dkz: promise i won't break your heart (2022)

[staygame]

promise i won't break your heart (ao3 link, see original work for author's notes) | dkz/dongkiz, jaechan/munik, explicit, 7.1k words
tags: canon compliant, getting together, being a little mean as a love language, creator chose not to use archive warnings
content notes: semi-dubious consent

---

Jaechan wakes to a flick on his forehead.

"Hey," he says, rubbing the spot. He squints open one eyelid to find Munik looking down at him.

"Did you even shower?" Munik demands, scowling. It's not a very effective look, because off-stage, Munik's serious face reads more like a puppy trying to seem tough. Instead of intimidating, he just looks cute.

Jaechan did not, in fact, take a shower. He'd come home from practice and gone straight for Munik's bed while Kyoungyoon got first dibs on the bathroom. When Jaechan and Kyoungyoon left together, Munik had said he'd be right behind them, but when Jaechan checks his phone now, it's been more than an hour.

"Nope," Jaechan says. He fishes around for his glasses, smiling when Munik's furrowed brows come into sharp focus.

Munik reaches for Jaechan's arm. "Get out," he says. "You're the worst."

Jaechan looks up at him, then pushes back against Munik's pillow, rubbing his head into it like he's trying to imprint as much dirty hair smell in the fabric as possible.

"Stop, get out. What if I did this to your bed?" Munik whines.

He tugs harder on Jaechan's arm, but it's no use. Munik is the weakest among them and it's easy for Jaechan to pull Munik down instead. He holds Munik, back against his chest, arms clamped over Munik's shoulders.

"You're trapped," Jaechan says. He only gets a moment to bask in his triumph before Munik bites him on the arm.

His teeth leave a perfect red imprint on Jaechan's forearm, along with a wet sheen of spit.

"Ha," Munik says. "Take that."

So, naturally, Jaechan bites Munik's shoulder.

They go back and forth like this, until Munik loses his fight, sagging back against Jaechan. "Five more minutes, for real. Then you have to shower," he tells Jaechan. "And I'm not moving."

Jaechan lost his iPad somewhere in the scuffle, but it's fine—Munik's body on top of his is nice, a makeshift weighted blanket. "Five more minutes," he agrees.







It's just their thing: Jaechan pokes and prods until Munik is rendered speechless in delighted frustration or, even better, starts to poke and prod back.

He'd even tried to add it to his company profile. Hobbies: Shopping, listening to music, bothering Jang Munik. Their manager read the paper over his shoulder and said, shaking his head, "You cannot put that as a hobby."

Munik leaned in closer to read it. "I'm going to put 'being bothered by Park Jaechan' on mine."

"No, you're not," the manager said.

"'Watching Park Jaechan and Jang Munik fight'," Wondae said. Their manager walked away from the table.

They order pizza and Jaechan flicks the little plastic stand in the center of the pizza at Munik, hitting him square in the chest.

They're in Daejeon for a performance and Munik unhooks his left overall strap, wielding it as a weapon as they chase each other around the parking lot. The metal fastener hurts when it hits the bone of Jaechan's wrist, so Jaechan makes it hurt back when he catches Munik and gives him a knuckle sandwich.

They find prop foam swords at a photoshoot and pretend to joust until Jaechan sprawls out on the floor, playing dead, clutching his chest as though gravely wounded. A few feet away, Jonghyeong is holding their vlogging camera and Jaechan hears him saying, "This is our '01 line in their natural habitat. Being children."

Munik reaches a hand out to help Jaechan up. He's still laughing, gummy and pink, eyes nearly disappearing in half-moons. He contemplates tugging Munik down with him, coming back from the dead just to poke Munik with the sword, but then they'd both probably get yelled at for messing up their loaned clothes. He hops up to his feet, brushes off his backside, and says, "You are a noble fighter, Jang Munik."

"Same to you, Park Jaechan," Munik says with a full 90-degree bow.

"Our '01 line are good friends," Jonghyeong tells the camera.







Except sometimes, without ever really meaning to, Jaechan pokes and prods in the wrong places, the spots where Munik's skin is thin enough to draw blood from only a scratch.

Case in point: they're messing around after their Japanese lesson, arguing about something that Jaechan quickly lost the thread of. Jaechan says, "Yah, Jang Munik," and Munik turns his back, ignoring him.

"Jang Munik," Jaechan says again. "Munik. Mun Ikjeom."

This gets Munik's attention. He cranes his neck around to glare at Jaechan. "Stop. You know I hate that."

Jaechan does, which is why he said it. Munik told them early on, when Kyoungyoon had said, "Wow, I've never met anyone with your name" and Munik said, a little embarrassed, "Yeah, I used to get made fun of a lot."

