Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeno fumbles for his keys but no matter how far into his pocket he reaches, he can’t seem to feel them. Maybe because it’s currently midnight and he’s trying to see through the darkness (someone really needs to get those busted hallway lights fixed). Maybe he misplaced his keys somewhere or left them in the car, having rushed up the building earlier. Maybe he just lost them.

Or maybe it’s because there’s a beautiful boy latched on to his side, devouring Jeno’s tongue down his throat and teasingly palming Jeno’s hard-on through his jeans. 

It’s probably the boy, Jeno decides.

He pats around his other pockets and hears the familiar jangle of metal in his jacket. The short whine the boy lets out when Jeno pulls his head back is probably the hottest thing Jeno’s ears have ever been graced with and he hurries to unlock his apartment.

Jeno doesn’t even get the chance to lock it because the stranger drags him inside and pins him to the door, ravishing his jaw with kisses. Jeno’s jacket falls off his shoulders and drops to the floor.

“What’s your name, handsome?” The boy whispers. “Or would you rather I call you daddy ?”

In the back of his mind, Jeno isn’t sure if he has a daddy kink – hell, he isn’t sure about any kinks at all – but there’s something so alluring in the boy’s needy voice that Jeno is left breathless and can do nothing but nod his head.

“Okay, daddy ,” the stranger mutters, sliding his cold hands up Jeno’s shirt, feeling him up, before completely pulling it over Jeno’s head. “Will you fuck me? I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

Jeno shivers but something inside him sparks red like an epiphany dawning on him – the boy is asking Jeno to fuck him.

“You’re so hot,” Jeno groans involuntarily.

The boy halts and steps back a little as if observing Jeno’s face but it’s so dark in the apartment that Jeno can’t even see the stranger’s. A hand reaches out and tugs Jeno forward by the arm, deeper into the room, and stops by the bed before pushing Jeno onto it.

The streetlights from outside sneak past the gaps in the shutters and Jeno can make out pieces of the boy standing before him. He watches through these strips of light as a shirt is thrown off to reveal smooth, pale skin, a toned stomach, and rosy nipples; the tight black jeans pulled down, inching more bare skin into Jeno’s view; the lacy underwear causing Jeno to hold his breath as he watches one long leg after the other stepping out of it. From the snatches of street light hitting the boy’s naked body, Jeno constructs a hazy image of the complete picture and he realises he’s imaging an angel.

The boy crawls into his lap and kisses Jeno once more with red lips bitten by Jeno’s own. Jeno doesn’t think he can contain himself any longer when the boy starts grinding down on Jeno’s thigh desperately, leaving Jeno to swallow his moans and whimpers. Jeno absolutely snaps and wraps his hands around the boy’s waist, flipping them over so Jeno is the one leaning over him this time.

From this angle, the light hits just right and Jeno can see the stranger’s face – the long lashes and his half-lidded eyes, the swollen lips wearing a sly grin, the bruise Jeno had left on his neck just before they left the bar. He really did bring an angel home.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jeno admits slowly, his voice coming out more broken than he had expected, a testament to his inexperience.

Something flashes past the boy’s eyes, something softer and understanding, but it only lasts a fraction of a second before he’s smiling again. “Neither,” the boy says quietly, wrapping his arms around Jeno’s neck and bringing his face closer. “But we can figure it out as we go.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeno lost his virginity five months ago, just after his 18th birthday. The absurd shame a newly-turned adult bears as they reveal their lack of sexual activity is now a feeling non-existent to Jeno. Of course, he doesn’t parade his newfound experience around because a) he’s a respectable human being, and b) to this day, he doesn’t know the name of the strange boy from five months ago, but he has a wild theory as to who it is.

“Can we get a refill over here?” A woman calls out to him from the other end of the bar, beckoning Jeno closer.

Jeno nods, placing down the ice bucket he had been drying with a towel to retrieve the four empty beer glasses from the woman and her group of friends – or colleagues, perhaps, because who else would go to a bar this early on a Tuesday night? Their carefree laughter indicates to Jeno that they’re not here to curb the pain of emotional heartbreak, yet the stiffness to their posture tells him they’re not a group of besties either. As he turns around to refill the glasses, he hears music start playing from the TV in the top corner of the bar. It’s on the SBS channel, shuffling through the recent Mnet stages of that week. 

Jeno isn’t exactly well-versed in the genre of k-pop – of course, he’ll recognise the more popular title tracks that play on repeat over the radio, and can name exactly two idol groups making it big in the US – but this one particular song currently blasting through the bar puts his mind on pause. Slowly, Jeno glances over his shoulder at the TV and he’s met with Na Jaemin’s debut stage.

That’s right, Na Jaemin – SM’s newly debuted solo artist and the subject of every tweet in his timeline and recommendation on his YouTube page. Or rather, Na Jaemin – the boy who (potentially) took Jeno’s virginity.

Jeno isn’t delusional, neither is he a fan of the idol, but ever since the boy debuted a week ago Jeno has been drawn to his face. With fluffy pink hair, delicately glittered lids, and a paired smile that would trigger confetti explosions in the background of his stages, Na Jaemin wears the face of the boy Jeno had caught glimpses of between the slits of light in his apartment that night, five months ago. 

Jisung tells him he’s crazy or infatuated which is the nicer end of the spectrum. Especially when there’s Chenle in his other ear taunting him for his apparent wet dreams about Na Jaemin that were so realistic, Chenle claims Jeno convinced himself they actually happened.

The thing is, it did happen. There’s no other way to explain the lip tint smeared down Jeno’s clothes and face when he had looked in the mirror the next morning, or the sweetly unfamiliar scent infused in his pillow, and the spilt lube bottle on the carpet which he recalled knocking off his nightstand during their erratic night.

As Jeno places the beer-filled glasses back in front of the customers with trained stability, he takes another look at the TV screen where Jaemin’s performance had just ended. The camera zooms in for a thumbnail-worthy ending-fairy pose.

“Who’s that?” One of the women asks, pointing up at the screen.

“Na Jaemin. You don’t know him?” Another woman says in a scandalised voice. “He’s the new guy from SM. His song is all over TikTok and it’s only a single!”

“I’ve been following him since pre-debut,” a third person joins in excitedly, knowing their time to shine has come. “He’s been training since middle school, can you imagine? And he writes all his songs too. I’m so proud they finally let him debut as a soloist.”

“I heard that SM usually debuts groups. I’m quite surprised,” the first woman says.

“That only goes to show how talented this kid must be.”

Jeno, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation, leaves to continue drying the ice buckets. When a new wave of customers flood into the bar, Jeno wipes down the counter and stands prepared with the EFTPOS machine. Behind him, Jisung comes out from the back room with the ice refill. He helps with the customers to take some of the weight off Jeno’s shoulders.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeno loves closing up. It hardly compares to opening the bar – the rush of preparations, the unnecessary mopping and clearing up after the incompetent guy who closed up the previous night, the anxious period of waiting for the first customers to arrive – Jeno will have none of it.

But closing up is an experience of its own, a wind-down, a full stop in a sentence to indicate a breath must be taken before continuing with the next clause. Chenle, always his opposite, hates the 3 am responsibility but Jeno would argue that’s the best part.

3 am is a time embodied by solitude and ambiguity, stigmatised to children but romanticised by teens, and a source of escapism for adults. Free from his duties as “employee”, Jeno indulges in the control he has for the next hour, in which he takes the liberty of ignoring all responsibilities until he gets home. There’s no one to tell him no to the two shots of tequila he pours himself either, justifying it with a good day's work. In this short window of time, Jeno is truly free.

Radio music thrums from the surround system embedded in the ceiling but it's some kind of instrumental jazz, reminiscent of elevator music. Jeno changes stations, looking for one which doesn’t play the sort of abandoned music they use to fill the void between the late-night radio talks and the morning breakfast shows that start up again at 6 am.

The cleaning rag in his hand starts dripping down Jeno’s arm and he resolves to try one more station before he has to start wiping the bar down, whether he finds good music or not.

Suddenly, a pop song starts playing. Jeno recognises the EDM track as a b-side from Na Jaemin’s first mini-album. To reiterate, Jeno is not a frequent listener of k-pop and has nothing against it, but the number of times this album has played on videos, playlists, and radio mixes make it impossible for even a man living under a rock to not know every song off by heart.

Something about Na Jaemin’s voice is addictive. If crack could be translated into wavelengths, Na Jaemin’s songs had the frequency down to the T. Surprising himself, Jeno doesn’t change the station and allows the album to continue cycling through the speakers. Jeno hums along to the songs, picking up lyrics he hadn’t noticed before, the rhyming of scheme with seem , the obnoxiously hyper chorus built upon words equating to heartbreak, the love song that is actually an allegory for imposter syndrome. Suddenly, Na Jaemin doesn’t seem like a duplicated SM idol hot off the press anymore. He’s a broken compass, pointing in every other direction to distract people from what truly lies in the North.

