After the whirlwind surreality of the weekend, stepping into the utter normalcy of his Monday morning lecture throws Jongin off balance. The dissonance is jarring, and for a moment it seems as if the weekend never happened and life is simply continuing as usual.
Sehun and Seulgi are sitting in the same seats as always, and just like every other Monday Jongin gives them a sleepy wave as he slips into the chair between them. There are the same ads for campus activities running along the bottom of the screen in the front of the room, and the line of lights closest to the window still only shine at half the brightness they should. The classroom is like a world apart, a place where Jongin can keep living in his past reality instead of the current one.
The illusion is shattered when Jongin notices that the top screen of his desk is already signed into someone's student account. Surprised, he takes a closer look and finds an article pulled up in the web browser. His eyes barely even skim over the headline before he's scrambling to close the window.
KIM MINSEOK, HEIR TO KIMCO GROUP, WEDS SON OF ESTEEMED INTERPRETER–
"Look, you're famous!" Sehun says just as Jongin manages to click out of the article. The official press-release photo of Jongin and Minseok standing side by side in their fancy suits winks out of existence. Jongin lets out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.
"I don't want to be famous," Jongin says, giving Sehun a look. Sehun just grins back at him, completely unbothered.
"The photo came out well," Seulgi says.
Jongin turns to her and finds that she has the article pulled up on her own desk. Jongin’s hands twitch with the urge to reach out and close the window from her screen as well. Seulgi continues scrolling through the article until she gets to the blurb about the costs for ceremony. As she reads over the estimates she lets out a low whistle.
"That's an offensive amount of money," she comments, eyebrows raised. “I know they were trying to prove a point, but still.”
Sehun waves a hand dismissively and drawls, “No price tag is too big for revenge. Can you imagine how pissed the royals are? They’ll have to do better than this when the princess gets married, and we all know even they will be hard pressed to put on something that extravagant.”
Jongin grimaces. It's no secret that his marriage to the heir of Kimco group is nothing more than an elaborate "fuck you" to the royal family. The royals' very public rejection of the Kim family's proposal for marriage between Minseok and the younger princess had been the juiciest gossip topic on the planet last year. But even knowing that the lavishness of his wedding ceremony was entirely intentional, all the excess had made Jongin uncomfortable.
“What I don’t understand, though,” Sehun says, playfully bumping Jongin with his elbow, “is why they picked you.”
“It’s not like I know either,” Jongin grumbles with a glare in Sehun’s direction.
“Your father is esteemed, and you’re of the right age,” Seulgi points out matter-of-factly. “And they know your parents have had some friction with the royal family in the past. It was a sensible choice on their part, if you ask me.”
Jongin shrugs. He isn’t particularly bothered by the thought that his selection may have been arbitrary. He already accepted that he’s little more than a convenient pawn for the Kims. No, what bothers him is the fact that he had been too stupid to see the marriage coming.
His mistake had been in thinking he was safe. With his parents always off to this or that end of space for assistance with diplomatic missions, Jongin had managed to escape most of the demands of high society life. He had grown up left to do as he pleased, and with his older sisters already entered into advantageous marriages Jongin had thought that as the oft-forgotten youngest he had successfully slipped under the radar.
It had been a shock when his parents had summoned him for a marriage meeting. And not just any marriage meeting, but one with the heir to Kimco, the largest conglomerate in New Joseon. The company is as old as their nation is – its founder had been one of the pilots who helped bring over the splinter group of dissidents who rallied behind a family with dubious claims to the last royal bloodline of First Korea. After reaching the new planet, the former pilot decided to set up a small inter-galactic shipping company. These days Kimco has grown from that small shipping service into a monster of a company that has their fingers in almost everything. Jongin's rev is from Kimco’s line of rapid elevation vehicles; his favorite chocolate bar is Kimco brand.
And now, Jongin was told, he was being set up to marry Kim Minseok – the grandson of that opportunistic pilot.
"So what's it like being married?" Sehun asks, breaking Jongin out of his thoughts. More students are trickling into the room, some of who are blatantly staring. Jongin wishes he could melt into the floor.
Jongin considers his answer. Before all of this, he had never even thought about marriage. He had school, and dreams, and so many plans for the future. None of which, incidentally, included marriage.
It wasn't as if Jongin had any choice in the matter, though. He had known from the moment his parents summoned him to the marriage meeting that they had already decided, and that he was expected to go along with their choice. There was little he could do other than request to be allowed to bring his dogs along to the new apartment. Minseok had agreed with a polite smile, and Jongin had signed away his freedom with a marriage contract.
"I don't know, like having a roommate mostly," Jongin finally replies, slouching down further into his seat and keeping his eyes firmly on his desk.
Honestly speaking, having a roommate would probably be less awkward. At least with a roommate you aren't expected to share a bed.
Awkward is actually a pretty good summary of Jongin's relations with Minseok so far. The flurry of activity leading up to the wedding had been bad enough, but the ceremony itself had been torture: standing with a man he didn't know for hours upon hours, trying to keep a smile on his face by drinking entirely too much champagne. The next day hadn't been much better. Jongin had woken up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar apartment, with a headache so bad he could barely move. And then, after he had finally willed himself out of bed, he found Minseok waiting for him in the kitchen, and thus started a weekend full of alternating small talk and uncomfortable silences.
And now it's Monday morning, too early to be awake, and the entire weekend feels like a bad dream. Like if Jongin can just manage to make it through this class he will wake up and everything will be back to normal.
If only things were that simple.
“Having a roommate might not be all that bad,” Seulgi says, her optimistic words belied by her doubtful tone.
Jongin gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Hang in there,” Sehun offers, patting Jongin’s shoulder.
Jongin just barely manages to “hang in there” throughout the rest of the day. Curious students and professors alike stare as he passes through the hallways. Some even call out to him, people he’s never met offering congratulations and advice. Jongin has never felt more visible in his life, and he hates it.
Thankfully Jongin is able to cut out of lab early with a perfectly legitimate excuse about being worried his dogs have been home alone for too long. His supervisor lets him go with a sly wink, and Jongin all but bolts to his rev.
Once he's safely inside his rapid elevation vehicle he takes several deep breaths to help calm his shaking hands. But the rev itself is yet another reminder of the changes in Jongin's life. He usually prefers to leave it at home and take the Light Train to and from school. Jongin finds a sort of solace in mixing into with the morning rush on public transit, but he won't be able to do that again for a while. Not when his face was plastered on every last entertainment news site over the weekend. Speculation about why the son-in-law of the CEO of Kimco is taking public transit isn't exactly the type of publicity his in-laws are looking for.
He makes the journey back to the apartment without incident. The 'nav takes him neatly around the worst air traffic and gets him back in record time. Jongin leaves his rev in the garage and takes the lift up to the building's top floor. Their apartment, a wedding gift from Minseok’s parents, is a penthouse suite. Of course it is. Nothing but the best will do for the heir of Kimco, after all.
Jongin hesitates when he reaches the door. His reflection stares back at him from the metal paneling as if welcoming him into some sort of alternate reality – a trip through the looking glass. This place isn’t Jongin’s home, the reality waiting inside isn’t Jongin’s life. His hand hovers over the DNA recognition lock as he fights the urge to turn tail and run.
Then the dogs start barking, the sound echoing out into the hallway, and Jongin scolds himself for being silly and puts his hand down on the lock.
His dogs seem unbothered by the move, for which Jongin is thankful. They greet him with their usual enthusiasm, skidding across the floor and yapping vigorously. Jongin takes just enough time to dump his stuff on the couch before grabbing the dogs’ leashes and heading back out for a walk. Same afternoon routine, different location.
By the time they make it back to the apartment, it’s a little past 17:00. With his dogs content and sprawled out happily on the rug, Jongin finds himself at a loss. Normally he would play around on his tablet for a while or maybe get started on homework, but somehow it feels like since Minseok will be off work soon Jongin should be doing something; getting dinner started, cleaning up the apartment, whatever. But Jongin can’t cook, and Minseok had done a spectacular job of arranging the apartment over the weekend. If Jongin tried to clean he would most likely only succeed in messing something up.
The synthetic leather couch cushions creak slightly as Jongin settles back against them. The couch, like everything else in the apartment, is brand new. Stiff. The upholstery is black, to match the minimalistic decor his mother-in-law had picked out. It makes Jongin miss the comfortable clutter of his own apartment even more.
At last Jongin decides to text Minseok to ask if he should order takeout. Jongin may lack cooking abilities, but at the very least he can make sure there’s food waiting on the table when Minseok gets back. He pulls out his comlink and scrolls through his contacts until he finds “Kim Minseok” – nothing to further indicate their relationship. They had exchanged link IDs sometime on Saturday, while they trying to sort things out. Minseok had made a joke about how usually exchanging numbers comes before marriage, but Jongin had been too hungover and miserable to do more than give a halfhearted smile in reply.
Now Jongin runs into another dilemma: how does one address one’s husband who one has only actually spoken to a handful of times? It’s been a recurring problem over the past few days, but he still has no solution. Hyung feels somehow too familiar, but using Minseok seems too direct. And yet using any sort of honorific feels entirely too formal. Honey? Jongin cringes and decides to forgo a greeting all together. He types out a quick message, presses send before he can overthink too much, and drops his link beside him on the couch.
Jongin leans back with a sigh and closes his eyes. He had expected to spend this school year focusing on his thesis project and getting everything in place for graduation. He was supposed to be spending his time in the labs, analyzing stars and tweaking programming, making inroads into becoming an astronomer, an engineer – not a husband.
His link buzzes and Jongin nearly jumps out of his skin. He scrambles for the device, and the resulting struggle ends with a muffled curse and his comlink almost getting acquainted with the floor. The commotion sets the dogs off barking and Jongin hurriedly tries to calm them even as his own heart tries to race out of his chest. When his link vibrates a second time, Jongin pulls himself together and finally manages to get the right screen pulled up.
Kim Minseok
I’m coming home soon so I can pick up some noodles on the way
17:24
Kim Minseok
Is that ok?
17:25
Jongin groans. How is it that everything is so awkward? They’re married and they don’t even know each other’s food preferences. He can already imagine how their conversation over dinner will go: Minseok will ask how Jongin’s day was, Jongin will say it was fine and then ask the same. Minseok will reply that his day was also fine, and then they’ll fall back into silence.
Jongin is torn between wanting to laugh or cry, so he settles for texting back a simple confirmation instead.
One step at a time, he tells himself valiantly. Just take it one step at a time and it will get better. It has to.
It has to.
☆ミ
A week passes, two weeks, a month. And things do get better, in a way, as they fall into a routine. Minseok gets up early, takes the dogs out, makes himself coffee, and then leaves for work. Jongin gets up about an hour later, feeds the dogs and struggles to get ready for class while still mostly asleep, takes the dogs out one more time, then heads off to school.
Jongin is always the first to get home in the afternoon, but he finds himself more often than not heading back out once he’s gotten the dogs settled. Sometimes it’s just to one of the coffee shops on the street by their apartment, other times he treks all the way out to his old place in the suburbs. His family had advised him to give the apartment up so that he could fully immerse himself in his new life, but Jongin couldn’t bear to. It’s his last grasp on his old self, and provides a handy sanctuary when the walls of the new apartment seem to press in and suffocate him.
This schedule feeds perfectly into their tacit agreement to avoid eating together as much as possible. It wasn’t really a conscious decision on either end, but it works well enough. By eliminating the circumstances that create a void where conversation should be, it’s easier to pretend that the void doesn’t exist at all. That the gulf between them is an illusion, when in fact the truth is that the gulf is entirely real and it’s the bridge across that is a mirage.
It’s better this way, easier.
“What’s Kim Minseok like, anyway?”
The question surprises Jongin, and he turns to look at the girl who asked. She’s sitting across the table from him, next to Sehun. Jongin only vaguely recognizes her as one of Sehun’s friends who occasionally eats lunch with them.
