I Usually Dont Like College Aus - Tumblr Posts
OH MY—
IM SO SORRY ITS JUST— THE WAY THIS WAS WRITTEN???
"Baby ... you were always meant to be a part of this."
THAT! LINE!! I HAD A STROKE????!”?&(“¥@!’???? THAT LINE SENT ME INTO CARDIAC ARREST
??? seriously its been so long since a fic has had me fully giggling and kicking my feet like this i love them so so so much
💌⊹°˖➴ don't wake me, i'm dreaming of home yang jeongin x f!reader x kim seungmin
summary: “Hey,” Jeongin protests, “boys and girls can be friends …” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “… and … boys and boys …” “Girls and bisexual boys in kinda codependent threeway friendships where they all spend more nights sleeping in the same bed than in their dorm rooms–“ Jisung trails off, and Jeongin groans. He grabs the fox plushie Seungmin won for him at the fair last year and hurls it into Jisung’s general direction before burying his burning face in his pillow. He doesn’t see his friends like that … right?
word count: 13.1k words
author's note: I did not plan to write this, but then I answered an ask and my love @stayconnecteed came into my inbox excited about seungyang and my brain just ... ran with it. I love this. where hyunibini was difficult to write, this poured out of me. I adore them. they mean the world to me. enjoy!
warnings: college!au; codependent besties to lovers; a little bit of angst; mxm action, as usual; unprotected sex; panic attack? he's going through it; side minsung bc I'm me; mention of past vomiting and nauseau, not graphic at all
skzms masterlist // ko-fi
Jeongin takes the steps up to Seungmin’s third floor apartment two at a time.
His knuckles rap against the door in an anxious pattern, and stands back, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently. He’s met with silence, then more silence. It doesn’t usually take Seungmin this long to open the door – and Jeongin knows he’s home. He always goes straight home after your and his social media management lecture.
He’s just about to take out his phone to text him when he hears faint noises from inside. He takes a step closer.
There’s whispering, but who it is or what they’re saying, Jeongin can’t make out. Something thuds to the floor. Then footsteps approach the door.
Jeongin steps back just in time before the door is ripped open.
“Jeongin!? W-what are you doing here?”
Jeongin raises an eyebrow at Seungmin.
“What do you mean what am I doing here, I practically live here.” Seungmin blinks, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hand still in a death grip around the doorframe.
“Just … didn’t know you were coming …”
“Well, neither did I, but I was in the area because I was at that coffee shop next to the Sigma Kappa Zeta frat, you know, the one where I forgot my charger last time. So I went there to pick it up and guess who I run into?! Bang Chan! And Felix, you know, the blonde, smart one from our business class – I think they’re hooking up by the way, there’s definitely a vibe there – and we got talking and– wait, you’re not listening are you?”
Seungmin had been nervously staring at him throughout his whole monologue, until a noise from behind him startled him into half turning around.
“N-no, I was listening, it’s just, uh, not the best time.”
Everything clicks into place for Jeongin very suddenly.
“You’ve got someone in there.”
He doesn’t word it like a question. It’s obvious now, the nervous tap of his foot, the way he’s holding the door closed, the … oh wow, the slowly darkening love bite on his collarbone, still glistening wet against his milky soft skin. Something in his guts twinges.
“Y-yeah, sorry,” Seungmin mumbles, runs his hand through his newly cut, short, black hair. It makes him look more grown-up, less than the boyish Seungmin from a year ago. Did he cut it before or after he started hooking up with people. When did he even find the time?! You and Jeongin basically lived at Seungmin’s apartment, and never had much more than the odd one-night stand with someone who wasn’t scared off by the fact that you were constantly glued to one another.
With a bitter taste in his mouth, Jeongin realises that that may not have been true.
“Ha, I can’t believe it,” Jeongin scoffs out, tries to swallow the awkward wobble in his voice, “I didn’t know you had it in you, Seung.”
Seungmin smiles awkwardly, shifts his weight again. Jeongin can basically feel the impatience rolling off of him. He wants him to leave. Ouch.
“Well, then I will just call Y/N and tell her about how I just secured us the Lee Felix for our group project …”
“That’s great, Innie, you go call her,” Seungmin says lamely, and Jeongin’s face starts burning. This is so awkward.
“Well, see you tomorrow. And, uh … have fun!”
He turns on his heels and speedwells down the hallway before he can embarrass himself any further. Have fun?! What the fuck is wrong with him.
His face is still burning when he pushes the door open to his room. He must be more flustered than he thinks because he accidentally slams it into the wall so hard it makes his roommate nearly jump out of his skin.
“Jesus, you need to start skipping the gym, Innie, you don’t know your own strength,” Jisung squawks from where he’s pretzeled onto his computer chair, one sweats clad leg clutched to his chest, some music project or another open on his old MacBook.
Jeongin just grumbles in return, toes his shoes off and throws himself onto his bed.
Jisung, ever as observant, swivels his chair around and gives Jeongin a sympathetic smile.
“Rough day?”
Jeongin sighs.
“Not … not really, just …” he sighs, sits up, “I just made a fool out of myself in front of Seung. He … had someone over.”
Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Like … had someone over had someone over?”
Jeongin nods. Jisung makes a face, like he’s impressed.
“Damn …”
Jeongin scoffs. Protectiveness flares up in his chest.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Jisung blinks at him.
“I’m not surprised that he has someone over, he’s really cute,” Jisung mumbles, and Jeongin feels the need to growl. Jisung barks out a laugh. “He’s not my type, don’t worry. It’s just …”
He falters, but Jeongin fixes him with another glare and Jisung pulls his other leg up, hugs them both against his chest until he looks tiny, swallowed up his chair, before he speaks.
“I just kinda figured … what with you and Seungmin and Y/N always being glued together …”
Jeongin stares at him blankly. Jisung sighs, like Jeongin is a child who doesn’t get it.
“I figured something would happen between all of you.”
“Hey,” Jeongin protests, “boys and girls can be friends …”
Jisung raises an eyebrow.
“… and … boys and boys …”
“Girls and bisexual boys in kinda codependent threeway friendships where they all spend more nights sleeping in the same bed than in their dorm rooms–“ Jisung trails off, and Jeongin groans.
He grabs the fox plushie Seungmin won for him at the fair last year and hurls it into Jisung’s general direction before burying his burning face in his pillow.
He doesn’t see his friends like that … right?
At least he didn’t in the beginning, when they all met during fresher’s week, sneaking away from the club to smoke a joint on the swings of the dark, empty playground in the nearby park. Or maybe he deluded himself back then, in an effort not to lose the only friends he had made so far, even if Seungmin’s big hands were warm and his smile bright and boyish, your legs were soft under his fingertips when he helped you climb up to the slide, your hair smelling like smoke and perfume. Fuck.
When he looks up, Jisung is still watching him, but he has his legs crossed underneath him now, his bag of weed paraphernalia on his lap as he pours some of the ground buds into a translucent paper.
“So, where were we? Codependent, sexually charged threeway best friendship …”
Jeongin growls for real this time, kicks his leg out in Jisung’s direction.
“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll tell Minho that you ripped a picture of him out of the campus paper and jerk off to it as if Instagram doesn’t exist.”
Jisung screams, blindly grabs for the fox plushie and throws it at Jeongin so hard the little plastic button nose actually hurts when it hits his cheek.
“You wouldn’t dare! And don’t judge me, it’s a good picture. Plus, it’s lofi. And I can’t accidentally like a 6 month old photo on his instagram as I cu-”
Jeongin’s eyes widen and Jisung goes pale.
“Which has definitely never happened!”
Jeongin cackles, loud and dirty. It makes Jisung pout at him.
“You know, I could just introduce you to him? I see him at practice three days a week.”
Jisung huffs out a sad laugh. He turns, rummages around in his drawers for a lighter, cracks a window open and lights his joint before he responds.
“Sure, because the captain of the best college field hockey team in the state and college heartthrob Lee Minho is really desperate to be friends with, let alone date, a reclusive, anime nerd music student. I’ll spare myself the humiliation, thanks.”
Jeongin sighs, but Jisung has already passed him his joint and turned back around.
