[21] part 1 of 4

[chajatta.livejournal.com]

Honey, come set me free
Chanyeol/Jongin
NC-17, 38,164 words
Warnings for past emotionally abusive relationship

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. It all started when I saw this picture of Jongin looking like a damned supermodel, then it all spiralled out of control from there. Many thanks again to L and M for holding my hand, offering me advice, and their constant belief in me when I had none in myself.



“Tilt your head to the left for me, Jongin, that’s it. Now push your hips up a little. There we go, that’s gorgeous, hold it there for me.”

Jongin licks his lips as the rapid click click click of a camera shutter fires off around him. He turns his head a fraction more, bares the long column of his throat, and he watches as best he can as the photographer moves in closer. Jongin can feel his make up beginning to melt, sweat pooling in the little dip at the base of his neck, but he continues to hold himself still, peering up at the camera lens from beneath thick lashes. There’s one last succession of clicks and then the photographer is lowering his camera. The smile he shoots at Jongin is all teeth and gums and nearly as blinding as the lights surrounding them.

“Lovely,” he says, turning away from Jongin to face the rest of the crew. “That’s the final shot for today. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone.” There’s a chorus of replies and then chaos explodes across the set as the crew scrambles like a wave of well rehearsed army ants to disassemble it. Jongin’s barely pulled himself up off the bed they’d had him spread out over when an assistant appears by his side, a terry cloth robe clutched to her chest.

“Thank you,” Jongin says, softly. Their fingers brush as Jongin takes the robe and the assistant nods at him vaguely before going to strip down the bed. There are bodies everywhere, carrying light fittings and furnishings off the set, and Jongin hurries to get out of their way. He pulls his robe on, grateful for the chance to finally cover up after hours of shooting, and knots the tie around his waist as he picks his way across the set.

The photographer has already got his camera hooked up to his laptop and Jongin moves behind him, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the screen.

“Is everything okay, Minseok-hyung?” Minseok glances behind him, still beaming, and then turns back to his laptop. Jongin watches as he quickly rifles through a few hundred shots, before he double clicks one of the thumbnails to bring it up on full screen.

It’s a shot from the beginning of the shoot, one of Jongin kneeling on top of the partially made bed (he hadn’t quite gotten around to mussing it up, yet). The muscles in his bare thighs and stomach are tensed, arms over his head as Jongin tugs his t-shirt up and off. His hair is artfully ruffled and Jongin’s laughing, mouth frozen half open with delight as he looks off to a point somewhere just to the left of the camera. The black boxer briefs they’d dressed him in rest low on his hips, the name Meteor Shower embroidered in blood red cursive just below his navel.

It’s a nice shot, Jongin thinks.

Minseok must agree, because he makes a copy of the file and drags it onto his pen drive.

“Everything’s perfect, Jongin,” Minseok says, sparing Jongin a quick glance. “Go on, go and get yourself changed. I’ve got more than enough to choose from.”

Jongin bows politely, dipping his head to hide the flush that blooms across his cheeks at the praise. The neck of his dressing gown gapes as he straightens up.

“It’s because you’re such a good photographer,” he says, “you make it easy for me.”

Minseok snorts and he spins around on his chair to tug on Jongin’s robe playfully. “You’d have to be a real idiot not to be able to shoot you well,” he says as Jongin lets out an undignified squawk and dances away to re-tie his robe. “Go on, get out of here. It’s been a pleasure but I’ve got everything I need. Go home and get some rest.”

“Thanks, hyung.” Jongin bows again and the smile Minseok levels him with is more than a little fond. “Don’t stay too late, okay?”

Minseok has already turned back to his laptop, so Jongin takes that as his cue to leave. He grabs a pair of slippers from the little rest area that had been set up for the crew and then Jongin slips off set. His footsteps are quiet as he slinks down the corridors, winding away from the studio and up towards the dressing rooms.







Jongin’s desperate for the peace and quiet of the dressing room by the time he gets there. He slides his slippers off and drops them onto the rack by the door and then he crosses the room, stripping out of his robe as he goes.

It’s not that Jongin doesn’t enjoy his job, quite the contrary in fact, and shooting with Minseok, someone Jongin’s grown to love as a dear friend over the long years they’ve worked together, is always fun. But that doesn’t mean Jongin doesn’t find the process of it, the baking hot lights and the make up clinging to his pores, the eyes of the crew on him as he arranges his near naked body for the camera, a little exhausting, sometimes.

Jongin hangs his robe up and rolls his shoulders, sighing in relief when they give a satisfying crack. He’s still wearing the black briefs they’d been shooting, earlier, and Jongin trails his index finger over the waistband absently as he rummages around on the rail for his clothes.

This particular set of photos, Jongin knows, is for a nationwide campaign due to be rolled out within the next week or so. Jongin doesn’t particularly look forward to seeing himself blown up to three times his regular size and plastered on the side of buses or across the walls of subway stations, but it’s always something of an honour to be given solo projects of this magnitude. And Jongin was especially pleased when they’d asked him to model this line of underwear. Meteor Shower is a luxury brand and all of their lines, from everyday briefs to the more practical jockstraps, are created with comfort and style at the very forefront of their designs, but Jongin has always had something of a soft spot for the autumn and winter collections. Something about the dark colours and thicker fabrics, even the cosier theme of the sets used on shoots, always has Jongin looking forward to work just that little bit more towards the tailend of the year.

