Jackbam; Jackson and Bam are in realtionship, they always bickering, teasin each other so their friends are wondering why they are a couple because they act like friends, but they share cute moments (that only they know)a lot of fluff!! I love your writing ^^ (and sorry for my english lnao)
Warning(s): a little (a lot of) swearing
Author: val
Word Count: 3.5k+
A/N: Hey guys! This took forever wOw but I’m finally here with my first fill! I’m a casual writer val who joined at the start of this year and is amazing at procrastinating but I hope you’ll enjoy this, even if the tenses might be hella inconsistent because I suck. Also, fun fact, I’m the youngest here!!
“Bambam!” Jackson Wang’s shrill scream pierced through the room like a knife.“You’re an absolute fucking shithead, you know that?”
In situations like these, the boys had learnt to keep themselves as busy as possible and try not to pay any mind to whatever attention-seeking announcement Jackson had for the rest of the group. Or specifically, for his shithead (his words) of a boyfriend.
“What did he do now?” Yugyeom whispered sardonically.
“He ate my fucking chips!” Jackson screeched back.
“I did not,” Bambam replied resolutely, eyes never leaving the movie that was playing on the television screen.
“We are literally the only two people who live here. Who else could have taken it?” Jackson demanded, his already-high pitch rising ever so steadily by some miracle of God.
“Pudding,” Bambam replied without missing a beat.
Jackson looked like he was about to explode.
“I’ll get you more chips, Sseunie. Sit your ass down and stop blocking my view of Chris Hemsworth,” Jinyoung appeased, rolling his eyes as he inched over on the couch to make room for the newcomer. Begrudgingly, Jackson plopped down, and silence fell over the room once more.
It barely lasted for a minute.
“I swear you took it!”
Everybody groaned.
“I didn’t.” Bambam sounded almost bored.
“You always do this! You always lie to me! Our relationship is all based on lies!” Jackson insisted hysterically, leaping back onto his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at Bambam.
“Our relationship is based on lies,” Bambam imitated, his face scrunched up in comical manner as he raised his voice to a high-pitched squeak.
Jackson gasped, seeming offended. “I do not sound like that! Take it back! And give me back my chips, too!”
“I do not sound like that,” Bambam continued to squeak in a manner that genuinely did not sound like Jackson. “Take it—” was all he could manage before he began to choke on his own laughter.
“I said I’ll get you new chips, please sit down Sseunie,” Jinyoung pleaded almost desperately, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
“Fine,” Jackson’s shoulders slumped in defeat, slinking down to the couch and snuggling closer to Jinyoung.
“How the fuck are they even dating?” Yugyeom grumbled softly from the other end of the room, stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth. Next to him, Jaebum shrugged.
And then, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the droning of the actors on television.
Oh, and Bambam cackling hysterically while simultaneously hacking up a lung. But that was a minor detail.
——————
By the end of the movie, Bambam had fallen asleep, Jackson’s lips were still arranged in a pout and Jinyoung was about to fling himself out the window into the depths of hell.
Bambam hadn’t stopped laughing for ten minutes straight, and Jackson wasn’t as quiet in his death threats as he thought he was. Although, Jinyoung would admit, the numerous methods Jackson had fabricated to murder the Thai boy were extremely amusing, if not slightly terrifying. Maybe Jackson could consider a career in homicide.
Jinyoung picked up the TV remote and aimed it at the screen.
“Time to go, everyone,” he announced as the screen turned dark. “Thanks for having us, Sseunie,” he waved half-assedly, one foot already out the door. The other boys trailed after him, some yawning tiredly as they mumbled their goodbyes.
“We’re leaving, Bam,” was the last thing Jinyoung hollered before slamming the door shut and leaving Jackson with silence and a sleeping boyfriend.
Oh, an awake boyfriend now.
Bambam blearily opened his eyes as he glanced around the room, trying to make sense of what was happening. When his sleep-addled brain finally managed to decipher that the movie was over, everyone had left and Jackson was still sulking on the other end of the couch, it told him to move. What kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t?
Bambam blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he crawled towards Jackson, whose signature Wang Gae eyes were about to be the death of him. He flopped down next to his boyfriend, snuggling closer until any space between the two were practically nonexistent.
“I’m sorry for taking your chips,” he mumbled, voice muffled from his face being pressed into Jackson’s chest.
All of a sudden, Jackson’s demeanour seemed to shift.
His entire body relaxed into the couch, as if he was melting into a puddle of syrup and honey and all the love he held in his heart for Bambam. If Bambam was looking, he would’ve seen Jackson’s eyes soften and his lips turn up in the brightest of smiles.
“It’s fine, Bam,” Jackson whispered, even though they were the only two people left in the house. He ran his hands through Bambam’s hair comfortingly, fingers gently massaging the younger boy’s scalp. “We can get more. I’m not mad anymore.”
