete.
Jaemin laughs, “What?”
“When I ask a question like, ‘how was your week,’ I don’t wanna hear ‘it was okay.’ I wanna hear everything, all the tiny details. What you did, what you enjoyed, what you hated – anything at all,” Jeno says, fully facing him now with crossed-legs, ready to listen. “I want to know everything; everything you’ll allow me to know, at least.”
The blonde smiles, shaking his head. “You’ll get bored, and it’ll be super annoying. I can get really fucking talkative, seriously. It’s bad.”
Jeno shrugs, before putting down his drink and just gazing at his features, silently admiring how perfectly they lay on his face. “I don’t mind talkative, monsieur. Not if it’s you anyway.”
Jaemin bites on his bottom lip. No one has ever told him that before, and he never tried to do it too. He always thought no one would take interest in all the shit he said.
Yet here’s French boy, all ears as he eats a piece of cheese.
Jaemin takes a breath in, then smiles as he breathes out.
“Okay. My week was … pretty good. I spent most of my time on campus getting my work done and going to my classes. We had quite an interesting lecture on Renaissance painters and the context they created their works in. I also uhm- tried out a new cafe? And I met someone, actually,” he says trivially, leaning a bit closer to Jeno too, who’s clearly amused.
“Oh? And what was that someone like?”
Jaemin laughs a bit and shakes his head.
“He was very kind and helped me order my coffee. He also walked me home and asked for my number.”
“Wow,” French boy muses, making the other laugh more. “So what do you think of this someone?”
Jaemin inhales at the same time he bites on his lip. “Well, he’s really sweet, and … I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. For one, he’s quite attractive,” he starts, making the double degree monsieur nod in great agreement. “He’s also very welcoming, attentive, warm, straightforward, fun and flirtatious,” he says with a little chuckle, before sighing and continuing as he looks into French boy’s sharp, yet deep eyes.
“And I just … I just hope I’m not the only one who’s feeling this way when we talk or look at each other.”
Jeno doesn’t break their gaze.
“What way?”
Jaemin exhales a soft laugh. “Like everything and nothing at the same time. Like your heart is light and free and dancing in the air, but like it’s also fallen into your stomach and thumps so strongly and so quickly that it hurts deep inside you. Like the moment before you make your first brush stroke on a blank canvas, that feeling of being excited and worried at the same time.” He says it all in almost a single breath, with his own heart beat ringing in his ears, with his fingers curling around his own knees, with the writing in his brain pausing for just a single moment, waiting to turn and start another page.
He anticipates Jeno’s reply as he looks into his eyes, in hopes of finding that same feeling in them.
And, Jeno smiles. Not cocky or flirty, just soft and sweet and like everything and nothing at the same time.
“I think your someone feels the same way,” he says, just above a whisper.
They both break into bigger smiles, cheeks all shades of pink as they finally look away and get back to eating casually.
They continue talking about each other, mostly about university life and how different it is back in South Korea and in France. Jeno muses about how they must be soulmates to have met like this, and Jaemin wonders if French boy only means it as a joke.
He hopes he doesn’t. He hopes Jeno’s heart is beating as fast as his, hopes his blush is not just from the summer heat nor the wine too. He hopes Jeno is stealing glances at him too, looking for opportunities to get to know him more, to see him more, to understand him more.
As the night goes by, Jaemin’s cheeks begin to hurt from smiling and laughing at almost everything French boy says. He’s so silly yet so confident, so carefree and fun. Jaemin’s throat starts to ache a bit too from laughing loudly and from all the talking, which he isn’t used to at all. There’s something about Jeno that makes him feel so comfortable, enough to let go of his worries and speak without inhibitions or thoughts.
When they finish their food, they decide to go on a quick ride around town. Along the way, Jeno points at famous tourist destinations, and talks about places he wants to bring the exchange student to.
As the wind blows on his skin and French boy glances behind him with a smile, Jaemin feels his heart thump loudly again in his chest. A new page is filled up, and a second one is quickly being begun.