"Mun Ikjeom," Jaechan repeats. He leans in close, enunciating each syllable. "Mun Ikjeom-ssi, which dynasty did you come from?"

Munik's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up. It cuts sharply through the idle chat at the other end of the table, all eyes turning toward the two of them. Their teacher had already left, at least. "I told you to stop," he says, grabbing his notebook and walking away.

Jaechan closes his mouth and watches Munik go.

Twenty minutes later, Wondae pokes his head into Jaechan's studio. "Walk with me," Wondae says, in a tone that's somehow bright despite also conveying that Jaechan isn't being given a choice here. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Wondae pays for their ramen. Neither of them are allowed this much sodium on their diet, but Wondae's the one who led him to the aisle and picked out a pack of Shin Ramen first, so Jaechan thinks maybe there's a special exception for this. Leader's discretion, or something.

"You know, sometimes you don't know when to stop," Wondae says as steaming water fills their bowls. It's the middle of the day and they're the only two customers in the convenience store. Just them and the same clerk who's rung them up too many times to count, sometimes the only person that Jaechan sees in a day who isn't one of his members. "He's softer than you are."

"I know that," Jaechan says. The conversation is already making him feel itchy.

"It's like—" Wondae sighs. The water has reached a rolling boil, and he pauses to stir his noodles. "There's a difference between funny mean and mean mean. If you're the only one laughing, it's just mean."

"He's not always nice either," Jaechan protests. He's had the hurt feelings after dance practice to prove it.

Wondae shoots Jaechan a look, like quit being defensive already. "Yeah, well. That's his job. It isn't me being not nice when I have to yell at you guys, right?"

"Eh," Jaechan says honestly.

When their ramen is done, they carry it to the furthest table in the back. Wondae starts to peel the hardboiled eggs and says, "Look, I'm not going to pretend like I understand your friendship. I know that's how you show affection. But you just need to be careful sometimes, that's all."

Jaechan wonders if their friendship is that hard to understand, wonders how he and Munik appear to onlookers. Wonders what they think about him.

"Just apologize for this afternoon, please." Wondae hands Jaechan the first egg he's finished peeling, like some kind of underwhelming trade. One egg in exchange for peace.







Jaechan would've apologized anyway, even if Wondae hadn't asked him to. He can be thoughtless at times, yeah, but he's not a total jerk.

He mills around in his room until after Munik's done with his shower. Everyone is in a better mood when they're clean, right? He knocks on Munik's door, as a courtesy, then enters without waiting for a response.

Munik has his bangs pushed back in a fluffy, dog ear headband that was probably a fansign gift. His cheeks are pink and shiny from the moisturizer he's still applying, though he pauses he sees Jaechan.

"Are you still grumpy?" Jaechan asks. Munik glares. "The cause of which was, admittedly, my fault."

The acknowledgement of guilt seems to relax Munik a little. "It's fine," he says, screwing the cap back onto his moisturizer. "Can you hand me that serum? No, the Innisfree one. Thanks."

Jaechan exchanges the serum for the jar of moisturizer, sliding into an empty spot in Jonghyeong and Munik's messy rows of skincare products. He watches Munik pat the serum against his cheeks with a quiet little smacking sound. It's not quite the silent treatment, but Munik isn't looking at him and Jaechan doesn't like it.

"I'm sorry. I was being a dick," Jaechan says. "And you're my closest friend here, you know?" This gets Munik's attention, hands stilling against his face. Jaechan meets his gaze. "I only want to make fun of you if you find it funny too."

"How about not making fun of me at all?" Munik asks. He's frowning, but he wants to smile; Jaechan can tell.

"Nah, we'd both get bored," Jaechan says.

He reaches out, poking the soft, dewy swell of Munik's cheek, feeling it curve under his fingertip as Munik gives into a smile. He can never stay mad for too long, conditioned into easy forgiveness by two relentless older sisters.

"Are you sure it's not just you who'd be bored?" Munik asks.

"You know you love it," Jaechan says.

"You think very highly of yourself," Munik says.

Jaechan gives Munik's cheek a final pat, satisfied. "Wouldn't you if you were me?"







Learning their new choreography is an all-day affair. Ten hours in a rented practice room where the five of them can spread out without bumping into each other or the mirror, learning and reviewing and learning and reviewing and reviewing and so on until Jaechan feels like he's actually dying. In their last run through before they take a break, Jaechan bounces over to his spot in the new formation and, out of pure muscle memory, starts doing an eight count from NOM.

Jaechan settles down for break with a bag of chips and the script he's supposed to be practicing for an upcoming audition. It's the same schoolboy role he's auditioned for a few times, but it feels important for him to do it well, like every job he gets is another chance for the group to make it out of the bottom tier.