And yet, in Jeno’s eyes, it’s impossible to separate Na Jaemin from that night. In every whitewashed poster, ever photoshopped advert, every album cover, Jeno can only see the expression Jaemin had made beneath him on his bed. All he can hear are the moans spilling forth from pink lips, can feel the sweat and flush of his skin that Jeno had witnessed unedited – his raw and most vulnerable self.

By 3:45, Jeno returns the cleaning appliances back to the storage room, locks the cupboards and cabinets, and deals with the accounting. He had gone through Jaemin’s album twice before cutting the music completely.

Then, silence.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

By the time Jeno’s third year of his undergraduate degree commences, Na Jaemin had dropped another mini-album, released four OST tracks for three different dramas, featured on an R&B album by rapper Mark Lee, released another single for Christmas, and scored himself a place on the cover of Elle. Oh, and he had just dropped his first full-length album.

Sometimes, Jisung contemplates life by pointing out how a person their age has already accomplished more in a year than any of them will in their entire lifetimes. Jeno likes to neutralise the demoralising topic by pointing out that Na Jaemin possibly just hit the peak of his life too fast and too early on.

Updating himself with Na Jaemin’s most recent achievements is not one of Jeno’s pastimes, but it sure is Chenle’s. At this point, Jeno wouldn’t be surprised if Chenle had a 2 k following-base on some Twitter fan account he harboured in secret. Chenle scourages for something to satiate the gossiper in him, whether that means binging a drama everyone is raving about or forcing himself to read a Webtoon series. Anything to get in on the jokes and online discourse. Chenle absolutely thrives off it.

If Chenle starts a conversation with the words, “Guess what?” Jeno knows to expect something controversial, political, or just plain celebrity pettiness. 

“What?” Jeno asks anyway, pouring a line of shots and sliding the tray over the counter.

Chenle is leaning in the doorway of the back room since he’s supposed to be on break but instead is reading twitter threads from his phone to Jeno.

“ With the upcoming Golden Disc Awards show just around the corner, it is no surprise that SM soloist Na Jaemin, recent winner of ‘Song of the Year’ in the Gaon Chart Music Awards, and the ‘Global Popularity Award’ in the Genie Music Awards, has been nominated for a Bongsang .”

“I think we all saw that coming,” Jeno snorts, reordering the wine bottles and facing the labels up.

“Hang on, listen to this though. The spotlight on this rising idol only shines brighter with circulating speculations about the idol’s past relationships coming into light. Na’s company, however, has released a formal notice denying all false allegations and later revealed the rumours as a ploy to have the artist’s nominations revoked .”

“Yikes,” Jeno says monotonously. 

Chenle waits for Jeno to finish serving a tray of obnoxiously pink cocktails before continuing. “I know right. Imagine being so jealous of someone that you have to spread fake news to ruin their rep? Like, dude, how shallow can you get?”

“Whether it's fake or not, SM has enough money and connections to cover up any scandal so Na Jaemin is in safe hands,” Jeno says, feigning indifference. He looks at his watch and prays for the minute hand to move faster and bring Chenle out of hiding.

“Aren’t you curious about what the so-called scandal was?” Chenle asks in a teasing voice. While Jeno does want to know, he doesn’t want Chenle thinking he’s into this kind of stuff so he just shrugs in response. “People were accusing him of sleeping with Mark Lee.”

“The rapper?”

“Yeah, the one who had Jaemin featured in his newest album. You see where this is going?”

Jeno frowns. “Why would Jaemin need to sleep with someone to get a collab? The kid is so talented that other artists are probably trying to get into his pants.”

“Not just that, but Mark Lee is openly bisexual whereas it’s assumed Na Jaemin is straight. There were people saying Jaemin was taking advantage of Mark’s sexuality.”

“Bullshit. What the fuck?” Jeno growls, spinning around to face his friend. Straight, my ass, Jeno thinks, because if there’s anyone more sure about Jaemin’s sexual preference than Jaemin himself, it’s Jeno and the memories he holds.

His face feels hot and he’s vaguely aware of the tension in the fists he had bawled his hands into. The bright amusement in Chenle’s face forces Jeno to reevaluate his stance and he calms down. He hadn’t meant to get angry.

“You’re getting awfully defensive, Jeno,” Chenle laughs loudly, causing some customers across the bar to look up at them. “Still hung up on that one wet dream you had of him?” He adds in a whisper before he pockets his phone and announces his break is over.

Jeno finds out a week later not only did Na Jaemin win a digital Bongsang but was also nominated for the digital Daesang. He learns of this, not from Chenle (surprisingly), but the new shipment of Soju bottles with bright pink labels sporting Na Jaemin’s dazzling face and the bold caption reading “youngest Daesang nominee”.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This is Jeno’s fifth shift of the week, and it’s only been five days. At this point, Jeno can lean against the sticky bar and not give a flying fuck if he goes home smelling of stale beer and smoke. He wonders if it’s possible for him to get drunk off the excessive inhalation of alcohol vapours from the extended periods of time he spends in the bar. He also wonders if bad luck is chronic because it sure feels like it is.

It had started a month ago, just before the beginning of his honours year, when his uncle called him to let him know they won’t be able to help pay his tuition for the upcoming semester. 

“I was fired,” Jeno’s uncle had told him quietly, his voice receding into the background noise with any attempts at explaining himself. As if justifying his mistakes would soften Jeno’s blazing hatred for him and the illegal conduct his uncle knew would not be swept under the rug if caught.

So, on top of his tuition is his apartment, his necessities, his studying materials, and his meals that need budgeting for. Jeno’s calculations offered disheartening digits which did not promise survival. The trail of zero’s had laughed in his face and told Jeno that pursuing graduation on time was a fool's dream.

Jeno had gone to his coordinator and asked for a deferral, explaining his financial situation and claiming to return soon when he had saved enough to last him longer than two weeks. Except, ‘soon’ held no promise for exact dates, only when his luck was better.

When Jisung had asked why Jeno was rostered on for nearly every day of the next six months, Jeno adverted his gaze and explained he was taking a break from his studies – a prettier way of saying he’s broke because he’s unable to swallow the shame of seeing pity on his friend’s face.

It’s Tuesday, the bar has two customers who drink slowly and converse quickly, paying Jeno no mind as if his forced dieting (read: starvation) routine really did slim him down into nothing.

The only comfort Jeno receives is hearing about the chronic bad luck in others. It’s a nice feeling, though a little cruel, to know that while Jeno’s world is decaying, there are parallel worlds also in the midst of rotting and Jeno will never be the lowest of the pack.

Jeno had heard about Na Jaemin’s latest scandal from Chenle, and he quickly realised how unmatched the idol’s misfortunes are, and how insignificant Jeno’s seem in comparison. 

The slashed posters of the soloist's face advertising some sort of product had been cut down the middle. At first, Jeno accepted the odd and aggressive act as typical hater behaviour and took the poster down from the pinboard. It had happened again the next week, this time scribbled over in thick red marker printing the words “sexual offender” boldly across Jaemin’s perfect smile.

Jeno knew then that something was wrong and during his break had opened Naver and typed in Na Jaemin sexual offence . And there the article was, bared conspicuously in Jeno’s face with the unmistakable headline “SM artist under fire for multiple cases of sexual coercion”. The article claimed that around the same date and time last week, five anonymous women stepped forward and revealed their past sexual relations with the idol, all declaring the same thing: assault.

Since then, Jeno doesn’t know what to think except that Na Jaemin definitely had it worse than him. Jeno tells himself he shouldn’t care less about whether Jaemin’s case is acquitted or not because it doesn’t prove his innocence, only that SM has too much money and lawyers who do their jobs a little too well. Jeno shouldn’t be checking Naver every few hours to see how the case has progressed because the media skews information in the direction of the greatest audience. Jeno tells himself to stop sympathising with a potential sex offender just because he needs to redirect his self-pity on someone more pitiful than himself.

“Can we get another bottle over here?” One of the customers calls out, waving Jeno over.

Jeno rolls his shoulders back and reaches into the refrigerator for another green soju bottle – peach flavoured to replace the empty one on the table. That’s when Jeno notices another torn poster by the door and sighs, deciding to take it down before anyone notices. It looks like someone got their nails into the paper and dragged a forceful hand through it, leaving scratches in the cork.

Jaemin’s pretty smile and bright eyes are scarred and ugly. Jeno can’t imagine Jaemin committing the said crimes. For one, the timing of the five women had been suspiciously aligned, right before the beginning of Jaemin’s first tour in the country which had eventually been cancelled. 

Jeno had also heard and read about the idol’s charity – his volunteer work, his described good nature by the staff, the way other idols claimed to love working with him, the large donations he made and organisations he supported. Then again, having a big heart doesn’t automatically disclude you from being an asshole.