When Jongin doesn’t immediately reply, she presses on: “I mean, is he an asshole?”
Next to him, Jongin can hear Seulgi’s shocked and offended gasp. Even Sehun gives his friend a glare. The question doesn’t particularly bother Jongin, though. It’s what everyone expects – that the heir to the conglomerate will be a rich playboy asshole, just like in the dramas. The curiosity is only natural.
“No, he’s not,” Jongin says. “He’s–” he pauses, pondering over his words, before settling on, “–nice.”
“Nice?” the girl repeats, obviously put out.
“That’s all you have to say about your husband? That he’s nice?” Sehun adds, softening his words with a smile. He’s teasing, Jongin knows, trying to break up the suddenly tense atmosphere. It does little to help.
“Yeah, I mean. We’re both pretty busy, so I don’t really see him much,” Jongin says and shifts in his seat.
It’s not the girl’s question itself that has him uncomfortable, but the sudden realization it brings. Minseok has been perfectly courteous to Jongin, that much is true. But aside from that he’s more or less a giant question mark in Jongin’s mind. Jongin had known he would be marrying a stranger, but he’s been so preoccupied with that idea and with trying to avoid awkward situations that now he doesn’t know his husband at all.
The thought plagues him throughout the rest of the day. It’s not a major revelation by any means, but it’s still a distraction through his remaining classes. Not even the intricate data analysis during his lab work can keep his full attention.
Minseok texts to say he’ll be home from work late, so Jongin stays in after he gets back to the apartment. He feeds the dogs and makes himself ramyeon, then spreads his schoolwork, his tablet, and his computer out across the kitchen table. But despite his best intents focus continues to elude him, and he finds himself constantly rewriting lines of code as he spaces out and mangles them. Even as he’s coding Jongin’s mind keeps wandering back to Minseok and Jongin’s perplexing lack of knowledge about his own husband.
Jongin has made hardly any progress on his work by the time Minseok gets back around 22:40. From his seat Jongin can see Minseok toe off his shoes at the door. He puts them on the rack and straightens Jongin’s sneakers while he’s at it. Jongin suddenly regrets not putting his shoes back properly to start with.
“Welcome back,” Jongin says, stiff formality sticking the words to his tongue.
“Thanks,” Minseok says with a smile. He takes off his suit jacket and folds it over his arm, then picks up his briefcase and moves out of the entryway. He pauses when he reaches the kitchen, taking in Jongin, the jungle of notes and electronics, and the remnants of the ramyeon. As he brings his gaze back to Jongin’s face Minseok asks, “How was your day?”
“Um, fine,” Jongin replies. He’s about the return the question when he notices the tired slope of Minseok’s shoulders and changes his mind. Instead he says, “Have you eaten?”
Minseok’s eyes flicker back to the ramyeon bowl and Jongin finds himself wondering what Minseok is thinking. Is he envying Jongin’s dinner? Judging it? Wishing there were leftovers?
“Yeah, we ordered in at work,” Minseok says before Jongin can come to a conclusion. He smiles again and adds, “Thank you, though.”
Then he’s gone down the hall, socks shuffling softly against the floor. Alone once more, Jongin replays the conversation over in his mind. There was nothing unique about this interaction in particular, and yet Jongin can’t help but be curious what was going through Minseok’s mind as they talked. What he saw when he looked at Jongin.
When Minseok comes back out to the living room, Jongin hurriedly pretends to be hard at work. Minseok slumps onto the couch and turns on a drama rerun. From the table Jongin has a clear view of the back of Minseok’s head and he finds himself staring, as if doing so will let him see inside Minseok’s head.
Of course Jongin has wondered in passing what Minseok thinks of him. But those thoughts have mostly been limited to physical appearance and personality traits. Now as he looks back down at his notes, diagrams of solar systems and data printouts detailing the chemical makeup of various stars and planets, he wonders what Minseok thought when he was told whom he would marry. Minseok had been expecting to marry a princess, and instead he got, well, Jongin.
Jongin, the family disappointment, the kid with his head lost in the stars.
It’s true that Jongin’s family has a decent level of prestige, but the gap between the heir to Kimco and a student studying astronomy – a subject that many people, including Jongin’s parents, consider asinine – seems massive beyond belief.
All at once Jongin feels overwhelmed. He and Minseok are here, in the same room, almost within arms reach, but it’s as if they’re an entire universe apart. And the universe, as Jongin well knows, is expanding at an increasing rate – accelerating Minseok and Jongin away from each other until one day the universe stretches too far and disaster ensues.
Minseok laughs at something one of the drama characters says, and Jongin wishes that there were a way to bring the two of them closer before it comes to that. That maybe they could cross the universe on their own and meet somewhere in the middle. There are, after all, space ships these days that can travel at incredible speeds.
But Jongin is an astronomer, not a pilot, and the universe is awfully large.
☆ミ
To Jongin’s surprise, there’s still a light on in the living room when he slips through the door in the early hours of the morning. The promise of a meteor shower had lured him out beyond the city limits for the clearer view from the roof of his apartment building in the suburbs. And although Jongin had messaged Minseok to let him know he would be out late, he hadn’t expected Minseok to wait up. Jongin may be willing to sacrifice the attendance mark for his class the next morning, but Minseok still has work bright and early. A more likely explanation for the light, Jongin therefore decides, is that Minseok had fallen asleep while looking over stuff for work. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Jongin takes his shoes off and heads from the entryway into the living area as quietly as possible. He intends to make his way to the bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible, without waking the dogs and causing a ruckus. But the scene he finds in the living room stops him in his tracks, making the breath catch in his chest. Minseok is asleep on the couch, slumped against the armrest with his tablet abandoned on the cushions. On his lap is the smaller of Jongin’s two dogs, curled up so that her head rests on Minseok’s knee. The other dog is asleep at Minseok’s feet.
Minseok has been very good with the dogs from the start, helping take care of them and showing more tolerance for their playful antics than anyone in Jongin’s family ever has. But this is the first time Jongin has seen them together like this – Minseok so naturally accepting such an important part of Jongin’s life into his own.
His heart still lodged somewhere in his throat, Jongin walks over to the couch and lightly touches Minseok’s shoulder. Minseok is awake in an instant, blinking blearily up at Jongin. The dog in Minseok’s lap wakes as well and lets out a small sigh as Jongin picks her up.
“Jongin?” Minseok says, still half asleep. “You’re back? I was starting to get worried–”
The words are a direct hit to Jongin’s gut. So Minseok had been waiting up. And he had been worried. For Jongin.
“Yeah,” Jongin says and turns away in an attempt to mask the emotion creeping into his voice. He carries the dog in his arms over to one of the dog beds by the windows. “I didn’t mean to stay out so late, sorry.”
“I did try calling, but you didn’t pick up.”
Jongin guiltily thinks of his comlink, sitting forgotten in the bottom of his backpack with the notifications still on silent from class. He hadn’t even bothered to check for messages, so excited over the meteors that the thought never even occurred to him. Besides, he had expected Minseok to have already gone to bed long ago.
Except Minseok hadn’t.
With his pup properly situated, Jongin straightens and turns back to face Minseok. Minseok is standing now, tablet in hand, and watching Jongin. His face is contemplative, eyebrows slightly furrowed, but his expression eases into a small smile when he sees Jongin looking. The smile just makes Jongin’s guilt intensify.
“Sorry,” Jongin repeats. “I just–” didn’t realize you cared, his brain continues, but he manages to stop himself before he says it aloud. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says instead, breaking eye contact and hanging his head. He keeps his head down and shuffles back over to the entryway to pick up his backpack. His heart is still racing, mind still swimming with the revelation that Minseok had made Jongin part of his life, that he cared for Jongin.
As Jongin passes back by the couch, Minseok lays a hand lightly on his arm. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “You’re back now, and that’s what’s important.”
Jongin starts to apologize again, but instead bites his lip and nods. Minseok gives Jongin’s arm a squeeze, a second of reassuring pressure before he pulls away.
“It’s a good thing you have dogs,” Minseok comments offhandedly as he reaches down to brush dog hair off of his sweatpants. “I don’t know what I would have done if you wanted to bring a cat. I’m terrified of cats.”
Jongin laughs, even though it sounds hollow to his own ears. He knows Minseok is changing the subject for his sake, and Jongin is both thankful and ashamed. He’s grateful to Minseok for smoothing this over, but upset with himself for creating the situation to start with. Mad at himself for misjudging Minseok and assuming he wouldn’t care.
As Minseok starts walking toward the bedroom, Jongin hesitates for a moment. His fingers dig into the straps of his bag, as if he can wring a solution to his problems from the fabric. I’ll try harder, he resolves as he stares at Minseok’s retreating back. I’ll put more effort in, talk to him, get to know him. Jongin gives his backpack straps one more twist, then slings the bag over one shoulder and follows Minseok to the bedroom. I promise.
☆ミ
It’s so easy to get closer, once he starts trying, that Jongin is left at a loss. After spending all that time building up the barrier between them, finding out that Minseok is perfectly willing to get to know him takes the wind right out of Jongin’s sails.
Minseok is apparently perplexed, if pleased, by the change in Jongin’s attitude. Their conversations are stilted at first, but slowly things become more natural. For Jongin, their apartment ceases to hold the overhanging sense of dread that plagued him ever since the wedding. He stops making excuses to stay out late, and finds that Minseok’s silent company is much more pleasant than self-imposed exile to a school library. Jongin is able to see Minseok more as a person – a guy who gets up early on the weekends to play football, who has an addiction to coffee and who tends to drool in his sleep – and less as the abstract concept of the heir to a massive conglomerate. It’s a lot easier being married to a human being than to the idea of one.
Two and a half months into their marriage and Jongin isn’t quite sure if he would say they’re friends, but he thinks he’ll be able to in the future. And perhaps for that very reason, the future no longer seems bleak.
To Jongin it seems counterintuitive that once he finally feels comfortable with Minseok rumors should pop up among the social elite that their marriage is doomed. But that’s exactly what Minseok explains when he apologetically informs Jongin that they have to attend a charity gala together the next week.
“Charity gala?” Jongin repeats. “Together?”
“Yes,” Minseok says with a grimace. “I know you don’t like events, but my father is insisting that you come to this. I couldn’t get around it this time.”
This time? Jongin almost repeats, but manages to stop himself before he sounds like a comlink stuck on voice playback mode. Even when he was little he rarely got taken along to socialite events. He’s so used to being able to dodge them that it never even occurred to him that he had probably been invited to events as Minseok’s husband, much less that Minseok had been covering for him so that he wouldn’t need to go. A sudden warmth spreads through Jongin at the thought, but it quickly sours as he realizes what this time means.
There’s no escaping anymore, which is how Jongin finds himself stuffed into a brand new suit – apparently none of the ones he already owned were up to his mother-in-law’s standards, and he’d had to schedule in a fitting session one day after class – and trying not to sneeze as a stylist who had magically appeared at their apartment door an hour before puts some sort of powder on his face. His hair is already styled, plastered with so much product that Jongin is pretty sure even one of their planet’s famous windstorms wouldn’t be able to budge a strand out of place.
“You certainly do clean up nice,” Minseok comments. He’s sitting on the couch, twisted around so that he can watch the makeshift salon happening at their kitchen table. He’s teasing, and Jongin wrinkles his nose in silent protest. He hates wearing suits and makeup. The stylist glares at him for moving, and Jongin meekly returns his features to a neutral state.
Back on the couch Minseok chuckles. Jongin is torn between the urge to chuck a makeup brush at him and to smile. Just a few weeks ago this entire process would have been passed in silence. It’s nice that they’re already comfortable enough with each other to joke around.
Minseok cleans up quite nicely himself, and in a lot less time than it took for Jongin. The stylist, having prepared Minseok for countless events before, is able to quickly bring all his best features to light. Entirely too soon for Jongin’s liking they’re climbing into Minseok’s rev and speeding off into the night.