Except he can't even the first few lines to stick in his memory, because he can't help getting distracted by the sound of Munik's laughter.

It's funny—he'll tell Munik to go bug someone else, but when does, Jaechan just wants his attention back. A hint of annoyance bubbles up in Jaechan's chest, as though Munik having fun with his friend is a personal imposition to Jaechan. Maybe it is.

Munik is lying with his head on Kyoungyoon's stomach, Kyoungyoon's hand idly combing through Munik's bangs. They're comparing satoori. Kyoungyoon never minds being the butt of this particular joke, and Jaechan can't exactly make out what he's saying, but Munik must find it hilarious. He curls in on himself, giggling, and all Jaechan can think is that if Munik turned his head, his mouth could easily press against Kyoungyoon's crotch.

Jaechan throws a chip at Munik.

It's equally an attempt to make Munik look at him and an attempt to dispel the gross mental image. The chip, failing to catch any lift, lands halfway between Jaechan and Munik's outstretched leg.

"Park Jaechan, are you making a mess?" Munik says, craning his neck up from Kyoungyoon's stomach.

"I thought you might be hungry," Jaechan says. He launches the second chip frisbee-style and it glides cleanly through the air, hitting Munik in the shin.

Spurred on by the victory, he throws a third and fourth in quick succession, laughing when Munik scrambles to his feet, crossing over to Jaechan in an instant. He grabs Jaechan by the shoulders and shakes him, saying, "Yah, yah!"

Jaechan spots an advantage. With Munik's hands occupied, he's left an opening; Jaechan pushes up the hem of Munik's shirt and tickles. Munik's stomach is soft and a little sticky with drying sweat as Jaechan drums his fingers along Munik's skin. The effect is immediate—Munik folds in on himself, laughing. He shoves at Jaechan's hands and whines, "No, stop."

Munik is breathless by the time he captures Jaechan's hands, but his gaze is fixed on Jaechan, eyes bright and triumphant, and this is what Jaechan wanted. Munik's singular focus, the room narrowed down to just the two of them.







Munik has been quiet all night. Quiet on the walk home, quiet when the five of them divvied up the chores and the shower schedule, and quiet when Jaechan pokes his head in the room and asks if Munik wants anything from the convenience store.

"He's being weird," Jaechan tells Wondae as they roam the aisles. They'd come for black bean sauce and toilet paper, but inevitably ended up browsing for snacks for their long ride to Busan the next day.

"Who? Munik?" Wondae asks, tossing a bag of chips into their basket. He considers for a moment, then adds a second flavor to the haul. "I don't think he's happy with that cover he's been working on."

"Yeah, I guess," Jaechan says. They all have their moments, and Jaechan knows that Munik's thoughts are often more troubled than he lets on, but it's still weird to see Munik, their usual source of energy, looking kind of like a deflating balloon left behind at someone's birthday party.

They walk past the drink coolers and, out of the corner of his eye, Jaechan spots a familiar logo. The mango tea that Munik's been obsessed with lately. He grabs a bottle on impulse.

Back in the dorm, Jaechan finds Munik in his room. "Hey," he says.

Munik looks up at him. His eyes always go a little more crossed whenever he's sleep deprived, and it takes them a moment to focus on Jaechan. The circles under his eyes are nearly dark enough to pass for bruises.

Jaechan sinks down to the floor. "Thought you might want this," he says. He extends the mango tea.

"Thanks," Munik says. He takes it, and their fingers brush, warm against the cold condensation of the bottle.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Jaechan says.

Munik looks small sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and t-shirt loose on his frame. Jaechan remembers how, back when they'd first met, he'd assumed Munik was younger than him, weaker than him. But then again, Munik has always been tougher than he looks. Maybe not in physical prowess, but in determination.

"You don't get better without being critical of yourself," Munik says with a smile that's as practiced as choreography. No really, I'm fine.

"You don't get better by making yourself feel bad either," Jaechan points out.

"You're right," Munik says in a tone that suggests Jaechan is not, in fact, right. "Thank you for the pep talk."

Jaechan shifts until he's directly facing Munik and reaches out, hands gripping Munik's knees. "Hey, I'm serious," he says, a little annoyed, because it's important for Munik to understand this. "You're fucking good."

Munik looks at him. Really looks at him, like he's studying Jaechan's face to figure out if he's telling the truth, except Jaechan is usually telling the truth anyway—that's what gets him into trouble most of the time.

Then, Munik's bottom lip starts to quiver.

Jaechan tilts his head to the side. "Are you really going to cry?"

"Are you surprised?" Munik says, taking a shuddery breath, trying and failing to suppress his tears.