Bambam hummed softly, and Jackson could feel the vibrations travel through his body, through his veins, sending tingles down his spine and turning his heart into gooey, syrupy mush. “I love you, Ja-” Bambam’s words slurred, sleep enveloping him before he could even finish his sentence.
Jackson smiled fondly, fingers tingling with warmth at the sight of Bambam cuddled close to him, body rising and falling steadily with every breath he took. He gathered his boyfriend into his arms and heaved, pushing the both of them off the sofa and Bambam safely into Jackson’s embrace. He padded to Bambam’s bedroom and gently set Bambam down on the bed, brushing back a stray strand of hair on his forehead and leaning down to kiss the younger sweetly on the cheek.
“I love you too, Bambam.”
——————
Yugyeom let out a long, drawn-out groan on Jackson and Bambam’s couch, leaning his head back and slinking down in his seat.
“We’ve been waiting forever, now,” he lamented, reaching a lanky leg out to kick the man sitting opposite him. “Jackson, where’s your boyfriend?”
In response, Jackson hollered, “Yo, Bam! We’re all waiting!” He glanced over at Yugyeom and rubbed his calf ruefully, before tacking on completely out of spite, “your best friend’s complaining!”
Yugyeom kicked him again.
“I’m coming,” was the frustrated screech that rang from the Thai boy’s room. “You guys always fucking rush—”
Crash!
“Fuck!”
From his room emerged a frazzled, but nevertheless dolled-up Bambam, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he clutched his toe. “You guys always rush fashion! Now look at me, you fuckers—I stubbed my toe!”
Admittedly, Bambam looked incredibly dashing. His hair had been parted in the centre and rested artfully in strands down his forehead. His eyes were framed by deep red eyeshadow, accentuating his bright blue eyes (which were clearly contacts, but Jackson digresses). There was only one word he could use to describe his boyfriend—sexy.
Or handsome. Or gorgeous. Or hot. So maybe there were more words.
“Sucks to be you,” Jackson snickers instead, and jiggles his car keys in his hand. “Now let’s go—we’re actually late now.”
Bambam grins, picking up his phone. “I call shotgu—”
“I think the hell not!” came Yugyeom’s screech as he interrupted the Thai boy before he could even complete the word. “I had to wait a whole hour for your crusty ass to get ready, you bitch, I’m going to ride shotgun.”
Bambam’s eyebrows furrowed, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side as he fixed his gaze on Yugyeom. There was a pregnant pause, and then Bambam swiveled around to face Jackson.
“Jack,” he implored, tone sickly sweet. “I’m your boyfriend, right? Don’t you think I should ride shotgun?”
Jackson pretended to think, even though a smirk was beginning to spread on his face. “I don’t know, Bam,” he drawled. “Yugyeom has a point…”
“Oh my god,” Bambam gasped, aghast that he’d be betrayed this way by the one person who was supposed to be by his side through thick and thin, the one person who was supposed to—
“Yeah, I think Yugyeom should ride shotgun, instead,” Jackson concluded smugly.
“I think he should not!” Bambam fired back indignantly.
“It’s my car,” Jackson pointed out levelly, which all the more made Bambam fume.
“I’m your—”
Yugyeom groaned into his palm, burying his face in his hands as he tried to block out the couple’s bickering. He honestly didn’t get how they’d gotten together when all they seemed to do was argue—let alone how they hadn’t broken up yet. While he did love to spend time with each of the boys, not to mention he’d been best friends with half of the couple since their diaper days, being in the same room as the couple on his own was enough to give him a migraine.
“He’s going to ride shotgun,” Jackson declared with a note of finality, and Yugyeom felt a hand grab onto his wrist and pull him up sharply.
Whatever protests Yugyeom tried to weakly splutter out were promptly ignored as he was dragged out of the apartment all the way to Jackson’s car, with Bambam loudly complaining as he trailed along behind.
Oh, why did he ever try to butt in between the couple?
The door slammed as he was shoved into the passenger seat and Yugyeom winced, meekly pulling on his seatbelt. From behind him, Bambam continued to grumble as he crawled in the back.
For the rest of the journey, Bambam never stopped.
——————
When Bambam awoke, it was to low light and a fluffy blanket pulled over him.
Granted, his head was pulsing and he felt like he was about the throw up. Scratch that—the taste of bile was lingering on the tip of his tongue—maybe he already had.
A sliver of light sliced through the room as the door was slowly pushed open, a head popping in to reveal his boyfriend.
“Oh,” Jackson whispered, a bright grin on his lips. “You’re awake.”
Bambam could only groan in response.
“Bad hangover?”
Bambam nodded.
“Hangover soup?”
Bambam nodded again, a small smile beginning to spread across his face.
“Go wash up,” Jackson said fondly, cocking his head in the direction of their bathroom.