By the time they arrive at the venue, Jongin is a giant ball of nerves. The way he clings to Minseok’s arm isn’t entirely for show, although he notices the approving look Minseok’s mother sends them. Minseok is his lifeline. As they weave through the crowd milling around, pausing occasionally to exchange pleasantries with people, Minseok keeps a running commentary going in Jongin’s ear:
“That’s Mr. Choi, the CFO of Linklet Electronics.” Minseok nods toward a man standing next to the hors d'oeuvres table. “The lady he’s talking to is the wife of one of the King’s favorite scholars. They’re trying to arrange a marriage between her son and his daughter. Little do they know both of their children are already happily married to other people.”
Minseok steers Jongin through a gaggle of middle aged women who all coo and ask for introductions, then leads him over to a quieter corner. He wraps an arm around Jongin’s waist and leans close to say, “The man talking to my father right now is from a court family but is currently trying to set up his own business. It’s too bad his investment value is even more scarce than his hair.”
Jongin nods along, the names going in one ear and out the other, and frequently has to stop himself from laughing outright at Minseok’s narration. He’s grateful for Minseok trying to make him more comfortable – and that despite the abundance of words Minseok has regarding everyone else he doesn’t mention the way Jongin practically jumps at the offer of champagne from a passing server. After the wedding Jongin had sworn he would never touch the stuff again, but now he drains a flute before the event even starts. It helps him slip into the friendly manner he uses with people at school, and helps him forget that he’s talking to some of the richest people in New Joseon.
He has another flute as he picks at the dinner his nerves won’t allow him to eat, and another during the charity auction afterward. Or maybe he has two during the auction – everything starts to get a little fuzzy around then, and he loses track. Either way, by the time they leave he is practically plastered to Minseok’s side because Minseok is nice and stable, whereas the rest of the world is given to tilt at inopportune times.
Jongin doesn’t remember much of the ride home, just that he criticized all the song choices of the music-stream DJ and that for some reason Minseok kept laughing.
“You’re going to have a killer headache in the morning,” Minseok says once they’re back at the apartment. Jongin waves him off and makes a beeline for the bedroom. He plunks down on the bed with a relieved sigh, then retroactively starts to struggle out of his jacket and tie. Minseok finds him there several minutes later, with his tie knotted and somehow caught over one ear and a hangdog expression on his face. Minseok snorts, then puts the glass of water he’s holding down on the nightstand and comes to Jongin’s rescue.
“How did you even manage to do this?” Minseok asks as he gently unhooks the tie from Jongin’s ear.
“Dunno,” Jongin replies glumly. “Thanks, you’re ‘mazing.”
“Just because I fixed your tie?” Minseok asks. He pulls away, untangled tie in hand, and gives Jongin one of his gummy smiles.
“No,” Jongin says. He draws the syllable out and then frowns, suddenly serious. “Just ‘cause you are.”
Minseok hums in thanks and moves to place the tie back in the drawer, but Jongin reaches out and catches his sleeve. Minseok stops and looks back, surprise written all over his face. Without Jongin’s approval his mouth blurts out, “Getting married kinda sucked, but if it had to happen m’glad I married you.”
“Uh,” Minseok says, quirking a brow. “Thank you, I think.”
Suddenly realizing what he said, Jongin claps a hand over his mouth in horror. The look on his face must be pretty spectacular, because Minseok bursts into laughter. Jongin can feel his face heating up and he flops backward onto the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow him whole.
“Hope I don’t ‘member this in the morning,” Jongin mumbles after moving his hands up from his mouth to cover his eyes instead. His face is still flaming, the alcohol and embarrassment conspiring against him. He can hear Minseok chuckle, accompanied by rustling as the tie is stored away properly.
“Don’t worry,” Minseok says. His voice looms louder and he pats Jongin’s knee lightly. “I won’t let you forget it.” Jongin groans in protest, but Minseok just laughs again. “I’ll go take the dogs out,” Minseok says, giving Jongin’s knee another pat. “Be sure to drink that water before you go to bed.”
Jongin waits until he hears the telltale sounds of Minseok and the dogs leaving the apartment before he uncovers his face. He still kind of wants to die from embarrassment, but he does as he was told and drains the water before stumbling through the rest of his bedtime routine. He’s asleep, sprawled on top of the covers and lost in a blissful land free of embarrassment, by the time Minseok and the dogs return.
☆ミ
“So then I was like, ‘Well obviously we need to recalibrate it,’ but Soojung–”
Jongin’s link vibrates on the table, effectively cutting off Sehun’s monologue. Jongin ignores the device and nods at Sehun to continue. But just as Sehun opens his mouth again the link buzzes a second time, and then a third, and Jongin belated realizes that he’s receiving a call. He scrambles to pick up before the connection cuts off.
“Hello?” Jongin says, in his haste not even bothering to check the ID. Sehun is staring at him like he just grew a second head, and Jongin feels much the same – he never gets calls. All his friends know that he’s more likely to respond to a message.
“Hey, Jongin?”
The voice is distorted slightly across the line, and it takes Jongin a moment to place it.
“Minseok hyung?” he asks, tentative, then pulls his link away from his ear to double check the screen. Sure enough, he’s mid-call with Kim Minseok.
Sehun gives him a curious look but Jongin just mouths give me minute and pushes his chair back from the table. “What’s up?” he asks Minseok as he wanders away from the table and over toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up one wall of the cafeteria. Outside he can see heat shimmering above the pavement. New Joseon is warm on any given day, but even so it should technically be winter now. This sudden heat wave has been causing all sorts of problems, and it’s put everyone on edge for the past week.
“I know you said you wanted to stay late to study today,” Minseok starts. “But I just got home and the temperature control for the whole building is busted. I talked to the building manager, but said he can’t get it fixed until tomorrow. It’s not–” Minseok pauses, apparently considering his words “–unbearable, at least not yet, but the dogs are panting and I’m kind of worried.”
Jongin curses and strides back to the table. It figures that today of all days their temp control would go out. He uses his shoulder to hold his link to his ear as he hastens to gather his scattered notes from among the crumbs and empty snack wrappers. Sehun watches him, too startled to even ask questions.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Jongin says as he stuffs his things into his bag. “The dogs aren’t showing signs of sluggishness or anything, right? If you’re still feeling okay then they’re probably still okay, so for now just make sure they have enough water.”
Jongin rushes through a brief explanation for Sehun and then jogs all the way to his rev, regardless of the heat. With the evening traffic it takes him closer to twenty minutes to reach the apartment, but he’s relieved to find that no great disaster took place during that extra time.
The apartment is exactly how Minseok had described it: not unbearable. At least, not quite. But even in the amount of time it takes Jongin to ride the lift and walk down the hallway he can feel sweat starting to drip down his back. When he enters the apartment he finds Minseok sitting on the floor, his work clothes exchanged for a t-shirt and shorts. That in and of itself isn’t strange – Minseok dislikes his stifling suits and always changes as soon as he gets home – but there’s also a sheen of sweat coating his skin and a cold water bottle sitting next to him, dripping condensation onto the floor.
The dogs are fine, if every bit as disgruntled about the sudden turn of events as Minseok and Jongin are. Fine and comfortable are very different things, though, and Jongin worries and fusses over them anyway. He would really prefer to get them out of the apartment for the time being.
For that matter, he would prefer to get himself out of the apartment for the time being.
“I think we’re going to melt if we stay here tonight,” Minseok says, echoing Jongin’s thoughts.
Jongin nods, chewing his lip as he considers their options. After a long moment he asks, “Do you want to head over to my old place?” The words are careful, as if Jongin is admitting a secret. And, in a way, he is. He’s never explicitly told Minseok that he decided to keep his old apartment, although he’s positive Minseok knows. Jongin stares at the floor as he speaks, but he can feel Minseok’s gaze on him.
“I mean,” Jongin continues, rambling as he tries to overcome the sudden awkwardness, “it’s kind of far, but at least we’d have temperature control.”
“Honestly, I would travel all the way to the other side of the planet if it meant I could have working temperature control.”
Minseok speaks with such conviction – especially considering that the other side of the planet is a sandy waste – that Jongin laughs, and the inexplicable sense of uneasiness that had settled into his stomach when he voiced the offer subsides.
It takes only a matter of minutes to pack overnight bags, and then they’re loading the dogs into Jongin’s rev and heading onto the airway that will take them to the western outskirts of the city. Jongin takes a moment to be thankful that he had recently cleared the clutter out of his vehicle. One thing he has definitely learned over the past four months is that Minseok prefers to keep things tidy.
Unfortunately, Jongin’s old apartment is not nearly as clean as his rev.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Jongin says after unlocking the door. “Just give me a minute,” is the second thing, accompanied by a mad dash for the books lying scattered across the couch and the living room floor. On the way he almost trips over the dogs, who are overjoyed to be back at their old home and bound directly into his path.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Minseok tries to reassure him but Jongin continues to bustle around, hurriedly attempting to straighten up his possessions and get rid of the thick layer of dust coating all flat surfaces.
The next ten minutes pass with Jongin as a whirlwind of activity accompanied by a ceaseless stream of apologies, while Minseok sits delicately on the edge of the sofa and alternates between playing with the dogs and peering around curiously.
“I’m going to do some laundry if you–” Jongin says sometime later as he emerges from the bedroom with an armful of sheets. The rest of the words stick in his throat. Minseok has moved from the couch and is standing by the window. His hands are tucked into his shorts pockets and he’s bent over slightly as he looks at Jongin’s telescope. Jongin coughs to clear his throat and finishes his sentence, “–want to throw your sweaty stuff in.”
Minseok straightens up and moves away from the telescope. Jongin is gratified to notice that Minseok is very careful not to disturb the tripod, even though truthfully Jongin doesn’t have it set up by the window for any reason other than convenient storage. Jongin appreciates the thought anyway.
“That sounds wonderful,” Minseok says. Jongin expects him to head into the bedroom to change, but instead he seems to interpret Jongin’s offer as meaning the clothes are needed immediately. While he’s crossing the living room he starts to strip off his shirt.
Jongin probably shouldn’t be surprised since they are, after all, married. But Minseok has never changed in front of him before. Jongin had assumed that Minseok was shy, but considering his current lack of reservations Jongin wonders if maybe Minseok had simply been worried about making Jongin uncomfortable. Whatever Minseok’s reasoning had been, the desperation to be rid of sweaty clothes apparently makes him forget it.
“You put our bags in the bedroom, right?” Minseok asks, as he finishes yanking the shirt off. Jongin suddenly finds himself staring at a set of abs he most definitely had not realized Minseok had.
“Um,” Jongin says, hurriedly jerking his eyes up to Minseok’s face. “Yeah, they should be there. And if you want to shower there are clean towels in the bathroom. You can leave anything else you want washed outside the door and I’ll throw it in.” He holds out his hand and takes the shirt from Minseok, who gives his thanks and walks toward the bedroom.
Despite himself Jongin turns to watch him pass – which his how he notices the small tattoo on Minseok’s back, between his shoulder blades and just low enough to be hidden by the neckline of most shirts. It’s some sort of winged creature, something Jongin doesn’t recognize. It’s not a bird, but perhaps an insect of some sort. Before he can get a clear look, Minseok disappears through the doorway.
Jongin shakes his head slightly to bring himself back to reality. His curiosity is piqued for sure, but he figures it isn’t really his place to ask, so he gives himself a mental push and walks to the laundry unit in the alcove off the kitchen. Soon he’s distracted with running the laundry and cramming in some more cleaning while Minseok is in the shower, and all thoughts of the tattoo slip from his mind.
“I’m sorry your study time got cut short,” Minseok says, almost an hour later. They’re sitting on the couch, a box of fried chicken between them on the coffee table and the dogs at their feet, diligently begging.
“It’s okay, the test isn’t for another week,” Jongin says. He recalls the story Sehun had been telling and adds, “We weren’t getting any work done, anyway.”