Maybe this is just Jeno’s confirmation bias. People can accuse him of whatever fallacy they wish, but they’ll never be able to convince Jeno otherwise that the boy he had been intimate with, the boy who surrendered to Jeno and trusted him to make their first time memorable, is capable of assault. Jaemin had yearned to be held and desired. He had been the sort of boy that wanted to give, not take from others.

As Jeno balls up the ruined poster and returns the pins to the board, he overhears one of the customers gasp in surprise.

“Do you keep up with the Jaemin case?” The customer asks, their voice quick and excited.

“Who doesn’t?” Their friend says, amused. “Why?”

“He just posted something on Twitter.”

“Who?”

“Na Jaemin, of course. Look!”

Jeno trashes the poster and ducks behind the counter, pretending to reorganise the glasses. Instead, he pulls out his phone and opens Twitter. He doesn’t follow Na Jaemin but he doesn’t need to look him up either because his latest tweet has been retweeted so many times that it’s all Jeno can see on his timeline.

All the tweet reads is this: I take it up the ass .

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeno asks why Chenle is sulking in the backroom and Jisung just shrugs, saying something about how it isn’t his fault this time, not that Jeno is insinuating it is.

Jeno goes out the back door during his break where he finds Chenle in the exact same position by the bins, his cigarette burning untouched between limp fingers. When Jeno asks Chenle directly, his friend pouts and says it’s too boring these days.

“Go out and do something then,” Jeno proposes.

Chenle shakes his head. “You don’t understand!” He wails.

Jeno crouches beside him and Chenle silently holds out the open packet of cigarettes. Jeno plucks one gratefully and rummages through Chenle’s apron pocket for the lighter.

“Then tell me. Jisung’s clueless, how do you expect me to know?” Jeno reasons.

Chenle hums and stands up, crushing the cigarette beneath his heel. “Look, it’s nothing. It’s just been so quiet since Jaemin went on hiatus.” He drops the lighter and cigarette box in Jeno’s lap and disappears through the doors. His break over.

Jeno hadn’t realised Na Jaemin went on formal hiatus, he just assumed the idol wanted to lay low after his scandal blew over at the beginning of the year. No one could blame the artist for disappearing from the media either, he had been through hell and back.

After Na Jaemin’s infamous tweet (which eventually had to be taken down due to the explicit implications), the five women were revealed to be frauds and members of a group plotting Jaemin’s absolute downfall. They were charged with defamation and the case had been closed.

Whilst articles reported Na Jaemin’s good luck and applauded his bold choice of action, as well as congratulating him on his sexual preference, Jeno had felt sick reading about it. Na Jaemin didn’t owe the world shit about his sexuality, and the fact that he had been practically forced to come out in public during the slandering event left Jeno with a bitter taste in his mouth. Even now, Na Jaemin isn’t free from controversy, with people trying to come to terms with a homosexual idol who at one point held overwhelming influence and power in the music industry. Other’s lash out at Jaemin’s disappearance as “running away” and abandoning his fans. Jeno hates those people the most.

Jeno puts his lips to the cigarette and inhales, trapping the smoke in his lungs before letting it escape out his nose. He taps the ash and it drops by his feet, fizzling out.

He’s not exactly hungry for Na Jaemin content but even Jeno has to admit he misses hearing updates about the soloist every now and then. He misses the old days when he’d catch glimpses of the idol in posters, he’d turn his head to the speakers at the sound of Jaemin’s voice in an interview, or watch his performances on the TV as he worked (sometimes making an effort to time the right moment when the stage ended and Jaemin’s glowing grin filled the screen for a full five seconds). And Jeno will never, ever skip his songs on the radio.

Jeno heaves himself up and as he makes his way through the door he runs into Jisung.

“Your turn,” Jeno smiles, passing over his half-used cigarette like a baton, along with the lighter and box.

“What did Chenle say?” Jisung asks, untying his apron and throwing it over one shoulder.

“He misses Na Jaemin,” Jeno laughs, watching the concern melt from Jisung’s face, replaced by bitter resentment

“That idiot–”

“– Your idiot,” Jeno corrects teasingly, shoving past Jisung.

“You’re right, my idiot,” Jisung sighs but Jeno’s too far now to pick up on the helpless smile on Jisung’s face.

“Oh, Jeno,” Jisung suddenly calls out, turning around.

Jeno pauses and looks over his shoulder. “Hm?”

“You coming back to study next year?” The palpable silence between them is full of Jisung’s anticipation, a breath held in his mouth and a question on his tongue. “We miss you.”

Jeno swallows the truth to give an answer they both want to hear. “Next year,” he says softly but it’s neither an affirmation nor a denial. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

For the first time in a long time – in a whole year – Jeno is feeling okay. Just okay. Not exuberant or at a transcendent level where he bears the confidence to rival God, but at least he isn’t wallowing in self-deprecating despair that has somehow become a sort of epidemic within the bar staff (with Chenle claiming Jeno to be patient zero).

His last class ended at seven and Jeno heads to the bus stop, making his way to work. He doesn’t have the opening shift today and Jeno doesn’t think there’s anything else he’d prefer more to end his content day. 

Jeno never has been a consistent studier but he’s a hardworking one who now realises how much he took studying for granted. It’s not cheap but he’ll get through his honours just fine.

At the bus stop, two high schoolers are occupying the bench, hunched over a phone screen turned landscape but Jeno can’t see what they’re watching. He waits behind them and checks his emails. 

There’s one from his landlord (which will need attending to as soon as possible), another from his coordinator answering a query Jeno had sent last week, a promo code for one of the many online stores Jeno had visited once and forgotten about, another promo code, his payslip (that’ll make dealing with his landlord easier), a shipping order for god knows what…

“I can’t believe he’s coming back,” Jeno hears one of the high schoolers say.

“I know right, he’s been on hiatus for a year!”

This catches Jeno’s attention and with his phone still open, he redirects his line of sight to the video the two students are watching. They’re on one of the SBS channels on YouTube, watching a promotion interview for some up-and-coming drama. Hit with this realisation, Jeno almost turns back to his phone but then the video emits a painfully familiar laugh from one of the actors which Jeno can recognise anywhere.

“Is that Na Jaemin?” Jeno asks aloud, slapping a hand over his mouth after hearing his own voice.

The two students spin around, staring up at him with large, frightened eyes. But their fear disappears at an offensive pace when they take one look at Jeno, recognising he means no harm and is not a 52-year-old stalker.

“Ahjussi, are you his fanboy or something?” The girl on the left asks with a giggle.

Jeno lets the nickname slide and shrugs. “Just curious,” he says, feigning nonchalance. He realises how embarrassing it must look for a guy like Jeno to be flustered around kids probably five years younger than him. “So, he’s back in the industry?” He tries again.

The boy on the right nods. “Kinda. I think he’s making his debut as an actor?”

“An actor?”

“Right! How did he manage to get his company to approve? Do they not understand how much bank they could be making if Jaemin came back with a new album? He’s got so much publicity waiting for him.”

“I mean, whatever Jaemin does will get on every media platform,” Jeno says.

“I don’t even know if he’s a good actor.”

“Or if the drama is any good.”

“It’s got to be! Lee Donghyuck is acting in it as well!”

“Do you think it’s worth watching?” Jeno asks.

A bus rolls up to the stop and while it’s not Jeno’s bus number, it seems to be the two high schooler’s ride because they stand up and collect their bags. 

“You know, Ahjussi, you should probably watch the interview yourself. You seem interested,” the girl laughs, airdropping the link to Jeno who hesitantly accepts.

Jeno coughs and composes himself. He doesn’t say anything in response and pretends to scroll through his phone – anything to occupy himself as the students leave.

Jeno’s seen maybe two dramas in his life, one of which he never completed and the other was Dream High (which everyone watched back in middle school just to see IU and Suzy in school uniforms).

In the interview, Jaemin relays the brief plot of a mini coming-of-age drama series about a group of friends who live in opposite corners of the country and only see each other during the summer break. Jaemin is playing the role of the main character’s childhood love interest who grapples with his financial insecurities and the emotional anxiety he feels for the main character.

In all honesty, it sounds like a slow drama, and the type of thing Jeno (a man with a minimal attention span) would typically avoid. Then again, this is Na Jaemin he’s talking about and Jeno has been somewhat deprived of the idol (now actor) for the past year.

You know what, fuck it, Jeno think. He’ll watch this drama for the sake of watching it. His pride be damned because a little taunting from a couple of high schoolers won’t stop him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Is it just me or do you get déjà vu…” Jisung mutters, using his sharp gaze to point Jeno in the direction of Chenle.

Chenle is once again leaning against the door jamb of the back room, scrolling through Twitter and every few seconds calling out to his colleagues, “Oh, oh, listen to this one!” or “I’m crying, have you seen this one yet?” and no amount of sarcasm or effortless replying on Jisung’s behalf will make Chenle get the hint and shut up.