Jongin tugs a pair of skinny jeans up and over his hips and he’s just pulling a jumper over his head when the door slams open and Jongin nearly jumps out of his skin.

Jongin turns and watches, heart still attempting to hammer through his ribcage, as a tall blond storms across the room. The robe he’s wearing is untied and billows by his sides, revealing a thin, pale chest and long, long legs.

“Fuck, Sehun, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Jongin says as Sehun flops dramatically onto the sofa. He huffs and glares pointedly up at Jongin. “What’s wrong with you?”

“They stuck me with a rookie photographer again,” Sehun hisses. He crosses his arms over his chest and slumps further down on the sofa, leather squeaking under the movement. “I don’t know where they got her from but she looks like she’s barely out of school. She got all upset and started crying when I asked if she even knew how to use a camera, so they had to call a break while she went off to calm down.”

“You need to stop being so mean to all the newbies,” Jongin says as he bends over, forgoing socks and pulling on his shoes. “Don’t you remember how scared we were when we first started? I probably would have cried if I had someone like you breathing down my neck, too.”

“You cry watching nature documentaries, Jongin, that doesn’t mean anything,” Sehun grumbles, but his face does soften, somewhat.

It had been Sehun that had been scouted first, all those years ago when they were eighteen. He’d been too nervous to go to the casting audition by himself and had somehow managed to convince Jongin to come along for moral support. Except Jongin had been spotted when the two of them had stood waiting in the queue for Sehun’s group number to be called out and they’d ended up tackling the long audition process together. They’d both passed and been given contracts to model for Meteor Shower, the small under and nightwear subsidiary of the giant designer label SooMan Corp. To this day, Jongin still isn’t sure where he found the courage to go through with that first audition, but here they both are seven years later and Jongin is yet to find himself regretting his decision.

“Where do you think you’re going so early, anyway?” Sehun asks, frowning again. Jongin can’t help but laugh.

“Home. Which is where you could be going if you stopped fighting with all the new recruits.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re the golden boy and you have a photographer like Minseok at your beck and call,” Sehun huffs. Jongin can see where Sehun’s bare skin is starting to spring up with goosebumps, his little pink nipples pebbling in the cool air drifting from the air-conditioning. Jongin wonders, not for the first time in their friendship, why Sehun doesn’t cover himself up more.

“I don’t have Minseok at my beck and call,” Jongin hisses, an embarrassed flush creeping up the back of his neck, “and I am not the golden boy, I wish you’d stop with that. Jinri’s changed my name in her contacts to Golden Balls because of you.”

Sehun grins at Jongin’s displeasure. “I’ve always liked that girl,” he says and then quickly changes direction. “Hey, since you’re finished so early, do you want to go for a drink later?”

“Oh, I’m busy tonight-“ Jongin starts, but Sehun cuts him off.

“Going home to Skype with your mother and watch Animal Planet because you miss your dogs doesn’t count as busy, Jongin,” he scoffs.

“I was thinking about going to the gym, actually,” Jongin says softly, wounded, but when Sehun raises one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows they both burst into laughter. “Okay, no, I’m not going to the gym, but-“

Sehun waves one hand in Jongin’s direction. “It’s fine, suit yourself. Don’t strain yourself trying to come up with another lie, that one was terrible enough.” Sehun stands from the sofa. “I’m never going to get out of here anyway, so one of us may as well get to go home.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Bye Sehun,” he says as he turns to leave, “remember to play nicely.”

The last Jongin hears as he pushes the door open is a shouted, “later loser,” and then he’s wandering off down the corridor.

It’s not quite cold enough for a scarf yet but Jongin finds himself wishing he’d brought one anyway, anything to hide his face as he steps out of the building and onto the street. The sun is just starting to disappear from the horizon, painting the sky a rich, golden orange as Jongin joins the sea of office workers heading towards the subway.

Gangnam station is always busy at this time of day and Jongin allows himself to be swallowed up by the crowd, keeping his head dipped low as he makes his way down to the tracks. He doesn’t have to wait long for the train to arrive and Jongin digs his phone from his pocket, keeping his eyes fixed to it as the train sways and lurches.

It’s a long ride home. Jongin’s work colleagues are constantly trying to get him to move closer to work, to find a place in Apgujeong or Sinsa, like them, but Jongin is more than happy to put up with the lengthy commute if it means a little more peace and quiet at the other end, if it means getting jostled by fewer people as he disembarks the train at Hapjeong station and finally feels relaxed enough to lift his head as he rides the escalator up away from the platform.

The streets are relatively quiet when Jongin steps out of the station. He needs to pick up a few groceries before heading home so Jongin stuffs his hands into his pockets and crosses the road, heading to one of the larger 7/11s in the neighbourhood.

He’s been so busy with work this last couple of days that Jongin hasn’t really had time to do anything much beyond going straight home and collapsing into bed. Even eating had been a luxury that didn’t really exist beyond the rolls of kimbap brought to him by catering between shots. But now that his part in the campaign is over and it’s all down to the editors and the rest of the crew behind the scenes, Jongin can relax and finally pick up some groceries. It’s not a chore he relishes, but the alternative of returning home to an empty refrigerator doesn’t exactly fill him with glee, either.