Later on, they stop and get down again to simply admire the Eiffel tower, which is now lit-up, dazzling prettily in the dark of the night. The art major feels drunker than he actually is, even more so when Jeno reaches forward to tuck some hair behind his ear.
“Do you get red everytime you drink?” French boy asks. They’re sitting on the concrete again, no food and not much space between them anymore.
Jaemin blinks. “Yeah … genes I guess.”
Then, Jeno looks into his eyes. “Do you want to go home?”
Jaemin smiles, then shakes his head, honest.
“No,” he whispers.
Jeno smiles too. “Having fun then?”
This time, he nods. “More than I thought I would.”
“Then do I get a second date?”
The younger sighs, cheeks as warm as his breath. He looks down shyly, fingers rubbing against each other on his lap.
“Do I get a kiss?” he whispers.
When he receives no response for a good few seconds, he lets out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask, wasn’t it?”
And then, he feels knuckles running across his cheek gently. He looks up and meets French boy’s eyes, melting into his touch as he turns his hand slowly, so it’s now his palm caressing his skin. They lean towards each other, closer, and closer, and closer.
Jaemin’s breath trembles when he feels their noses brush against each other.
Jeno’s eyes drop down to his lips.
“May I?” the older asks in French.
And in French, Jaemin replies. “Please do.”
Jaemin closes his eyes, and on his lips, he feels a gentle yet firm touch. Their lips move against each other in perfect rhythm, so slow and sweet that Jaemin longs for more when French boy pulls away.
Even if they only kissed for a few seconds, they’re both breathless as they look into each other’s eyes, still not moving a single inch away from each other. Their eyes open slowly, at the same time, and when they meet gazes again, they fall into giggles, all too fond of every moment they’ve had together, albeit few.
A new chapter begins.
–––
So they go on the second date. He takes Jeno to one of his favorite museums – well, more like Jeno takes him since he’s actually never been and has only ever dreamed of stepping foot inside it and actually standing in front of these artworks he had studied for months.
Then they go on the third date. Jeno brings him flowers. Funnily enough, he had prepared something for French boy too – a home-cooked Korean meal.
Then they go on the fourth date, and the fifth, and the sixth, and then Jeno is picking him up from his apartment everyday on his motorcycle to go to campus together, and their lunch breaks are always with each other. Jaemin comes to meet his other French friends, as well as the cat Jeno stays with in his own apartment. When they’re not physically together, they’re either on call or thinking of the other, sending photos of random things they come across, and texting “hi” in Korean, French, and English when they’re bored.
It’s their twentieth, maybe twenty-first date, Jaemin isn’t sure anymore, he’s stopped counting after the second. Today, they’re off to dinner after a long week of classes. By now, he’s a bit more familiar with the cobblestone streets and beautiful buildings of Paris, and a lot better at French too with the help of the Korean-French boy that’s stealing a kiss on his cheek as they walk around in search of a good restaurant.
After dinner, they end up at Jeno’s place, drinking by his large bedroom windows, and making out shamelessly in front of the stars. They’re in the city of love after all.
It’s still a couple hours before midnight when they transfer to Jeno’s bed. French boy sits down on the very end, bringing Jaemin to stand between his legs as their fingers are laced together. French boy kisses both of his hands, before looking up at him with sincere eyes.
“May I borrow you for the evening, monsieur?” he whispers in French, making the younger bite back a smile. Jaemin’s heart beats loudly in his chest, the same way it did on their first date by the Seine, the same way it did when they met at the cafe, the same way it did when the first page was being written.
Although they’ve been spending tons of their time together in the past weeks, he’s never once slept over at Jeno’s and vice versa. They’ve kissed and touched each other, but never completely given themselves to the other.
“You can take me for the whole weekend,” Jaemin whispers softly, placing his hands on the sides of Jeno’s neck. He leans down to slot their lips together, letting French boy unzip and pull down his jeans. Once he steps out of them, he reaches for the older’s T-shirt too, pulling it up and over his figure.
When he leans back in, Jeno immediately wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him in so he’s sitting on his lap. Their kisses become more rushed and more desperate, little whines escaping both their lips, refusing to pull apart even as they move up to the center of the mattress.