“Yo, okay, for real this time, you have to see this.”

And because it’s a slow Wednesday night and Jeno is feeling particularly generous after finally dropping his cheater of a partner (well, casual partner as they had referred to it because neither one of them had felt ready to fully commit), Jeno indulges himself in Chenle’s gossip.

“Show me,” Jeno says, chuckling at how Jisung rolls his eyes and continues mopping the floor in the opposite direction.

It’s a tweet about Na Jaemin’s latest drama episode because as it so happens, Na Jaemin has retaken his crown as the official throne holder of the entertainment industry, the only difference being his new accessibility to the male, female, and everything in-between audience due to his fluid sexual preference.

“There’s a theory that Jaemin’s character had a fight with the rest of their friends – like some sort of falling out – which is why everyone’s so, like, anxious about bringing him up in conversations, you know?” Chenle mentions hysterically, eager to share his love for the drama with Jeno because Jisung has established his non-participation in the matter.

“That would make sense,” Jeno hums back, uncorking a new bottle of red wine for a dry sangria. 

He places the cocktail between a pair of customers who blow strawberry flavoured vape smoke in Jeno’s eyes as a thank you and it takes all his willpower not to cough a “you’re welcome” back in their faces.

“You know what, fuck being an idol. If Na Jaemin wants to live the rest of his life acting then SM better be on their knees, attending to his every wish,” Chenle continues, pocketing his phone and retying his apron around his waist. When he fails to tie a secure bow twice, Jisung reluctantly slaps his hands away to do it himself. “Like, he’s good at it. And if it’s true he had always intended on being an actor, I don’t see why his company had to make him debut as an idol first.”

“It’s usually harder for newer actors to build a solid fan base. Maybe SM thought it would be easier to send Jaemin out as an idol first to gain some spotlight before giving him the freedom to do what he wants,” Jisung suggests, contributing to the conversation for the first time that night, which only eggs Chenle on further.

“Isn’t that so sad, though? Having to endure a life you never wanted just to reach your actual dream?”

Jeno shrugs and slides past both of them to get to the back door for his break. “That’s how it is for all of us, isn’t it?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s funny because while nothing drastic has changed directly in Jeno’s life, something feels more complete, more whole, by having quiet murmurs of Jaemin’s name in the background of his days. Maybe it’s true when they say you never completely forget your first. 

Jaemin, assuming it had been him that night, had introduced Jeno to a new kind of intimacy that comes with being an adult. He taught Jeno how to be defenceless, mentally and physically, because to remain guarded meant you were unavailable and unable to reciprocate the emotional trust the other person put in you. So although Na Jaemin hadn’t been his first love or first kiss or first boyfriend, he had, in a way, been Jeno’s first attachment which will inevitably remain a part of Jeno’s character like a brand.

It’s a Monday night – or rather, a really early Tuesday morning – and Jeno has the closing shift. Chenle had left at 2 am and by tradition, Jeno wouldn’t start cleaning up until 2:30, so he leans against the empty bar table, pouring himself a glass from the beer tap as a sort of gamble on whether any new customers will arrive in the next half-hour. He doubts it.

He had turned the radio and TV off, allowing the silence to fill his lungs and reduce him to a transient notion. It’s not true silence – you can’t get that luxury unless you’re far out in the countryside – but it’s a sort of buzzing quietness where city noise, car engines, and late-night conversations simmer down into white noise at a volume too fuzzy for Jeno’s ears to pick up. He closes his eyes and lets himself just exist.

And then the bell chimes and Jeno is knocked out of his fleeting silence. He’s not so much angry than surprised to be disturbed 45 minutes before closing time. What sort of idiot can get drunk in that time?

Nevertheless, Jeno stands up straight and smiles a tired, forced smile. “Hi, can I help you?” He chirps.

The customer nods, easing themself into the centre seat at the bar table. They pull off their long, beige coat and fold it neatly in their lap but their bucket hat is pulled so low that it nearly appears to connect with the top of their black face mask.

“Can I get a drink?”

At the sound of the sweet voice, Jeno looks up from the sink where he’s washing his hands and his eyes find the customer’s. His body freezes in place and all he can do to rationalise what he’s seeing is repeat to himself, you’re hallucinating you’re hallucinating you’re hallucinating . Because what else can Jeno do when it’s nearly 2:30 in the morning, alone in a bar, and Na Jaemin is pulling off his hat and mask to give you a warm smile – a smile so trained and neat and achingly familiar to Jeno’s heart.

“The– the tap,” Jaemin says quietly, pointing to the sink.

Jeno looks down and the water is still running. “Oh,” he says and quickly turns it off, drying his still-soapy hands with a towel.

“Um, sorry, what could I get you?”

Jaemin rubs the back of his neck nervously and eventually asks for somaek. When Jeno asks for Jaemin’s preferred beer to soju ratio, Jaemin laughs and tells Jeno to surprise him, which only makes Jeno all the more anxious.

At first, the bar is quiet as Jeno prepares the drink and he begins regretting turning off the music. Behind him, Jaemin is scrolling idly through his phone, his chin propped up in his palm. 

Finally meeting Jaemin again, it’s almost as if he’s known the actor for years. Jeno knows his favourite colour, his birthday, his every released song and character ever played thus far, his public scandals and his charity events. 

Jeno wants to say something, to ask if Jaemin has come here before. But then Jeno remember that Jaemin would only know him from that one hazy night 4 years ago, and that’s only if Jaemin remembers him at all. However, it doesn’t seem that way as the night continues and no passing look of recognition washes through Jaemin’s defined features. 

In a way, it makes it easier for Jeno to talk to Jaemin, knowing that to the celebrity he’s probably just another momentary face in his busy life. Jeno might never see Jaemin again and for some reason, he’s okay with that.

“So… what are you doing out so late?” Jeno asks, glancing over at the clock.

“Do you close soon? I’m so sorry for keeping you back,” Jaemin says, his voice sincerely apologetic.

Jeno quickly shakes his head reassuringly. “Not until 3, you have time. Don’t rush.”

Jeno makes himself busy by drying the cocktail mixing spoons because he knows how daunting it can be to have someone watching you drink. It seems to work and Jaemin lets himself relax, taking small sips from the glass.

“I just–” Jaemin sighs, running a hand through his bright hair, confirming to Jeno that he hadn’t been wearing an orange wig in his drama. “Had a rough day, you know?”

“Yeah?” Jeno says, keeping his eyes on the towel.

“Yeah,” Jaemin laughs back. “Actually, I’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“You’re Na Jaemin, aren’t you?” Jeno surprises himself by asking the question. He knows the answer but he isn’t sure if Jaemin will give it to him. He wonders if he had crossed the line.

But all Jaemin does is giggle and take another sip. “I knew you recognised me,” he starts, pointing a finger at Jeno. “You had this look on your face. I do appreciate you trying to keep it lowkey, though.”

This time Jeno laughs out in relief that Jaemin isn’t annoyed, but also because Jeno had recognised Jaemin for a completely different reason.

“I mean, considering your face is right there,” Jeno says, nodding over to the pinboard by the door where the posters are, “I’d say not recognising you is impossible these days.”

Jaemin looks over his shoulder and winces. “God, you’re right. Sorry, that must have sounded real arrogant of me.”

“I mean, I’m also up-to-date on your drama too, so…”

Jaemin giggles and it’s the prettiest thing Jeno’s heard all year. It’s light and genuine and a little contagious. “You’re funny… Jeno,” Jaemin says, looking down at Jeno’s name tag. “In a good way. You don’t know how desperate I am for humour these days.”

“Desperate?”

“Well, yeah. I realised during my hiatus that you really need laughter to normalise your life,” Jaemin says, swirling his glass around. “You know, like a mechanism to keep you happy because taking your life to the public means there is no such thing as “not being happy”. Otherwise, you look ungrateful.” Jaemin downs half the glass and lets out a satisfied sigh.

“If you’re “not happy” that just means you’re a normal, functioning human,” Jeno says, meaning for it to be a joke but it comes out a lot more serious than he would have liked.

Jaemin shrugs and looks down into his drink. “Sorry, I didn’t run away from my manager to come here and talk about all this depressing stuff,” he admits softly, toying with the various silver rings on his fingers.

Jeno puts down the towels and leans against the counter so he’s across from Jaemin. “What did you come here to talk about?”

“I don’t know, like–” Jaemin makes strange motions with his hands as if to write his message through the air. “Normal things a twenty-something-year-old with normal friends would talk about. What do you and your friends talk about?”

“You.” Jeno tries to keep a straight face but he’s always had a horrible poker face.

“Aren’t you funny?” Jaemin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you said that one already.”

Jeno brings up the glass of beer he had poured himself earlier and takes a drink. This time, he’s confident no other customers will turn up. 

“What else?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno doesn’t know if Jaemin wants to hear about his financial struggles when he clearly can’t relate, and talking about his studies just seems boring, so he does what Chenle does best: gossip.