Minseok hums and then takes another bite. After he swallows he asks, “What exactly do you do, anyway? I mean, I know you’re studying astronomy, but I feel like I don’t really know that much about it.” He cocks his head slightly as he talks, regarding Jongin inquisitively.
“I don’t just look at stars all day, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Jongin says with enough vitriol that Minseok blinks and leans back slightly. “Sorry,” Jongin hastens to apologize when he realizes his bitterness had come off too strong. “It’s just that that’s the first thing people always ask. They want to know why I’m wasting my time, staring at stars. And I do stare at stars sometimes–” he gestures to his telescope sitting in the window “–but I spend a lot more time analyzing the composition and position of them and all the other things floating around them. That’s what astronomy is, the study of things in space – not just stargazing.”
“But we already know what’s in space,” Minseok says. His tone isn’t accusatory or condescending, simply curious, and Jongin is fiercely grateful for that. He’s heard the same line many times before, but never with genuine curiosity behind it. “We’re living on a planet right now that was originally a ‘thing in space’ to the people back on Old Earth. And there are navigation systems that tell us where everything is located. The ships my company uses all have them.”
“We know where some things are,” Jongin corrects. “Certain parts of the universe are completely mapped out. But there’s so much more that hasn’t been explored, and a navigational system is useless when you’re out beyond the reference points stored in its database.”
“Oh,” Minseok says. His eyes are wide with surprise as he looks at Jongin. “My company only operates within the known universe, so never really thought about that. I guess I just took the systems we use for granted.”
“Most people do,” Jongin says with a shrug. He’s being bitter again and he knows it, but it’s a sore spot. Even when people do stop to think about the programs that run their spaceships, they hardly ever consider that astronomers had any role in their creation.
“How do ships’ navigation systems work when they go out past the databases, then?” Minseok asks quickly, attempting to steer the topic to safer waters in response to Jongin’s tone. Jongin doesn’t mind – he’s perfectly happy to keep talking rather than dwell on age-old injustices.
“By using sensors and probes that go out ahead and inform them of the immediate surrounding area, mostly, paired with whatever can be seen from telescope and satellite images,” Jongin explains. “Once the ship gets out past the known universe, its system is able to tell the pilots about the stuff close by. But that’s limited, right, so while they can keep from colliding with, say, an asteroid, it’s not very helpful for long distance planning.”
Minseok makes an ahh of understanding and Jongin smiles.
“There are people working on that, making better, farther reaching systems,” he says. “But that’s not my specialty. I’m more concerned with programming that piggybacks off the routine navigational probes and enters the readings from them into databanks. So that we don’t just know where things are but what they’re made of, their atmospheric pressure, their surface temperature, and so on. That in turn lets us decide where it’s safe for ships to land, and what planets are potentially inhabitable.”
Jongin trails off, aware that he probably passed into the realm of rambling. People outside of his field hardly ever let him get this far in his explanation. His parents certainly never have. But Minseok is listening, as intent as ever and without the glazed over look Jongin is used to. Encouraged, he presses on.
“There’s already a program for data collection and storage in place, but much of the analysis still needs to be done by hand. An awful lot of factors need to be taken into consideration, and it often goes on a case-by-case basis – there’s no particular equation that determines if a place is safe or inhabitable. That’s what I’m doing on the days I stay after class to work at the lab, analyzing data. My thesis project is primarily the development of a program that organizes and runs basic diagnostics, so that the analysis side of things can be done more efficiently.”
“That makes sense,” Minseok says with a nod. He asks a few more questions about Jongin’s work, but they soon lapse into a comfortable silence as they slowly finish off the rest of the chicken. They clean up the last of the scraps, much to the dogs’ chagrin, but leave the rest of the trash piled into the empty box in the middle of the table, too lazy to get up and throw it out yet.
“How did you get interested in astronomy?” Minseok asks as he settles back onto the couch.
“My parents are gone a lot for diplomatic missions,” Jongin explains, following suit and leaning back against the cushions. “And when I was little, whenever I fussed too much about missing them my sister would take me outside and play a game where we guessed which bright spot in the sky was the one our parents were on.” He pauses, tilting his head as he considers his own words and then laughs. “That sounds kind of pathetic, but it wasn’t really. Actually, it was pretty fun. The stars turned into a kind of fascination for me, I couldn’t get enough of them. Then when I was in high school my father said that if I got good grades he would buy me a telescope. That was the only time I ever got straight As.”
Jongin nods toward his telescope, and Minseok turns so that he can see it too. The scope is just a simple refractor, and not a particularly strong one, but Jongin loves it. It was his first real glimpse into space other than the brief look through one of the telescopes he’d gotten on a school trip to the space station on their planet’s smaller moon. There’s something incredibly satisfying about using the telescope himself, positioning it to view precisely what he wants.
“Could you show me how to use it?” Minseok asks.
Jongin shakes his head. “If we want a good view we’d have to go outside...” he begins, then laughs as Minseok shudders. The sun may have gone down, but it’s unlikely that the temperature has dropped much.
“Can’t we look from in here?” Minseok inquires, looking so hopeful that Jongin’s chest gives a twinge.
“Well, the view won’t be very clear,” Jongin says, considering. “Not with the window between us and the temperature difference between inside and outside… but I could probably get a semi-decent enough view of one of the moons.” As he talks he stands and wanders over to the window. It only takes a few seconds to move the tripod so that his telescope is directed outside the window instead of at his ceiling. When he bends to look through the eyepiece and begin adjusting the view, he hears Minseok get up and come stand next to him.
“There we go,” Jongin says after a bit, then pulls a face. “That quality is horrible.”
“Can I see?” Minseok sounds eager despite Jongin’s criticism. Jongin moves out of the way and gestures for Minseok to take his place. Minseok does so carefully, making sure not to bump the telescope at all, and bends so that he’s at the right level to look through. The gasp he lets out has Jongin smiling.
“Wow,” Minseok breathes. “How is it that I’ve seen that moon up close, flown past it several times, but it seems so much more spectacular now?”
“It would be even more spectacular if we had a clear view,” Jongin grumbles, but he doesn’t even bother trying to suppress his grin.
“You’ll need to show me that view sometime,” Minseok says, eyes never leaving the telescope. “This is already amazing.”
“Next time we’ll go outside, and then I can show you actual stars and planets. This is hardly anything, I promise.”
Minseok finally straightens and turns to look at Jongin. There’s such a look of awe on his face that Jongin’s heart constricts again. He had never thought that Minseok would have any interest in stargazing, much less enjoy it.
“You know, I see the stars all the time, but it never occurred to me to think of them as beautiful,” Minseok says. “To me they’re just business. Dots along trade routes.”
“Sometimes all you need is a bit of distance,” Jongin says. “For example, I could hop on a shuttle and go see a star firsthand. However, I find that I enjoy looking at stars a lot more when doing so won’t blind me.”
Minseok bursts into laughter and lightly smacks Jongin’s arm. Jongin is beaming now; he can feel the slight ache in his cheeks from smiling so hard. That someone important to him might learn to love the stars is something Jongin had given up hope on years ago.
The last time Jongin can remember feeling this kind of warmth flooding through him was when he attended his first Astronomy 102 lecture back in the first year of university. After years of being called silly for his interests, Jongin had suddenly found himself surrounded by other people with stars in their eyes. He had been so overwhelmed with excitement and relief he had almost teared up in class. Back then his happiness had stemmed from a sudden sense of belonging; and now it does too, albeit in a slightly different way.
Perhaps the comfort of this sentimentality makes Jongin bolder, because when Minseok leans over to take another look through the telescope and the tips of tattooed wings appear above the collar of his shirt Jongin finds the courage to say, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Minseok replies, still peering through the eyepiece.
“What is the, um,” Jongin falters, wondering what to call it – an animal? Creature? Thing? While he hesitates Minseok straightens and gives him a curious look. Jongin brings a hand up and touches his own back in the approximate place the tattoo would be. Understanding dawns over Minseok’s face and he mimics Jongin’s motion, running his fingers over the ink wings.
“My tattoo?” Minseok asks, and Jongin nods. Minseok smiles. “It’s a butterfly. They’re an insect from Old Earth, one of the many species of animal that sadly didn’t survive the off-planet migration. Here.” Minseok walks over and sits down sideways on the sofa, one leg tucked beneath him, and gestures for Jongin to come over. Minseok then pulls down on the back of his shirt, so that the full tattoo is revealed.
It’s a fairly simple design, outlines of black with blue fill. The creature’s wings are actually divided into two sections on either side, with delicate black veins running across the blue. Somehow the minimalist nature of the art makes it seem all the more elegant.
“It’s beautiful,” Jongin says with feeling.
“I got it before I accepted my position in the company.” Minseok twists around so that he can give Jongin a gummy smile, then pats the space next to him on the couch. “Here, you told me something about yourself, so let me return the favor.”
“You don’t have to,” Jongin replies, but cautiously takes a seat anyway.
“No, I want to,” Minseok insists. He tugs his shirt back into place and shifts his weight so that he’s seated more comfortably. “Back when I was still in business school I was required to take an elective class. My father decided that a course in classic philosophy of Old Earth was suitably sophisticated.” Minseok pulls a face. “I was awful at it. But there was one thing that stood out to me, the story of a philosopher who supposedly dreamed he was a butterfly. When he woke up, he wasn’t sure if he was a man who had dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who was now dreaming it was a man.”
Minseok, previously so confident when he asked Jongin to sit, stares at his hands as he speaks and picks absentmindedly at a hangnail. He’s usually so direct when he talks, the years of business training resulting in habitual eye contact, that the difference is almost unsettling. With a start Jongin realizes he’s never seen Minseok fully shed the persona of the confident businessman before, not even at home. This vulnerability is something completely new and Jongin doesn’t know how to deal with it, what to say. So he settles for gently grabbing Minseok’s hand, covering it with his own before Minseok can accidentally make the hangnail bleed. Minseok looks up, eyes widening slightly and eyebrows raised. When he sees whatever expression is on Jongin’s face, his expression changes into a smile and he flips over his hand so that he can link his fingers loosely with Jongin’s.
“I never wanted to join the company,” Minseok says after a moment. “But out of my siblings my father thought I had the most potential, so I never had a choice. The tattoo was my last sort of rebellion, a reminder to myself that maybe this is the dream, and that one day I’ll wake up.” Minseok grimaces, then laughs. “That was really melodramatic, sorry.”
“No, I get it,” Jongin says. He’s a little surprised, though – he hadn’t realized that Minseok didn’t necessarily want to be the heir to Kimco. Sometimes Minseok will complain about work, something one of his coworkers did or a project that isn’t going well, but Jongin figured it to be the usual workplace griping. He’s been married to Minseok for months and he didn’t even know–
“Let’s watch a movie,” Minseok suddenly suggests. He doesn’t say that the topic is closed, but they both know what the sudden change in conversation means.
“Sure,” Jongin says. He pauses, then adds, “Thank you for sharing. And for listening.”
Minseok just smiles and squeezes Jongin’s hand before disentangling their fingers and standing to go pick a movie from Jongin’s shelves. Jongin watches Minseok ponder over the titles Jongin had left in this apartment, probably searching for one of his favorite superhero flicks. Every now and then his shirt slips down enough that Jongin can glimpse the tattoo – the butterfly – again. While he waits for Minseok to choose, Jongin tries to calm his heart. It’s pounding in his chest, and Jongin isn’t sure if that’s a normal response for this kind of situation. Before he can worry about it too much, Minseok is pulling a movie down and asking Jongin how to use his entertainment system. Jongin shoves his concerns over his heart rate from his mind and goes to help start the film.
☆ミ
Jongin swallows down his nerves as he follows Minseok into the bar. He takes a look around and tries to ground himself in the surroundings. This is Minseok’s favorite bar, the place where he and his two best friends meet almost every weekend. As such, Minseok knows exactly where to go and leads Jongin further inside past the bustle of the front area. He spots someone and waves, and Jongin gulps. Although Minseok had asked him if he wanted to come along to meet his friends multiple times back when they were first married, Jongin had always assumed he was only being polite and had turned him down. Now that Jongin knows better, asking to come had seemed like a good idea. Especially back in their apartment, with Minseok smiling so happily at his request. Now that he’s actually here, Jongin isn’t quite so sure.