“He’s pretty weird, you know, I have a feeling you might be just his type,” Jeongin mumbles around the joint in his mouth. He inhales the sticky flavour deeply.
Jisung doesn’t even turn around, only scoffs.
“Maybe you’d charm him with your big brown eyes, your decently sized dick and your loser rizz,” Jeongin muses. That at least pulls a giggle out of Jisung, which is enough for Jeongin. He smiles at the back of Jisung’s head and gets up to place the joint in the ashtray next to Jisung’s laptop, before he falls back onto his own bed.
He lets Jisung’s clicks, the dim echo of his music that filters through his headphones, slip into the background and pulls out his phone, opens your group chat. He scoffs when he sees it’s still named after that stupid old meme you and Jeongin quoted every day last week, until Seungmin threatened to kick you out of his bed and apartment at 3am.
wait a minute, who ARE you? 🤔 from: me guess who just secured us THE lee felix for our principles of business group project you’re welcome
from: thing 1 🧍♀️ no way that’s incredible we’ll ace this
from: me ikr 😎
from: thing 3 🧍🏻 boomer ass emoji choice but ok
from: me shut up, you ungrateful child we’re meeting him on thursday I told him we could meet at yours, seung, hope that’s alright but basically we have two days to sort out our shit
from: thing 3 🧍🏻 sure but two days before your big game? Is that a good idea?
from: me it was the only day he could do it’ll be fine
At least that’s what Jeongin told himself.
from: thing 1 🧍♀️ maybe it’ll be a nice distraction we got your back
from: thing 3 🧍🏻 what she said
from: me anyone wanna get breakfast tomorrow?
from: thing 3 🧍🏻 have to meet my advisor at 9, but I can do after
from: thing 1 🧍♀️ 👍
from: me 👍
Jeongin sleeps like shit that night. He could blame it on many things – the leftover weed fumes in the room, Jisung’s snoring, the guy yelling in the quad at 3am, or maybe it’s his tiny, uncomfortable dorm bed and the absence of two warm bodies next to his.
But whatever it is, it means that he takes much longer than usual to peel himself out of bed, and by the time he makes it to the good cafeteria in your dorm building it’s already 10.
So he expects you and Seungmin, already there, sitting at your table the one in the back corner, next to the window that looks out over the Main Street because the three of you love spending hours sitting there between lectures, chatting, eating protein bars, and people watching.
But something makes him slow his pace, makes him take a detour to grab himself a coffee before he makes his way over, even though he never does that.
At first glance, he can’t tell what’s so off about the picture. You and Seungmin are sitting in your usual seats, you in the corner, leaning against the windowsill, Seung in the seat next to you. Your legs are slung over Seungmin’s, a habit you’ve always had. You always say it’s more comfortable and Jeongin would never admit it, as loudly as he usually proclaims that he hates skinship, but the fact of the matter is that nothing in this world calms him down more than the weight of your arm around his lower back, or your leg slung over his, or your hand on his arm. And the same for Seungmin, if he’s being really honest. Like as long as one of you is somehow touching him, he feels calmer. Jeongin often feels like somewhere along the way you all fused together, and now it’s like you’re sharing a body; pulling collars and jewellery into place, fixing each other’s hair, wiping bits of mascara from your cheek, pulling your hair into a ponytail before bed.
So it’s not that Seungmin’s hand, the one that he’s not using to prop up his chin on the table, is under the table, resting on your inner thigh, but something about the way his whole body is turned to you as you talk …
Maybe that’s what it is – the fact that you’re so attuned to each other, when usually, one of you turns the moment he steps in the room, like you can somehow feel his presence; making Jeongin’s heart feel fuzzy with romantic ideas of red strings and soulmate-ism (that he would rather die than tell you or Seungmin about; though Jisung tickled them out of him one night when they couldn’t sleep and smoked so much weed Jeongin felt like he was floating. He’d thrown up right after his confession).
Or maybe it’s the soft, private little smile on Seungmin’s lips, the way his eyes are glued to your face. Or the way his hand is further up your thigh than usual, his thumb rubbing strong, insistent circles into your inner thigh. Or maybe it’s you, sitting up, arching your back a little, leaning more into Seungmin’s space, saying something that makes Seung’s smile turn into a smirk, makes him angle his head ever so slightly, as if he wants to lean in …
Jeongin slams his backpack onto the bench opposite you and both you and Seungmin jump, though as soon as you see him a big smile spreads over your face. Seungmin leans away from you, blinking his eyes as if he was just woken up from a trance.
“Ah, Innie, finally!” you squeal, “we texted you like five times, we thought you were still asleep or something.”
Jeongin makes a non-committal noise as he places his mug on the table. Your casual reaction makes him feel off-kilter.
“Oh, he’s rude this morning,” Seungmin deadpans, and Jeongin sends him a glare. Seungmin’s eyes sparkle up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeongin watches the trajectory of Seungmin’s thumb over the inseam of your jeans. Up, down, up, down.
“Shut up, dog,” Jeongin grumbles, “Jisung worked on music until like 3, and then when he finally did go to sleep he started snoring like crazy. I barely slept.”
Seungmin hums, something between sympathetic and sarcastic.
“Why didn’t you call me? You could’ve come over.”
Jeongin freezes, stares at Seungmin, but the latter’s face, as usual, gives nothing away. His thumb still going up, down, up, down on your inner thigh.
Jeongin blinks, shrugs, avoids your eyes, gets up without another word to finally get himself some food because his mind is swirling and there’s a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. What is Seungmin doing? He knows Jeongin knows he had someone over, but did he want you to know? Why did Jeongin assume you didn’t know …
Well, he thinks as he scoops a big spoonful of scrambled eggs onto his plate, up until yesterday he thought there were no secrets between you. But then Jeongin had accidentally disturbed whatever that was last night, and now he wasn’t so sure. Did you have secrets like this? Was he the only one without secrets? He never thought to keep anything from you, the three of you, that was kind of his whole world …
The thought makes his head hurt and his stomach cramp painfully, and he decides to shove it to the back of his mind for the time being, as he loads more eggs and a general helping of sausages onto his plate. He has practice this afternoon, he’ll need all the protein he can get.
The thought of practice, of the big game on Saturday — it’s enough to dwarf all his other worries. Especially when he comes back to the table and your leg is no longer in Seungmin’s lap, and you reach a hand out to lace with his before he eats, smiling so warmly, that he thinks maybe he just made all the tension earlier up with his sleep-deprived brain.
Under the table, Seungmin’s foot comes to rest against his calf, rubs up and down comfortingly.
“Stop scowling,” Seungmin remarks, “you’ll look ugly with wrinkles.”
Jeongin flips him off half-heartedly.
“When’s your practice today?”
Jeongin swallows a big mouthful of eggs.
“Whole afternoon. From 2 to, like, 6.”
You nod, your brows knitting together in determination. He loves when you do that, it’s adorable.
“Okay, then Seungmin and I will make sure we’ve got everything prepped for our meeting with Felix tomorrow. For the group project.”
Jeongin makes a noise of protest, but Seungmin glares at him, and you wave him off.
“We don’t have any classes this afternoon. Plus, you have enough to worry about, what with your scholarship riding on the game on Saturday.”
The reminder makes a cold shiver run down Jeongin’s spine. He tries his best not to think that way, but he has a terrible feeling about it all. Seungmin reaches out, tugs an errant strand of hair out of his face. His fingertips brush Jeongin’s forehead on their retreat.
“And you’re sleeping at mine tonight,” he announces. There’s no room for argument in his tone, his big, brown eyes staring right into Jeongin’s. “You always smoke weed with Jisung when you’re at yours, and my brother will kill you if he finds out you smoked the week before the game.”
“And weed makes you antsy,” you add, taking a sip from your coffee, grimacing when you find it cold, “and you’re already anxious enough about the game.”
Jeongin’s heart does a little somersault in his chest, heat bleeding out until his whole body is tingling with it.
“How would Minho know,” he mumbles, shoves more food into his mouth, hoping it will get him out of having to say anything else. Seungmin shrugs, sighs dramatically.
“He always knows, he’s scary like that.”
“Promise you’ll come to Seung’s after?” you ask, studying Jeongin with your stupidly intelligent eyes.