“One of my friends likes the other guy who works here – not me, another coworker – and hasn’t been ready to confess for two years now.”

“See, this is the sort of stuff I wanna get it on,” Jaemin says, leaning in closer. His eyes seem to glow brighter with interest. “Not about which idols are secretly fucking, or which costars are having affairs with which makeup artists. I wanna hear about unrequited love or some sort of real-life friends-to-lovers trope.”

“It’s really nothing,” Jeno laughs. “His name is Jisung and I think he’s known Chenle since before they both started working here.”

“Childhood friends-to-lovers, then?”

“Sure, like the drama you’re starring in,” Jeno grins and Jaemin’s expression goes sour for a second. “They go to the same uni as me too so it was hard to not be their friend.”

“What are they like?”

“Jisung’s kinda quiet but he’s particular. He knows what he wants, he’s just a bit shy to take it.”

Jeno thinks about the subtle ways Jisung moves throughout the bar, sort of like an invisible entity, but he leaves no trace of his path. Loud customers are hushed by Jisung’s gentle requests, and broken glass or spillages are whisked away in a graceful swoop before their manager even notices. Jisung’s every word and action is deliberate.

“Chenle is a fanboy of yours, actually. He’s this condensed ball of sunshine that requires Jisung’s level-headedness to keep him grounded. If they end up together, I think it’ll work out fine.” 

Jeno’s always trying to nudge Jisung forward, to be thoughtful and precise in a way that will clear the path toward his goals. Chenle, on the other hand, is a fighter and will have his way even if it means straying from his own path. Chenle’s never openly admitted his feelings for Jisung but maybe it’s not something Chenle can define so easily. Maybe it’s the sort of thing the two of them need to figure out together. If only they just talked about it. 

“What about your friends? Maybe just your closest since you probably have quite a few,” Jeno remarks.

“I have, maybe, one– no, two close friends. Not including my manager,” Jaemin says.

“Your manager is your friend?” Jeno asks incredulously.

“Listen, idol life becomes so much more tolerable when you have a manager you can tolerate,” Jaemin says begrudgingly. “Renjun laid the foundation of my career… I wouldn’t be back in the industry without him.”

Jeno nods understandingly but then recalls Jaemin saying something about running away from his manager earlier and wonders what all that was about. “And the other two?”

“Mark and Donghyuck.”

“Huh?”

“No kidding. I've known Donghyuck since my trainee days. He’s the one who got me my role in my first drama. And Mark is… well, Mark is Renjun’s boyfriend so I don’t know if he counts as a friend.”

“Mark Lee?”

“And people really thought I was fucking him for a collab. Renjun did that for me.” Jaemin lets out the most wicked laugh Jeno’s ever heard from him. He hadn’t thought it possible for Jaemin to even create such a spiteful sound. It’s all so strange that Jeno starts laughing too. It makes his cheeks hurt from smiling too much and his stomach ache from the strain.

Jeno’s laughter dies down into a giggle and he holds a hand to his chest, feeling it expand with the effort of replenishing the breath in his lungs. He looks up at the clock and it’s 3:10. Jaemin seems to notice his change in mood because he follows Jeno’s line of sight.

“Ah, sorry, I should get going. Your shift ended ages ago,” Jaemin says with a smile that doesn’t quite make his eyes sparkle but instead expresses the impending stretch of tiredness that accumulated throughout Jaemin’s day.

“Oh, no, it’s really okay. I was just gonna sleep in tomorrow,” Jeno says quickly.

Jaemin hops off the barstool and shrugs on his coat. When he returns his face mask and hat back to his head, Jeno feels like the idol is slowly fading away like a dream. Jeno clears Jaemin’s empty glass to make himself busy, not wanting to watch Jaemin disappear for good out those doors.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, pulling open the front door. Jeno feels Jaemin linger there for a moment like he isn’t quite ready to leave. “Really, it was nice,” he says at last.

And just like that, the front doorbell chimes and Jaemin is gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s nearly 4 am and Jeno is still at the bar. He had cleaned and put everything back in their respective places half an hour ago. The front doors, cabinets, and windows had been locked and the power shut down. And yet, Jeno still hasn’t left.

He leans against the wall by the back door, accompanied by a cigarette usually reserved for their breaks. The alleyway which runs parallel to the rear of the building is where they keep the bins and accept deliveries. It’s not the cosiest place to be but it’s isolated and somehow gets the best lighting from the moon at night.

Jeno takes a puff and holds it inside him, imagining the dark clouds of smoke smouldering his probably already-blackened lungs. He isn’t exactly a smoker but it has become a habit to take a stick every break with the other employees. Considering how many days Jeno had worked the previous year, it’s safe to say he consumed at least half a packet by himself each week.

The strange feeling prohibiting him from going home is a product of his night with Jaemin. His anxiety feeds off it, reading between lines and lines of conversation, reshaping it into something ambiguous and even more open to interpretation. The way Jaemin’s face had observed Jeno held nothing close to recognition. It almost felt like a missed opportunity to confirm something he never had an answer to. No, it had been a missed opportunity and Jeno had let Jaemin go without even trying to hold him down.

Whatever , Jeno thinks and takes another drag. It’s not like things would’ve changed if Jeno had told Jaemin about that night 4 years ago. What would Jaemin have done? Probably smile and give him an answer. Whether it be yes or no, he’d still disappear the same way he had earlier.

Jeno is delusional for expecting something more.

He hears footsteps from the end of the alleyway which opens up into the main road. The silhouette of a figure stalks closer to him through the dark and Jeno internally groans, not feeling up for dealing with another lost drunkard.

“Sorry, you’re in the wrong place,” Jeno called out, sticking the cigarette between his lips and inhaling to calm his nerves.

What emerges from the dark isn’t a half-conscious drunk man but a sober one with determination set in his eyes. This guy knows what he’s doing and when he steps a little closer to Jeno, he pulls down his mask.

“Jaemin–” Jeno splutters but his mouth had been full of smoke and he coughs it all directly into Jaemin’s face. He apologises profusely but Jaemin remains unfazed by it, merely waving the smoke away.

“What are you still doing he–”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jaemin starts abruptly, taking the lighter from Jeno’s hand to light a cigarette of his own. He offers no further explanation and takes a breath, the tip of his light a faint red illuminating his face.

“Sorry?”

“You’re the guy who fucked me senseless all those years ago.”

As if on cue, the crumbling stick of ash falls off the end of Jeno’s cigarette and onto his shoes. Jeno curses and kicks it away. “I– what are you talking about?” Jeno asks hoarsely and clears his throat.

“What was it, four years ago? – God, I hadn’t even debuted yet – I got drunk and lost my backdoor virginity to a guy I met at a bar somewhere,” Jaemin says softly, the smoke seeming to acquire a sort of artistic touch with the way it seeps out of Jaemin’s mouth. “It was you.” And it’s not a question this time.

Jeno’s lips part but his voice fails to form words. His mind is still lost to the nicotine, working slower than before to process Jaemin’s claim. Jaemin doesn’t seem to be in any rush, however, and leans against the wall next to Jeno.

“How did you know?” Jeno whispers.

Jaemin chuckles and looks over at Jeno, eyeing him up and down. “You don’t forget your first, Jeno. Especially not when you’re barely eighteen and have just come to terms with your sexuality.”

“I knew it was you, ever since you debuted,” Jeno reveals, unsure if it’s appropriate to say it now. He’s basically admitting he knew it had been Jaemin the whole time they were in the bar.

“That must have been wild,” Jaemin snorts. “Seeing the guy you slept with on TV. No one probably believed you.”

When Jeno’s cigarette flares out he drops it and lights another. “I didn’t think you’d remember me, or even care about who I was.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking for this bar since, like, forever, hoping to run into that same guy from when I was eighteen. I didn’t know you actually worked here.”

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to come back?” Jeno jokes but as the words leave his mouth he realises they’re true. His subconscious had longed for this very encounter, evident in the way his eyes would dart rapidly to the door when a customer entered, the way his ears prick up at the slightest giggle, the heightening of his senses triggered by a pink-haired boy he had mistaken for Jaemin.

Gradually, Jaemin slides down the wall and sits on the steps below the back door. He scoots over and pats the concrete for Jeno to take the place beside him. 

“I don’t know why you, Na Jaemin, hottest celebrity of the season, would come looking for some random stranger you slept with four years ago,” Jeno says with a short laugh of disbelief.

“I don't know… you never really left my mind,” Jaemin says under his breath. “Maybe it’s just the nostalgia talking. Maybe I like remembering a time when things were so simple that I could fuck whoever I wanted to without making them sign an NDA,” Jaemin speculates, making various hand gestures in the air, tailed by smoke. “I don’t know,” he says again.

“Is it that bad?” Jeno asks.