"No," Jaechan says. That's their crybaby, after all. He leans in, wrapping his arms around Munik, and feels Munik sink into him. They stay like that until Jaechan starts to feel the tension seeping out of Munik's skinny shoulders. Long enough that when Munik pulls away, his tears have left a damp patch on Jaechan's chest.







"I still say it was rigged," Jaechan insists.

"It's not rigged," Jonghyeong says through a yawn. "You just lose every time you suggest it. Wait for someone else to suggest it next time."

"Practice with me," Jaechan tells Munik.

He proceeds to lose rock-paper-scissors twice in a row, then draws a finger gun in the third round. Munik makes a half-hearted show of playing dead.

Jaechan doesn't really mind being assigned lunch courier. On his list of current favorite people, his rankings would probably be 1. his parents, 2. his members, 3. his brother, and 4. the music show snack shop aunties, who call him handsome and, no matter what he's wearing, tell him that the color suits him. Still, it's not a three-person job, except that when Jonghyeong lost he'd strong-armed Munik into joining them and when Jaechan said, "If he's going, why do I need to go?", Wondae replied, "Because you lost", and shoved him toward the exit.

The pair of cameramen first in line finish ordering and the three of them step up to the counter. Jonghyeong lists off their snack order and smiles bashfully when one of the women compliments him.

"We actually just ran out of the wraps," the clerk says, handing them the bag of snacks. "Do you mind waiting a few minutes while we prepare more?"

"That's fine," Jonghyeong says. He then turns to Jaechan. "Wanna wait while I go to the bathroom?"

"Oh, I have to go too," Munik says.

"We'll meet you by the elevators," Jonghyeong says, and they take off, arms linked.

Jaechan fishes his tonkatsu sandwich out of the bag, peeling off the plastic wrap while he waits. After only a few minutes, the clerk hands him a grilled chicken wrap and apologizes again for the delay.

"Perform well today," she encourages him.

"We will thanks to auntie's delicious food," Jaechan replies, which earns him a delighted laugh. He's always been good at charming older people.

Leaving the canteen, Jaechan turns the corner to find Jonghyeong and Munik huddled together, heads tipped toward each other conspiratorially. Jonghyeong says something that must get a rise out of Munik, because Munik slaps Jonghyeong's chest with a squeaky, flailing noise. Then, the two of them turn their heads, quickly glancing across the lobby and then back at each other so as not to be caught looking.

They're gossiping. Jaechan takes a bite of his sandwich and follows their line of sight, expecting to see Jonghyeong's favorite Monsta X member or some other idol worth looking at, but it's just a group of backup dancers. Three women and a tall guy, sipping Americanos and checking their phones. What's there to look at, Jaechan wonders, except then the guy runs a hand through his long hair and Jaechan hears Munik's stupid laugh, a sound he could recognize even across a crowded room. They're gossiping about that guy.

The half-chewed bite of sandwich in Jaechan's mouth suddenly tastes like cardboard. It feels lodged in his windpipe when he tries to swallow it down.

It's not like Jaechan hadn't made certain assumptions; anyone can admit that some stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. But there's something he hates about knowing that Munik will indulge Jonghyeong in these secrets and not him. And besides, they're making it so obvious. Munik might as well just ask the guy for his number, the way he's staring.

Jaechan clears his throat as he steps out from behind the corner.

Munik turns and smiles. Jonghyeong bounds forward, taking the bag from Jaechan's hands and saying, "Oh my god, I'm starving."

Neither of them look like they've been caught doing anything wrong. Jaechan feels like something's stuck in his throat for the rest of the day.







Jaechan waits until they're alone in the practice room, the two of them taking a break from dancing, sprawled out on the floor. Jaechan makes a show of looking up from his phone with an oh. As he expected, it gets Munik's attention.

"This girl that I liked back in kindergarten added me on Facebook," Jaechan says. It's a lie, but he's relieved that it slips out casually. "She was my first crush."

"Aw," Munik says, cooing. "Did she like you too?"

"Nah. You've seen what I looked like in those glasses," Jaechan says, making his hands into circles and holding them up to his eyes. That part isn't a lie—he did have a crush on a girl in kindergarten and she did think he was a loser with his thick glasses and bowl cut. But here's the real point of the conversation: "Who was your first crush?"

If Jaechan hadn't already seen every possible variation of Munik's smile, he might've missed the twitch of Munik's mouth, lips turning down for just a second before recovering. But he knows all of Munik's expressions, so he sees the flinch, brain zeroing in on it. "Oh, you know. A classmate," Munik says. He then rolls back over onto his side and says, "Hold on, my sister texted me back."