Bambam let out a noise that could only be described as a cross between a groan and a whine, and pulled his blanket over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath, trying to force his vomit back down.
There was a soft pattering of footsteps and the blanket was tugged off. A gentle hand ran through his bed head and ruffled his hair. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Jackson teased.
This time, Bambam let out a drawn-out whine, opening his eyes to gaze at his boyfriend and blinked sluggishly. “I know,” he pouted.
Jackson chuckled, the sound resounding uncomfortably in Bambam’s ears and making his head pound, but was still a bright, tinkling sound nevertheless.
Before he knew it, a pair of hands were snaking under his back and hoisting him up in the air, and Bambam almost yelped in surprise.
“You need to wash up, Bammie,” came the admonishing words, although Jackson’s tone held no meaning to it all. “You stink,” he teased playfully, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust.
Bambam swung one of his arms up to swat at Jackson’s face.
“I love you too,” Jackson cooed, screwing up his lips and making obnoxious kissing noises. “I love my baby Bammie so much, he’s so adorable, I love my itsy bitsy—”
“My head hurts,” Bambam whined again, squirming about in Jackson’s arms and effortlessly shut his boyfriend up, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he tried to balance the lanky boy in his arms.
Bambam felt himself being set down on a surface, and he hung his head as he felt his eyes drooping and his head was pounding and maybe the toilet wasn’t such a bad place to fall asleep on, you know—
“Bam,” came a gentle voice. “Come on, you can at least brush your teeth, right?” Jackson nudged his shoulder playfully, slotting a toothbrush in between his fingers. “Get yourself ready, and we’ll be out for your soup in no time.”
After the agonizing half-hour—in Bambam’s opinion—that it took for him to brush his teeth and slip his clothes on, Jackson was threading his fingers through Bambam’s as he tugged the younger out of their apartment and to his car.
Bambam felt the press of muscle against his own arm and warmth begin to spread through his body as Jackson began to walk with a light spring to his step.
“You okay?”
Bambam nodded, pulling his hand out of Jackson’s to wind his arm around the latter’s instead.
Jackson beamed. and Bambam’s heart fluttered. “I hope you had fun, even if you were pretty shitfaced,” Jackson chuckled.
There was a pause from him as Bambam let out a guttural noise, and then Jackson stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Bambam to almost trip over his own two feet. Thank God for his boyfriend’s steady grip.
“Hey!” Jackson exclaimed in an accusatory tone, whipping to around to glare at his boyfriend. “You tried to make out with Yugyeom last night!”
Bambam’s heart stopped for a moment.
And then it was back to racing like a galloping horse, the loud thump-thump-thumps imitating heavy footfalls and laboured breaths as the horse thundered forward, on and on, ringing blaringly in his ears. Oh dear, what if Jackson was mad; Bambam swears on his life he didn’t remember any of the previous night’s events. What if Bambam did try to make out with his best friend, what if—
“Bammie! I thought you loved me!”
And suddenly Bambam was brought back to the ground. Suddenly Jackson’s words didn’t sound so horrifying, more like a harmless tease, something that was supposed to simply rile Bambam up, ruffle his feathers, jolt him awake just a little more. Maybe Bambam was overreacting—scratch that, he was definitely overreacting.
Suddenly, Jackson’s defiant gaze from below him seemed more like a pitiful kitten looking for their owner’s attention. It was almost identical to the way Latte would paw at his calves when he was hungry.
Bambam stroked his arm appeasingly.
“I do, Jacks,” he smiled warmly, and no matter how much shorter Jackson was compared to him, no matter how uncomfortable the position was to him, Bambam leant down, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and tightening his grip around the elder’s arm every so slightly. “I love you so, so much Jackson, I’d never want to make out with anyone but you.”
Bambam almost saw Jackson’s eyes shining as the latter pulled him in for a tight embrace, pressing his face into Bambam’s neck and nuzzling in. “I love you too, Bam. I’m so sorry i don’t say it enough.”
They pulled apart, holding each other with bodies nearly pressed flush together, eyes twinkling, ghosts of smiles lingering on their lips.
And then it was over, way too quickly than Bambam would have liked. He wouldn’t admit it, but he adored these moments of sappiness he’d occasionally share with his boyfriend. The moments they hid away from their friends, the public eye. The moments that belonged to them.
Jackson was tugging on Bambam’s hand again, and they continued their walk to the car.
“For real, though, you actually did try to kiss Yugyeom.”
“I’m sorry, Jacks,” Bambam grinned, not sounding very sorry at all.
It barely took them a minute before Jackson’s car appeared in sight, and there was a beeping sound as Jackson pressed the button on his keys to unlock it.
“Ride shotgun today, please?” Jackson quirked his eyebrows hopefully.
Bambam grinned as he slid into the front seat.
And as Jackson started up the car, Bambam slipped his fingers in between Jackson’s.