With a subdued laugh, one which echoes like a helpless cry no one will ever hear, Jaemin says, “Yeah, it’s bad. It started off great, don’t get me wrong. I was eighteen and basically taught that I was capable of taking all the money and fame I wanted if I put my face in front of a camera.” 

A breeze floods the alleyway and unconsciously Jaemin curls closer towards Jeno’s side to shield himself from the cold. Cautiously, Jeno wraps an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders and when he feels the latter soften at his touch, he leaves it there.

“But when you’re eighteen, you quickly realise that what you put out on camera will never be taken the way you intend it to. It’s fucked, Jeno. You have no idea what they do to idols. One minute I’m a kid in a practice room working towards a dream,” Jaemin continues, pausing only to smoke. “And then suddenly I’m debuting, not as a loved celebrity with artistic talents and ideas, but an automated doll programmed to wear what they dress me in, to eat what they put on my plate, to act the way the script goes. I— fuck, I hated it.” 

Jaemin’s stamps out his cigarette and with shaky fingers, attempts to light another but the match refuses to catch. Eventually, Jeno just gives Jaemin his own to get the idol talking again. “It was like the only way to escape was to drop it all; to throw away all the years I sacrificed, the childhood I lost, the memories I never made. At least as an actor, the only thing I need to keep up is my character and the appearances I make in interviews. And I’m good with the media, I’ve learnt to tame it.”

Jaemin finally takes a breath and closes his eyes, resting his head on Jeno’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeno offers but those two words are trivial against the scope of Jaemin’s life.

Jaemin shakes his head. “Don’t be… you shouldn’t be.” 

Without the smoke clouding his judgement, Jeno is suddenly hyper-aware of everything happening. The dimness of the alleyway, the creaking of the door hinges, the warmth of Jaemin’s face buried in his jacket, the blinking light of Jaemin’s dying cigarette on the concrete. It’s real. This is all really happening.

“What about you?” Jaemin mumbles.

“What about me?”

“Unless you’re an angel of God, you’ve probably seen some shit too, right?”

Jeno hums and lets his head fall back against the wall. “Yeah, my uncle was sleeping with his coworkers and, of course, he got caught and was fired. Then he practically cut me off like one of his failed investments. I had to stop studying for a year to work. Spent all that time in this bar, trying to make enough for one more year of uni.”

Jeno’s never told anyone about it until now. He had given Jisung and Chenle just enough information to keep them out of the dark, but it’s like holding a matchstick to a hallway with no windows – never light enough to see anything past your shoes. 

“I don’t have my parents anymore. My uncle was all I had.”

As Jeno talks, he readies his body for the recoil, the blooming heat of destruction he typically feels when he talks about his family. Except, nothing happens and Jaemin’s touch is the hottest thing against his skin. He’s strangely subdued, even a little accepting, like his body is so exhausted there’s no more fight left in it.

“I’d say sorry but you probably won’t let me,” Jaemin says.

Amused, Jeno smiles. “Yeah. But I’m happy, you know? Where I am now.”

It’s true. Take it as you will – metaphorically or literally – but Jeno is grateful for everything he went through. To the person he had been a year ago, Jeno prays for them to just keep going forward because there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It took one hell of a trip but it’s there, waiting for him.

“Me too, Jeno.”

At that moment, Jeno realises how perfect everything is. He’s in a good place with a new sense of stability and independence. He’s in his favourite little world of solitude with the boy he had been chasing for four years – a boy who, too, is in a good place – right in his arms. There’s nothing more Jeno could ever ask for.

“So… you think I’m hot?” Jaemin speaks up, peering up at Jeno’s face.

Jeno feels the tips of his ears redden. “Sorry?”

“Earlier, you called me the hottest idol of the season,” Jaemin reminds him with a cheeky grin.

The flush of heat travels down Jeno’s face and neck. “Like, I meant the most talked about— I didn’t mean…” Jeno swallows.

Jaemin raises a curious brow. “Uh-huh.”

By then, it’s clear Jaemin’s just teasing and Jeno turns away, gently pushing Jaemin’s face out of view. “Stop it, you know you’re hot,” he mutters reluctantly.

Jaemin laughs giddily and returns his head to Jeno’s shoulder. When Jeno sneaks a glance, Jaemin does the same and their eyes meet in mutual yearning for something more.

“Wanna recreate our first time?” Jaemin whispers, tilting his head to press his lips to the side of Jeno’s neck. Jeno’s heart hammers loudly in his ears and it makes breathing difficult. Jaemin will be the closest thing Jeno will ever experience to a heart attack.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeno does not fumble for his keys this time. He’s unsettlingly calm as he finds the set of keys he had organised on a ring inside his left jacket pocket. He pushes the door open and moves aside to let Jaemin through first but the idol is standing by the staircase railing, leaning against it on his arms as he peers down the stairwell. It’s too quiet and when paired with the darkness of the 4 am nightlife, Jeno feels restlessness pulse through his veins.

There Na Jaemin stands, in his perfect and pristine celebrity glory, against the grotty backdrop of Jeno’s apartment building corridor. The juxtaposition is too painful to comprehend and it makes Jeno wonder if Jaemin is beginning to regret following Jeno into this grimy hideaway that Jeno barely calls home.

“Sorry–” Jeno begins, meaning to take responsibility for the state of the place, but he stops when he realises Jaemin isn’t listening at all.

“You’ve been here all this time?” Jaemin asks with a gentle smile. “It feels like yesterday since I was last here.”

Jeno’s breath hitches and he finds himself holding out an arm to grip Jaemin’s waist and pull him closer. Jaemin giggles and passively lets Jeno guide him into the apartment.

When Jeno shuts the door, memories of Jaemin pushing him against it to suck wet kisses into his skin flood his mind. Jaemin seems to be thinking the same thing because he stops squirming in Jeno’s arms. 

“Strange, isn’t it? How I thought I’d never see this place again,” Jaemin whispers, turning around so Jeno’s hands encircle his hips and he can loop his arms around Jeno’s neck. “This is where I sucked all those hickies on you for the first time,” he mumbles, running his fingers through Jeno’s hair languidly.

“We were so drunk back then,” Jeno recalls, slowly backing Jaemin against the door. Jaemin keens at this and tugs at Jeno’s hair. “What? Not going to call me daddy this time?” Jeno laughs lowly, leaning down to capture Jaemin’s ear between his lips.

Jaemin groans and buries his face in Jeno’s chest. “Oh god, don’t remind me. I’m so embarrassed I said that.”

“Why?” Jeno asks, mouthing down the side of Jaemin’s neck. “I thought it was hot.”

“Jeno, I was an eighteen-year-old virgin imitating porn dialogue. Of course, you thought it was hot.”

Jeno just huffs a laugh and licks a stripe up Jaemin’s neck, stopping at his jawline. “This is where you dropped my jacket,” Jeno says, sliding Jaemin’s coat off his shoulders and letting it fall into a heap by the door. “Before you took my hand and lead me to the bed.”

Jeno does just that. He intertwines his fingers with Jaemin’s and they walk hand-in-hand into the apartment, kicking off their shoes and socks clumsily. Jeno is suddenly conscious of the mess – the cereal from breakfast still on the table, the sweats hanging off his computer chair, the obscene number of glass cups crammed on his nightstand  – and he winces, wishing he wasn’t so sober.

Maybe it’s too dark to see because Jaemin doesn’t comment on it. In fact, Jeno remembers the darkness as a key aspect in his memories. 

As Jeno gently lays Jaemin on the mattress with unkempt bedsheets, Jaemin abruptly pulls Jeno down with him. He barely manages to stop his head from colliding with Jaemin’s and when he looks down, the latter is a giggling mess. The subtle blush dusting his cheeks, his soft pink lips, the glow of his eyes that squint shut as the laughter bubbles from his chest. And Jeno can’t hold himself back anymore as he leans down to kiss Jaemin. The laughter is swallowed down Jeno’s throat but the shape of Jaemin’s smile remains pressed against Jeno’s lips. A shape so embedded in his brain that it’s natural the way their lips slot together.

Jeno tilts his head and Jaemin’s lips automatically part. Jaemin clouds his senses with his tongue curled around his own, his breath in his mouth and moans in his ears, the smell of his cologne having a dizzying effect on Jeno. When Jaemin has taken all the breath from Jeno’s body, Jeno pulls away and rests his forehead against Jaemin’s. They mirror the contentedness in each other’s faces as they gasp for air. 

“This is the part where I ask you to fuck me,” Jaemin mumbles, a hint of a smile on his lips. “This is the part where I promise to be a good boy.”

Jeno groans and shakes his head, pushing his body off Jaemin. That’s when he sees it. The slivers of light peaking through the shutters, offering pieces of Jaemin to him. This is the image that had haunted Jeno ever since that day 4 years ago. Jaemin probably doesn’t realise how otherworldly he looks like this on Jeno’s deflated bed, his lips swollen and his hair a tangled mess. Jaemin is what Jeno has been searching for all this time. It doesn’t matter how many people Jeno sleeps with, none of them will ever be Jaemin.