It's such a clear evasion that Jaechan doesn't know how to process it. Munik trusts Jaechan enough to tell him, sitting under a tree at the nearby park with dried tear tracks on his cheeks, "Sometimes my thoughts feel like. Like, I don't know. Listening to five different songs at the same time but all of those songs are about how much you suck."

But apparently he doesn't trust Jaechan enough to tell him whatever this is. To not even offer him a hint.

He stares at Munik's back until Jonghyeong comes bounding down the stairs, singing something at the top of his lungs and shaking Jaechan out of his uncomfortable daze.





Jaechan does all of his best thinking in the shower. It's why he always emerges with some thought in mind that he needs to share immediately, sometimes not even bothering to put on his clothes if the thing he needs to share is that urgent. (Some, namely Wondae, would argue that it's never that urgent. Some would be wrong.)

After tonight's shower, Jaechan emerges damp and on a mission. He wanders past Jonghyeong and Wondae sharing a midnight snack of watermelon to Munik and Jonghyeong's room, where he can hear the sound of Munik's voice on the phone.

Munik is sitting in his bed, lying on his stomach with his iPad propped up on his pillow as he FaceTimes. It's his oldest noona, the one who looks the most similar to Munik, like their smiles were copied and pasted from one another.

"Ah, Jaechan-ah," Munik says, twisting his neck back to look at the doorway.

"Tell your sister I said hi," Jaechan says. He sits down on the floor beside the bed, feet tucked under the frame.

Jaechan looks through Twitter for a while, half-listening to Munik's side of the conversation. He always sounds lighter when he talks to his family, slipping into his role as baby of the family like a well-worn hoodie. He laughs at something his sister says, warm and bubbly, and the sound makes Jaechan feel a little more at home too.

"I'm going to let you go now," Munik finally says, stretching as he sits up. His shirt flashes a narrow strip of belly before falling back into place. "I love you too. Sleep well."

Munik tosses his iPad aside, then looks down at Jaechan, frowning. "You never dry your hair properly," he chides.

"Too lazy," Jaechan says, shaking his head and sending a few droplets Munik's way.

"Come here," Munik says. He reaches for the towel draped over Jaechan's shoulders. "Let me dry it for you."

Jaechan tips his head forward obligingly. He closes his eyes as Munik rubs the towel through his hair, methodically scrubbing at the roots with his fingers. Jaechan's hair is getting long these days, and he always forgets how much of a difference a few centimeters of growth can make when it comes to drying time.

"There, all done," Munik says, hands stilling on either side of Jaechan's head.

Jaechan opens his eyes. Munik is looking at him, something in his expression that Jaechan can't read. A little sad, maybe. Wistful, if Jaechan thinks he knows what wistful looks like. Jaechan tilts his head to the right, bumping against Munik's hand. Munik draws back.

"What are you thinking about?" Jaechan asks.

"Ah, nothing," Munik says. He scoots back towards the wall. "Did you come in here for a reason?"

Jaechan can't seem to remember what he wanted to tell Munik anymore, the weird look on Munik's face pulling tight at his stomach. He shrugs. "Have I ever needed a reason?"







"Scoot over," Jaechan says.

Munik doesn't look up from his game. "It's my bed, how are you going to tell me to scoot over?" he says, but makes room anyway.

Jaechan flops down on the bed. He's freshly showered and a little hungry, though he's hoping that if he waits long enough, Kyoungyoon will start cooking something. He tugs on Munik's pillow until he's wrestled enough of it out from under Munik's head for the both of them to fit. It's only when he's settled that Jaechan remembers his iPad is still in his backpack another room over.

"Go get my iPad for me," Jaechan tries. Munik doesn't even dignify him with a response.

He has to settle for watching Munik play his game. Munik always has a few on rotation—some idle game he'll get obsessed with for a week and then get bored with, maybe an MMORPG or some kind of League knockoff, and the gacha game he's spent too much money on to quit.

Jaechan hooks his chin over Munik's shoulder. His current game, as far as Jaechan can tell, involves a half-naked woman sword-fighting in a dungeon. He can hear the tinny sound effects through Munik's AirPods, clanking metal and triumphant music and some weirdly sexual noises coming from Munik's character. He's not sure if Munik is winning or losing, but either way, it's taking too long.

He reaches out, tapping his fingers quickly against Munik's iPad. Munik jerks away—"Hey!"—and tries to salvage his fight, but then Jaechan manages to press the home button and the game flashes away, disappearing.

Munik lets out a frustrated squeaking noise, and Jaechan laughs.

"Come on, now you have to entertain me," Jaechan says.

"Go entertain yourself," Munik says, kicking his leg back. His heel strikes Jaechan directly in the calf bone with surprising force. "Go, leave. I was going to beat that level."