——————
Bambam was supposed to be in charge of the new guy that day.
Being one of the employees who worked the longest at the coffee shop, he would know how things worked around there. Naturally, the role fell to him.
Well, it could have fallen to Youngjae, who’s worked just about as long as him. But Youngjae had a knack for shirking responsibility, that little traitor, so there they were.
The newest employee, Dowoon, is a bright young man who has too much enthusiasm in his tiny body. He’s willing to do whatever Bambam asks of him, and while it might be little overbearing, Bambam thinks he would make a great barista in the future.
After showing him the basics of brewing coffee, Bambam had been making Dowoon wipe down for about an hour, as the customer stream grew heavier and Bambam and Youngjae were busy behind the counter. As the number of customers began to lessen, and Youngjae snuck into the kitchen to nab a pastry for himself to snack on, Bambam decided to let Dowoon take his very first order.
“Hey,” Bambam smiled as he approached the table Dowoon had been dutifully scrubbing at. “I think you can take your first customer now!” He took the rag from Dowoon’s hand. “Let’s swap. The next customer is yours. Take their order, make sure Youngjae isn’t stealing more food from the kitchen, and serve them their order.” Bambam cocked his head toward the counter. “Simple as that.”
Dowoon’s beam could have rivalled the brightness of the sun.
“I’m on it,” Dowoon saluted, and scurried behind the counter, fingers tapping eagerly on the cash register. From behind, Youngjae emerged from the kitchen, a danish between his teeth and a croissant in his hand.
“You want one?” he offered it to Dowoon.
Dowoon shook his head. “It-it’s fine, Youngjae-hyung. I shouldn’t be eating on the job.”
“Yeah, Youngjae,” Bambam called out dryly from the table he was at.
The door bell jingled.
Dowoon jumped. “Wel-welcome! What can I get you?”
Bambam grinned at the familiar silhouette.
“I know this one,” he called, before the man could even open his mouth to reply. “Caramel frappe, with…” Bambam pretended to ponder. “Extra whip?”
“You know me so well, Bam,” Jackson grinned.
The tips of Dowoon’s ears were a bright pink. “Well,” he smiled. “I’ll get right to it. I mean—Youngjae will get right to it. I don’t—I don’t know how to work the machines yet.” Dowoon was stuttering like a high-schooler at his first day at school.
“It’s my first day…” Dowoon trailed off, the flush spreading to his cheeks.
“No problem,” Jackson smiles warmly, before turning to face Bambam.
Jackson walked over and slapped Bambam heartily on the back. (A little too heartily, Bambam might add. He nearly choked on air.) “He’s so sweet. And cute.”
Bambam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a snort from behind the counter, and Dowoon’s face seemed almost as red as a tomato.
“I’ll be back,” he reassured, before ducking behind the counter.
“What’s going on?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Dowoon thinks your friend here is really handsome,” Youngjae snickered, stuffing his face with the croissant he had saved from earlier to stifle his laughter.
“H-he said I was sweet too. And cute,” Dowoon stuttered.
“Yeah, he sure did,” Bambam frowned.
Dowoon let out a high-pitched noise that could have been a squeal. “Do you think he’d give me his number?”
“I don’t know, Dowoon,” Bambam cocked his head to the side, eyeing the younger. Dowoon, though, bless his adorable self, seemed to be completely oblivious and continued to gape at Jackson as the latter’s head was bent over his phone.
Bambam’s phone pinged.
i think he likes me bam
Bambam clenched his teeth.
i think i should give him my number. he’s a qt
Youngjae, practically about to burst into tears at the whole affair, shakily caps Jackson’s drink and hands it over to the smitten Dowoon. “Finish up your first customer!”
Dowoon looked as if he was about to melt into a puddle on the ground.
“Uh—caramel frappe for Jackson?” he called shyly, and Jackson walked up to the counter with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“That’s me.”
Dowoon reached over to hand the cup to Jackson, before pulling back and grabbing a marker, scribbling something on the side of the cup.
Bambam clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palm.
“Here,” Dowoon thrust the cup over, averting Jackson’s gaze.
Jackson grabbed the cup and glanced at Dowoon’s messy handwriting, biting his lip as a smile began to spread across his face.
“Did you just give me your num—”
Bambam reach over the counter to pull on Jackson’s shirt harshly, reeling him in into a rough kiss that cut off whatever the latter was just about to say. He made sure their lips lingered, tilting his head a little to try to deepen the kiss. He felt Jackson’s lips tilt upwards as he played along.
When he finally pulled away, the shit-eating grin was back on Jackson’s face.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous, babe.”
Dowoon let out another high-pitched screech.
(“Oh my god!” Youngjae hollered into the phone—since when did he get on the phone?
“Gyeom! I just watched them kiss. Yes, Jackbam! I just watched the two of them /kiss/—ha! You owe me twenty dollars now!”)