Jeongin nods, but you keep watching him for a second, like you’re trying to figure out if he’ll try to get out of it, to retreat into himself. You know him so well, it makes him feel sick.
But by the time he has made it through his classes, through Minho giving them all a stern talk about Saturday that gives him so much anxiety he develops a headache and then puts them through the most gruelling practice Jeongin has ever had to endure, he feels like there’s nothing left of him any more. Like if he retreated into himself now, he would just disappear.
So he gives himself 10 minutes in the locker room showers, lets 5 hot tears sear their way down his cheeks, and allows himself to acknowledge that all he wants is to sink into your and Seungmin’s safe arms.
He all but sleepwalks his way all the way to Seungmin’s apartment, and he thinks he only comes back to himself when the door opens, and he’s greeted by the image of you, in Seungmin’s hoodie, face bare and feet tucked into fluffy socks, and your face softens into one of understanding before you softly drag him inside.
The smell of Seungmin’s apartment hits him like home, as does the sound of the TV, chattering and sound effects from some variety show, the smell of Minho’s seolleongtang, the one he makes sure Seungmin has at least five servings of in his freezer at all times, wafting from the kitchen where the microwave is buzzing quietly.
“Jesus, what did Minho do to you?” Seungmin exclaims from the sofa, his voice teasing, but his concern still shimmers through.
Jeongin just shrugs, waves him off, toes off his shoes and drops his backpack on the floor right by the entrance, something Seungmin usually tells him off for. He stays quiet today. Jeongin must really look like shit.
You’re by his side again immediately, gently leading him into Seungmin’s kitchen, sitting him down at the little table. He meets your eyes, soft, worried, looking him over like you’re scared he’s hurt, before you trail a soft hand down the side of his neck and squeeze his shoulder.
“Let me get you some food.”
The microwave dings, and you busy yourself scooping some noodles into a bowl, adding slices of meat and spring onions, pouring the reheated seolleongtang. Jeongin just watches how you move around Seungmin’s kitchen, quietly and confidently. Watches how you pull the sleeves of Seungmin’s sweater over your hands so you don’t burn your fingers on the bowl as you get it out of the microwave. How you pull them up before you start assembling his food. How your hair falls into your forehead, how your bottom lip juts out as you focus.
He’s still watching when you turn around, the finished bowl between your sweater paws and a smile on your face, and place it in front of him, before turning back to get him a spoon and some chopsticks.
“Here you go,” you mumble, smile at him again, “eat up. We can make more if you need it.”
Jeongin turns around, spots the empty bowl in front of Seungmin, perched precariously on the coffee table that’s littered with books and paper, then turns to you, and he realises.
“Was this supposed to be yours?”
You’re already back in the kitchen, rummaging around the freezer for another one of Minho’s ubiquitous Tupperwares.
“Don’t worry, we got more,” you smile, “plus, Minho will be pleased if he checks Seung’s freezer next time and sees that most of them are gone.”
Seungmin grumbles behind Jeongin, but Jeongin’s heart still feels like it’s rabbiting in his chest.
“You know it’s his love language,” you just remark, and Seungmin sighs. “Let him take care of you, you know he needs it, too.”
It’s an easy remark, and you never shy away from naming the emotions both him and Seungmin are often too scared to. And this one they all know is true. Without parents, with their grandmother gone, Minho and Seungmin are on their own now. And if you asked Jeongin, he’d say they’re doing well. They take care of each other. And by extension, Minho takes care of Jeongin and you. Because he knows you’re important to Seungmin. Even though he usually pretends to be upset, complains that he has to meal prep twice as much because you always eat it all. Luckily, Minho has a colossal sweet spot for you. You don’t need to do much but smile and bat your eyelashes, and he forgets why he was mad in the first place. Jeongin always jokes that Minho would have a massive crush on you if he wasn’t so incredibly gay, which never fails to make Seungmin gag and glare at him.
Seungmin just grumbles behind him and Jeongin goes back to eating, a comfortable silence falling over the room. The TV still running in the background, the microwave buzzing as it heats up your serving of broth, you quietly humming as you cut up more spring onions. This is exactly what he was yearning for when he was in the showers earlier, and he basks in it.
Until he remembers the night before, that Seungmin invited someone else in, hooked up with them maybe on the very couch he’s lounging on right now, back against the armrest infuriatingly nonchalant with his stupid new haircut and his oversized t-shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of his stomach over the waistband of his sweats. How did Seungmin even meet someone to hook up with?! Was it someone from his clubs? Someone he met in one of the few classes you didn’t have together? Did Jeongin know them? You and Jeongin were here all the time. This was your rightful place, who was some random person to butt in, to make the vibes all wrong.
You must’ve seen him scowl into his now empty bowl because you walk over to him gently, run a hand through his hair. Jeongin melts instantly.
“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, quietly, “did Minho say something? Is it about the game?”
Jeongin scoffs. How ironic. He just shakes his head.
“Just wanna … turn my brain off for the night.”
You smile at him again. Warm. Sweet. Like molten honey.
“Sounds good to me.”
You slap his hands away when he tries to clean up his bowl, shoo him towards the sofa where Seungmin is waiting, patting the spot next to him. Jeongin collapses into it, lets Seungmin tug him in between his legs, deposit his head against his solid chest, his hand in Jeongin’s hair. He’s still angry, probably, but then Seungmin hums, a deep rumbling that reverberates from his chest through Jeongin’s entire body, and Jeongin lets his eyes slip shut, just for a minute. Though by the time he hears the water in the kitchen shut off and seconds later feels the sofa dip with your weight and feels your hand trace over his spine, he’s already half asleep.
When he wakes up the next morning, he instantly feels better. Sure, his body aches with soreness from practice, but the sun shining in through a crack in the curtains is making the dust dance in the light, and he can feel Seungmin’s warm body pressed against his lower back, the quiet sound of your breathing on the other side of the bed. He lets it lull him back into a lazy doze, half awake, half asleep, until movement behind him jostles him awake again an hour later.
There’s shuffling, tugging at the duvet, Seungmin’s ass pressing into his back. Jeongin hears your voice, barely above a whisper, murmuring something, then he hears as much as he feels Seungmin’s answering chuckle, his body shaking, a hoarse morning thickness in his voice.
He’s about to turn around, to announce that he’s awake, when there’s a shifting and then a wet noise, a quiet hum, then another, almost like …
Arousal lances through Jeongin’s body so fast it makes him nauseous.
You’re kissing. You and Seungmin are kissing right behind him. Holy fuck. Holy fuck?! When did this happen?! When …
Jeongin feels Seungmin stretch, body shifting against Jeongin’s back, the knowledge that Seungmin’s body is touching his as he’s kissing you making his rapidly hardening cock twitch in his boxers, and then he hears it again. The wet slide of tongues, a maddening hitch of your breath, a whisper of a high-pitched moan that makes Jeongin physically shudder, Seungmin humming, deeply in his chest, just like he had last night when Jeongin was resting on his chest but now into your lips. Your lips.
Holy fuck. It had been you last night. It was you who Seungmin was hiding in his apartment, you who he was messing around with, your spit glistening on the love bite that you sucked into his skin …
“Seung, stop,” Jeongin hears you whisper. You sound out of breath. Jeongin has to squeeze his eyes shut. He’s so hard it hurts, and his heart is thudding in his chest.
Seungmin mutters something unintelligible, and you say his name again.
“Come on. Maybe … maybe he’ll wake up,” Seungmin rasps, and Jeongin can hear the aroused excitement lacing his voice.
There’s more shifting behind him.
“No, not like this,” you murmur, “not now. After the game.”
They’re talking about him. Jeongin tries to control his breathing, but his heart is hammering so loud he thinks Seungmin might be able to hear it. But thankfully, Seungmin seems to be busy enough trying to kiss you again, if his warmth disappearing and a noise of protest, and then the soft sound of another kiss is anything to judge by.
But you don’t seem happy with it. You throw the covers back and get up and Jeongin screw his eyes shut as fast as he can.
“Seung, I said no,” you hiss, and then you’re stalking towards the door.