Jongin grabs a basket when he slips into the convenience store. It’s far from full at this time of day, but Jongin once again laments his lack of a scarf as he wanders slowly up and down each aisle in turn. He has a list on his phone, hastily compiled on the journey home, but if he throws a couple of packets of potato chips in between the chicken breasts and fresh vegetables, well, nobody needs to know.

Jongin’s just pulling a few bottles of water out of the fridges along the back wall when he first hears it. A cacophony of shrill, high pitched squeals from somewhere near the tills. Jongin dumps his water into his basket and determinedly keeps his head down, even as he shuffles along the aisle and closer to the source of the noise.

There’s a group of high school girls, five of them, still in their uniforms, huddled around the magazine rack next to the cash register. Jongin turns to examine the nearest display, feigning more interest than anyone should in shelves full of cup ramen, but even as he turns away one girl looks up. Jongin sees her eyes go almost comically wide and she ducks her head back down between those of her friends.

They whisper viciously amongst themselves for a minute and then from the corner of his eye Jongin sees one girl, the one clutching the magazine they’d all been pouring over, split away from her group of friends. He barely has time to readjust the suddenly clammy grip he has on the handles of his shopping basket before she’s asking, “Excuse me, but are you Kai?”

The top of her head barely comes up to Jongin’s chin and she’s polite enough, even as she shuffles on the spot with barely restrained excitement, but Jongin still has to take a calming breath to settle himself before he nods.

She lets out an excited little squeak, glancing back over her shoulder at her group of friends. “Please could I have your autograph? I’m a really big fan!” She asks, voice suddenly gone all breathy. She thrusts her magazine at him and Jongin scrambles to take it, balancing his basket over one arm as she digs around in her school bag. Jongin is very aware of how his fingers are leaving sweaty prints all over the glossy paper. Eventually the girl finds what she’s looking for and she holds a black marker pen out, beaming up at him.

“Yeah- yeah, of course,” Jongin says. He tries to smile at her as he takes the pen, too, hands overflowing now, but it feels more like a wobbly grimace. “What’s your name?”

“Wendy!” The girl, Wendy, says, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watches Jongin scrawl his name across the page. The photo she’d chosen isn’t that bad, all things considered. It’s one of Jongin leaning back against a row of lockers, hair deliberately mussed to make it look like he’d just stepped off a football pitch. There’s a small strip of bare stomach showing where they’d snapped him just as he’d been about to pull his shirt up and off. Jongin’s bottom half, though, is almost completely naked, the long expanse of his legs bare and clad in nothing but a pair of tight, white boxer briefs that wrap snugly around the top of his thighs and leave very little to the imagination.

Even still, Jongin feels his face heating up as he finishes off signing, ‘to wendy, with love, kai <3’ and hands the magazine back. He can see an old woman peering over at them with interest from the end of the refrigerator aisle, is vaguely aware of a baby crying somewhere, and as sweet as Jongin’s sure Wendy is, he’s desperate to get out of here. He casts about for something to say, but thankfully Wendy saves him the trouble.

“Thank you so, so much! This is so cool.” Her smile grows even brighter, if possible, and Jongin shakes his head, manages to croak out, “no, it’s no trouble, really,” even as he feels his stomach twisting around over itself like a snake. “You’re even hotter in real life, my friends are going to be so jealous.”

She thanks him again, bows with the magazine still clutched open to her chest, and then scurries off to join her friends where they’d been hovering by the door. She’s met by another chorus of high-pitched squeals and Jongin hears another girl, taller with a pretty smile, hiss, “He even drew a heart, you’re so lucky!” before all five of them disappear. The jingle of the bell over the door startles Jongin enough that he jumps and he’s sure he hears the cashier snort as he shuffles over and places his basket down.

Jongin keeps his head down as his groceries are rung through, doesn’t look up to see whether the old woman has moved on, and he barely even hears the cashier when he says, “That’ll be sixty nine thousand five hundred won.”

“What?” He’s met with a deadpan stare and Jongin blinks, comprehension dawning a second later, “Oh, right, sorry.” He fumbles his wallet out of his pocket but Jongin’s hands are shaking so badly that when he goes to get his coins out they slip from his hands and spill across the counter. “Shit, I’m so sorry, here,” Jongin quickly gathers up his money, thrusts it into the cashier’s hands, and the look he gives Jongin as he gathers up all his bags is one of pure disgust.

Jongin doesn’t breathe again until he’s out of the store and he feels the cool autumn breeze on his face. He takes in a long, deep breath and slowly feels his cheeks returning to their normal colour. It isn’t far to his flat from here (not that he’ll ever be using this particular 7/11 again, convenience be damned) and Jongin can feel himself slowly starting to calm as he walks home. The streets are practically empty, but that doesn’t stop the relieved sigh that spills out as he finally gets to his building.

Once he gets to his floor Jongin digs in his pocket for his keys, plastic bags crinkling in the silence as they’re jostled together, and the smile on his face when he gets into his flat and locks the door behind him is a little more genuine than the one he’d offered Wendy, earlier.

Jongin steps out of his shoes in the hallway and then shuffles into the kitchen to dump his bags down on the counter. His hands have finally stopped shaking but Jongin still scrubs a palm over his face as he heads into the living room, abandoning his groceries entirely in favour of throwing himself down on the sofa with a groan.

