moon child

feet crossed at the ankle, black joggers, and a hoodie he swam in. his chin pulled towards his body and eyes feigned focus as he pretended to zero in on the laptop screen, catching colors and one-liners but not much more than that. he blamed the heat, the presence, a leg or shoulder bumping into his, passing energy and exciting electrons like the most frustrating science class of all time. he couldn’t state the plot of the episode, gaze glued on the screen, blinks far enough apart that his eyes sting with benign dryness. he blames new years, alcohol, jaemin, and how could he forget the real culprit – himself. he could ignore it before, a shouldered shrug and raised eyebrows, ignoring that stomach feeling that he learned could easily be associated with the feeling of his fingers tying into jaemin’s hair or the taste of his teeth. now it was unavoidable, sharp and annoying, unwittingly flaring at every breach of contact or lock of eyes. a part of him hated it as much as a part of him liked it.

he kept quiet through different sequences of fights or comedy on the screen, arms crossed over his chest, trying to pay attention but even further distracted by another sensation – the feeling of eyes on him. 

it was that that finally made him turn, first his head then followed by his eyes, blinking slowly at jaemin whose face entirely conveyed a look of distance, zoned out entirely with wonho’s face being the canvas for whatever daydream started in his head. wonho, of course, pretends this doesn’t effect him, letting out something of a ‘huh’ noise. “what? you picked this and it still isn’t interesting enough?” he was joking, at least relatively, with his everyday deadpan, an eyebrow raised. he could’ve ended it there, looked away, saved any possible awkwardness or unnecessary discomfort, jumps or tightness in his chest, but he didn’t, instead an unintentional softening of the voice, a phrase meant to come out teasingly insulting but instead too weak, a lazy search of jaemin’s face and, “you’re really something.”

jaemin looked like a deer in headlights when wonho turned to meet his gaze. it took a few seconds for him to just blink, let alone attempt to think about anything other than kissing the male in front of him. even then, that was really all he could think about --- it was like a mantra, his mind simply telling him the same thing over and over. was that what someone would consider a sign? or was it even that complicated? probably not, but nothing about the way jaemin and wonho’s unsuspecting relationship had formed was ever really simple... whatever that relationship had developed into. he wasn’t quite sure, and that was what currently had jaemin stumped.

he could feel himself staring at wonho’s lips as he spoke, and at his eyes, then back at his lips again. he can’t even begin to think about how obvious he probably looked, but with the silence that jaemin had allowed to drag on, at the very least he knew wonho would be able to tell that he was nervous. about what? he was still figuring out what his answer would be if he ended up being asked. surprisingly, jaemin had been able to decide how to respond to the elder quite quickly, but now he couldn’t say anything. it was as if he was paralyzed. “hyung, i..” he said softly, though that was all he managed. there was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t keep going. he was being dramatic, he knew, but that was just who jaemin was. he was dramatic.

rather than giving himself any more time to talk himself out it, the younger suddenly leaned forward. he paused in front of wonho not even for a second before he pressed their lips together with the limited space that was already between them, and relief practically melted off of jaemin. the way he tilted his head to the side and exhaled through his nose; simply breathing in as he kissed the other felt like something brand new, and he would’ve done anything to keep going, to recreate what they had done on new year’s, but jaemin’s sober consciousness wouldn’t allow it. not yet.

once he pulled back, jaemin was rigid, face flushed and his entire frame nearly vibrating. with wide eyes, he swallowed thickly and began to sit up, stuttering while he tried to move the moment along despite his blaring adrenaline (and the hint of a smile on his face), “we can, um -- we can watch something different if you want. if you don’t like it. or we--- we, we don’t have to watching anything. yeah. we don’t have to. if you don’t want to,” he mumbled, half-shrugging as his eyes carefully darted back to wonho.

@mmjaemin

rewind to finals season, a couple of weeks ago.

siyang blinked his eyes a couple of times, feeling the dryness from lack of sleep and dehydration sink in. when was the last time he’d had a glass of water and not a jug full of coffee black enough to stand his spoon in? as a matter of fact, when was the last time he’d eaten a proper meal and not just food from the convenience store near the sharehouse since he couldn’t be arsed to waste time setting his books aside and eating a whole meal? he sighed and massaged his eyes beneath his wire rim glasses, hating the tight feeling his chest and the tension in his shoulders.

he only vaguely registered someone walking past and asking him for some of the gummy bears from the pack he’d ripped opened a couple of hours ago and left splayed across the bits of his notes that he wasn’t pouring over, yet. “yeah sure, go ahead,” siyang nodded absentmindedly and popped one into his mouth himself. even if he wasn’t living in that house, it seemed like the ghost of one mr kwak jinyoung still wouldn’t go away. he dug his knuckles into his temples and continued studying, rote memorisation a second nature to him by now.

fast forward back to the present.