“Hang on,” Jeno says and gets to his feet, trying to recall where he had put the condoms last. The lube will be easy to find, it’s probably right there on his nightstand among the cups.

Jaemin sits up on the bed, unbuttoning his cardigan and dropping it to the floor. Jeno nearly forgets what he’s doing as he watches Jaemin in his peripheral vision slide off his jeans, uncovering long, slender legs. 

Jaemin catches Jeno staring and he looks away quickly, turning back to the drawers where he finds a familiar box tucked under a pile of shirts.

“I hate this,” Jaemin laughs quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress, his hands fiddling with the blanket. “I’ve done underwear shoots before but I feel so much more exposed like this, with you.”

The blush on Jaemin is not an illustration of his lust, but rather, evidence of his timidity, the shyness hidden beneath experience. Jeno swallows and puts the condoms down so he can cup a hand beneath Jaemin’s chin, forcing the idol to look up.

“I think you’re prettier like this,” Jeno confesses, pressing his lips to Jaemin’s forehead. “I’ve already seen everything before, anyway.”

Jaemin grins up at him childishly. When Jeno sits down, Jaemin gets up and stradles his thighs, helping Jeno unbutton his work shirt. Jeno leans back and let’s him. Jaemin doesn’t stop even after the last button is done and Jeno’s torso is bare. He keeps going down, pulling the zipper of Jeno’s pants and nuzzling his cheek against Jeno’s crotch.

Jeno lets out a low groan and spreads his thighs apart to accommodate for the boy kneeling comfortably between them.

“This didn’t happen last time,” Jeno says jokingly, reaching out to comb his fingers through Jaemin’s bright orange locks. They’re softer than they look and much more striking in the dim room.

“I guess I acquired new skills,” Jaemin laughs, pulling Jeno’s underwear down and taking his hardening dick in his hand.

Jeno watches through half-lidded eyes as Jaemin experimentally runs his fingers up and down before leaning in to lick the tip. He has Jeno sighing at the sensation of his mouth swallowing down the head and shaft. Jeno doesn’t know why he’s so surprised by the ease in Jaemin’s movements, like he had completely discluded the fact that Jaemin had probably slept with many other guys before and after him.

When Jeno’s cock starts edging closer to Jaemin’s throat, the latter pulls back and bobs down instantly. A growl vibrates in the back of Jeno’s throat and he lets his head fall against the wall. Maybe it’s because Jeno hasn’t gotten laid in weeks, but he swears he’s never felt anything as warm and wet as Jaemin’s mouth. But what really gets Jeno off is the way Jaemin holds his eyes as he sinks down. He does it in a way that makes him seem watchful but mischievous like he knows the effect he has on Jeno and he’s enjoying it. That’s what makes Jeno come.

When Jeno tries to tell Jaemin not to swallow, his voice comes out in a croaky, incoherent mess. Jaemin wipes his lips with the back of his hand and gives him a boyish grin, tilting his head slightly in faux innocence. 

Mutely, Jeno beckons him forward and Jaemin crawls up the bed between Jeno’s legs, lunging in for a well-earned kiss. Jaemin presses up against Jeno’s chest and begins rutting against the sheets impatiently. Jeno can’t help laughing into the kiss and puts his mouth to Jaemin’s ear, telling him to lie on his back.

Jaemin looks at him with eager, expectant eyes and nods, settling down comfortably among the pillows. Jeno reaches blindly for a familiar bottle on the nightstand with one hand whilst his other runs up and down Jaemin’s smooth, firm legs.

“Remember the first time you tried to prep me?” Jaemin asks. “And you refused to put more than two fingers in?”

“I didn’t wanna hurt you,” Jeno says meekly, helping Jaemin slide his underwear down. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then.”

“And yet you were fine shoving your whole dick up my ass,” Jaemin says, rolling his eyes.

Jeno giggles and whispers apologies into each wet, open-mouthed kiss he trails up Jaemin’s thigh. He earns Jaemin’s forgiveness when he licks a strip up Jaemin’s cock and engulfs it in his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against the underside and trying not to gag when it hits too deep. Simultaneously, he prods around down below with lubed fingers until he finds what he’s look for. 

“Oh, Jeno–” Jaemin breathes, arching his back up at the feeling of Jeno tracing his rim.

Jeno times it perfectly as he deep throats Jaemin and shoves in his first finger. The effect is instant and Jaemin’s body spasms against his own. He curses at Jeno and begs him to stop teasing between moans but it’s not like Jeno can reply anyway and continues his ministrations.

From two fingers, Jeno squeezes in a third and that’s when Jaemin really starts to thrash around. His attempts at squeezing his thighs shut prove impractical with Jeno’s between them. At first, Jeno finds entertainment in the various sounds he can get out of Jaemin by pulsing his fingers at different angles before his patience wears thin and he begins stretching Jaemin outwards instead. 

“Since when were you such a tease,” Jaemin whines, thrusting up into Jeno’s mouth. Jeno hums around Jaemin’s cock just to rile the idol up one last time before he pulls off completely – mouth, fingers, and all. “You’re such an ass,” Jaemin complains with a glare that lacks any true menace.

“About to fuck yours,” Jeno laughs, tugging off his work trousers and briefs in one go so he can roll down the condom properly.

“Want me to turn around like last time?” Jaemin asks but Jeno shakes his head, pressing a hand down on Jaemin’s hip to stop him from rolling over.

“I want to see you.”

Jaemin giggles. “Jeno, it’s so dark, I can barely see you.”

But Jeno is so entranced by the sections of Jaemin bathed in streetlight and he’d hate to obscure such a sight. “Don’t worry, I can see you,” he reassures quietly.

It’s strange being with your first all over again. Somehow, Jaemin brings along with him the giddiness and shy uncertainty from when they were still young and inexperienced teens. Jeno relives the moment of pushing into Jaemin, the way he involuntarily groans at the choking tightness around the tip, the rapid beating in his chest at the reminder of what’s about to come.

Jeno starts shallowly, grinding against Jaemin and letting himself brush up against the artists prostate. Jaemin had wantonly begged for Jeno to move, to hurry up, to fuck him dumb.

“Hold on,” Jeno grunts. He adjusts his grip on Jaemin’s thighs and bends one towards Jaemin’s chest to give himself further access. The drag of pulling out is exhilarating but thrusting back in is like being so high up you’re on a serotonin boost. Jeno’s mind fogs over and the only thing his body will do is continuously thrust into Jaemin tightness, trying to satiate his lust like an itch he can’t reach.

“Harder,” Jaemin cries, reaching above his head to grip the pillow. Yet the pitched screams and chants of Jeno’s name make it clear that Jaemin is way over cloud nine right now. He’s lost in desperation for release and addicted to the sensation of Jeno pounding into him hard and fast.

Jaemin’s body has grown with a firmness he had lacked as a teenager. Jeno feels obliged to litter the broad expanse of Jaemin’s chest in kisses and love bites. He can’t keep his hand from stroking the dips of Jaemin’s toned torso, or his fingers from toying with the perfectly flushed and erect nipples.

“Ngh, fuck, Jeno,” Jaemin moans, curving his back off the mattress to quell the raging desire burning in his gut.

Jeno rails into him harder so that the sound of his skin slapping against Jaemin’s is the only thing in league with the short moans Jaemin fills the room with on each thrust. Jeno instinctively quickens his pace when Jaemin start clenching because they're so close, they’re both so close.

It’s the erraticism, the carnal desire for self-indulgence, that makes Jeno feel so desperate like he’s just using Jaemin to get off. But one look at the erotic expression on Jaemin’s face tells Jeno he’s just as needy to reach the end.

Jeno folds his body over Jaemin’s and meets his lips in a graceless clash of teeth. But it’s enough to be able to hear Jaemin’s sensual groans live and up close, to feel the motion of Jaemin’s lips screaming his name. Jeno buries himself deep inside Jaemin and lets go, spilling into the condom as he sighs praises at the boy beneath him.

The idol cries for Jeno as his legs jerk up and he cums long and hard across their bodies. He locks Jeno in his arms, chests flush together, holding him tight like a lifeline to stop him floating too far from his body.

Jeno’s chest heaves but he and Jaemin are so intertwined that it’s impossible to tell whose breathing is whose. Every inch of Jeno burns like the tip of a dying cigarette and he feels the sweat from his temples drip down the side of his face. Jaemin’s damp hair is plastered to his forehead and he’s wearing the most adorable, fucked-out smile. A smile just for Jeno, caused by Jeno.

“Don’t leave me again,” Jeno croaks, snaking his arms around Jaemin’s waist and pulling him into an air-tight hug. “Please.”

“Jeno,” Jaemin whispers, dragging his nails bluntly down Jeno’s back. “I’ll stay.”