Bumping into fans in his down time has always been one of the sides to the job that Jongin enjoys the least. It’s not that he doesn’t like meeting them, exactly, and he will always be infinitely grateful for all of the support they’ve given him, over the years. It’s just that, when he steps out from in front of the camera, bare faced and fully clothed and so painfully ordinary, Jongin can’t help but feel more than a little inadequate. He can’t help but feel as though the reality of Jongin doesn’t quite match up to everything that he pretends to be as Kai, and Jongin is always terrified of seeing that obvious disappointment in their eyes when they see him up close and realise that he isn’t everything he’s built up to be.

Sehun used to tell him to lie, back when they first started. But as much as it turns him into a sweating, stuttering wreck, sometimes, Jongin has always had a problem saying no to people. So instead he smiles and signs and hopes that the illusion he’s trying to sell lasts for at least one more day.





It’s mid-morning when the screaming of his alarm clock breaks the tranquil quiet of Jongin’s apartment. He reaches a groggy arm out from under the blankets and slaps blindly at his phone a few times before it finally, blessedly shuts off.

Eyes still glued mostly shut; Jongin drags his phone under the blankets and begins to scroll through it. There’s a stream of increasingly incoherent texts from Sehun, all post-marked between one and three am, that Jongin quickly flicks through without reading properly. There’s also an email from his manager, Joonmyun, which Jongin makes a half-hearted mental note to open later, once he’s showered and had breakfast and actually joined the world of the living. But it’s the text at the top of his inbox, marked just thirty minutes ago, that has Jongin pushing up onto his elbows and sticking his head out from the warm cocoon of sheets.

meet me at the tom n toms near my office at 12, its been too long since i’ve seen you. and don’t even think about saying no, you know it’s not worth the hassle :)

Jongin rolls his eyes. Baekhyun is the only person Jongin knows that can manage to sound completely insufferable even through text. He is right though, not that Jongin would be caught dead admitting that out loud. It has been a long time since they’ve seen each other. Jongin’s eyes flicker up to the time in the corner of his phone. It’s only nine-thirty and he doesn’t even need to be in work until this afternoon. There really is no reason to blow Baekhyun off.

sure thing, see you later hung.

Jongin fires off the reply, going back a few times where sleep heavy fingers have him making typos, before setting his phone aside. It disappears somewhere in the folds of his quilt as Jongin throws it back and drags his body out of bed. The hardwood floor is cold against his toes as Jongin rises but his movements are still slow and sluggish as he makes his way to the bathroom.

There might be plenty of time before Jongin needs to meet his friend, but a lifetime of friendship has taught him better than to keep Baekhyun waiting.







It’s a few minutes to twelve when Jongin emerges from Gangnam station. Baekhyun’s office is only a few blocks away from SooMan Corp’s headquarters and Jongin trails the familiar streets without much thought. It’s windy out and Jongin’s cheeks end up bitten rosy and pink as he walks. The Tom N Toms Baekhyun had mentioned is tucked onto the corner between two streets and Jongin jogs up, eager to get out of the chill.

The bell above the door chimes merrily as Jongin enters and he casts about for Baekhyun, but he honestly needn’t have bothered.

“Jongin-ah!” A sharp, loud voice calls out and Jongin colours with embarrassment even as he feels a smile crawling up onto his face as he spots his old friend. Baekhyun pulls himself up from the armchair he was sprawled in as Jongin approaches and as soon as he’s within range Baekhyun throws himself at him, flinging his arms around Jongin’s shoulders and drawing him down into a fierce hug.

“Hey, hyung,” Jongin laughs. He presses his cold nose into the dip of Baekhyun’s neck and delights when Baekhyun squirms.

“It’s been way too long since I’ve seen that smile,” Baekhyun says as he pulls away, holding Jongin at arms length still and studying him. “It’s like requesting an audience with the Pope, trying to get hold of you.”

The accusation is clear in Baekhyun’s voice and Jongin ducks his head bashfully. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy with work and-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Baekhyun scoffs, pushing Jongin off in the direction of the armchair next to him and then taking a seat himself, “and you can only go out like what, once a month? Or is it twice, now? Have your social interaction skills levelled up since the last time we met?”

“It’s months since you’ve seen me and yet you’re still such an asshole, what’s the deal with that, hyung?” Jongin asks, aiming a half-hearted kick at Baekhyun’s shins under the table when he just barks out a laugh.

“You know how it is, Jongin, there are some things that never change.” He beams at Jongin, eyes crinkling into adorable little crescents that make him look like a high school student, even when he’s dressed in a smart, fitted suit.

“I’m gonna go and get a drink, what do you want?” Jongin asks, but he’s only halfway out of his seat when Baekhyun reaches over and pushes him back down.

“They’re already on the way,” Baekhyun says. Jongin quirks an eyebrow at him in confusion and Baekhyun squeezes his shoulder briefly before pulling away. “Listen, don’t freak out, but I arranged for a friend of mine to meet with us, too. He’s gone to get the drinks.”

Jongin hisses in a breath, shoulders automatically tensing. “Why? Couldn’t you have at least warned me so I could-“

Baekhyun reaches out again, settling his hand back on Jongin’s shoulder. His palm is warm through the soft wool of Jongin’s jumper and the weight of it calms his breathing just a fraction. “So you could what? Bail on me?” Jongin opens his mouth to protest but Baekhyun shoots him a knowing look and it swings shut like a drawbridge. “I know you don’t like meeting new people, but I’m here, aren’t I? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Where do you want me to start?” Jongin grumbles. Baekhyun’s hand slides up to the back of his neck and Jongin sighs as he squeezes it reassuringly, the silver ring on Baekhyun’s finger brushing cold over the knob of his spine and sending a jolt down Jongin’s back.