Seungmin behind him sighs, then gets out of bed as well, padding after you. Jeongin hears him say your name and an apology before the door to the bedroom falls shut, and Jeongin sucks in a breath and shoves his hand between his legs, pressing the heel of his palm against his aching cock.
He would question why the fuck he’s as hard as he’s never been before, but right now, he’s pretty preoccupied with the thought that his two best friends are fucking. Oh my god, you and Seungmin are fucking. Or is it more …
The throb between his legs is replaced but a slowly settling sense of heartbreak.
He doesn’t know what’s worse, if it’s just casual or if it’s serious. Because even if it’s just fun, it’s risky, isn’t it?! He would never … He would never risk your friendship like that. But you … clearly that wasn’t a concern for you. God, how had he not seen it. Had there been signs? How long had this been going on?
His whole body feels heavy with it, the heartache, the disappointment. He hears your and Seungmin’s voices in the kitchen, the hum of the coffee machine coming to life, and suddenly, he feels like he wants to cry.
Seungmin had wanted Jeongin to wake up. The thought alone … it’s so cruel. Or did he just think it would be the easiest way to break it to him? Is that what you meant when you said ‘not like this’ and ‘not now’? Were you planning on telling him then, after the game? The fact that you’re together, that from now on, it was no longer Jeongin and Seungmin and Y/N but Seungmin and Y/N. And Jeongin. If he’s lucky.
Fuck, is he going to lose his best friends? Is he going to lose this? Because surely, if they’re together, they won’t want to share a bed with him every night. He’ll have to spend every night back at his dorm, with Jisung.
Oh my god. He’s losing his best friends.
Through the tears burning on his eyes, he hears his phone buzz on the nightstand, where someone, probably you or Seungmin, plugged it in to charge last night.
from: Lee Felix hey we still on for 1?
Then, another one pops up.
hockey LEGENDS in the making 🏑 from: Minho 👹 you may have a day off today but if any of you fuckers so much as look at a drink or a joint or I see you’re online after midnight I am benching you, understood? Saturday is a big game, I need you all in tiptop condition
Jeongin curses, presses his heels into his eyes until he can see stars and the sting of tears disappears.
He can’t freak out about this right now. He has to focus on passing his class. And the game. The fucking game that not only will decide their national ranking but will also determine whether Jeongin can keep the scholarship that is the only reason he’s at college at all. They need to win that game. If they don’t, there’s a 80% chance Jeongin will not be able to come back in the fall.
He takes a few deep, steadying breaths, just how Chan taught them, back in his first year, before their first big game. Something about it regulating the nervous system and adrenaline or whatever. But thankfully, even if Jeongin doesn’t remember, Chan was onto something because it works. He gets his bearings, shoves his heartbreak into a neat little box and compartmentalises it into a far corner of his brain, and picks up his phone.
hockey LEGENDS in the making 🏑 from: me aye aye captain
to: Lee Felix yeah! I’ll send you the address right now
When he pads into the kitchen, there’s sunshine and fresh air streaming in through the open window, Seungmin is sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone, and you’re cutting up strawberries at the counter. You smile at him through the makings of a perfect day. He swallows down the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him.
“Hey, handsome,” you chirp, “there’s coffee in the machine.”
He forces a smile onto his lips, makes his way over next to you to pour himself a cup. There’s at least a foot of space between you, but it feels like he can feel the heat of your body in his soul. He’s trying so hard not to spiral, he doesn’t notice you’ve stepped closer to him until your hand settles on the small of his back.
When Jeongin turns, you’re hovering right in front of him, your eyes big and dark, your lips parted, glossy.
“Hey,” you murmur. You blink, smile at him again. Your one hand is still on his waist, the other is holding one of the strawberries you were cutting. Droplets of juice run down your finger.
“Want a piece?” you ask, your voice nothing more than a murmur, and Jeongin’s body reacts as if on autopilot.
His lips part and your heavy gaze falls down, glued to his mouth as you bring the piece of strawberry to his lips. And it’s like everything happens in slow motion, his tongue lolling out only the slightest bit, the taste of the fruit lacing his tongue, your finger dragging over his bottom lip, leaving a residue of juice his tongue darts out to chase on instinct. The brush of it against your fingers is barely there, but you watch it with a rapt attention, before your gaze flutters back up, your glassy eyes meeting his, your smile a nervous, shaky thing. You stumble back, return to your spot at the cutting board, and leave Jeongin reeling. He remembers he has to chew.
When he turns his head, Seungmin is staring straight at him.
“Well, that was easier than I thought!” Felix giggles, clapping his hands happily.
Three hours is all it took, one, for you to finish the entire group part of the project for your class and, two, to realise that Lee Felix is not only smart, but also incredibly good company.
To be honest, Jeongin has to credit you and Seungmin for just how easy today was. Because you did a lot of work yesterday while he was at practice; all the prep, most of the research, and even the bare bones of the powerpoint were ready by the time Lee Felix rang the doorbell and strolled into Seungmin’s apartment in his incredibly fashionable light wash jeans and a cropped band tee.
And really, the vibes were just right – the door to the balcony open, letting in the balmy late spring air. Bowls of salty and savoury snacks and the strawberries you were cutting earlier, as well as soda and water and coffee, at the ready, lofi music playing on the TV. Jeongin can’t help himself from being a little bit dramatic about how much all of it clashes with his mood.
Unfortunately, despite it all, you are his best friends. And you notice everything.
When you finish your work and Jeongin is still scowling, you heave a dramatic sigh before you turn and let yourself fall backwards, plopping your head right into Jeongin’s lap. Your legs kick out, and Jeongin distantly notices Seungmin wrap a hand around your ankle. He’s too distracted by you, staring up at him, with a gentle smile, before you reach up, running your fingers through his bangs. Your fingertips leave warm, tingling trails over his scalp.
“What’s going on? Worried about the game?”
Jeongin huffs out a humourless laugh, grimaces.
“The field hockey team? You’re on a team with Chan-hyung?” Felix asks, as he pops another piece of strawberry into his mouth.
Jeongin nods, your hand still trailing through his hair.
“Yup,” he lets the p pop in an effort to sound casual, as if he hasn’t been an anxious wreck for the last three weeks leading up to this game, but Felix doesn’t need to know that, “it’s important for the competition, as you know, but it’s also pretty much going to determine if I get my scholarship renewed for next year.”
Felix whistles through his teeth and Jeongin shrugs at him. Your warm palm wraps around the side of his neck, thumb swiping over his cheek, and he can feel himself blushing. The touch, the affection, is nothing out of the ordinary, and it always flusters him a little, but with a stranger right there, watching you and him so intently, it makes his stomach churn with a special kind of pride and something else he’s too afraid to name.
Felix just watches you and Jeongin, and smiles.
“I’m so glad you guys worked it out,” he hums, his eyes fond and friendly. When Jeongin just blinks at him, he laughs.
“You know, after the party … the jacuzzi …” he vaguely motions between Seungmin and you, wiggles his eyebrows, “which was really hot by the way.”
“Y-you saw?” Seungmin chokes out, and Felix giggles.
“Yeah, but just me and a couple of guys from the frat,” he reassures him, oblivious to the way your hand has frozen on Jeongin’s face, the way Seungmin has paled and Jeongin is just staring at him. “But you did kinda fuck in a jacuzzi at a frat party, so I’m assuming the exhibitionist part was intentional.”
You wince, scramble out of Jeongin’s lap in a pretence of laughter. It’s so fake it hurts.
In a fucked up way, Jeongin is suddenly very grateful you guys were making out in the same bed as him this morning, because if this had been the first time he heard of it? Being blindsided by the news in front of Lee Felix? He may have done something stupid.
“Anyways, I was kinda happy to see it. I always wondered if there was something going on between the three of you, since you’re always stuck together. I’m glad you finally worked it out, I think you’re all very cute together.”
Jeongin’s mouth tastes like blood.
He looks over at Seungmin, but Seungmin avoids his eyes and so do you. There’s a big fake smile plastered onto your face, aimed towards Felix, who is now packing up his stuff. It’s cracking at the edges, your hands shaking where they’re folded in your lap.
“Thanks for all your help, Felix,” you force out, your voice shakier than Jeongin has ever heard it. But Felix has the benefit of not knowing you, so he doesn’t notice, only sends you a blinding smile back.