"You're mean," Jaechan says, kicking back.

Munik rolls over to face Jaechan, then starts shoving him with both feet. "I'm mean?" he scoffs. "Wow, you're really shameless."

Things escalate from there. Jaechan isn't sure how Munik ends up with half of his body pinning Jaechan down, but it's easy enough to reverse the situation. Jaechan may not be a gym rat like Kyoungyoon, but he has at least five kilos on Munik and a few centimeters, so he's got the upper hand. He flips them over and ends up straddling Munik. In turn, Munik tries to buck him off, at the same time as his fingers aim for the spot under Jaechan's ribs where he's most ticklish.

"Ha," Jaechan says, managing to withstand the tickling long enough to catch Munik's wrists. He pushes Munik's wrists up over his head, using both hands to hold him in place. "I win."

He shifts, checking the position to make sure it's sturdy. His knees are framing Munik's waist and he's seated on Munik's hips, holding him down. The bed frame creaks underneath them.

"You're crushing me," Munik says, trying to catch his breath.

Jaechan peers down at him. Munik's cheeks are flushed red with exertion, lips parted with his panting breaths. An urge occurs to Jaechan. He moves without thinking and dips his head, feeling Munik go tense, but that doesn't stop him from following through—he bites the tip of Munik's nose.

"Ow, fuck," Munik squeaks.

When Jaechan pulls back, his bottom lip brushes against Munik's top lip, a touch so brief that Jaechan only registers the warmth from it after he's upright.

The second thing he registers is the look on Munik's face. Nervous, but not the normal Munik nervousness. More like an animal in the wild, trying to hold perfectly still so the predator doesn't spot him. Jaechan had expected to be pushed off, or for Munik to get him back. Instead, he's just looking up at Jaechan, eyes wide and unsure.

Jaechan unconsciously loosens his grip on Munik's wrists. That's enough for Munik to dislodge Jaechan, slipping out from under him. "I heard the shower stop, it's my turn next," he says, adjusting the neckline of his shirt.

Then he's gone, and Jaechan's left in Munik's bed, thinking. He could ask what made Munik so nervous, what he thought Jaechan was going to do, but what he really wants to ask is did you want me to? Heat rises in Jaechan's chest, spilling across his skin.

It takes him a while to move.







They've styled Munik in a sweatband today. Loose waves framing his face, a pair of glittery stars fixed beneath his right eye.

Jaechan wants to tug the sweatband down until it slips into Munik's mouth, then pull it taut, watch as Munik's spit wets the terrycloth, and then—

And then what? Then what would Jaechan want? He's not used to being unsure.







The dorm is quiet when Jaechan gets home. He'd gotten back late to the company after a whole day of filming and then spent the remainder of his caffeine buzz working on a song until he finally looked at the clock and realized it was past 3 AM.

Jaechan takes a long, hot shower, the kind that's rare when you have five people sharing one bathroom. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, or maybe the shower steam has peeled back the top layer of Jaechan's brain, exposing the things meant to be kept hidden underneath, but either way, Jaechan's thoughts start to wander, and these days, that wandering always comes back to Munik.

That moment in Munik's bed had slotted a puzzle piece into place, giving a name to the feeling that had been simmering in Jaechan's chest for a while, maybe even longer than he'd realized.

He knows the exact dimensions of Munik's body just based on years of proximity. How Munik's arm feels around his shoulder, how much space he takes up at Jaechan's side during group photos, where his face fits when he hugs Jaechan. But there are still parts Jaechan wants to learn with his hands, with his teeth, with his tongue—the inside of Munik's thighs, the middle of his lower back, the jut of his hip bones, the heat of his mouth. Jaechan's always been like this; a single-minded interest, wanting whatever it is that he wants all the time.

Jaechan feels hot all over. He's in a restless daze when he finishes his shower, going through the motions of brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas and then he's standing in front of Munik and Jonghyeong's door, heart beating heavily in his chest.

He cracks it open.

They'd left the lamp on, so Jaechan can see that Jonghyeong has fallen asleep with his headphones in. Munik is sleeping on his side, facing the wall. He stirs when Jaechan slides into the bed, making a bleary noise and attempting to roll over, but Jaechan tucks himself behind Munik, holding him in place.

"Jaechan-ah?" Munik asks, quiet and confused.

"It's me," Jaechan says

Jaechan adjusts the sheets, spreading the blanket out so that it covers both of them. They're pressed together, chest to back, and Jaechan snakes a hand under Munik's shirt, flattening his palm against Munik's stomach. The skin there is smooth and warm. His neck smells like the green tea moisturizer he's been using lately. Anything you apply to your face you should also apply to your neck, he'd informed Jaechan before. Jaechan still thinks about it when he does his skincare.