“His name’s Chanyeol, we used to be roommates in university,” Baekhyun says, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile when Jongin starts to relax under his touch. “He’s really chatty and super easy to talk to, I think you’ll like him. Come on, Jongin, it’ll do you some good.”

“You are such a dick,” Jongin says, “I should have ditched you in high school, when I had the chance.”

“Then who would have bought you your first beer and let you sleep off the hangover at their house so your parents didn’t see you drunk if not for me, huh?” Baekhyun grins, as if Jongin’s tiny teenage rebellion hadn’t been entirely his fault.

“Are you never gonna let that go? It was one time-“ Jongin starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching their table.

“Hey, you must be Jongin,” the stranger says, voice pleasantly deep. “Baekhyun said you didn’t like coffee so I got you a hot chocolate, I hope that’s okay.” Baekhyun’s hand disappears from the back of his neck and Jongin feels his breath stick in the back of his throat as he looks up.

The man in front of him is handsome, there’s no denying that, not with his open, smiling face and the unruly mop of dark hair that curls down around his ears. He’s tall, too, enough so that he looms over the table as he pushes Jongin’s hot chocolate towards him.

“Um, yeah. That’s fine,” Jongin manages, taking his drink and immediately gulping down a mouthful. It sears across his tongue as he struggles to swallow it down. Baekhyun snorts next to him.

“Jongin, this is Chanyeol,” he says, taking the mug Chanyeol offers to him with a raised eyebrow. “What did you get me?”

“White Americano with five sugars, just the way you like it,” Chanyeol says and even though his smile is directed at Baekhyun, Jongin feels temporarily blinded. “So, Jongin, Baekhyun’s told me a lot about you.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink and Jongin almost chokes.

“He has?” Jongin asks, shooting Baekhyun a panicked look.

“I might have mentioned you a few times when we were at uni, that’s all,” Baekhyun says.

“He told me you guys grew up together?” Chanyeol says enthusiastically. “That’s so cool that you’re still friends now. I think the only person I go back that far with is my sister, especially since I moved away. I lost touch with almost everyone, except for Baekhyunnie. I would’ve been almost completely alone in the city when I came back if it wasn’t for him.”

“I’m a real life superhero, what can I say?” Chanyeol reaches out to cuff Baekhyun around the ear playfully. Jongin watches from beneath his lashes.

“I wouldn’t normally flatter your ego, but you let me sleep on your sofa until I found my own place, so I guess I kind of owe you a few compliments.”

“You’re not from Seoul?” Jongin asks quietly. Chanyeol turns that warm smile towards him and Jongin drops his gaze, staring down at his mug so that he doesn’t have to meet Chanyeol’s eyes.

“Seoul born and bred,” Chanyeol says, not without a dash of pride. “I moved to Fiji a couple of years ago, but between work and everything else I fell out of contact with almost everyone. Baekhyun clung on like a barnacle, though.”

Baekhyun snorts around his coffee. “You weren’t calling me a barnacle when I was sending you care packages of chocolate every other month, you cheeky little shit.”

Chanyeol laughs loudly enough that Jongin startles and sloshes some of his drink over his fingers. “Best barnacle I ever did meet, babe.”

“What were you-“ Jongin’s voice cracks and he takes a moment to clear his throat, even as Chanyeol turns back to him, tilting his head to one side like a dog as he regards Jongin patiently. “What were you doing in Fiji?”

Baekhyun groans off to the side. Jongin’s eyes flicker over to him briefly before he’s drawn back to Chanyeol like a magnet.

“I’m studying for my PhD in marine biology at Seoul National,” Chanyeol says. His fingers are drumming against the table, tapping out a rhythm that sends tiny tremors through the wood. “I went out there to study sharks as part of my doctorate research. Their numbers, behaviour, general health, stuff like that.”

Chanyeol looks like he’s brimming with excitement, but Jongin’s mouth works before his brain has a chance to catch up with it, and he blurts out, “You’re doing a PhD at Seoul National University?”

Baekhyun howls with laughter next to them, knees slamming up against the underside of the table as his whole body curls in on itself with mirth. Jongin feels his entire face flush red with embarrassment and he’s tempted to crawl under the table and let the floor swallow him whole.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean- it’s just-“ Jongin splutters, but Chanyeol is grinning at him again. He reaches out to pat Jongin’s hand, almost covering the whole of Jongin’s palm.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot. It’s a very prestigious university and I don’t exactly look like I could be a doctor, do I?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, only partly recovered. “Mad scientist maybe, but doctor? No, you definitely hide that one well.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and slowly draws his hand back to his own side of the table. Jongin definitely doesn’t lament the loss of warmth.

“So, how about you, Jongin? What do you do?” The question is innocent enough, but it still has Jongin stiffening up in his seat as he fumbles for an answer.

“Oh, I- I work in fashion,” Jongin mumbles, lowering his gaze down to the table. He can feel his heart beating a little faster against his ribcage and he tries valiantly not to let the sudden spike in his blood pressure show. “You wouldn’t be interested in it, though, it’s really boring.”

“More boring than sharks?” Baekhyun scoffs.