“No worries, I’m sure we’ll get a good grade for this one! And if you ever wanna work together again, let me know. This was fun!”
And with that, he gracefully gets to his feet. Jeongin gives him a weak smile, waves his hand, but Seungmin barely manages to mumble out a goodbye. He seems to be frozen in panic on the other side of the table. You jump up, chatter with Felix all the way to the door, a slightly manic edge to your voice, until you chirp one last goodbye and the door falls shut.
The silence is deafening. Jeongin needs to get the fuck out of here. He’s on his feet before you’ve even made your way back into the living room. He slams his laptop shut, basically rips the charger out of the wall.
He hears you say his name, but he ignores it. He doesn’t look at you when he pushes past where you’re hovering in the middle of the room to shove both into his backpack that’s still sitting in the hallway.
With a curse, he realises his phone is still in the living room. He makes to push past you again, but this time you take a hold of his arm, your usually soft fingers digging into his skin almost painfully. When he catches your gaze, you look terrified.
“Jeongin, Innie, please,” you plead, “please, can we talk about this? I swear, we were going to tell you, we just–“
“I heard you this morning.”
It breaks out of him before he can stop it. Your eyes widen.
“I heard you this morning. I heard you kiss, right behind me. I heard you talk about me.”
“Innie, baby,” you whisper, and Jeongin scoffs. The sound makes hurt flash across your face.
“It’s fine, congratulations, I guess,” he spits, venom dripping from every word. He rips his arm out of your grip, stalks over to grab his phone off the sofa. Seungmin is still sitting there, his eyes glued to the carpet in front of him, his face an unhealthy shade of white. It almost hurts more, the fact that he’s not saying anything. Fuck, Jeongin’s heart hurts.
You take two steps towards him, but stop when Jeongin looks at you. Jeongin feels crazed.
“It’s not like that, I swear,” you try, pleading with with him, “can we please … we just didn’t want to bring this up before the game, but …” Jeongin shuts you up with a wave of his hand, a shake of his head.
“Yeah … I really can’t deal with this right now. So … ha … do me a favour? Just … leave me alone. Don’t contact me before the game. I really … I need to keep my scholarship. I can’t be distracted by this right now.”
“But …” you try one more time, and Jeongin snaps.
“Can you at least do that for me? Is that too much to fucking ask?” he yells, his whole body trembling. Seungmin flinches where he’s sitting, and even you take a few steps away from Jeongin, your eyes wide. You nod, jerkily. There are tears running down your cheeks. The sight of them makes Jeongin sick to his stomach.
Jeongin shoves his phone in his pocket, grabs his backpack from the floor, and he leaves. Slams the door shut behind him and takes the steps down two at a time, fuck the risk of tripping. He wishes he would, wishes he would break his ankle or something so he can’t play and lose his scholarship, so he can’t return, has to start over somewhere else, somewhere where he hasn’t lost the only two people who have ever meant anything to him …
He barges into his dorm room. Jisung jumps when he crashes through the door, but as soon as he sees the tears on Jeongin’s face, he’s on his feet, wrapping him into a hug.
Jisung drags him out of bed the next day. He forces him into his hockey uniform, presses a protein bar and a water bottle from their fridge into his hand and walks with him all the way to the hockey field, where he stops, places his hands on Jeongin’s shoulders.
“Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, okay? You’ll figure it out,” he says, with all the conviction he can muster in his tiny body, “and now you need to focus on the game. I don’t want to have to find a new roommate who will tolerate all my shit next year.”
Jisung’s attempt at a joke, the lopsided grin on his lips, it makes Jeongin huff out a weak laugh.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Minho walk onto the field and spot them. When he makes his way over, Jisung starts shaking like a leaf, but to his credit, he doesn’t budge from Jeongin’s side.
“Hi?” Minho asks, his eyebrows raised, scanning over Jeongin’s body like he’s checking for injuries, before he lets his eyes fall on Jisung. Jisung gulps. “You are?”
Jisung blinks rapidly, sticks out his hand halfway, then seems to think better of it and drops it by his side again.
“I-I’m Jisung, I’m Jeongin’s roommate,” he mumbles out, his cheeks a bright shade of pink. Minho watches him for a second, then sighs, sticks out his hand. He’s smiling, barely noticeably, but Jeongin can tell. Incredible. Somehow, Jisung has managed to charm Minho.
“Hi Jisung, I’m Minho.”
“I know,” Jisung whispers, almost too quiet for even Jeongin to hear. He cautiously shakes Minho’s hand, but when he tries to pull it back, Minho doesn’t let him. Jisung’s big eyes shoot up, but Minho just smiles at him, waits until Jisung relaxes and smiles back, before he lets go of his hand.
If Jeongin wasn’t so heartbroken, he would laugh. He can’t believe this is really happening. He wishes he could tell you and Seungmin about it. His heart aches dully.
Jisung next to him seems to remember why he’s here.
“Uh, J-Jeongin’s not feeling well today,” he stammers out. He does his best to look determined, as he pushes Jeongin in front of him by his shoulders like Jisung’s his dad and Jeongin is his sick kid. “So, please go a little easy on him today, okay?”
Jeongin half expects Minho to freak out, to ask if he’s sick, if he can play tomorrow, to ask what the fuck is wrong with him for getting himself sick so close to the game, scream about what he’s meant to do without his best defender – but Minho just grimaces, sighs.
“Don’t worry, I got it from here,” he says, not unkindly, giving Jisung a smile that makes Jisung’s face flush even more, “thanks for bringing him, Jisungie.”
And with that, Minho takes Jeongin by the shoulder, leads him away from a violently blushing Jisung who barely manages to mumble out a “b-bye” and leads him into the field.
“So,” he starts, once they’re out of earshot of Jisung, “do you want to tell me why my brother texted me earlier, asking me to tell him if you showed up to practice?”
Jeongin scoffs out a humourless laugh.
“I really don’t.”
Minho just looks at him. It’s the same look Seungmin gives him when Jeongin refuses to talk about what’s bothering him, one that always feels like they’re x-raying his insides, and he finds himself wishing for your soothing presence to whisk you away from them, stroke his hair until whatever it is bubbles out of him. But you’re not here, and Seungmin isn’t here, only Seungmin’s older brother, staring him down with eyes that remind Jeongin so much of his he has to look away.
“Listen, it’s fine, I’m fine, there’s nothing keeping me from playing tomorrow, so there’s no reason for you to worry, okay?” Jeongin announces. He shakes Minho’s arm off his shoulder, though he regrets it as soon as he does. He seems to keep doing the wrong thing these days. Minho is still looking at him.
“Okay,” he finally says, “but just for the record, I care about you, okay, Jeongin-ah? So even if I don’t worry about the game, I will still worry about you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Then he cuffs Jeongin in the shoulder, so hard it hurts, and turns on his heels.
“Jisung’s bisexual, by the way,” Jeongin half yells after him, “and very, very single. His major is music, and he loves watching anime and eating sweet things. He gets a little nervous sometimes, but he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I’ll text you his number.”
Minho doesn’t react, only lifts his hand to flip Jeongin off over his shoulder, but Jeongin can see the tips of his ears turn red. His world may be falling apart, but maybe he can at least do Jisung a favour.
And he doesn’t know what gets him through practice and back to the field the next morning, early, for warm-up. If it’s the burn of his muscles, Minho’s iron will that he transfers onto all of them, or the threat of him losing his scholarship so close to the end of his degree. Or it’s his desperate need to be distracted because whenever he lets himself think too much, his heart starts aching so badly he wants to reach into his ribcage and rip it out.
But he can’t do that, so instead, he puts one foot in front of the other. He stretches, so his muscles don’t tear. He warms up his body so he’s lithe and agile. He slips into his shoes and regrips his stick. He hears when they turn on the music on the field, hears the bleachers slowly fill, hears chattering and shouting and laughing. He watches his teammates, all engaged in some form of pre-game ritual – Minho on his back on a bench, meditating, Chan doing jumping jacks, muttering to himself. Coach comes in and announces that it’s 30 minutes before the games starts.