A/N: As you can all tell by the long list of authors, we decided to do a special collab for this prompt! We put a lot of serious effort into this, so we hope you enjoy~ ^^
Edit: Happy April Fools’ 2017! This is a fake prompt and joke fic that we wrote together this year! Each author contributed around 100 words, and we were only allowed to see what the author directly before us wrote. This was the result, we hope you enjoyed the crack-y fun~
~~
Jinyoung haughtily surveyed the living room from his sprawled out position on the couch, face wrinkled into an expression of distaste at Bambam and Jackson rolling around on the floor, engaged in an all-too intense wrestling battle. Jackson had a vice-like hold around Bambam’s middle with his strong thighs, but the younger wasn’t letting up yet, screeching loudly as he wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck, grappling him valiantly.
“I know it was you! Don’t try to deny anything!” Jackson shouted.
“I swear! Let go of me or you’ll really regret it this time,” Bambam grunted. “It’s not as if anything you own would even fit me anyway,” he mocked.
“You bastard, you did not just say that to my face.”
“Oh yes I did,” Bambam sing-songed.
At that, Jackson had had enough, and charged at Bambam with the full force of his body. As they flew out the window, Jinyoung could be heard in the background, lamenting, “We just had the new glass put in last week!”
As if Jackson cared about the new glass put in when he was sitting on top of Bambam’s chest, all his weight balancing on the younger’s ribs in a way that had to be painfully uncomfortable. Luckily they had landed on the fire escape, or there would’ve been hell to pay.
“Tell the truth,” Jackson demanded roughly.
“I didn’t do it!” Bambam insisted angrily.
“I’ll make Coco pee in your slippers,” Jackson warned.
Bambam stilled at this threat, face falling immediately.
“No, not the Gucci! What kind of sick world do we live in when a dude can’t even have some decent Gucci? ” he wailed miserably, sucking in his bottom lip as he glared up at Jackson. “Fine, jerkoff. I wore your leather kitten suit and I ripped it. You would have been way too big in it anyway.”
“It wasn’t for me,” Jackson admitted, uncharacteristically chagrin.
Bambam rolled his eyes, ignoring the way the older boy glared at him.
“Sure it wasn’t.” He pushed at Jackson’s shoulders, relaxing a little when Jackson finally moved off of him. After a few moments of unusual quiet, Bambam sighed, watching as Jackson stared over the edge. “Fine, who was it for?”
“None of your business!” Jackson snapped quickly, and Bambam had to fight the urge to laugh.
“Who else would wear a kitten suit?” Bambam countered, and when Jackson opened up his mouth to respond, Bambam held up a hand, “A leather kitten suit?” At that, Jackson went silent.
“Ya’know,” Bambam spoke up after a moment, leaning back onto his palms and crossing his legs at the ankles. He waited until Jackson met his gaze before continuing, “I’m not surprised Jinyoungie is a freak, I mean, the guy reads erotica novels for fun, but you,” he giggled as Jackson shot him a glare, “You always seemed like the vanilla type to me, hyung,” he finished, a teasing grin on his face even as Jackson quickly leaned over and dead legged him.
“It’s not like that, you brat!” Jackson shouted as he plopped back down on the floor, brushing the hair out of his face with a huff.
Bambam groaned, leaning over and smacking Jackson’s arm. That didn’t stop him from snickering at the elder, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “What’s not like what? You being vanilla isn’t like that? So after all this time, my assumption that you weren’t kinky was wrong?”
Jackson glared daggers into Bambam’s profile, hand quickly finding his way to the younger’s slim thigh, giving it a squeeze - nails included. “You mention this to anyone else, you’re dead to me, you hear me?”
“I can’t make any promises, hyung. This is just way too good not to share. I’m sure Jinyoungie hyung wouldn’t mind the word getting around anyway…”
Unfortunately, Jackson wasn’t joking. Right as Bambam had begun to turn away to inform the masses of Jackson’s intimate escapades, Jackson began to morph into a creature of pure menace. Skin turning green and nails lengthening, all trace of Jackson’s amiable demeanour fell away as his true self was revealed in the face of imminent danger.
“You will not tell anyone of what you know!” Jackson thundered. Bambam swore he felt the entire house shake. So in awe of Jackson’s unveiled power was he, he fell to the ground immediately and began to beg for forgiveness for the error of his ways.
Bambam could not raise his eyes, would not raise his eyes, in fear of Jackson’s festering rage. For an excruciating moment all Bambam could hear was the air flushing in and out of his lungs, the muffled clop clop of cloven hooves behind the door. “I won’t tell a soul,” Bambam promised and for a while, Jackson said nothing.
Then, with a suddenness that had Bambam’s whole body jerking, Jackson spoke, “Ogres are like onions. We have many layers.”