“Hey, sharks are a very important part of the marine ecosystem and they’re totally interesting, right Jongin?” Jongin smiles weakly up at him. He drops one hand down below the table and squeezes Baekhyun’s thigh gratefully for the deflection. “Besides, you have no room to talk. Statistical analysis and data reconfiguration? Really? What even is that, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol continue their good-natured bickering for a while. Chanyeol attempts to draw Jongin into the conversation a few times and he doesn’t seem put off by Jongin’s limited responses. If anything, they just seem to make him try that little bit harder, and he seems genuinely put out when Jongin pushes the last dregs of his drink away and moves to stand up.

“I better get going or I’ll be late for work,” Jongin says. Baekhyun stands with him and draws him down into another bone crushing hug.

“I’ll call you soon, okay, Jonginah? You have to stop being such a stranger,” Baekhyun says. He presses his face into Jongin’s neck and whispers, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Jongin pulls away and levels Baekhyun with a long suffering look, but he’s smiling even as feels his cheeks heating up again. “I will.” Chanyeol’s eyes flick up almost guiltily when Jongin turns to look at him but the curious expression is gone so quickly Jongin is almost convinced he imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you, Jongin,” he says, dipping his head politely. “Have a good day at work.”

“You too.” Jongin can’t hold eye contact for longer than a few seconds and he glances over at Baekhyun instead, squeezes the back of his neck a little more roughly than necessary when he sees the way Baekhyun’s smirking at him. “See you soon, hyung.”

“Later, brat,” Baekhyun slaps him away and Jongin scurries out of the coffee shop. His face is still flushed with colour when he steps outside, so warm that Jongin is grateful for the window that whips through the air.







The remainder of Jongin’s day passes by in something of a blur.

Joonmyun collars him almost as soon as he steps into the building and Jongin only regrets not opening his email this morning a little bit when Joonmyun lets out a resigned sigh and drags him off to his office.

After Joonmyun’s finished with him, Jongin is sent off in the direction of the design studios. He spends the rest of his afternoon shooting the shit with one of the designers, Amber, as she consults him for some new designs they’re in the process of creating. She has him try on a few pieces they’re hoping to release as part of the Christmas collection and Jongin stands obediently as she makes adjustments, even when she accidentally jabs him with a pin hard enough to draw blood.

He tries not to think about Chanyeol at all, to push him to the back of his mind, and in his own personal opinion, Jongin thinks he does a pretty good job. It’s not until he’s back home much later, curled up in front of the TV with a takeout container full of mandu that the ahjumma from the restaurant downstairs had forced on him when she’d seen him coming home, that Jongin’s carefully enforced oblivion is shattered.

His phone buzzes innocuously and Jongin doesn’t even look away from the repeat of Running Man playing on the TV as he picks it up. It’s probably just Sehun, anyway, trying to wheedle Jongin into going out as always.

hi jongin. i hope you dont mind that im texting you. i asked baekhyun for your no. and he said itd be okay :S anyway i was just wondering if you wanted to go for dinner some time? if not thats cool too! but i think youre really cute and id like to get to know you!

Jongin sits, shell-shocked, a dumpling held frozen halfway to his mouth. His phone chimes again, alerting him to another message, and Jongin nearly has a heart attack.

this is chanyeol btw. but you probably guessed that! :)

Jongin stares down at his phone like it’s just sprouted fangs. In a moment of panic he almost throws it aside, but he just barely manages to restrain himself and shoves the hovering mandu into his mouth instead. He’s going to kill Baekhyun, that absolute rat bastard. Jongin would bet his left leg that Baekhyun had been positively gleeful when he’d handed Jongin’s number over. In fact, Jongin wouldn’t put it past him for all of this to have been part of his plan in the first place.

His phone still sits in his clammy palm, winking cheerfully up at him. Jongin sighs and puts his food aside. Most of his brain is screaming at him to just ignore it, to turn his phone off and shove it between the sofa cushions and pretend like he’d never even seen the texts. Baekhyun is their only mutual friend, their only point of contact; Jongin need never see Chanyeol again if he doesn’t want to.

But another part of him, a part that sounds traitorously like Baekhyun, screams at him to answer Chanyeol, at least. He was attractive, the Baekhyun voice helpfully provides, and Jongin sighs even as he idly swipes his thumb up and down in the chat window.

It wasn’t that bad, Baekhyun had said, and it wasn’t. Jongin has had much worst first encounters with people. But even still, Jongin can’t help but think back to the last time he’d lowered his walls enough to let someone in close, can’t help but remember the way that had crashed and burned around him. And that was even if they managed to get that far. Baekhyun had been right when he’d mentioned himself, how he’d be there to act as a buffer for Jongin when the nerves got too much. But what about when he wasn’t there? What about when Chanyeol and Jongin were alone, and Jongin would inevitably run out of things to say, and he’d have to excuse himself to the bathroom to give himself a moment to get his shit together so he didn’t cry from the anxiety. Surely Chanyeol wouldn't find him so cute then, and Jongin isn’t sure he’s willing to put himself through that.

Jongin groans again. He can feel a headache coming on.

He looks down at his phone. He’d pressed his thumb down on the first message without thinking and Jongin reads through it again, i think youre really cute, and a third time, if not thats cool too!

Jongin reaches over to shove another mandu into his mouth and then he begins to type out a reply.

Yeah, it’s okay. Um. It might be a while, work keeps me really busy, but dinner would be cool. If you want to.