20 minutes. Jeongin forces down a protein shake, almost throws it back up.
10 minutes. Minho looks at him, asks him if he’s okay and Jeongin brushes him off.
2 minutes. They’re walking onto the field under an overcast sky that threatens rain any minute, and Jeongin doesn’t even bother looking at his opponents’ faces.
1 minute. He scans the bleachers and there you are. You and Seungmin. Dressed in the team colours, cheering, staring right back at him. Jeongin thinks he can’t breathe. He doesn’t look your way again.
10 seconds. He tries to breathe.
The referee blows the whistle.
And God, he does his best. He’s focused, he runs. He tries to stay out of his teammate’s way. He throws himself into his defence with his whole body, ignores the throbbing pain when a ball slams into his thigh. He fights for it, he does.
By the first quarter, it’s 1-1. By the second quarter, they’re behind by 1. By the third quarter, the rain has started, and they’re behind by two. Minho manages to score one last goal in the last quarter, 3 minutes before the end, but it’s not enough. The final whistle blows, and they lost.
He distantly notices his team, most of them dejectedly talking to each other, milling around by the benches or talking to their friends in the audience, but Jeongin can’t move.
And it’s like the safe, dull bubble of adrenaline and focus Jeongin has been submerged in for the last two days pops and reality slams into him with such overwhelming clarity it punches the air out of his chest.
He can hear the opposite team yelling, celebrating, can smell the thick, clean smell of the dirt and grass trampled under his feet, can feel the cold rain as it gets heavier, starts dripping down his forehead, his hair, soaks him to the bone.
They lost. They lost. What is he going to do?! There’s still a chance they will recognise his efforts and give him his scholarship, he only has a year left after all, but the advisor was honest. “There aren’t many scholarships to go around. We have several sports teams, all of which have players worthy of this scholarship. If you don’t win, there are no promises I can make you. I’m sorry.”
He swallows the bile in his throat, but he lets the tears run. Nobody can tell anyway, with the way the rain is now pouring out of the rapidly darkening sky.
He has nowhere to go. How did he lose everything so fast?
There’s no one close enough to hear him when a single sob fights its way out his body. He swallows the rest of his tears, shoves it all down as far as he can, but his chest convulses, nonetheless, the adrenaline wearing off quickly, leaving him fighting to breathe. His ears are ringing so loudly he barely notices when two hands find his face, two others anchor him by the waist.
“Innie,” your voice, cuts through the fog. When he looks up, your face is right in front of his. You’re soaked through, make-up running down your cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead when you let it fall against his.
Jeongin tries to fight it, tries to put distance between you, but he finds himself trapped by Seungmin’s strong hands on his waist, solid, but soothing.
“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” you murmur, and it makes another sob escape him.
Seungmin’s hands tighten on his waist, one arm slipping around his middle to press Jeongin against him, and Jeongin realises that he’s not crying because they lost. No, he’s crying because he’s been in love with his best friends for years and the thought of losing you is worse than any gap year he might have to take, any job he might have to get to keep himself afloat next year. Because deep down, he knows that as long as he had you and Seungmin to come home to, he thinks he would’ve been fine. But he can’t do this on his own.
He doesn’t break down there and then, something in him making him stay strong as long as he’s out here, with half the school watching, but he heaves another dry sob. His head falls to your shoulder, and you shush him quietly, run a hand through his soaking wet hair, before you step back and take his hand.
“Let’s get you home, okay? You need to warm up.”
He hadn’t even realised he was shivering, his uniform clinging to his body like a freezing cold second skin.
Jeongin peels himself off Seungmin, who makes a sound of protest, but Jeongin just waves him off and starts walking in the direction of the exit. From across the way, he catches Minho’s eye. Minho looks concerned, his brows furrowed, but Jeongin waves him off, tries to give him a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. But Minho nods, points at his phone, mouthes something about calling him tomorrow, before he disappears into the changing rooms with the rest of Jeongin’s team.
You didn’t talk about it, but they’re already halfway to Seungmin’s apartment when Jeongin realises where they’re going. The walk is silent, you and Seungmin trailing behind Jeongin, not daring to take his hand when he just pushed Seung away so roughly. Jeongin tries not to acknowledge how badly he wants to hold your hand, how desperately he aches for your reassuring touches, the warmth of your hands, the solid grip of Seungmin’s. But you just … walk.
When the door of Seungmin’s apartment finally falls shut behind them, when he has shoved off his shoes, dropped his stick, Jeongin doesn’t know what to do. He stops in the hallway, watches as a drop of water drips down from a strand of hair and onto the linoleum like he’s not in his body, just a third party, forced to look through his eyes at the mess he’s made of his life.
“Innie,” you murmur behind him. The sound comes through him as if his ears are stuffed with cotton wool. “C-can I touch you?”
He raises his head, meets your eyes; your big, warm, loving eyes that hold his entire world. He’s shivering again, he realises, his whole body trembling, with cold, with pain, with god knows what. You look so worries. He nods shakily.
You take his hand, lead him through the living room, into Seungmin’s bedroom and into the ensuite. Seungmin is right behind you, a hand hovering over Jeongin’s back, fingertips brushing against his when Jeongin stumbles on a shoe he can’t see because his damn eyes are still blurry with tears.
Once you’re in the bathroom, Seungmin steps around him, and into the shower, turns on the water.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes, okay? You’re freezing,” you hum, and Jeongin just nods. He dimly realises that, somewhere between the field and here, he has stopped resisting – has stopped pretending like this isn’t the only place he will ever find peace. He trusts you, he always has. He fears that that will never change, that he’ll let you do anything, even if it means falling in love with Seungmin and breaking his heart.
So he doesn’t resist when you tug first his jersey, then his undershirt over his head, leaving him bare. He doesn’t try to contain the shiver when you let a palm run over his chest. He feels a hand at his feet, realises it’s Seungmin, lifting his foot to peel his socks off before he gets up and pulls his own soaking wet shirt over his head. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes roaming over all the newly exposed skin, more than he has ever had the privilege of seeing. Miles and miles of silky white skin, dusty brown nipples, a smattering of thin hair over Seungmin’s pecs.
Seungmin steps closer. His deft fingers find the waistband of Jeongin’s gym shorts, hooking into them as he looks Jeongin right in the eyes, and Jeongin almost forgets to breathe.
“Don’t worry, you can keep your underwear on, but you need to get out of these clothes, or you’ll get sick,” Seungmin murmurs gently, and Jeongin just nods, blearily, lets Seungmin shove his shorts down, help him step out of them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you shove your jeans down your legs, and Jeongin thinks he might pass out. It’s too much, so much skin, so much of your bodies that he’s been trying not to think about for the last two years …
Seungmin shucks his own jeans and socks off and takes Jeongin’s hand, leads him into the shower, makes sure he doesn’t trip, steps under the hot stream and drags Jeongin against his chest. The sensation of the warm water on his ice cold shoulders makes Jeongin gasp and Seungmin hums, rubs his hand up and down his arm, turns him around until he can wrap his arms around Jeongin’s middle again.
But when he turns, Jeongin comes face to face with you. You, water running down your face, down the column of your throat and then down your body that’s naked except for your underwear and Jeongin can’t help but look. You say his name again, delicately, softly, and he looks up. Meets your eyes. He’s helpless. He’s in love.
Seungmin’s fingers scrape over Jeongin’s abdomen, presses himself closer against Jeongin’s back. You take a step forward, until your chest is pressed against Jeongin’s, and Jeongin’s body sings, but doesn’t dare breathe. He doesn’t dare hope that this is what he thinks it is, that there is a chance …
Your fingers find his face, cradle it into your hands like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, whisper his name, again, like a prayer, and then you’re kissing him. Love shivers through his body like someone electrified his veins.
Your lips are soft. Cold but rapidly warming from the water. Your fingertips trace the shape of his face and Jeongin gasps into the kiss like he forgot how to breathe, his hands helplessly pawing at you, every new inch of skin he has never felt before making his stomach swirl with need. But then Seungmin starts pressing kisses over the span of his shoulders, warm lips dragging over wet skin, fingers still lingering over his stomach, and your tongue presses into his mouth and Jeongin’s mind empties. His eyes roll back into his head.