His hand slides up, over Munik's belly button and across his ribs.

"What're you—"

"Shh."

Jaechan isn't actually sure what he's doing. He's acting on impulse, horny curiosity. His thumb brushes the soft skin of Munik's nipple, and he hears Munik suck in a breath through his nose. His nipple stiffens up under Jaechan's thumb and then he pinches it between two fingers.

"Jaechan," Munik says, a little more urgently.

"You don't want to wake Jonghyeong up," Jaechan says.

With his hand fanned out, Jaechan finds that he can brush Munik's other nipple with his pinky, tight and pebbled under his finger. Munik's body is still, but Jaechan can feel the fluttery beat of his heart against his chest. When Jaechan pinches again, experimental, Munik lets out a quiet little gasp, not like any noise Jaechan has heard him make before. Jaechan has to push his face into Munik's shoulders just to do something with the rush from it.

And while he's here, he might as well, Jaechan thinks. He presses a kiss to the back of Munik's neck, just a brush of lips against the top of his spine, where the collar of his worn t-shirt sags around his shoulders. At the same time, he lets his hand fall, roaming along the plane of Munik's stomach.

Suddenly, the bed creaks above them. Jaechan feels Munik go tense under his palm, but it's only Jonghyeong rolling over in his sleep. Jonghyeong lets out a brief snuffling noise and then there's silence again.

Maybe this jolt back into reality should make Jaechan stop whatever it is that he's doing, but instead, the desire to feel Munik holding back while falling apart spurs him on. He waits a moment to see if Munik will elbow him away or tell him to fuck off, but Munik doesn't move aside from the minute flex of muscle under Jaechan's hand, so Jaechan keeps going.

Jaechan's fingers trail along the waistband of Munik's sweatpants before nudging underneath the elastic. He's surprised to find that Munik isn't wearing anything underneath, knuckles brushing against soft hair and the hot, wet head of Munik's cock.

Munik gasps and so does Jaechan, burying the noise into Munik's shoulder. He'd wondered what Munik's cock would feel like and now he knows. Jaechan thumbs over the head of his cock, smearing the bead of precome at the tip. He does not pull his hand out of Munik's pants and lick his thumb, like he briefly considers, but he does spit into his palm before going back in.

He wraps a fist around Munik's cock. He strokes, tentatively, still getting used to the angle of his arm, different from any other time he's jerked himself off. Munik pushes into his hand, hips twitching forward like he probably hadn't even meant to. Munik's sweatpants are getting in the way, so he takes a second to tug them down, freeing Munik's length.

Jaechan is only distantly aware of his own cock straining against his pajama pants, his left arm awkwardly trapped between their bodies, the fact that they're both sweating underneath the fleecy heat of the blanket. His brain has zeroed in on the weight of Munik's cock, stiff and hot in Jaechan's hand as he pumps his fist.

"Jaechan-ah," Munik says, nails scraping against Jaechan's forearm as he gets closer, and Jaechan has never heard his name said in that voice before but he wants to put it on repeat, listen to it on loop.

Munik's pushing into his grip now, like he's fucking the tight circle of Jaechan's fist, the two of them working together until Munik is spilling over Jaechan's hand with a strangled noise. Everything feels loud in Jaechan's ears for a moment, the intensity of Munik's orgasm seeming to rack through his own body, like the two of them share the same brain wavelength. Then, the noise dissipates, and he comes back to his hand wrapped around Munik's pulsing cock, fingers sticky and wet.

With some effort, Jaechan reaches behind him for the box of tissues. The movement drives his boner into Munik's ass and Jaechan thinks he can hear Munik whimper.

Munik doesn't say anything as Jaechan cleans up. His breath is heavy, chest heaving with it. Jaechan ends up stuffing the dirty tissues in his pocket, because the trash can is out of reach and there's no way he's going to drop them on the side of the bed where Jonghyeong could find them. There's going to be a jizz stain on Munik's blanket.

Munik is still lying on his side, Jaechan spooned behind him. He doesn't mean to, not really, but his cock ruts forward against Munik's backside, the evolutionary urge to get off when your dick's been throbbing with it for that long. When Jaechan notices, he stiffens, trying to go still, because he didn't think this far ahead and what, it he supposed to just—

"You can," Munik whispers, and pushes back against Jaechan, ass rubbing against the bulge in Jaechan's pants. "If you need."

Jaechan grinds his face into Munik's shoulder, thinking this is going to be the death of him. He yanks his pants down as best as he can in this position, his cock aching when he takes it in his hand, guiding it between the soft skin of Munik's thighs.