Bambam raised his head to look at Jackson who had visibly softened. “You have seen too many of my layers. Tell no one.”
Bambam stared deeply into his eyes, and he spoke with an unusual seriousness to his tone. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Jackson was, however, not yet satisfied. He took Bambam’s hands into his own and squeezed them with as much strength as he could muster. “You must swear on it. Swear on Coco’s life.”
Bambam gasped audibly. “How could you say such a thing? Do you not trust me that you would make me swear on the life of a living fluffball?”
Jackson jerked on his arms with an unnecessary harshness. “Promise me!” he begged. “No one must ever know.”
“Fine, I will,” Bambam huffed. “But if you tell anyone I was the one who stole Youngjae’s stuffed bear I’m telling on you,” he leaned in to whisper sinisterly, “to JYP-hyung.”
What feels like the combined power of twelve freezers shivers violently down Jackson’s spine.
“You wouldn’t.”
The sudden stillness in Bambam’s eyes, that emotionless, borderline-cruel blanket that covers his face speaks on the contrary. Betrayal is gripping. To think all those cumulative years of Jackson thinning his wallet out, meal after meal after meal - spontaneous ramen, the priciest meat, window shopping that never stayed window shopping and that already boyish voice reaching a squeaky hyung, please - would account for this kind of ridiculous threat.
Jackson feels his over-dyed brittle hair thinning.
“If I swear on Coco’s life, and if I fail still, don’t you think this is still really unfair to Youngjae? A dog and a teddy bear, how much can a grown man take!?”
“A swear is a swear hyung. PD-nim,” Bam shakes his head nervously, “there’s more to that man than meets the eye.”
A solemn, rigid nod. Jackson fights another shiver. “That’s why he wears sunglasses, Bam.”
And it’s with a swing of a door and a small breeze before Bam Bam leaves the room and Jackson to wallow in his thoughts. The traitorous image of the younger male’s backside burning into his mind. Jackson takes a small sigh, tugging at the ends of his—coarse, overdyed—hair. It’s then and there that Jackson considers the repercussions of failure and just how much compensation would be. Would it be the monetary equivalent of a pet dog? Or would it be some unmeasurable emotional equivalent that he’d spend this life and the next paying back. He considers asking Mark just how much getting Coco was, or maybe he could ask Jaebum what the best consolation for letting go of a dear pet be.
Everything seemingly falters along the slippery slope, “what-if’s” avalanching into a massive figure ready to roll across his aching (aging) body and leave him buried in the harsh, cold snow. “It’s okay,” Jackson tells himself, “I just have to not fail.” He reassures as he steps upon empty ground, gravity turning upside down as he tries not to succumb to his wavering vision. He places a hand on his chest, as if he could ease the restlessness of his heart. He wonders how much karma of all his past lives he needs to accumulate just enough luck for success. Or whether or not God would borrow him some to pay back in the afterlife.
It’s foolproof. Unfortunately, for Bambam at least, Jackson is the personification of stupidity, and knows that well. He is nothing if not self-aware (and health conscious).
He turns up the next day at the same shabby house with a crate under his arm, stubbing his toe on a step as he makes his way up. The sky is as putrid grey as his soul and the sun’s rays like feeble, unmotivated feelers poking through pathetically- it’s not a good day for an apology, but it’s now or never to change the course of Jackson’s shitty fate.
The door opens, and Bambam looks surprised and slightly discouraged- there’s also a Froot Loop on the front of his shirt that Jackson neglects to point out.
“Hey,” the older man says, fumbling with the crate in his hands, and Bambam peers over, curious for a moment. Then Jackson pulls out the ugliest stuffed dog known to mankind and thrusts it across. “Let’s start over?”
CrimeAU, angst yugbam Stockholm syndrome where bam's the victim of trafficking n yug was tasked to keep an eye on him. Angst would be great, w/ love n sexual tension.
Warnings: major swearing, derogatory language, indirect mentions of abuse, prostitution, inexplicit sexual content (not smut)
Author: Keannah
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: this took me way longer to write considering how short it is… i feel like it’s kind of lacking in angst and sexual tension, but i tried my best, especially with human trafficking being such a touchy and topic we don’t really get enough insight about… regardless, i hope you enjoy it!
Bangkok, Thailand. Year 2017.
It happened in a split second. One moment Bambam was walking home from his night classes in school and the next he was struggling to wake up in the back of a car with his hands tied up in his lap.
“Oh, you’re awake, pretty boy?”
Bambam kept his mouth shut - one reason being he was too afraid to speak. He looked down at his tied hands, too afraid to struggle and too afraid to escape. Would they kill him if he did?
The car came to a halt and he was pulled out of the car harshly, stumbling over his own feet before he could regain his balance. The streets in front of him sent a bubbling feeling down his throat, both an eeriness and a sense of warmth emitting from it. The moon was high and bright, and with his senses returning back to normal, he understood what situation he was in.