“Jeongin … Innie …” Seungmin rasps into his skin, voice shot. He presses a featherlight kiss behind his ear before he leans closer, breathes his next words right into Jeongin’s ear. “Baby … you were always meant to be a part of this.”
Jeongin keens into your lips, throws his head back against Seungmin’s shoulder, who wastes no time peppering kisses over Jeongin’s cheeks and jaw, before he gently, controlledly, spins Jeongin around in his arms, your arms replacing Seungmin’s around his middle, your lips Seungmin’s on his shoulders. Seungmin’s hands are more insistent when he grips Jeongin’s face, presses his forehead against his, but Jeongin couldn’t pick a favourite way if he tried. Seungmin dips forward, brushes his lips over Jeongin’s and Jeongin can’t do anything but hold his breath, wait patiently, helplessly, for whatever Seungmin is going to do with him.
“Baby, we love you,” Seungmin murmurs, hoarsely, before kissing Jeongin for real and Jeongin sobs out a moan. One of his hands surges forward, grabs Seungmin by the waist, pulling him flush against him, until he can feel his hard cock rubbing against his, sending sparks of bliss searing through his veins. He has no idea when he got hard, but of course, he has. How could he not. He licks into Seungmin’s hot mouth, reaches his other hand behind, blindly reaches for you, drags you closer, too, until Jeongin can feel nothing but you, you, you. This, right here, is everything he has ever wanted. He knows it now.
If this is a dream, he hopes he never wakes up.
But it’s too real to be a dream, even he knows that, and it only drives him more insane. The hot water cascades down his chest, Seungmin’s fingers dig into his jaw, prying his jaw open to lick into him deeper, to devour him from the inside out, his hips rutting grinding into his subtly, your fuck your now bare tits are pressing against his back, your hand travelling down, scratching your nails down the barely there bumps of his abs, until … until …
Jeongin moans pathetically into Seungmin’s lips when your hand slides between him and Seungmin, wraps around his cock over his boxers, palming him until his breathing is so heavy he can barely kiss Seungmin any more.
When you tug at his hips, pull him, so his back is resting against the tiles, he lets you, Seungmin following, reattaching his lips to Jeongin’s, kissing him like he can’t get enough, something that’s simultaneously so unlike and so much like him, it makes Jeongin smile madly into the kiss.
He’s so distracted he only barely registers his boxers being pulled down, soft fingers digging into his skin, lips pressed to his thighs, travelling up, lingering on the thick, dark blue bruise left by the hockey ball, until something mind-numbingly hot and wet wraps around his cock, and he has to dig his nails into Seungmin’s waist where he’s holding him close to stop himself from coming right then, his whole body shuddering violently with the pleasure that races through him.
Seungmin pulls back with a wicked grin on his slick, swollen lips, smoothes his palm over Jeongin’s shoulder, down his chest, follows Jeongin’s eyes as they travel down and–
Jeongin has to screw his eyes shut, his head thudding back against the shower wall, and take a steadying breath. Seungmin giggles, kisses his jaw, noses down his neck. When Jeongin chances another look down at you, he moans pathetically and nearly cries. You’re smiling at him, somehow, still, even though you’re on your knees – for him, he thinks breathlessly – your pretty, sweet lips wrapped around Jeongin’s cock, fingers holding him by the base, your other hand splayed over his thigh. His hand is shaking when he reaches down, cups your cheek, wipes away a stray tear that escapes the corner of your eye from the stretch.
You blink, and then you swallow him down further, and he can feel it not only in his cock but also the hand holding your face, and it drags moans out of him he never thought he was capable of. Blearily, he brings his free hand to his mouth, trying to quiet himself down, so Seungmin’s neighbours can’t hear, but Seungmin won’t have it. He tugs his hand away, replaces it with his lips.
“Shh,” Seungmin mumbles, “none of that. Let us hear you.”
The words, the domineering rasp in Seungmin’s voice – it’s so fucking hot, Jeongin nearly loses it, his cock throbbing in your mouth.
“I w-won’t last,” he stutters, sucks in a breath and moans again with an extra delicious bob of your head that makes your tongue drag along the underside of his cock just right.
“You don’t have to,” Seungmin murmurs, presses a wet kiss against the corner of Jeongin’s mouth, “we just want to make you feel good.”
He swipes the pad of his thumb over Jeongin’s nipple and Jeongin melts, collapses against Seung’s shoulder, holds onto him for dear life and just takes every ounce of pleasure, lets it burn through him until there’s nothing left except you and Seungmin, right here, in this moment.
It doesn’t take long for him to feel the familiar tug of his orgasm in the pit of his stomach, and it’s like you can tell, because you pull your sinful lips off his cock, climb to your feet with the help of Seungmin’s helping hand, and pull Jeongin into a dizzying kiss. He can taste himself when he licks into your mouth, salt and musk and something else, and he briefly wonders what it would be like to taste Seungmin there.
Seungmin’s hand wraps around his cock, all long fingers and tight grip and jerks him off, hard and fast, just how Jeongin likes it, like he somehow studied Jeongin’s brain and figured it out, and it doesn’t take a minute before Jeongin is coming, spilling hot and thick all over his hand, over the shower wall, legs nearly buckling, desperately gasping out loud moans that you swallow, leaving him heaving out desperate breaths in the aftershocks, his whole body alight with tiny fireworks of pleasure.
When he finds his ability to speak, he tries to speak, to mumble something about you not getting off, but Seungmin kisses his words off his lips, saying something about this being about Jeongin, not them. Seungmin chuckles when Jeongin promises you he’ll let you sit on his face, let Seungmin ride him as hard as he wants the next morning, a sweet rasp to his voice when he murmurs “I’ll hold you to it.”
He doesn’t put up a fight when Seungmin turns him around to shampoo his hair while you carefully wash his body, both of your hands so gentle, so soft on him that it makes tears prick at his eyes, but his exhaustion is too overwhelming, his orgasm having only made the heaviness of his muscles more prominent. You deposit him against the shower wall and he watches, with a lazy grin, as you and Seungmin wash each other, as the simple act of it devolves into hot kisses, then wandering hands, Seungmin’s hand between your legs, his cock in your hand. His own cock kicks valiantly because God, you look better together than he could’ve ever imagined, and the noises Seungmin pulls out of you make all the porn he’s ever watched pale in comparison. You pull Jeongin in for a kiss before you come, allow him to swallow your moans just like you swallowed his as you shake through your high, before Jeongin kisses Seungmin instead, batting his hand away and stroking him until his calm, collected Seungmin comes all over his hand with a choked moan, hips twitching, fucking his – long, beautiful – cock into Jeongin’s hand.
When you’ve both come down, Seungmin presses a soft kiss to Jeongin’s temple, you press one to his lips, and then Seungmin shuts off the shower. You wrap Jeongin in a towel, rub him dry, and everything else is as it always is, this part the same domestic bliss it has always been, except while you brush your teeth you tuck yourself under his free arm, your head resting against Jeongin’s shoulder, and Seung’s foot is hooked around his leg where he’s perched next to the sink.
When he crawls into bed, he lets out a deep guttural groan, one that makes you giggle and Seungmin nudge him with his foot.
“Move over,” he mumbles, and Jeongin throws him a look. Usually Seungmin sleeps in the middle, wedged in between you and Jeongin, feeding on your cuddles in a way he would kill you if you ever told anyone else. When Jeongin doesn’t move, Seungmin digs his fingers into Jeongin’s side, until Jeongin screeches and scoots into the middle of the bed, right into your waiting arms.
You wrap yourself around his back and nuzzle your nose into the hair at the back of his head and hum happily. Jeongin wraps his arm over yours, pulls you closer, relishes in the giggle you breathe into his skin, and watches Seungmin get into bed, turn to him and pull the covers up to his nose. He looks adorable. Jeongin has never been so in love.
He lets the big smile that wants to take over his face, do just that, and the flush that creeps up Seungmin’s ears, the rapid blinking of his big brown eyes – they only make him smile more, until Seungmin is so flustered he huffs and turns around and turns the light off. That makes Jeongin bark out a laugh.