“This is Jongin,” Minseok says as he slides into the booth his friends are seated at. Jongin bows his head slightly in greeting before sitting down next to Minseok.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” the guy sitting on the inside of the booth, now next to Minseok, says with an amiable smile. “I’m Junmyeon.” He reaches out his hand and Jongin takes it, desperately hoping that his palms aren’t sweaty.
“I’m Kyungsoo,” the other man says. His smile isn’t quite as wide as Junmyeon’s, but it’s still welcoming. Jongin shakes his hand as well, and then Minseok flags down a server and orders drinks. By the time their drinks arrive, Minseok is chatting away with Junmyeon about the latest project he’s in charge of at work. He tries his best involve Jongin in the conversation, and Jongin attempts to listen attentively, but once they move into assets and production costs his eyes start to glaze over. He tightens his hold on his glass and stares at a point on the wall somewhere between Minseok and Junmyeon’s heads.
“I heard that you like mystery novels.”
The sudden comment startles Jongin, and he jerks his head toward its source. Kyungsoo is leaning forward slightly, his elbows propped on the table so that he’s close enough to Jongin to be heard over the general hubbub of the bar.
“You did?” Jongin asks incredulously. His eyes dart over to Minseok, who is still immersed in conversation. It’s true that Jongin likes mystery novels, but most of his books are back at his old apartment and although he has files on his various electronic devices he rarely ever has time to open them. He’d had no idea Minseok had noticed his hobby.
“Minseok hyung talks about you a lot,” Kyungsoo says with a half smile.
All at once Jongin’s heart is pounding in his chest in that way it does so often lately. Minseok noticed that little thing about him. Minseok talks about him.
“I, um, do,” Jongin stammers as he tries to get his heart back under control. “Like mystery novels, I mean.”
“I’m rather fond of them too,” Kyungsoo says. “Who’s your favorite author?”
Just like that Jongin finds himself drawn into an animated conversation, debating the merits of this or that author’s writing style. Kyungsoo, it turns out, works in the publishing industry, and he proceeds to tell stories about the various authors he’s met. Jongin gets so wrapped up that he forgets his nervousness entirely – and his beer as well. His glass is still mostly full when he almost knocks it over with a gesture while defending his favorite story from Kyungsoo’s scathing review.
A while later when Kyungsoo’s comlink, lying forgotten on the table, lights up with a message notification and disrupts their conversation, Jongin is unsure exactly how much time has passed. As Kyungsoo apologizes and begins to type out a reply, Jongin blinks and looks around himself as if surfacing from a dream. Junmyeon is eating – an appetizer plate had arrived while at some point, that much Jongin remembers – while scrolling through something on his own link.
And Minseok– Minseok is looking at Jongin, chin propped on his hand and an absentminded smile on his face.
“What?” Jongin asks. His heart is pounding again, and he really wishes it would stop because it’s starting to get a little hard to breathe.
“Nothing, I’m just really glad you came tonight,” Minseok says. His smile widens and his eyes crinkle slightly. “I’m happy you two are getting along so well.”
“I’m stealing him,” Kyungsoo says, not even bothering to look up from his link. “He has more sense than the two of you–” he inclines his head toward Minseok and Junmyeon “–combined.”
Minseok snorts.
“He’s my husband,” he jokingly reminds Kyungsoo. “Go find your own.”
Kyungsoo makes a dismissive sound in response. Jongin hardly even notices, because he’s still focused on my husband and his heart gives a particularly pronounced thump and oh.
“I’ll be right back,” Jongin says, standing so quickly that he almost crashes into the table. Before anyone can reply he makes a beeline for the hallway with restroom signs hanging above it. His heart continues to race until he’s safely in a washroom stall, sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands.
“I have a crush on my own husband,” Jongin whispers to himself, the words accompanied by a sinking certainty that turns his stomach into knots. “What the hell.”
Now that he’s said it, it’s like a dam has broken inside of him. With a sudden clarity, Jongin realizes that he’s probably known for a while. He was just afraid to acknowledge it, to put a name to the feeling that surfaces so frequently around Minseok. It was never supposed to be like this; their marriage is a business relationship, no different from the contracts Minseok spends all day signing for Kimco. Affection never had any part in it, isn’t supposed to have any part in it. Feelings make things complicated. It’s better to just remain business partners, friends at the most. And they’ve been doing a good job of that.
But Jongin just had to go and screw it all up.
Jongin takes a deep breath, and then another as he tries to steady his shaking hands. His stomach feels like lead as it churns. Finally, finally he and Minseok had gotten to a comfortable point in their relationship. Minseok trusts him, considers him a friend, and now Jongin has a goddamn crush and that makes things complicated and it’s so unfair to Minseok and Jongin feels sick.
Jongin swallows hard, willing his stomach to calm. He needs to get himself under control and go back out before someone gets worried. He can’t do this here, not now.
Just ignore it, he tells himself. Pull yourself together and ignore it, it’s just a crush. Crushes don’t last, so ignore it until it goes away. Don’t make things awkward. He repeats it over and over, a chant inside his head, until he can stand without his legs feeling like rubber.
Minseok is once again mid-conversation with Junmyeon when Jongin returns to the table, but he pauses long enough to give Jongin a concerned look. Jongin offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile and clasps his hands tightly around his glass to hide any residual tremors.
“So,” Jongin says, turning away from Minseok to address Kyungsoo. “What were you saying about Kwon Boa’s latest book?”
As Jongin easily falls back into conversation with Kyungsoo, Minseok rests a hand on Jongin’s knee. It’s probably supposed to be a reassurance for an assumed bout of nerves, but the touch sends sparks through Jongin’s veins and his heart gives a traitorous flop accompanied by another spike of panic. Ignore it, he scolds himself and enters back into the discussion with renewed vigor. It’s not the best solution, he knows, but for now it will have to work.
☆ミ
Jongin isn’t avoiding Minseok – not exactly. But with the end of the semester and a major presentation right around the corner, Jongin’s work on his thesis project goes into overdrive. He spends an increasing number of hours in the lab, poring over lines of data and coding.
Jongin and Minseok had been making an effort to eat together as often as possible, but that soon falls apart. Something has come up with Minseok’s work too, keeping him in the office late into the evening, and more often than not dinner passes with their kitchen table empty.
Jongin is vaguely aware of Minseok’s work struggles – can see it in Minseok’s preoccupation on the rare occasions they spend time together and the tenseness in his shoulders. It doesn’t occur to Jongin that something might be truly wrong, though, until one night when Jongin is sprawled out across the couch trying to catch up on some coursework. Although he isn’t technically waiting up for Minseok, he starts to get concerned as the hours tick by and Minseok doesn’t appear.
It’s close to midnight when Minseok finally gets back, and Jongin can immediately tell that something is wrong. No matter how long his day has been, Minseok always has a cheerful greeting for Jongin and the dogs. Today he is silent as he comes through the door, and Jongin can hear him drop his suitcase on the floor as he takes off his shoes. That’s odd – Minseok is always mindful of his belongings, and although Jongin is prone to throwing his backpack around he’s never seen Minseok do anything of the sort.
When Minseok emerges from the entryway his mouth is pressed into a tight line, his brows slightly furrowed. His suit jacket, usually neatly folded as soon as he walks in the door, is slung over his arm.
“Hey,” Jongin calls quietly. Minseok starts, as if he’d been lost in thought. When he sees Jongin on the couch his expression softens into a small smile.
“Hey,” Minseok replies. “You’re still up?”
“I had some stuff to finish,” Jongin says. He pauses, not quite sure to proceed. Although Minseok is generally more than happy to talk about work if asked, Jongin has never seen him like this before. He isn’t sure if trying to talk about it will help or just aggravate the problem. After a moment of consideration, he decides to ask anyway: “Is something wrong?”
Minseok visibly hesitates. He hardly ever talks about personal things, Jongin has learned. In fact, the only time Minseok has ever brought up anything particularly personal was that night at Jongin’s old apartment. Jongin isn’t sure if it’s because Minseok has a hard time opening up, or if he doesn’t want to burden Jongin with his problems, or a combination of the two. But Jongin can see Minseok struggling now, and it makes his heart hurt.
“I may not be able to talk to you about business like Junmyeon hyung could,” Jongin says softly, “but I can listen. If you want.”
Minseok wavers for a moment longer before seeming to come to a decision. He then quickly crosses the short distance to where Jongin is and drops his jacket and suitcase onto the coffee table before sinking down onto the couch with a sigh.
“The workers are threatening to strike,” Minseok says, the words escaping him in a rush. He leans his head back against the cushions and stares at the ceiling. “At our distribution center in the next solar system over. They want better wages and working conditions. My dad wants to fire them all and hire in new workers from out-of-galaxy. Apparently, and I quote, ‘There are plenty of people who are more desperate and therefore less likely to complain.’”
Jongin inhales sharply, staring at Minseok in disbelief. “That’s not legal, is it?”
Minseok closes his eyes and nods. “It’s off-planet, so the New Joseon government doesn’t have any say, and the center itself is located on an asteroid that doesn’t belong to any official jurisdiction. Kimco can do whatever they want.”
Jongin opens his mouth and then shuts it again. Everyone knows that the big conglomerates like Kimco thrive through the gray areas of business ethics, but to hear it laid out directly like this–
“I hate it,” Minseok says. He opens his eyes and sits up, leaning forward with his hands balled into fists on his knees. “If we just paid them fairly and improved work conditions, output and quality would rise as well. It would benefit us. But my father…” Minseok makes a noise of frustration.
“He’s not listening?” Jongin ventures and Minseok snorts.
“He’s furious that I keep opposing him in front of the entire board of trustees. He’s only focused on immediate profits, but I won’t let him win this.” Minseok’s voice hardens with conviction. “I won’t let him fire all those people, or force them to continue in their current conditions. I keep trying to show him that an investment now will result in profit later, but all he sees is a price tag and insubordination.”
Jongin can hear the exhaustion in Minseok’s voice. Wanting to help but unsure how, Jongin puts a light hand on Minseok’s back and rubs gentle circles between his shoulder blades.
“You’re trying, though,” Jongin insists. “Most people wouldn’t even bother. So, I guess, just keep doing your best, and follow what you think is right.”
“I know,” Minseok says. He brings his hands up and cradles his face in them, taking a shaky breath. “I know. It’s just damn hard.”
Jongin’s heart twists and he wants to wrap his arms around Minseok and hold him close. But he stops himself, uncertain if Minseok would appreciate the gesture or find it uncomfortable. Instead he continues the motion of his hand against Minseok’s back, trying to smooth out some of the tension.
“I’m proud of you,” Jongin says, desperate to do something, and he resolves right then to be more proactive in offering support from then on. Anything he can do to help. “And I’m always here if you need me.”
Minseok pulls his hands away from his face and turns his head so that he can smile at Jongin.
“Thank you,” he says. Just two words, but the sincerity makes Jongin’s heart squeeze.
☆ミ
It’s funny how even the best intentions can fall apart. Jongin does try to offer Minseok support when they cross paths, but those occasions become increasingly few and far between. It’s almost as if life has come full circle, back to the time right after the wedding when the only time they spent together was the handful of hours during which their sleep schedules overlapped.
Jongin feels like he lives at the lab, and even during what little time he spends at the apartment Minseok is never there. Jongin does try to send Minseok encouraging texts throughout the day, but Minseok has a tendency to forget to reply. It’s not that Jongin minds, but soon he begins to forget to send them to start with. He’s so preoccupied with his own work that he hardly has time to worry about Minseok’s.