Jongin’s just barely recovering from the resulting miniature panic attack after he hits send when his phone lights up again.

no prob! i have classes monday and thursday, so just let me know whats good for you. you have my number so feel free to text me any time :)

Jongin breathes heavily through his nose. Even through his texts Chanyeol’s energy seems boundless but Jongin focuses on the middle part of the message, the whats good for you, and despite the way his hands are still trembling Jongin feels the corners of his mouth curl up into a tiny smile.

Okay. I will.

Jongin hesitates for a second before tacking onto the end,

It was really nice to meet you today.

Just as Jongin is quickly coming to expect, Chanyeol’s reply comes almost immediately. Jongin reaches out for his discarded mandu and he chews on one, a little more thoughtfully now that he’s calmed down a bit, as he reads.

you too!! i just wish baekhyun had warned me that you were so attractive when he said i’d be meeting you. i could have at least brushed my hair kkkk. i have a lot of work to do so i better go, but ill look forward to seeing you again!! enjoy the rest of your evening :)

That isn’t a pang of regret in Jongin’s chest, it absolutely isn’t. It’s heartburn from shoving mandu down his throat in a panic. His mother always used to warn him about that when he was little.

It’s okay. The dishevelled mad scientist look suits you. Goodnight Chanyeol.

There’s a long moment of pause after Jongin sends that message, long enough that Jongin turns his attention back to the TV. There’s an advert playing for cat litter but Jongin watches the tiny, white kitten prance across the screen without really seeing it. His phone chirps again and Jongin nearly drops it in his haste to open the message.

goodnight jongin :)

Jongin smiles a little weakly and then closes the message window. He scrolls through his apps until he lands on Kakao Talk and then drags up his message log with Baekhyun.

That asshole was so dead.







“You know, I’m almost tempted to ask whether you pulled last night.”

Jongin jumps almost out of his skin and he hastily shoves his phone into the pocket of his robe. Song Qian bops the end of his nose with her powder brush and then goes back to applying his makeup.

“What are you talking about?” Jongin asks. Sehun flops down into the chair next to him and Jongin blinks at him sleepily through the mirror mounted on the wall in front of them.

“The way you were smiling just then. I haven’t seen you smile like that since-“

“Yes, thank you, Sehun,” Jongin says quickly, cuts Sehun off before he can go too far down that particular road. Jongin’s romantic past isn’t a topic he likes to talk about at the best of times, let alone this early in the morning. Song Qian taps him gently on the chin and Jongin tilts his head up.

“Fine, fine, be cagey. But I should tell you that I spoke to Baekhyun last night, and I know you two went out for coffee last week, and I also know you weren’t alone.” Sehun’s smile is almost wolfish. Jongin purposely avoids his gaze in the mirror.

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret introducing the two of you,” Jongin whines. “And anyway, so what if we weren’t alone, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“No?” Sehun asks, leaning in close to Jongin over the arm of his own chair. “Who were you texting, then?”

“Nobody!” Jongin says immediately. His phone chooses that moment to chime in his pocket and Jongin squirms in his seat. If possible, Sehun’s grin widens further. Even Song Qian giggles, that traitor, and Jongin shoots her a wounded look.

“Nobody, huh? It’s just that Baekhyun told me this friend of his, this Chanyeol, asked for your number, so it’s got me thinking.” Sehun makes a show of examining his nails, digs a little dirt out from under one before he looks up at Jongin again. “I can never get you to reply to my messages but you’re attached to your phone all of a sudden? It’s just a little out of character, that’s all. But hey if you say there’s nothing going on, then I believe you.”

Jongin feels his face colour. “There isn’t.”

“Okay,” Sehun drawls, drawing the word out until it stretches syrupy sweet between them. He might be letting it drop for now, but they both know that Sehun isn’t going to give up that easily. They sit quietly for a few minutes as Song Qian finishes up Jongin’s makeup and then when she moves to start on Sehun, Jongin speaks again.

“So, Sunyoung’s shooting you today, right? You must be happy not to be working with the rookies again.”

“Yeah, finally,” Sehun says. He looks over at Jongin with a knowing smile but he turns away when Song Qian chides him and Jongin breathes a little sigh of relief. “I was this close to going to Joonmyun and complaining.”

“You? Complaining?” Jongin laughs. “Never.”

Sehun gives him the finger and they segue easily into safe, benign conversation, Song Qian chattering away happily about her little girl. Jongin’s phone burns a constant weight in his pocket, but he doesn’t dare get it out with Sehun still around. It’d been almost a week since Jongin had met Chanyeol and despite what he’d said to Sehun, they’ve been texting almost every day since then.

Jongin is almost loath to admit it, but Baekhyun had been right. Chanyeol is almost criminally easy to talk to. He sends Jongin throwaway little snapshots of his day, photos of his coffee and his office at the university, and Jongin finds it all horribly charming. He doesn’t seem put off by Jongin’s sometimes short and stilted replies and that helps Jongin to relax a little, helps to alleviate some of the pressure that he usually feels when trying to talk to someone new.

They still haven’t arranged to go out for that dinner, but Chanyeol hasn’t mentioned it since, hasn’t pressed the issue, for which Jongin finds himself endlessly grateful. Whatever’s good for you Chanyeol had said, and Jongin almost believes that he’d really meant it.