He was a victim of human trafficking. The red lights and men and women dressed in skimpy clothing gave it all away. That’s probably going to be him. There was no use in making a run for it - the men that had taken to him were leaving bruises in his arms and the red light district was far from central Bangkok.
He hated being manhandled, the tugged him and tore him and stuck him in uncomfortable clothing, fixed his physical appearance to look more appealing.
He was given a room to stay in, no windows and only a door where one of the men stand to make sure he doesn’t make an attempt to escape. He and the man never exchanged words - he was simply there to keep an eye on Bambam and nothing more.
The first time Bambam was brought out to stand in the district, he shook with fear. A tall, muscular man requested him for the night, and he couldn’t do anything but accept. The man brought in a couple thousand for the men running the district.
As soon as his client left, Bambam returned to his room in the basement of the brothel they were letting him stay in. He’d forgotten about the man who stood inside his room, crawling into bed and crying himself to sleep.
His body was tattered - the man was rather harsh and every inch of his body felt violated, but there wasn’t much he could do. If he resisted he’d get more abused, if he didn’t bring in money the brothel owners were likely to have their way with him. This was his life now, and there was no way back.
Bambam cried himself to sleep for several nights after, not noticing the way the guard twitched whenever he heard a sob - he was the only man in the brothel that hadn’t touched him yet. And it was safe to say he was a little bit grateful.
“Do you talk?” Bambam mumbled one night after shedding a few tears, cheek still dug into his pillow.
“It’s not my job to talk.” His Thai was broken, like most of the workers in the brothel, but it was clear enough for the boy to understand him.
“Do you like working here?” Bambam let out a bitter chuckle. “Your job sounds far better than mine.”
“I don’t.” His voice was firm - perhaps he was keeping his composure, if he were to act anyway out of line, was it possible he’d be in trouble?
“Why not? So many pretty boys and pretty girls for you to play with, for you to have your way with. Isn’t it heaven?” Bambam sat up, barely able to make out the guard in the dark.
“It’s not.”
Bambam scoffed and laid back down. “Fine, don’t talk. I’ll shut up.”
One afternoon, hours before Bambam had to be back outside to sell himself again, the guard brought him his lunch before returning back to his position.
“Why did you cry?”
Bambam set down his utensils and looked up at the guard. It was the first time he’d really looked at him - he was tall in demeanor, pouty pink lips and a mole under his left eye. He looked young. Why was he working in such a place if he was so young? He pursed his lips.
“Before my first client, I was a virgin.” He swallowed thickly, looking down at his nearly empty plate. “Growing up I always dreamt of losing my virginity to someone I loved. Not a monster who left scratches and bruises on my skin and called me a bitch, a dirty slut, and names that ring so loud in my head that it hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like you can do anything about it. Have you really not slept with any of the people here?”
He shook his head. “I never even thought about it.”
“You seem like a good guy.” Bambam shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth, sighing. “You must be the only good guy here.”
“I suppose you’re not wrong there.”
“Stay that way.”
Bambam cleaned his plate free of any scraps, neatly setting his utensils down before retiring to his bed. The guard stood firm, waiting until Bambam was a safe distance before picking up the plate.
“What’s your name?” Bambam asked as he watched the guard twist the handle of the door.
“Yugyeom. Call me Yugyeom.”
Bambam delved himself underneath his blankets, hoping none of the brothel owners would come in asking him to take a shift. Behind his eyes was the tall, kind guard with a soft demeanor - maybe everyone in the world wasn’t as evil as he’d thought.
Over time the two of them shared small talk, usually it would be before Bambam was sent out to the brothel, because when he came back he never wanted to talk, and Yugyeom understood.
Every night Yugyeom followed Bambam to the brothel, as by order from the owners, and it hurt his heart to witness the sad look on Bambam’s face every time a new client asked for that pretty boy over there, with the pretty lips.
Yugyeom’s job was to wait until they were done to escort Bambam back to his room, that is, if no one else requested him or they were substituting him. That particular night, when the client left, Bambam didn’t follow after him and present himself once again, instead he stayed inside, where Yugyeom found him weeping.
He attempted to pull him by the arm, but Bambam flinched, insisting he went on his own, that he was okay, when he wasn’t. But who ever cared that Bambam was traumatized? He still got sent out, still cried, he still got manhandled and tossed around, even when he couldn’t take it anymore. The brothel owners only ever cared about their money.
Bambam called over Yugyeom to come sit next to him on his bed, there were tears rolling down his face as he kissed the taller boy needily, desperation and want in his actions. Yugyeom held him so delicately, as if he would break if he did any more than the slight brush of skin on skin.
“Yugyeom.” Bambam’s voice broke as did their kiss, “you wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”
“Never.”
The Thai pulled him by the collar and crashed their lips together, the salty taste of his tears mixing with their saliva. “I need you.”