it feels good to work out a sweat. siyang can feel the beginnings of a little paunch beginning to form from all the snacking he did during finals season and he’s regretting all those bags of junk food. he really needs to find a different way to liberate himself from his mother’s strict dieting plans other than putting the first thing he sees at the convenience store into his mouth in large quantities. he ignores his inner voice nagging at him that it’s not really liberation anyway, not if he’s in the gym right now working off all the weight gain. imaginary or not.

it’s at the gym that he notices the person. a guy? probably a guy. 95% a guy. siyang doesn’t want to bet himself a 100% because if it turns out to be a girl, that’d be sexist, right? he’s been reading up articles about that sort of thing. so he wipes down the machine he was using and walks over to the water cooler, flashing the person a casual grin and a “what’s a cutie like you doing in a place like this?”

jaemin is definitely not the most organized person. not by a long shot. you may even go as far as to say he’s, well... disorganized. his room and brain may often be cluttered, but his memory? he’s usually on top of it. so it’s safe to say he would remember someone that lives in the sharehouse with him -- especially someone he’s interacted with before. and while siyang wasn’t someone he knew well, he knew him. or knew of him, at least. he was one of the older tenants at sweetheart, and jaemin had eaten some of his gummy bears once, but that was about as far as their interactions had gone. 

he’s pretty surprised when he’s approached so suddenly -- jaemin liked being at the gym for the solitude that which allowed him to focus and the fact that no one ever really talked to him. it was good for jaemin’s anxiety, not having to worry about engaging in conversation, and going to the gym was almost like meditation, a way to sweat out his worries. 

he blinks when siyang speaks to him, immediately turning his head behind him to see if the elder was speaking to someone else. “huh?” is the first thing that leaves jaemin’s mouth, and he quickly pulls out his earbuds to hear the other better. soon his face goes red, and he can almost feel himself about to stutter from how unprepared he felt in the midst of the situation. finally he laughs, albeit awkwardly, eyebrows furrowing as he replied, “i’m, uh... filling up my water bottle?” real smooth, jaemin.

“are there ones with mice faces on them?” she asks, cheeky, grinning. her nose crinkles up and she laughs quietly, just a bubble of a chuckle, as he reaches across and pinches her cheek. it makes her feel cute. to amplify the feeling, she flaps her hands til the sleeves of the robe she’d found at the bottom of her pajama drawer come over her hands, fingers curling into it til the fabric folds over into little paws. 

she tucks her elbows against her knees, bending forward til her cheeks rest against either of her makeshift paws, appearing rapt with attention to what jaemin says even as she barely pays attention to what the words actually mean. his voice is nice, and she likes and respects him a lot, but the minute he says skin care routine and moisturing her brain automatically tunes out. 

“uh? do you have any of the ones with animal faces?” she tries to peek round at the assortment of things jaemin’s got scattered between them, but can’t make heads or tails of any of it. there’s so many creams, and tubes, and… boy. there’s no way all of this is jaemin’s. she can’t imagine using more than one or two things every night. but this makes him happy, she thinks, and she’s never been someone not to try something just because it’s unfamiliar. “will it make me look all dewy skinned and pretty like you?”

jaemin tilts his head at the girl’s question and furrows his eyebrows, completely serious as he tries to think if there are mouse face masks. “you know, i don’t think so... but i could be wrong. actually, scratch that, i probably am. i don’t know what i’m talking about most of the time,” he rambles and makes a face playfully, smiling and chuckling himself at her actions, his face lighting up just by watching her. “i just mean--- i haven’t seen one myself, but, either way, you’re probably much cuter than some animal face mask.”

he nods to himself and looks back down at his mountain of products (truth be told, he doesn’t own that many, but it does look... intimidating, to say the least). “i do! but first,” he hums as he trails off from his words, reaching down to grab one of the many bottles in front of him and a cotton pad to dab the unnamed liquid onto.

“this is like, uh... i don’t actually know what it is. i mean, it’s micellar water, but... i don’t know what that is,” jaemin rambles again, gesturing aimlessly in an attempt to brush off his words. “it’s good though! it takes the dirt and oil off your face. and it smells nice.” 

he raises his eyebrows in a silent question, making sure it’s alright with her before leaning into her personal space and using the cotton pad to clean mouse’s face -- brushing over her forehead, nose and cheeks gently. he pulls back and tosses the pad into the trash beside his bed once he’s done, already taking out another one just as quickly as he shifts back into his previous position and he pours more of the product onto it.

mouse loves jaemin, of course.

like really, really loves him. her friends back home had been cool, yeah, and the people she trained with were nice, but she’s never really had a friend like jaemin. even before they were able to regularly see each other, he’s always just been someone she’s trusted and respected and looked up to. seeing him on social media, she always thought he was just such a well-put-together person, and even now, seeing him everyday, living in the same space as her, she still can’t help but just think he’s… awesome. like a close friend, close same-age sibling she’s never had.

jaemin is someone she feels connected to, yes, but that connection only goes so far. she squints at the pile of products in the space between them, and she’s never felt more disconnected from someone she likes so much.