It only takes a minute before they’re both just left in their underwear, skin on skin, grinding their hard-ons together impatiently.
“H-How do you wanna do this?” Jaemin asks as he catches his breath for a moment. Meanwhile, French boy doesn’t seem tired at all, planting open-mouthed kisses on the expanse of his neck.
“ Ah, f-fuck, Jeno-”
Jeno leaves a soft kiss below his jaw, before moving up to look into the younger’s eyes. “Can I fuck you?”
Jaemin moans at his words. He nods at the same time he leans in to crash their lips together again. Their hands are quick to rid themselves of their last piece of clothing, finally completely bare in front of each other.
It’s Jaemin who takes it upon himself to push Jeno down so he’s laying on the bed on his back.
“Never knew you could be so feisty, baby,” French boy chuckles as Jaemin smooths his palms over his torso and arms.
The younger lets out giggles too in response, shutting the other up with a kiss. It’s all smiles and butterflies between their lips, until their cocks brush against each other, and suddenly their kiss becomes deeper, wetter, faster.
It’s not long before their positions are being flipped around, Jaemin gently plopping down on his back on the mattress. Jeno begins trailing kisses down his pale, smooth skin, from his neck, to his collarbones, to his chest, and to his abdomen.
When he reaches Jaemin’s red, aching cock, he gives the length a teasing lick, smiling when the younger squirms.
Jeno continues moving lower and lower, until he’s finally in between Jaemin’s legs and pressing kisses to both of his inner thighs. He doesn’t give him a second to breathe, just immediately licks a stripe on his pretty hole.
“Jeno!” Jaemin gasps, sitting up from his position in complete shock. “W-What are you doing?”
French boy just chuckles, massaging his inner thighs with his thumbs. “First time?”
Jaemin slowly nods. “Yeah.”
At the same time he leans closer, Jeno gives him a devilish smile.
In French, he replies lowly. “Perfect.”
Then, he’s diving back in and swirling his tongue all over the younger’s rim, teasing with little sucks and coaxing it to relax. It doesn’t take much, really. Not with how desperate Jaemin is, feeling like he could already cum like this, with Jeno between his legs, his tongue on his puckering hole, his own hands grasping the sheets below him, and his lungs gasping for air.
But then French boy inserts a single finger into him, and then immediately a second one follows, and god, Jaemin can only take so much. His hand flies downwards to form a tight grip around the older’s wrist.
“F-Fuck, wait,” he whispers, and how quickly he does it makes Jeno take his fingers out and listen in an instant.
“What’s wrong? Is it too much?”
Jaemin smiles because how can he be so sweet even now?
“A little,” he replies raspily. Then, he admits, “I was about to cum.”
“Why don’t you then?”
He shakes his head, meeting French boy’s eyes. “I wanna cum on your cock.”
He hears Jeno whisper a curse in Korean, before moving up to kiss his lips. Jaemin smiles against his lips, relishing in this moment as he cups French boy’s sculpted face with both hands, more and more pages being filled up in such a short amount of time. He lets Jeno kiss him deeper, lets him explore his mouth with his tongue and swallow his breathy moans.
His back arches into a pretty curve when he feels Jeno insert not two, but three of his digits back into him. He’s moving them in and out at a calm pace, yet every thrust goes all the way inside Jaemin, his fingertips brushing against his prostate every now and then.
Again, Jaemin resists the urge to cum, resorting to whimpering as he squeezes his eyes shut. His arms stretch forward, fingers clawing at Jeno’s firm back. Meanwhile, the older has begun sucking marks onto his neck, creating pretty splotches of red and pink.
When Jeno finally eases into him, it’s with a sharp inhale from both of them. Jaemin bites on his bottom lip as a tear escapes onto his cheek.
Immediately, French boy kisses it away. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jaemin whispers, opening his eyes to look into Jeno’s concerned ones. “It’s just … been a while.” He feels a blush creep onto his cheeks as the older smiles softly and combs away some hair on the edges of his face.
“Okay. Let’s take our time then.”
For a few minutes, they just stay there laying together, the only sound heard in the room being their slow and gentle lip-locking, and the satiated hums that come with it.