It doesn't take him long. It's not even the sensation itself—his cock brushing against Munik's balls, the heat of Munik's thighs tight around Jaechan—but what the position makes him think of, the mental images pressing against his eyelids as comes, Munik's shirt in his mouth to muffle the noise.

He pulls back carefully when he's done. "Did it hurt?" he asks Munik.

"No," Munik says.

Jaechan cleans up again, stuffs more tissues into his pockets and makes a mental note to toss them in the trash before he accidentally washes these pants without removing them. God, imagine if he had to pick wet clumps of dirty tissues out of his laundry. He helps Munik pull his sweatpants back up, and smooths his shirt back down.

"You should go back to your room," Munik says. "Jonghyeong will think it's weird if you're still here."

"Yeah," Jaechan agrees. When he sits up properly, his left arm is partially numb from being lied on for so long.

He thinks Munik will roll over, give him one last parting look in the dark, but Munik still hasn't moved except to curl in on himself. He must be tired, Jaechan thinks.







It's not immediately apparent that Munik is avoiding him. Maybe it should be obvious, given that they live in a cramped dorm and train in a cramped practice room, but they're in that post-promotion time where everyone's doing their own thing. Everyone's busy doing vlogs or making ASMR videos or taking whatever odd job they've been booked for, so it's not all that weird for Jaechan not to see much of Munik for a few days.

Except then they're at practice, and Jaechan gets disastrously off beat for the last twenty seconds of the song and instead of getting fussed at like he would on any other day, Munik's eyes pass over him in the mirror like he's not even seeing Jaechan at all.

"Hyung, you really whiffed that," Jonghyung says as Jaechan drags himself back to his starting position. Munik still hasn't even looked at him.

So, Jaechan decides to address the problem head on—after practice, he waits in his studio doorway until Munik walks by and then reaches out, grabbing Munik and yanking him into the room.

"You guys good?" Jaechan can hear Wondae ask as the door slams shut behind Munik.

"We're good," Jaechan calls out over Munik's shoulder.

Jaechan has Munik pressed against the door, knees bent so that they're standing at eye level. "You're avoiding me," he says.

"Not specifically," Munik denies.

"Because of the other night?" Jaechan asks, frowning. "Did you not like it?"

Munik closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, his expression is hurt, like the times where Jaechan has taken the joke a bit too far. "Jaechan, I don't know what you want from me." His voice is nearly a whisper, bordering on shrill. "Like, what is this? Fuck with the gay boy?"

"I wouldn't," Jaechan starts to say, but cuts himself off because I wouldn't fuck with you, even though it's true in this case, probably wouldn't go over well. "I'm not—" Jaechan stops again. I'm not straight isn't quite right either, since Jaechan has never tried coming up with any definitive answers for what he is or isn't. He likes what he likes when he likes it. He likes Munik.

"Right," Munik says, pushing out of Jaechan's now slack hold.

"I thought," Jaechan says. "I thought you liked me."

"I do." Munik throws up his hands, turning his back to Jaechan. "And just because you know that, it doesn't mean you get to take advantage of that to, I don't know, get off or whatever. I thought—"

"I like you too," Jaechan interrupts. It comes out louder than he'd intended, but the hurt look in Munik's eyes had strangled the breath from his lungs and Jaechan almost feels like he has to shout to get the words out. This isn't the first time he's confessed to someone, but it immediately feels bigger, more important.

He watches Munik's shoulders heave up and down, which could either be a laugh or a cry. "Are you dumb?" Munik says.

"You're dumb," Jaechan says automatically.

Munik turns, eyes wide in disbelief. He scoffs. At least it was a laugh, then. "Don't you think you skipped a few steps? Like telling me that before you just jumped into bed and, you know." He makes a jacking off gesture with his hand.

It is possible that Munik has a point. It is also possible that Jaechan's method, skipping the talking part and going straight to action, was more efficient. He does not think that now is a good time to bring that up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Jaechan says.

"I can't read your mind," Munik says.

"If you could, you might think I'm a pervert," Jaechan admits. This makes Munik laugh, which finally eases some of the tightness in Jaechan's chest. "But it's because I like you."

Munik covers his face in his hands. "Stop saying that."

"Why?" Jaechan says, stepping forward. He takes Munik's wrists in his hands, pulling them away from his face. "Are you blushing?"

"Stop it," Munik says and tries to bat at Jaechan's chest. He is blushing, pink-tinged and sweet. "I actually hate you."

"No you don't," Jaechan says smugly.

Then he leans in, pressing a kiss to Munik's smiling mouth, cradling Munik's face in his hands. It's the first time, but it feels familiar anyway, like the natural progression of their friendship, the best outcome of capturing Munik's attention.