“jaeminie, i just told you i haven’t done any of this stuff!” she says, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling in her chest. it all looks so silly – she doesn’t have bad acne, why would she need to use all this? she’s lucky if she manages to wash herself all the way down to her feet sometimes, if she’s running late to work. mouse pauses, here, though, head tilting to the side. “what’s… what’s a sheet mask?”

“really? not even one of those cute ones with animal faces on them?”

jaemin furrows his eyebrows and pouts at the girl, though the expression fades just as fast as it had appeared. it’s replaced in a blink of an eye with wide eyes again, before his shoulders droop and he groans playfully. bending forward to press his palms to his forehead, jaemin sighs but he can’t help but chuckle. “how have we been friends for this long and i didn’t know you had absolutely no skincare routine until now!” 

looking up at mouse, he pouted again and reached his hand up to pinch at her cheek softly. “your skin is so nice, too... it’s not fair,” he shook his head with a faint smile before sitting up straight, “it’s never too late to start though! even if your skin looks great, you should take care of it. moisturizing when you’re young helps prevent being all wrinkly when we’re older, you know.”

wonho was never someone to be particularly emotional, never the type of person to go out of his way to show his own weakness or ask others for help, but he had always been empathetic. growing up as not only a son and brother, but something of a father figure to his sibling, he’d become someone who felt everything, who had to be a mediator and a support system, a voice of reason and a beacon, and right now, it seemed jaemin needed just that. his anxiety almost filled the room, his panic near suffocating, and so wonho stepped in with a moment of hesitation, putting his hands on jaemin’s shoulders, a small, comforting rub of his palms over his shoulders and upper arms, trying to calm him down and get his attention at the same time.

he immediately wants to comfort him, to help him, and the only way he knows how are the methods that worked on daeho, physical assurance and breathing methods, and a part of him worries that jaemin will respond negatively to it, that he doesn’t want to be touched or lashes out. he’s worried that maybe he can’t help jaemin at all, that instead he’ll somehow make it worse or make his roommate uncomfortable. he almost pulls him into a hug but stops himself, not wanting to push any boundaries and instead gauging the reaction to the physicality he’s already initiated.

wonho often had a hard time understanding people in general, and he’d found very early on in life that people under distress are a lot more complicated.

the entirety of his time living there thus far, wonho hadn’t seen jaemin nearly this upset, the brink of tears and his breathing stuttered, and he becomes aware relatively quickly that he never wants to see it again. he keeps his expression and tone as calm as possible, a look he hopes is understanding even despite his lack of knowledge on the situation, on what makes it such a big deal, though jaemin’s reaction alone speaks volumes of an importance.

he squeezes his shoulders lightly, eyes trying to make contact, to stop jaemin’s from avoiding him, to make him focus, to calm down the anxiety, the frantic behavior, the eyes full of tears. the tiredness he felt early didn’t dissipate but instead transferred, less physical and more emotional, already drained from mere seconds of witnessing the panic, of watching his usually so bright roommate and friend choke back tears.

“hey, look at me, you need to breathe, alright? wherever it is, it isn’t going anywhere. if it’s in the house, we’ll find it.” he said carefully, concerned about jaemin first and the necklace second. “i’m gunna help you but you gotta calm down. take a breath with me, in through your nose, out through your mouth, yeah?”

“but i can’t--- i can’t find it,” jaemin stutters out, and even with wonho holding his shoulders, grounding him, there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow and it isn’t long before there’s tears welling in his eyes. he’s quick to duck his head and wipe his cheeks, blinking away as much as he can before he hears the elder’s voice ring in his ears again, helping him through his meltdown. breathe, right. that was always a good place to start.

he wants to speak, but he can’t bring himself, and instead follows wonho’s instructions once their eyes meet again, now only a few small inches apart in their equally small room. he doesn’t feel the walls closing in on him or anything of the sort, though; he feels safe, even as his lip trembles and his breathing shakes. 

he’s still scared, of course. overwhelmed with chest-aching sadness and gut-wrenching guilt, all before jaemin knows for sure that the necklace is actually gone. maybe he’s being dramatic, which jaemin could definitely be at times, but for someone who tried his hardest to always show the best sides of himself, which were often playful and living in the moment... well, maybe his minor freak out is needed. perhaps one he’d been holding down for awhile.

a part of him feels bad for dragging wonho into his abrupt whirlwind of stress, but to have him there at all is more comforting than he would have ever thought. it was nice to have someone there, and especially nice to have wonho --- and even nicer to see such a different side of him. as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t particularly focus on this protective, man-of-action wonho he’d never seen before; he was too distraught, too lost in his own thoughts. truthfully, had wonho not arrived when he had, jaemin probably would have given up his search and resorted to simply stress crying. and while another part of him still wanted to do just that, wonho’s presence manages to provide him with some structure, and even a bit of security for the first few tantalizing minutes that go by.