It’s only by a stroke of luck that Jongin even notices that he has an incoming call. He’s been in the lab for hours, staring at programming until his eyesight began to blur and a headache started pulsing in his temples. He’s just decided to take a short break from puzzling over a line of code that refused to run properly, and while in the process of searching through his bag for his comlink the device in question just so happens to start vibrating.
“Hello?” Jongin says. The ID had been Minseok, but Jongin can’t really imagine why Minseok is calling him.
“Hey Jongin,” Minseok says. With a start Jongin realizes it’s probably the first time he’s heard Minseok’s voice in at least two days. “Are you busy right now?”
For some reason his words strike a sour chord with Jongin. It’s an innocent enough question, but of course Jongin is busy. These days he’s never anything but busy.
“Yeah,” Jongin says, more testily than he intends. “Why?”
“I was just wondering if you could swing by the store. We’re out of milk, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find a store that’s still open by the time I get off work.”
“There probably won’t be anything open by the time I head out, either.” Jongin keeps his tone even, despite the annoyance bubbling within him. “I’m at the lab.”
“The lab?” Minseok sounds surprised. “You’re still there? Didn’t you get off work hours ago?”
“I did, but I’ve been working on my project.” Jongin’s head pounds, his stress headache driving needles through his skull.
“Project? What project?” Minseok seems genuinely confused.
“My thesis project?” Jongin asks, flabbergasted. “The thing I’ve been working on for months? That I need to present in like three days?” He’s been working on it for so long, talking about it for so long, he can’t believe that Minseok would have forgotten.
“Is it already time for your thesis presentation?” Minseok asks. “I hadn’t realized–”
The words are like a slap across Jongin’s face. All the work he’s been doing and Minseok hadn’t even realized.
“Of course you didn’t.” The words slip out before Jongin can stop them, and he’s instantly filled with regret. He hadn’t meant to say that, not really. It’s the headache talking, and the frustration with his work, but now he can’t take it back no matter how much he wants to. There’s silence from across the line, no arguing, no excuses, and it makes Jongin feel even worse.
“You’re right,” Minseok says after a moment. “I’ve been selfish. I’m sorry, I’ll pick up the milk myself.”
The call goes dead before Jongin can pull himself together enough to apologize. He stares at the screen of his link; “Call ended, 01:12” stares back at him.
Jongin wants to hit redial, to call Minseok back, to explain that he allowed stress to get the better of him, to apologize. But in the end he just watches the screen until the backlight turns off to conserve power. All those big promises he made to himself about helping Minseok and supporting him, and in a moment of irritability he had thrown it all away. Jongin knows he messed up, and he wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how.
Eventually he forces himself to move. He feels stiff, disoriented, as if centuries had passed instead of mere minutes. No matter how much Jongin wants to go find a corner to go curl up in, he knows that he needs to go back to his coding. Maybe that, at least, he can manage to fix.
☆ミ
Jongin feels sick with residual adrenaline, even as he simultaneously thrums with excited triumph. His thesis presentation was included in the same session with three other students, and he had gone second to last. The session was open audience, meaning that Jongin not only had to present in front of his own professors, friends, and classmates, but the other three students’ supporters as well. His hands are still trembling as he sits through the final presentation. He tries to listen, but his mind is moving too quickly to focus.
All the months of hard work and finally he did it. He did it, he finished his project, he gave his presentation, and he did well. When he finished the professors had been smiling, clapping enthusiastically instead of just politely.
It feels unreal when the last presentation ends, and all at once everyone is clapping and standing and calling out congratulations and before Jongin can even move Sehun and Seulgi are hugging him so tightly he can barely breathe. Jongin gets swept out into the hallway along with the crowd of people exiting, and in the larger area people begin to congregate around the presenters.
Everything blurs together as Jongin bows over and over again, thanking well-wishers. His sight abruptly sharpens back into focus, though, when he looks up after shaking hands with one of his professors and sees someone standing on the outskirts of the crowd. Someone wearing a suit, holding a bouquet, and watching Jongin with a mix of uncertainty and longing.
“Minseok hyung,” Jongin breathes out. He feels frozen in time, everything narrowing down to Minseok – Minseok standing there in the hallway of Jongin’s school, and the hesitant smile he gives when he notices Jongin looking back. All at once Jongin is moving, breaking away from his group of congratulators with a hurried apology and running across the hall.
“You came,” Jongin exclaims as he comes to a halt just short of Minseok, his surprise and elation making him somewhat breathless. Then the reality of the situation sinks in and he asks, “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
There’s still adrenaline pulsing in Jongin’s veins, making his heart jump and stutter. This is the first time Jongin has spoken with Minseok since the phone call, the first time he’s even seen him outside of the briefest of encounters at home. It feels like he’s dreaming, as if Minseok is nothing more than a figment of Jongin’s imagination, born from wistful thinking. He had never expected Minseok to show up here. Hadn’t even let himself hope.
“I wanted to see you,” Minseok says. Although he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and crinkles the foil wrapping around the bouquet between his fingers, he resolutely maintains eye contact as he speaks. “I didn’t… I didn’t really understand most of the presentation, but you did really well. I’m so proud of you.”
Before Jongin realizes what he’s doing he’s stepping forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapping Minseok in a hug. Minseok lets out a noise of protest as the flowers get squished between them, but Jongin doesn’t care. He pulls him even closer, burying his face against Minseok’s hair. Distantly he can hear someone, probably Sehun, whistle and clap.
“Thank you,” Jongin says, just above Minseok’s ear. “Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I never should have said that, I didn’t mean it, but I didn’t know how to apologize and–”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Minseok says, his words slightly muffled by the embrace. “I’m sorry too, you were right. I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.” Minseok manages to free his arms and wraps them around Jongin’s waist, rumpled flowers and all. “I want to do better, starting from now. From today.”
Jongin pulls back slightly and looks down at Minseok. Minseok stares back up at him, meeting his gaze evenly. He’s so serious and so close and Jongin’s heart lodges in his throat.
“I have to go back to work now, but can we talk tonight? Really talk,” Minseok asks. When Jongin nods, Minseok breaks into a smile. This time he’s the one to pull Jongin close, briefly resting his head against Jongin’s shoulder before letting go.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Minseok says as he presses the flowers into Jongin’s hands.
Jongin tries to talk, but at first the words don’t come out. He clears his throat and then tries again. “See you.”
With a final smile and wave Minseok is gone, heading down the hallway toward the doors that will take him out to the rev garage. Jongin returns to his group of friends, still feeling somewhat dumbstruck. His friends, of course, immediately begin to poke fun at him – even his professor joins in. Jongin isn’t really paying attention, though. He cradles the flowers gently against his chest, carefully guarding them until he finally gets back to the apartment hours later. The petals are still somewhat smooshed, but the flowers look nice on the kitchen table in the vase Jongin finds tucked away in one of the cupboards.
Jongin passes the rest of the afternoon in a semi-euphoric state, alternately playing with the dogs and aimlessly browsing the internet. He’s done, he’s free and the thought is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.
By the time Minseok comes in the door, a bag with Jongin’s favorite takeout in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, Jongin’s stomach is growling. The celebratory lunch following his morning presentation feels like it was centuries ago. He’s so preoccupied with the food that he forgets about the agreement to talk until almost an hour later, when his stomach is full and he’s leaning back contentedly in his chair.
“When we first got married, I never dreamed it could turn out like this,” Minseok says. He has his elbows propped on the table, fingers loosely circling his bottle of beer.
“Like what? Completely dependent on takeout food for survival?” Jongin teases. Minseok kicks him lightly under the table.
“Being friends,” Minseok clarifies. “Just sitting here, enjoying our time together. It seemed like such a far away dream at the time.”
“Oh,” Jongin says, his good mood deflating slightly. A lot of that initial awkwardness had been his fault, he knows. Minseok must sense his thoughts, because he nudges Jongin’s leg again.
“Honestly all I ever expected from this was a business relationship. Our marriage was nothing more than a political ploy, we both know that,” Minseok says.
“But we made it work,” Jongin blurts out. He feels the sudden need to defend them, the relationship they’ve built. It seems unfair to reduce all of that to a political move.
“We did,” Minseok agrees. He pauses and takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “But somehow we still messed up.”
Jongin slumps in his chair. It’s absolutely true, they did. They both did. And yet– “Fights are normal in relationships, though,” Jongin insists. “Messing up is natural, we just need to work past it. Which we did.”
“That’s true,” Minseok agrees. They drift into silence, Minseok taking another drink and Jongin playing with the label on his own bottle. Pieces of the condensation-soggy paper tear apart under his fingers.
“We could get a divorce,” Minseok says quietly after a while. “I mean, our parents would be pretty upset. But if you’re unhappy or feel trapped–”
“No!” Jongin says so vehemently that Minseok blinks at him, taken aback, and the dogs begin to bark. “No,” he repeats in a more normal tone once the dogs have calmed down. “I like living here together with you, I like what we’ve managed to build together, I like being married to you, I like you.”
Jongin immediately bites his tongue, flushing hot. He had meant the words in a general sense, and only realized once they were out of his mouth what connotations they could hold. What true connotations. Minseok, luckily, seems oblivious.
“I like you, too,” Minseok replies with an easy smile that has Jongin’s stomach doing flips. “And I like this relationship we’ve created. But I don’t want you to be stuck if you want out.”
“No, I’m happy,” Jongin reiterates. “We just need some work, that’s all. If we can try to rely on each other more, and not hold things inside–” Minseok winces in recognition of his own weakness. Jongin shakes his head and says, “Not just you, me too. I was so convinced that you wouldn’t want in that I shut all the doors before you even had a chance.”
“Communication is key,” Minseok muses, mostly to himself. “It’s true for business relationships and romantic relationships, so I can’t imagine this would be any different.”
This, which is no longer a business relationship but isn’t a romantic relationship either. Jongin rips another piece of label off his beer bottle.
“Definitely work on communication,” he agrees and feels like a fraud. Here he is, talking about communication while hiding his feelings.
But, Jongin reminds himself, they’re talking about communication in their relationship. Which, as Minseok just indirectly pointed out, is not a romantic relationship. Therefore romantic feelings should have no part in it – that will only screw up what they’re trying so hard to fix. Jongin can’t bring his feelings into it, can’t force that onto Minseok when they’re working to make things better.
“Do you remember back when you told me you were glad you married me?” Minseok asks suddenly, and Jongin groans.
“Can you please let that die,” Jongin begs. He had, unfortunately, clearly remembered that conversation the morning after. Minseok still hasn’t let him live it down.
“Never,” Minseok says with a cheerful grin. “Honestly though, I was so happy in that moment. Because I had felt that way for a while, but I had no idea you did too.”
Jongin can feel his cheeks flaming. He takes a drink to hide his embarrassment, but ends up spilling some beer down his chin. Minseok laughs and hands him a napkin.
“I think we can do this,” Minseok says once Jongin has finished cleaning his face. He’s smiling one of his gummy smiles that makes it a little bit hard for Jongin to breathe.
“Yeah,” Jongin replies with a smile of his own. “We can.”
☆ミ
Jongin doesn’t even glance up from his computer when he hears the door open. He’s in the middle of writing an application essay for a research scholarship, and after hours of staring at a blank document he’s finally hit inspiration.
“I’m home,” he hears Minseok call out over the excited barking of the dogs.
“Welcome back,” Jongin calls back, fingers flying across the keys and eyes focused on his screen. The next thing he knows Minseok is flopping down next to him on the couch, the impact making Jongin bounce slightly. Jongin does look up then, and promptly does a double take. These days Minseok is always tense whenever he gets home from work – Jongin may have finished his thesis work and graduated, but almost a month later Minseok is still embroiled in the controversy over the off-planet workers’ strike – but today Minseok is grinning from ear to ear.
“I did it,” Minseok says. He looks happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in a long while. “I won, the workers got their compensation.”
Jongin stares at him.