They settle into silence, but Jeongin can’t sleep. His whole body is thrumming with everything, a quiet, gnawing worry in his heart, about what will happen with his scholarship, though the simple knowledge that this, this home he has built with his best friends, isn’t going anywhere, is making him feel like maybe he will be okay. But it’s still all so new, so confusing, yet it feels so right …
You say his name quietly into the darkness, and he turns around.
Seungmin immediately cuddles himself into his back, which makes Jeongin smile.
He can just about make out the contours of your face, the sparkle of your eyes in the dim light.
“I just wanted to … It doesn’t feel right not to acknowledge it,” you mumble, pat around the sheets until you find Jeongin’s hand, lace your fingers with his.
“We never meant to exclude you, I need you to know that. That thing at the party … it just … happened. One second we were giggling and messing around in the jacuzzi and the next we were kissing and it was so sudden and so intense … but then it kept happening and it felt so right, but …” you take a deep breath and Jeongin squeezes your hand. Seungmin’s hand slips under Jeongin’s shirt, fingers caressing the skin of his stomach, “we didn’t know how to bring it up and you were so stressed about the game and,” you chuckle sadly, “and we were scared you wouldn’t feel the same, or think we were weird and then what … we’d have to figure out how to do this without you. Maybe we’d lose you altogether.”
Jeongin sighs, lets his hand trail you up your wrist, your arm, until he traces it over the soft swell of your cheek, relishes in the way you lean into his touch.
“I thought I was losing you,” he mumbles, and you sigh, press closer, until your breath is on his lips and his heart is in his throat.
“Never, Innie, never.”
You press a kiss to his lips, and before you can go back in for more, he realises he never said it back. The thing that he has known all these years, but never allowed himself to acknowledge.
“I love you, too,” he rasps out, and you freeze in front of him, where you were just going to kiss him again, “b-both of you. I think I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. I thought you could never feel the same.”
You laugh, light as air, right into his lips, and suddenly Seungmin is hovering over him, staring down at him incredulously.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” he asks, and to his credit, he sounds almost angry, “you dumb boy, why didn’t you say anything?!”
Jeongin stares up at him, only manages to shrug helplessly.
“We … were flirting with each other. With you. I felt it then, Y/Nie did, too. But you …” Seungmin takes a steadying breath, “you didn’t respond. You were all standoff-ish, recoiled when we touched you. So we didn’t … so we … fuck, Jeongin …”
Giddiness fizzes through Jeongin’s veins so fast it makes him lightheaded.
He pulls Seungmin down, slams his lips against his, before he flips him over kisses him into the pillows until he’s panting, before dragging you closer to kiss you, too.
He’s in love with his best friends. They love him back.
He gets the email about his scholarship two weeks later, at the dinner turned frat party Chan’s frat hosts for the hockey team and their friends.
He wasn’t even going to read it then, but he knows he won’t be able to relax if he doesn’t. He nudges your leg with his toe and you turn immediately. He turns his phone, you read the title of the email and your eyes widen. You nudge Seungmin and mumble it to him and he stares at Jeongin with big eyes, motions for him to read it. So Jeongin does.
“Dear Mr Yang, after having seen your dedication to the field hockey team of blablabla … oh my god,” his breath stutters. Both you and Seungmin and also Felix, who is sitting a few feet away, next to Chan turn their head to him.
“What?! What is it?”
Jeongin looks up and grins.
“We are pleased to count you as one of our scholarship recipients for the next academic year!”
You squeal, scramble up, fling yourself into Jeongin’s arms, nearly knocking him off his chair in your enthusiasm. Felix squeals, too, claps his hands happily and Chan hollers the news into the room until Jeongin is surrounded by his team, though his hand is solidly caught in yours.
Seungmin somehow finds his other side, his hand slithering up Jeongin’s spine and making itself at home at the back of his head, before he tugs Jeongin in to kiss his temple. He doesn’t kiss him in public. Something about it being too personal, just for them. It makes Jeongin’s heart skip a beat.
“I knew they would see just how much you do for the team,”
Seungmin mumbles, and Jeongin beams.
He has his scholarship. He’ll be able to graduate. Summer is about to start and he will spend it on a roadtrip to the coast with his two best friends, who he is also allowed to snuggle and kiss and who love him more than he knows. His whole body is fizzing with happiness.
“Where’s Minho?” he asks into the room and Chan looks around, then shrugs.
“Kitchen, probably.”
Jeongin extricates himself from the group, makes his way to the kitchen.
“Minho! Guess what! You won’t have to find a new defender next– oops“
Whatever Jeongin expected to see when he pushes the door to the kitchen open, it’s not this.
Minho is … kissing Jisung. Scratch that, he’s making out with Jisung, who is perched on the kitchen counter in tight jeans, his legs possessively wrapped around Minho’s waist, Minho’s hands somewhere under Jisung’s cute little cropped sweater. Jeongin swears there is eyeliner smudged around Jisung’s eyelids. When Minho pulls away, he does so with a sigh. He wipes his mouth nonchalantly, but his ears are burning, and he blinks at Jeongin almost nervously.
Jeongin laughs. He can’t help it. He looks at Jisung and he looks so happy, sitting pretty with Minho between his legs.
“You don’t have to find a new defender. I got my scholarship extended for next year,” Jeongin announces with a grin. Minho’s mouth falls open, and then he takes two big steps towards him and pulls Jeongin into a bear hug. Jisung squeals, jumps off the counter and throws his arms around them both.
“Yay, congrats, Innie!” he yells.
Minho peels himself off Jeongin and Jeongin laughs, reaches out to ruffle Jisung’s hair.
“You’re just happy you don’t have to find a new roommate.” Jisung scoffs, cuffs Jeongin in the arm.
“Not like you’re ever home anyways.”
And Jeongin can’t argue with that.
Jisung mutters something about celebrating, skips out of the kitchen in the search of a keg or something bubbly to drink, leaving Minho and Jeongin alone.
“Congrats, Jeonginnie,” Minho says, pats Jeongin’s shoulder again.
“Thanks, Dad,” Jeongin grins, and Minho rolls his eyes. There’s a brief moment of silence.
“So, …” Jeongin starts, “you and Jisung, huh.”
Minho huffs out a laugh, turns around, busies himself throwing away a stack of paper plates from dinner. His ears turn red again, and he avoids Jeongin’s eyes. Lee Minho is flustered. Jeongin never thought he’d see the day. Jeongin gives him a stern look, crosses his arms over his chest.
“I hope your intentions for him are good,” he intones in a fake, fatherly baritone.
Minho groans, throws a balled up paper towel in his direction. It doesn’t even reach Jeongin.
“No, but seriously, are you serious about him? Because I don’t know what he told you, but I can guarantee you, Han Jisung is not one for casual.”
Minho turns back to Jeongin, crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but neither am I. So, yes, I’m serious about him. I like him a lot,” he sighs, but he’s smirking, “him and his big brown eyes and his decently sized dick and his loser rizz.” Jeongin breaks out into a full belly laugh.
“Oh my god, I can't believe told you about that.”
Minho grins.
“And just for the record, his dick is more than just decently sized,” he smirks, waggling his eyebrows at Jeongin and Jeongin fakes a gag. “Gross, didn’t need to know that,” he shudders.
He hears Jisung yell something from the cellar, then Chan answering and his heavy footfall down the steps. Jisung must have found something worth lugging into the living room.
“Hey, aren’t you meant to be the one giving me the shovel talk? Since I’m dating your brother and all?” Jeongin suddenly asks, and Minho scoffs, but there’s no bite to it.
“I hate to break it to you, but you, Y/N and Seung have been dating in every sense except for the name since the day I met you. Plus, you’ve always been disgustingly gone for each other.”
Jeongin can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck.
“Also, which of you is going to break up, hm? I’m pretty sure none of you could live without each other at this point.”
Hearing Minho talk about them like that makes giddy love bubble up in Jeongin’s chest. And he’s probably grinning like a maniac, if Minho’s amused laugh is anything to judge by.
“See? Case in point,” he announces. Somewhere in the living room there’s a thud, then loud cheering. Minho grabs a stack of solo cups from a cupboard and makes for the door.
“Now let’s get back out there before they start celebrating without you.”
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