“-in? Are you listening to me? Jongin.” There’s a touch on his shoulder and Jongin startles. When he tips his head back, Joonmyun is staring down at him, his face settled into that familiar, perpetually worried look. “Jongin, your shoot’s about to start, they want you down on set.”

“Right, right, sorry I was just-“

“Yes, yes, it’s alright, but come along, I don’t want you to be late.” Joonmyun’s fingers dig into his shoulder and Jongin stands. Sehun rolls his eyes when Joonmyun turns away and Jongin doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin as he scurries off down the corridor in Joonmyun’s wake.







It’s late when Jongin’s finally released from work. There had been a problem with some of the light fittings half way through the shoot and everyone had been forced to wait around while they called the techs down to fix it. Joonmyun had hurried off to the dressing room to grab a book for Jongin to keep him occupied, and Jongin had retired to the corner of the set gratefully to wait out the delay in peace.

He’d been half tempted to text Chanyeol, to return the message he’d been composing this morning before he was interrupted by Sehun, but as soon as Jongin had pulled out his phone a wave of guilt had crashed over him. There was something very wrong, Jongin thought, about texting Chanyeol when he was sat on the set of a magazine shoot in a dressing gown and a skimpy pair of underpants. How could he, when he hadn’t even had the courage to tell Chanyeol what he did for a living? So Jongin had placed his phone face down on the table and buried his nose in his book, determined to shove all thoughts of Chanyeol to the back of his mind.

That was, until now. The one benefit to finishing work so late was that the subway is almost dead by the time Jongin gets there, and he’s able to find a seat on the train without trouble.

When the train pulls into Seoul National University station, Jongin’s eyes flicker up and his hand automatically goes to his phone. He snaps a shot of the station sign just before the train begins to crawl away and opens up his message history with Chanyeol.

Look where I am.

Jongin sends off the picture before he can think twice about it. He goes to open up Naver, to scroll through the news for the rest of the journey, but with what Jongin has come to realise is typical of Chanyeol, his phone dings immediately in his hand with his reply.

hey!! as much as i’d like to think it’s because youre coming to visit me, what brings you down here? are you a secret snu alumni and you just dont like to talk about it because then youd really be the full package of brains AND beauty?

Jongin feels a pleased heat rise to his face and he’s glad the train is so quiet. The only other occupants of this carriage are a businessman who’s struggling to stay awake about five seats away and a pair of ahjummas Jongin can hear complaining about their husbands even from some distance away.

As if. I’m just passing through on my way home.

oh wow its so late, have you only just finished work?? you must be exhausted. i hope you dont have much further to go.

Jongin glances up from his phone. It’s dark outside but he can see the twinkling of lights not far away as the train begins to speed over the river.

Not too far now. Hey, listen. I’m not working this weekend. We could go for dinner, if you’re free. And if you still want to.

Jongin feels his heart rate start to pick up once he hits send. He stares determinedly out of the window, at the lights coming closer and closer, until the train finally crosses the river and plunges back underground.

of course i still want to :) hows saturday evening for you? do you like italian? i know a nice place in sinsa.

Jongin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Saturday night in Sinsa wasn’t exactly what he would have chosen and knowing his luck they’d end up bumping into someone from work. Jongin hesitates but he can’t think of a good excuse he could give without having to explain why he absolutely did not want to go to Sinsa, of all places.

Yeah, sounds like a plan. I’m at my stop now so I gotta go.

The train lurches to a standstill and Jongin rises from his seat. The businessman’s head knocks against the window and Jongin spares him a glance as he leaves. His phone goes off in his hand but Jongin doesn’t look at it again until he’s off the platform and through the barriers.

okay, great!! ill make us some reservations and text you the details. let me know when youre home.

Jongin shoves his phone into his pocket and he’s grateful for the fresh, cool air against his face once he’s finally above ground again. The streets are quiet but Jongin’s mind is whirring, his brain working relentlessly as he makes his way home. Half of the company lived in and around Sinsa and Jongin knows it’s just going to be another thing for him to worry himself sick about, bumping into someone he knows, on top of the normal gut wrenching nerves of a date. But more than that he can’t stop thinking about the last bit of Chanyeol’s message, and his stomach is rolling not entirely unpleasantly by the time he gets to his apartment building.

Jongin slips his shoes off in the hallway and flicks on the light. His apartment is still and quiet and Jongin throws himself onto the sofa, lies there on his stomach with his face pressed into the pillows for a good long while. He has to push his hips up to get his phone out of his pocket but once he manages it Jongin fires off a quick reply.

I’m home.

It’s tempting to drift off where he is but Jongin’s stomach grumbles and he pushes himself up onto one elbow just in time to see his phone light up.

good :) you must be tired so ill let you go, but ill talk to you soon. and i look forward to seeing you on saturday. ill even brush my hair ;)

Jongin sits himself up on his knees and it’s more than just hunger that has his stomach twisting.

I might not recognise you. Goodnight Chanyeol.

Once Chanyeol’s reply comes in wishing him similarly, Jongin tosses his phone aside. It disappears between the sofa cushions and Jongin slumps back for a moment, running his hands over his face to try and settle the nerves he can feel rising up in his stomach.

Saturday was only three days away. If Jongin managed to get through the rest of the week without having a mental breakdown or spontaneously combusting in a fit of anxiety, it would be nothing short of a miracle. There was one thing he knew he was going to have to do if he was going to make it as far as Saturday.

He was going to have to avoid Sehun at all costs.


part two