“Really?” he asks after a beat. Minseok nods and Jongin continues to stare for a moment longer, letting it all sink in. Then he hurriedly sets aside his laptop before practically launching himself onto Minseok. “I knew you could do it,” Jongin says as he hugs Minseok fiercely. “I knew you could.”
Minseok laughs and Jongin can feel it reverberate through him. He lets go and leans back so that he can get a good look at Minseok, and immediately his heart stutters. Minseok is watching him with some sort of emotion in his eyes that Jongin can’t quite read. Jongin licks his lips nervously and Minseok’s eyes dart down to follow the movement. Jongin is suddenly extremely aware how close they are, how easy it would be to lean in and kiss Minseok.
This awareness also comes with the realization that he is practically straddling Minseok’s lap. A wave of horror washes over him and he hastens to move back out of Minseok’s space.
“Shit, sorry,” Jongin says as he scrambles away. His stomach feels sick. Minseok had been looking at his lips, Jongin is positive. But Jongin has no idea what to make of that. Reading anything romantic into it feels like he’s forcing his own emotions onto Minseok – most likely Jongin’s own movement had happened to catch Minseok’s eye.
Or perhaps, a smaller voice suggests, Minseok had been recalling the last time he was in a similar position, and not thinking about Jongin at all. Maybe he was even wishing Jongin were someone else.
That same voice has been pestering Jongin ever since Minseok brought up the divorce. Whispering that maybe Minseok is the one who feels limited, that maybe he brought the topic up as a subconscious reflection of his own feelings. It feeds directly into Jongin’s old fear that despite their efforts to make their marriage-relationship better, there are other ways in which Minseok resents him.
Then Minseok laughs, and Jongin forces his worries away.
“It’s okay,” Minseok says, waving off Jongin’s apology. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, leaning back against the cushions on his exhale. As he runs a hand through his hair, Jongin’s mouth goes dry.
“What do you say we get away for the weekend?” Minseok suddenly asks, opening his eyes and looking at Jongin with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I think we both deserve a break.”
The suggestion takes Jongin by surprise. They’d never even had a honeymoon, unable to schedule anything around Minseok’s work and Jongin’s school. In the months of their marriage, the farthest they’ve traveled together is Jongin’s apartment in the suburbs. It’s not a bad idea, Jongin thinks. He’s had time to recoup from his thesis hell, but Minseok could definitely use a chance to de-stress.
“Sure,” Jongin says, grinning. “I’d love that.”
☆ミ
The KR Cheomseongdae research station dominates the smaller of the two moons visible in New Joseon’s sky. It was established before people even officially arrived to colonize the planet, and is divided into two main sections: the actual research institute and a public area complete with museums, viewing areas, a theme park, and a resort. The money earned from the public section feeds back into station upkeep, research funds, and promotion of space education. This makes it a popular destination for both school trips and weekend outings alike.
The first time Jongin visited Cheomseongdae was back in high school, when he had filed onto a shuttle with his classmates and spent a day tromping through museum exhibits explaining the history of space travel and the migration away from Old Earth. During the entire arduous day he had only gotten one brief look through one of the telescopes, and had been bitter about the fact for months afterward.
His next visit to the station had been spent in the research center, working as an intern in the break between his second and third years of university. Jongin had probably spent more time brewing coffee than looking at the stars, but it had still been an enjoyable experience, and had led directly to obtaining his lab assistant position back at school. At the end of the internship four months later he had been rather sad to return planetside.
Now when Jongin steps off the shuttle and into the station’s landing zone, nostalgia sweeps over him and sticks in his chest. He and Minseok head toward the public side of things, weaving through the crowds and following the signs for the resort, and as they walk Jongin finds himself wrapped in excited anticipation. No sooner have they checked into the resort and dropped off their bags than Jongin is pulling a laughing Minseok back out to the train that will take them to the main public block.
“Usually people start at the museums, but I wouldn’t suggest that unless you want to be run over by hordes of middle and high school students,” Jongin says as they wait for the train to come. Minseok gives him a terrified look and Jongin laughs, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Most of the museums are boring anyway. We can wait until the school tours have cleared out and do museums in the evening. If I’m remembering right there’s a pretty cool gallery of telescope photography along the main mall, though. How about starting there?”
Jongin slips easily into the role of tour guide, leading Minseok from one place to another. He feels like a kid in a candy shop as he clings to Minseok’s arm and excitedly offers commentary on anything and everything. His explanations are more in depth than anything they would get from one of the official tours, but Jongin can’t help himself. Once he starts talking it’s hard to curb his enthusiasm.
When Minseok had suggested a weekend getaway, Jongin had assumed he meant one of the beach resorts located in the cities that dot the edge of New Joseon’s continent. There aren’t many other options. Their planet is, frankly, inhospitable, which is the reason the New Joseon separatists – at the bottom of the priority list for colonization location – had received it. The continent New Joseon occupies is the only one with more green than sand.
But contrary to Jongin’s expectations, Minseok had come home Friday evening and shown Jongin tickets for a Saturday morning shuttle up to Cheomseongdae.
“Hopefully you’re not sick of space after all your thesis stuff,” Minseok had teased as Jongin gaped at him.
Jongin is in his element now. From time to time he worries that his impromptu tour is boring, but Minseok seems almost as excited as Jongin. He constantly asks questions, wanting to know how this or that thing works, and makes Jongin dress up in one of the old space suits provided for photo ops. He even spends so long staring at the screen in an observatory room focused on a spiral galaxy that Jongin is the one who has to drag him away.
Jongin’s sole regret is that he can’t take Minseok to the research side of things and show him the labs and observatories he used to work in. Everything on the public side is dumbed down for general consumption and somewhat commercialized, which is fine, but Jongin is getting a little frustrated. Although active staff are allowed to bring in visitors it’s been two years since his internship – he doubts the security would accept his expired ID card, even if he had it on him.
His problem is solved on the train ride back to the resort. The train runs in a giant loop that passes through the landing zone, the resort, and all the other public blocks, including a stop that transfers to the line that runs through the heart of the research center. It’s not uncommon for researchers looking for a break from cafeteria food to hop on and head out to the restaurant block in the public section. Which is why Jongin doesn’t think much of it when an entire group of people in research uniforms crowds into their car.
Truthfully, by that point he isn’t paying attention to much of anything. Their full day of running around has started to catch up with him, and Jongin leans sleepily against Minseok for support rather than grabbing onto a hanging strap. Cheomseongdae’s artificial lighting system has already darkened into night, and he’s about to doze off when someone calls out:
“Jongin!”
Jongin jerks back to wakefulness. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and blearily peers around, looking for the source. From the group of researchers someone waves and then maneuvers through the car’s occupants until he’s next to Jongin and Minseok.
“Oh, good, I’m glad it was really you. I wasn’t really sure–”
“Jongdae hyung?” Jongin asks, finally making the connection. Jongdae had interned at the same time as Jongin, and they used to hang out a lot in the labs. At the time Jongdae had been attending a university in a different solar system, and was taking a gap year to work on the station. They had fallen out of touch soon after Jongin returned to school. Although, now that he thinks about it, Jongin does vaguely remember hearing that Jongdae had managed to get hired on at Cheomseongdae full time after graduation.
“Oh good, you remember me,” Jongdae says with a grin. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
All Jongin can do is nod, still in shock. Jongdae has bangs now, straight-cut and short, as opposed to the permed frizz he’d sported before that reminded Jongin so much of his dogs. He still has the same playful quirk to his lips, though, and the same friendly nature that had originally led him to befriend Jongin and all the other interns.
Minseok shifts beside him, obviously curious, and Jongin suddenly remembers his manners. “Oh, um, this is my husband, Minseok,” he tells Jongdae. For Minseok’s benefit he adds, “Jongdae hyung and I used to work together back when I was an intern here.”
Jongdae’s eyes widen at the word “husband” and his gaze darts between Jongin and Minseok. Jongin is so used to people knowing about the marriage before he has to introduce Minseok that Jongdae’s surprise amuses him.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Minseok says, holding out his hand. There’s a look of astonishment on Jongdae’s face as he takes it. It’s so odd to see Jongdae at a loss for words that Jongin has to stifle a laugh.
“You too,” Jongdae tells Minseok, then turns back to Jongin. “I had no idea you got married. Congratulations!”
A few months ago Jongin would have felt awkward about this entire exchange, but now he just smiles and says, “Thank you.” They soon fall into comfortable conversation, catching up on details about school, work, and research. The train is almost at the resort stop before Jongin realizes this is the perfect opportunity to get them into the research area.
“Could I ask you a favor?” Jongin asks. “I wanted to do a small tour of the research area, but my employment status is expired–”
“Oh, of course!” Jongdae says before Jongin can even finish. “I was just planning to vegetate and catch up on dramas tomorrow anyway, it’ll be good for me to do something productive instead.” He grins, and both Jongin and Minseok laugh. “I’ll come pick you guys up,” Jongdae continues, “And then we can wander around a bit. As long as you’re with me there shouldn’t be any problems. And you can show your husband where you used to work!” He bows slightly to Minseok, who smiles and returns the gesture.
“Thanks, hyung,” Jongin says with a grateful smile. Then it’s their stop, and Jongin links his arm with Minseok’s and hurries off the train with a promise to contact Jongdae about meeting up. As he and Minseok cross the resort’s lobby, Jongin finds that his previous sleepiness has disappeared and been replaced with a renewed excitement for the next day.
In the morning they sleep in and then meet Jongdae at the transfer station a little after noon. Checking through the security as a guest rather than a worker feels weird, but everything else is almost exactly how Jongin remembers it – right down to the line of teddy bears someone put in one of the windows in the lab block he used to work in.
Since it’s the weekend much of the research area is deserted, meaning they’re less likely to disturb anyone, which Jongin is thankful for. Jongdae is a wonderful tour guide, updating Jongin on things that have changed since he left and working with Jongin to explain the inner workings of Cheomseongdae to Minseok. They even manage to stop by Jongin’s favorite observatory, despite it being out of the way and tucked into a mostly-deserted research block. The tour is exactly what Jongin had hoped for, and it’s perfect except for one thing: Jongdae is really, really friendly.
Jongdae has always been friendly, and Jongin knows that. He was the most personable of the interns, always willing to chat or hang out. And Jongin knows that Jongdae is naturally touchy and has a tendency to reach out for whoever is nearest. It’s never bothered Jongin before, but when it’s Minseok that Jongdae is touching – resting a hand on Minseok’s shoulder as he points something out, or touching his arm as he tells a joke – Jongin finds himself getting irritated. Jongin can’t help but feel like Jongdae is being a bit excessive, and it puts him on edge. Minseok is attractive, a fact that Jongin is well aware of – but Jongdae wouldn’t try to flirt with another person’s husband, would he?
These thoughts weighs heavy on Jongin’s mind as they wander the halls of the research center, and the result is that as the day progresses Jongin pulls Minseok closer. He holds onto Minseok’s arm as they walk, links their hands as they wait for the shuttle train to take them from one sector to the next, slings a casual arm around Minseok’s shoulders or waist.
Minseok gives Jongin a couple of amused looks – the only other time Jongin had been this clingy had been at that charity gala, when he was drunk on nerves and champagne. But Minseok doesn’t seem to mind the contact, leaning back against Jongin’s shoulder as he chats with Jongdae.
They end off the afternoon in a cafe back in the public section of the station. Despite Jongin’s worries it has been nice seeing his old friend, and so he only feels a tiny tinge of resentment when Minseok asks if Jongdae wants to join them for dinner – Minseok’s treat, since Jongdae had been so kind as to show them around.
“I’d love to, but I actually have a date tonight,” Jongdae says with one of his smug cat grins. “My girlfriend works as a tour guide, and she got slammed with double shifts today. We’re celebrating her surviving the weekend.”
Minseok laughs and Jongin does too, even though he feels like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over his head. Jongdae has a girlfriend and Jongin’s spent the whole day overreacting over nothing. Jongin can see the way Jongdae’s eyes light up as chats with Minseok about his girlfriend, and Jongin feels like an ass. Jongdae is obviously head over heels, and on top of that Jongin had known that Jongdae would never flirt with someone else’s husband. Of course he wouldn’t, but Jongin still let jealousy get the better of him.