Like a light, Jeno is out, wearing a small grin on his face as he dreams without the anxiety of waking up empty-handed as he had 4 years prior.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeno doesn’t know when he wakes up. It feels as if he had woken up multiple times, and simultaneously slept restfully the whole night through. He gains consciousness when he feels something soft clenching around his cock and like a boy in puberty, awakens instantly. 

The first thing he sees is bright, orange hair. Dazed, Jeno blinks the sleep away and squints his eyes. No, he isn’t still dreaming, there’s an orange-haired boy in his bed. In fact, not only in his bed but lying naked against Jeno’s bare self, their legs tangled and– oh, so that’s what’s clenching around him.

Jeno winces as the boy shifts around when Jeno pulls out slowly but he can’t stand the rubbery warmth of the condom any longer and ties it off, aiming for the trash can with no real confidence it made it in.

The stranger rubs a hand to his eye and stares up at Jeno. 

“Holy shit,” Jeno says in a raspy voice.

“Morning,” Jaemin yawns, stretching out an arm before letting it fall limply across Jeno’s body. His eyes fall shut again and his body goes slack.

“You’re still here,” Jeno says in disbelief, bringing a shaky hand up to Jaemin’s face to brush the hair from his forehead.

“You railed me at five in the morning, Jeno. You really think after that, I’d still try sneak out before you woke up?”

“I just– I don’t– what?”

Jaemin giggles and puckers his lips for a kiss but Jeno makes a face and complains about morning breath.

“We’ve had each other’s dicks down our throats. I don’t think a little morning breath should bother us,” Jaemin laughs gleefully, stealing his chapped kiss from Jeno’s reluctant lips anyway.

For a while, they lay in the blinding light that appears to be sourced from the afternoon peak of the sun. Jeno runs his curious hands along the side of Jaemin’s unblemished body, and Jaemin whispers filthy and crude things in Jeno’s ear. Neither of them can bring themselves to get up because to do so would be to accept that their time together has come to an end. Every moment from last night is reduced to a memory. Jeno allows himself to pretend that Jaemin is just a boy next door, maybe even another resident in this building, or a fellow uni student in his degree. He pretends that they’re a campus couple, savouring long, sweet kisses and giggling about their night of lovemaking like an inside joke. 

Eventually, Jaemin sits up and the illusion fades. Now, it’s Na Jaemin, the idol and actor, sitting in his bed; a one night stand who will probably never see Jeno again after today. Fate had intertwined them once, twice, but to do it three times would be asking for miracles.

“Jeno,” Jaemin says, taking Jeno’s hand in his and running his thumb over the knuckles.

“Don’t go,” Jeno blurts out, pushing himself up so he can face Jaemin properly. The idol has deep lines etched into the side of his cheek from the creases in the pillow. His face is a canvas of reds and pinks. “Not yet,” Jeno reiterates, resting his forehead on Jaemin’s shoulder. In his mind, he convinces himself that the more skin-to-skin contact he has with the boy, the more likely he will stay.

“Jeno,” Jaemin says again, laughing. “Do you wanna go out with me?” 

Jeno’s head jerks up and he stares Jaemin straight into the face. “Sorry?”

“Like, for lunch,” Jaemin adds quietly, averting his eyes to the side like he’s observing the kitchen table with great interest.

“What?” Jeno says stupidly and he doesn’t know if he’s still sleep deprived or just dumb but Jaemin’s words refuse to process in his mind (and Jaemin’s face is oh so distracting).

“Stop making me repeat myself, it’s embarrassing,” Jaemin says with a pout, slapping Jeno’s arm lightly. “I’m asking if you wanna go out on a date, idiot.”

“But– but isn’t that risky? What about your reputation? Your fans? Won’t it become a scandal if you’re seen with me?”

Jaemin cups a hand to Jeno’s cheek, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone as a way to soothe the tension. “I think you’re severely underestimating how many idols date in secret,” Jaemin says.

Jeno blinks. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “No, but you can fuck me again if you want.”

What Jeno really wants to know is if Jaemin wants him the way Jeno does. Because over the years, something which started off as distant admiration and respect bloomed into full-blown affection Jeno can’t deny any further – he had fallen more and more for with the idol over the years. He had watched Jaemin grow from a timid adolescent, struggling to navigate the music industry, to a shunned artist at the lowest point in his career, and finally now as an applauded actor satisfied with his life.

Maybe it’s not the pure, bulletproof love of finding a soulmate but it’s a sort of tenderness and deep care for Jaemin that Jeno harbours feelings of.

“Are you sure, though? Jaemin, you can virtually have anyone,” Jeno reminds him.

“I don’t want to let you go again,” Jaemin admits. “Just give me a chance. I promise I’m not just some pretty face in bed.”

Jaemin’s thumb runs down Jeno’s cheek to his bottom lip, tugging it downward gently. “Please,” he whispers again.

Jeno already knows he can’t say no to this boy. He lunges forward and captures Jaemin’s mouth but overestimates his strength and they fall back against the bed with a yelp. But Jeno is so happy he can’t contain it and lets it manifest into laughter. Bright, contagious laughter of a man who had just discovered the world in the palm of his hand. Jaemin giggles whenever Jeno attempts to plant a kiss on him and misses slightly, below his eye, his nose, the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, okay, let's go on a date.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

They end up ordering pizza to the apartment instead because Jeno feared Jaemin being seen out in public in his current state and didn’t want to cause an uproar on their first date. While they wait for their delivery, they shower, Jeno fingers Jaemin against the tiles, they shower again, and then make slow, passionate love against the kitchen table. 

“I’m dirty again,” Jaemin frowns, swiping a finger through the streak of cum on his stomach and licking it off. Jeno scrunches his nose and hands Jaemin his spare clothes, telling him to go back to the shower alone this time.

“Don’t pretend you don’t wanna join me,” Jaemin says with a wink.

Jeno just laughs and shoos him away. “Just don’t be too long, the food is arriving soon,” Jeno calls out but just as he says it, the doorbell rings.

Jeno’s eyes light up and he pulls on a random pair of pants lying on the ground. When he opens the door, however, there isn’t a delivery guy holding out their box of barbecue chicken pizza, but a man dressed in what looks like semi-formal work attire. The man takes one glance at Jeno and lets out a frustrated groan.

Jeno realises he isn’t wearing a shirt but it’s too late to go get one now so he feigns confidence and owns his mistake as a deliberate choice. “Can I help you?” He asks the man.

“You certainly can.” The man pulls out a tablet and opens it to a page of fine print writing. He pushes the device in Jeno’s hands with a stylus pen. “Jaemin begged me not to do this but I am still his manager before his friend. And you are the guy who kidnapped him and led me to being a hair's-width close to reporting him missing,” the man, apparently Huang Renjun says. Jeno realises he’s staring at an NDA on the screen. “Congrats, Lee Jeno, you just scored yourself the most insufferable idol as a boyfriend.” 

Behind Jeno, Jaemin’s sweet voice sing-songs, “Junnie don’t scare him away, I actually really want to keep this one for once. He’s hot and sweet and really good in be–” 

“I really don’t need to hear it,” Renjun cuts in, taking back the tablet Jeno had signed without reading a single word from the document. “You better be back by tonight or I’m telling Donghyuck you were the one that drank his boba in the dressing room.”

Jaemin laughs nervously. “Bye Junnie,” he says, waving at his manager who doesn’t return the gesture and heads straight for the stairs. 

When he’s gone, Jeno shuts the door, still perplexed, but Jaemin is ecstatic. “Did you hear that? I’m your boyfriend now,” the idol exclaims, wrapping his arms around Jeno. “It’s like you signed our marriage certificate or something.”

“Fuck, I’m dating a celebrity,” Jeno mutters, realising Jaemin is wearing his clothes in his apartment and smelling like his shampoo. “I didn’t, like, sign my life away or anything, right? I didn’t read the document,” Jeno says.

Jaemin giggles and shrugs it off but it only makes Jeno even more skeptical. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. You are just obliged by contract to give me kisses every morning and mind blowing sex at night. Also, I own your dick now. Property of Na Jaemin.” Jaemin gropes Jeno’s crotch teasingly. He’s got that wicked laugh again that has Jeno breaking out in cold sweat.

“What?”

“I’m kidding, it’s all just common-sense stuff. Junnie will remind us every now and then about what we can and can’t do.”

Like any normal person, Jeno doesn’t go over the fine print or find joy in some light reading of T&Cs, but clicking accept on a new software update or signing off on another term for the apartment doesn’t feel the same as being legally binded to another person (not in a marital way, unfortunately). “What have I gotten myself into?” He asks rhetorically.

“Only my absolute adoration and love,” Jaemin coos. “And my ass. You get that too.”

Jeno laughs. “Guess I can’t get rid of you that easily, can I?”

Jaemin grins and snakes his hands around Jeno’s waist. “Nope. I’m yours now, daddy. ”