When Jaemin says he’s ready, Jeno moves. And Jeno’s always been so extremely athletic, so active and enthusiastic when it came to going to the gym or walking instead of riding his motorcycle. He says it’s to look good in clothes, but somehow the exchange student thinks it’s for this.
Every muscle on Jeno’s body is at work as he fucks hard and fast into him, never missing a single beat nor an opportunity to hit Jaemin’s prostate.
“Feel good?” he exhales onto his neck, and Jaemin just moans in response because he can’t form proper words anymore. His arms and legs are wrapped around French boy, head thrown back against his pillow, eyes closed in pure bliss as moan after moan comes out of his lips.
It’s embarrassing when he starts to feel that same knot in his stomach tightening again, threatening to break apart all too quickly.
“ Fuck, I-I’m going to cum,” he whimpers out, one of his hands tangling into Jeno’s red hair.
Much to his surprise, French boy groans, “Me too.”
Jaemin flutters his eyes open then. He gently pulls on the older’s locks, so Jeno’s slowing down his thrusts and looking at him.
“Kiss me,” he whispers softly, barely even audible, let alone understandable. And yet, French boy leans down and kisses him. His thrusts return to their original fast pace, but the way he kisses Jaemin remains sweet and kind, even the way his fingers trace up the exchange student’s arm so he can hold his hand is gentle and loving.
Jaemin finishes first, releasing between their abdomens with a long, high-pitched moan. Jeno finishes inside him not long after, with a strong final thrust, and a faint whisper.
“Jaemin.”
After a minute of catching their breaths, Jeno pulls out of him as carefully as he can. Then, he rises up and gets out of bed, not without giving Jaemin a kiss to his forehead. When he comes back, he cleans the younger up with a towel, before finally joining him in bed again.
It’s all so natural, the way Jeno slides in next to him, pulls up the comforter, and welcomes him into his arms. As if they’ve done it a million times, as if Jaemin’s been staying here for months. As if he could do it a million times more, as if he could stay here for a few more months, maybe even years.
In the past weeks they’ve been spending together, nothing has felt more like home than Lee Jeno. His shamelessly flirtatious remarks, his cocky yet heartfelt compliments, his genuine want to know more about Jaemin, and the way he always make him feel safe and needed.
Jaemin breathes heavily yet calmly as he remains still, laying in Jeno’s arms. Their legs are tangled beneath the sheets, fingers mindlessly playing with each other under the dim light from French boy’s window. Jeno’s running the tips of his fingers through his scalp, feeling its softness against his skin.
Subconsciously, Jaemin smiles. He looks up at the older, just stares at the way he stares into nothing. Then, he feels Jeno intertwine their fingers properly, before bringing their hands up to his lips and kissing his knuckles.
They fall asleep in a wink.
In the morning, Jaemin wakes up to some birds chirping outside the window. His face scrunches up in annoyance, questioning why there are suddenly birds hanging out there, when he remembers that he isn’t in his own apartment.
He becomes hyper-aware of the chest that’s on his back, the arm that’s wrapped around his middle, the warm breathing on his nape. He smiles.
Gently, he turns around in French boy’s hold, before embracing him as well and letting a sleepy Jeno snuggle into his arms. Jaemin cradles his head close to him, pressing kisses into his hair in between calm strokes.
“Jeno,” he whispers, with no other words or thoughts in particular succeeding it. Just his name, as it is. It’s all he wants to speak, all he wants to think, all he wants to know in this city of love. It’s all he needs next to him, all he needs to feel the comfort of being in his own space, the safety of having his own house, the happiness and contentment of being in his own home. It’s what all of his pages are filled with, what his entire book is and will be of.
He watches as Jeno opens his eyes slowly, as he adjusts his position to meet his own. Jaemin caresses his cheek.
“ Jeno,” he whispers again. But this time, it’s followed by,
“I love you.”
And when French boy smiles at him, gazes at him kindly, kisses his lips tenderly, says his name softly,
“Jaemin.”
He knows that in Jeno’s mind, are pages and pages and pages, filled with only him too.
“I love you too.”