When Jongdae leaves to go pick up his girlfriend from the end of her shift, Jongin promises to keep in better touch and come back up to the station again for another visit soon. A vague sense of guilt continues to hover over his head as he and Minseok fit in some more sightseeing before dinner. He tries to shake it off, but at one point he catches Minseok giving him a knowing look, which makes Jongin feel all the more sheepish.
“You were jealous, weren’t you,” Minseok finally asks once they’re seated in a restaurant, waiting for their hot pot to boil.
“No,” Jongin says, avoiding Minseok’s gaze. He stares at the fake wood laminate on the table and traces a finger along the grain pattern.
“Jongin,” Minseok says. He reaches around the pot and plates of ingredients to lay a hand lightly over Jongin’s. Jongin glances up and Minseok smiles. “You were practically growling.”
Jongin knows he’s been caught. His ears go hot and he gulps, desperately trying to think of how to respond. Instead of a suave comeback, though, all he can come up with is, “Well, you’re my husband.”
“Oh really?” Minseok asks, quirking an eyebrow, and he’s teasing and Jongin’s face feels like it’s on fire.
“Yes, really,” Jongin insists, unable to curb his defensiveness even if he knows Minseok is joking. He pulls his hand out from under Minseok’s and holds it up. “Look, we’ve got rings and everything!”
“That we do,” Minseok replies. He’s full on grinning now and Jongin’s heart pounds in his ears. Minseok reaches up and links his fingers through Jongin’s, then brings their hands down to rest on the table together. Jongin’s afraid that Minseok will feel his thundering pulse, but if notices he doesn’t mention it. He just watches Jongin with that same expression that had made Jongin realize how far gone he was, back on the day Jongin had gone to meet Junmyeon and Kyungsoo – and oh, Jongin is so, so far gone.
Minseok doesn’t let go of Jongin’s hand – not even when the waitress stops by to tend to the food – until it’s time for them to eat. During that time Jongin’s embarrassment congeals into anxiety. Jongin likes Minseok. Really, really likes Minseok. But he has no idea how to interpret Minseok’s response to his jealousy. Was the teasing because Minseok was amused, or because he wanted to hide his annoyance? Was the handholding a way to placate, were his words nothing more than an empty repetition of facts?
The worry festers, refusing to disappear even though dinner is delicious and they stop by a positively stunning gallery before heading back to the resort. Had Jongin come off too strongly? He knows that Minseok is good at hiding his true feelings, especially after years of business training. Jongin’s mind reels with what-ifs, spinning around until he feels dizzy.
Back at the resort, Minseok washes up first. From his seat on the bed Jongin can see Minseok reflected in the bank of mirrors along the entrance hallway as he washes his face. Jongin picks at a thread on the comforter. All of his insecurities feel like they’re pressing down on him, condensing and compressing until he’ll explode. Now that they’re back in the quiet calm of the hotel room the sensation is only amplified.
Minseok is just putting his toothbrush in his mouth when Jongin caves in to the pressure and all in a rush says, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.”
Minseok turns his head so that he can see Jongin the mirrors and says, “Wha?” around a mouthful of toothbrush.
“Earlier, with Jongdae hyung. I didn’t mean to be possessive, but it seemed like he was hitting on you and it bothered me so I reacted.” Jongin is babbling, but now that he’s started talking he can’t seem to stop. “I wasn’t thinking, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, so if I did I’m really sorry.”
Minseok pulls his toothbrush back out of his mouth and leans around the bathroom doorway so that he can see Jongin clearly.
“Wait, you were worried about that?” he asks, eyebrows rising. “You’re still thinking about it?”
Jongin nods, and he feels a little better now that he’s said it, but he still feels pretty awful. Anxiety is eating away at him, pulling all the joy out of what had previously been a perfect trip. The misery must show on his face, because Minseok starts to move forward before seeming to remember the toothbrush in his hand. He makes this frustrated noise that Jongin would probably find cute under other circumstances and mumbles, “Give me a sec.”
He pops back into the bathroom and Jongin can hear him hurriedly brushing his teeth. As soon as he’s done Minseok comes and sits next to Jongin on the bed. Jongin wants to shy away but he holds himself steady. Under his fingers the stitching on the comforter is slowly unraveling.
“Okay,” Minseok says. “So why did you think I was uncomfortable?”
“I don’t know, you said I was practically growling,” Jongin starts and then trails off. He clears his throat and continues, “So I thought that maybe it bothered you and I was being too possessive and I mean, we’re married, but it’s not like,” Jongin pauses, stumbling over his words.
Minseok puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Jongin really wishes he hadn’t. The touch seems to burn through his shirt.
“It’s not like that,” Jongin manages to get out. “I mean, it’s just a partnership, it’s not romantic, and I have no right to be possessive over you. And because it’s not romantic maybe– maybe you want something like that, but I’m holding you back. I’m limiting you, and then I went and acted possessive on top of that and maybe you resent me–”
“I would never resent you,” Minseok says so fiercely that Jongin is startled into looking up. Minseok is staring at him, looking so concerned that Jongin’s stomach gives another guilty flop. “We’re married, we decided to work through this together. You’re not limiting me in any way.”
“But–” Jongin starts to say, then bites down on the words before they can escape. But not resenting me and caring about me are two different things. It’s too selfish. Minseok has been incredibly gracious about this entire marriage right from day one, even when Jongin was being difficult, and honestly Jongin has no right to wish for more; to force his feelings onto Minseok, or to hope for any sort of reciprocation.
“But?” Minseok prompts when Jongin doesn’t continue, but Jongin just shakes his head and drops his eyes back to his knees. “Alright,” Minseok says instead of pushing the matter, “then how about the incident itself? You said that when you thought Jongdae was flirting with me it bothered you. Why is that?”
Jongin freezes, and his blood turns to ice in his veins. Shit, he thinks. The answer to that is painfully obvious, but his brain scrambles to find an excuse, any excuse. He was never supposed to reveal his feelings to Minseok, it was supposed to be a secret, he needs to find a way to keep it a secret. He needs to play this all off somehow, so that they can go back to how things were. It might be awkward for a little while, but they’ve overcome that before and they could do it again. Maybe by doing that Jongin can fix this.
Keeping it a secret won’t fix anything, though, another voice inside his head points out. It’s just running away.
Jongin inhales a shaky breath, trying to calm his thoughts. Communication, they had said before. Communication is key – and if he keeps this a secret, Jongin will be throwing that key away. Continuing to hide his feelings could destroy everything. This relationship they’ve worked so hard to build, the trust and friendship Minseok has given him. Jongin could ruin all of that.
The realization is terrifying, but it also comes with a sense of clarity. The answer isn’t just scary, it’s downright terrifying, but it has to be done. Jongin can’t afford to run away anymore.
So instead he takes another deep breath and says, “Because I think I love you.”
Minseok’s hand on Jongin’s shoulder, reflexively massaging like he always does, suddenly stills.
“You what?” Minseok asks and Jongin wants to puke. His certainty wavers and he wants to take it all back but he can’t and now he’s stuck and the only thing he can do is push onward.
“I think I love you,” Jongin repeats quietly. He struggles to fight down nausea, to keep his hands from trembling. “And I was afraid that he might take you away from me. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“Hey,” Minseok says softly. “Hey, Jongin, look at me.” Jongin reluctantly turns his head and Minseok is giving him this look and Jongin doesn’t know what it means and it takes all his self-control not to get up and run for the door.
“I didn’t want to ruin everything,” Jongin says, his fears tumble out before he can stop them. “I couldn’t put that kind of pressure on you, not when we were just start starting to work things out. I couldn’t–”
He chokes on the words and Minseok brings his hand up to gently cup Jongin’s cheek. There’s a tense moment of silence, and just when Jongin doesn’t think he can stand it anymore Minseok speaks.
“I’ve been so stupid.”
Jongin blinks. He’s not sure what response he had expected, but this certainly isn’t it. Anger maybe, or pity, or perhaps sympathy if he was lucky – any of those would make sense. But instead Minseok continues, “It’s funny. I talked so big about communication, but I never followed through on it. I just never thought–“
Jongin shifts. He doesn’t know what to make of this, can’t tell what Minseok is trying to get at. While his brain is still racing in search of answers, Minseok shakes his head as if in disbelief of himself. Jongin wants to ask what’s going on but before he has a chance, Minseok says, “I think I love you too.”
Jongin gapes.
“You love me too?” he repeats slowly, as if saying the words will help them sink in.
“Yeah,” Minseok says with a smile. “I have for a while now.”
“How long?” Jongin asks, forcing the words out past the stickiness in his throat. His previous nerves are swiftly fizzing away into a giddiness that rises in his chest.
“I think I realized the night you showed me the telescope. I don’t know when it started, really.” Minseok lets out a small laugh and shakes his head again. “I thought you might feel the same way, but I wasn’t sure if you liked me or if you just cared for me because we were married–”
“Wait, you mean we wasted all that time?” Jongin demands. The giddiness has now bubbled up into a sense of general indignation at the world. Minseok loves him and all of this could have been solved ages ago if they had just talked.
“Apparently,” Minseok says ruefully. His hand is still on Jongin’s face, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against Jongin’s cheek. They’re sitting so close, Minseok’s face is so close, and Jongin is done with thinking and talking, so he acts.
“This is ridiculous,” Jongin says, then leans forward and kisses Minseok.
It’s more of a peck, really, lasting barely a second. When he pulls away Minseok follows, using his hand to gently guide Jongin back for another. His lips are soft and move so nicely against Jongin’s, and Jongin feels like he’s melting – all the worries slipping away under Minseok’s reassuring touch.
“I’m so glad I married you,” Minseok says when they pull away. He’s smiling and he looks so gorgeous that Jongin’s heart tries to beat its way out of his chest. Perhaps for this reason it takes a moment for the reference to sink in. When he gets it, Jongin wrinkles his nose and smacks Minseok lightly on the arm. Minseok laughs, and Jongin can’t find it in him to be annoyed.
“I am too,” Jongin says, even though he knows that Minseok knows. It feels good to say it anyway, now that he’s absolutely sober and head over heels in love. So he says it again, “I am too.”
Minseok beams, and Jongin thinks he shines brighter than any star he’s ever seen.
☆ミ
Minseok Hyung♡
So I heard the weather’s supposed to be clear tonight
14:26
Jongin grins at his link when he sees the text. Despite the fact that a moment before he had been mid-conversation with Sehun and Seulgi, he quickly types out a reply:
oh yeah?
14:27
“That was from Minseok oppa, wasn’t it?” Seulgi asks. “You have that silly smile on your face.”
When Jongin looks up she’s smiling at him, chin propped on hand. Sehun, on the other hand, is pretending to gag.
“Yeah,” Jongin replies, not put out in the least. He kicks Sehun under the table, then takes a sip of his smoothie. Today they’re celebrating Jongin’s acceptance into graduate school, accompanied with a research grant, by hanging out at their favorite cafe. Now that they’ve all graduated, it’s hard to find time to meet up like this. Seulgi is busy with her job, and Sehun with an internship. Even with the motivation of Jongin’s accomplishments and his promise to pay, it had taken them well over a week to find a day all of their schedules lined up.
Minseok Hyung♡
I was wondering if you wanted to take the telescope outside and do some stargazing
14:30
Jongin vaguely wonders if it’s possible to strain a muscle by smiling. He feels like he might burst with happiness.
i would love to
14:30
Jongin sets his link aside to go back to their conversation, and Sehun grumbles about how lovesick he is. Jongin’s smile doesn’t dim in the least. Sehun can complain until he’s blue in the face for all he cares.
Jongin has a date with his husband tonight. |
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seokmonsters) wrote2016-03-18 07:14 pm