“Are you sure? I…”
“I want to feel okay for once. I trust you to make me feel okay.”
Bambam woke up the next morning and Yugyeom wasn’t there to warm him up, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach.
His door opened slowly, and in came Yugyeom with a tray of food for breakfast, setting it down at the small table before retreating to to the door.
Before Yugyeom could walk away, Bambam pulled him close for a kiss, and instead of needy and lustful, it was languid and loving, similar to the kisses they’d shared before they both fell asleep.
“We can’t.” Yugyeom simply said, pursing his lips and retreating back to the door.
Bambam didn’t say a word and stared at his food with an empty gaze, shoving a spoonful into his mouth every so often when he felt Yugyeom’s eyes on him.
And they went nights like that. Yugyeom staring at the other longingly, the same from Bambam, especially after every time he returned from serving a client, there was sadness and hurt in his eyes, his nose, his lips. It was always there.
Bambam laid, staring at the ceiling knowing well that Yugyeom was standing there, unwavering like he’d been in the beginning.
“They want to send me out to meet a client. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any scarier.”
“Can’t you reject it?” Yugyeom mumbled.
“When was the choice ever mine to make?”
So the next evening, Yugyeom escorted Bambam out of the brothel for the first time in what felt like years to the smaller. Yugyeom led him carefully, never laid a hand on him unless it was to guide him slightly - the feeling of being manhandled when he was being shoved into the car felt similar to when he got there.
The man was unattractive, his drink tasted funny, and he didn’t remember anything after that. He woke up to bruises all over his body, an ache in his back and fear clouding his mind.
He had to leave, somehow. They said the client promised to have him back before two a.m, but the sun already risen, and the man held him firmly in his grasp.
“So you’re awake, pretty boy? I’m not done with you yet.”
Bambam’s body shook with fear, twisting his body away from the man as best as he could, but the displeased look on the man’s face and the fear that he’d hurt him put him to a halt.
“Dirty little slut, trying to get away from me? I’m paying for you, bitch, want my money’s worth.”
He swallowed his words, looking anywhere but the man’s eyes. It was never this bad. It was always tolerable, it was never this bad. Why did it have to get this bad?
The man’s fingernails dug into his side, but Bambam just gritted his teeth and beared the pain, a hotness welling up behind his eyes.
A knock resounded from the door, and the man grumbled, “don’t move, whore.”
He stayed in the bed as the man approached the hotel door. He opened it and immediately was ambushed. The sound of a taser rumbled the air, the client falling to the ground immediately after.
Yugyeom stepped into the room, wrapping a blanket around his naked body before dragging him out of the room without a word. “Thank you.”
Bambam sat in the passenger seat of some car, Yugyeom at the wheel and driving far away. He watched the taller for a few moments before he began to cry. Everything became blurry and hazy, there was a dull ache in his body from all the pain he’d endured - he didn’t even know how long he’d been a part of the brothel.
They ended up in the parking lot of the international airport, and Yugyeom came to the passenger side with clean clothing, dressing him carefully and delicately as if he’d break.
“We’re getting out of here.” Yugyeom finally breathed out. “I can’t stand to see you get hurt any longer. We’re going somewhere safer. I destroyed all the records they had of you and any possible way for them to track you.”
The Thai nodded weakly, hands in his lap. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I took so long.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. You found me. You saved me. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Bambam leaned down to Yugyeom who was squatting outside of the car, kissing him softly and slowly once more.
yugbam sneak alcohol from the hyungs and get really drunk one night and bambam ends up really really sick from drinking too much and yugeom gets so scared bc he doesnt know what to do he thinks that bambam is dying or something and he has to go wake up junior or jb or someone and yugeom starts crying and stuff-- fluffy and funny and cute omg
warnings: drinking? and one swear word from jinyoung, naturally
author: Kay
word count: 1.9k
a/n: To be honest, this is my first time writing something based on Yugbam (and first time doing something other than JJP/Markson). Hope you enjoy the pure platonic fluff :)
BamBam was a lightweight.
Based on his thin frame and inability to turn down a drink, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone, especially Yugeyom. But what he wasn’t expecting that night was for BamBam to suggest a risky act that could get both of them caught and in more trouble than either was comfortable dealing with. While BamBam was a wild child, acting on his first impulse, Yugyeom was observant and somewhat cautious, willingly following along with any plots BamBam could imagine only after he decided if the possible consequences were worth the fun.
When BamBam had suggested dipping into Jaebum and Mark’s “hidden” stash of chilled soju in the back corner of the dorm’s shared refrigerator, Yugyeom was immediately against it, knowing that their leader had a way to know his things were being touched without even looking and based on their track record, BamBam would be the first accused, Yugyeom dragged along as his partner in crime. It wasn’t like they weren’t old enough to enjoy it alone, but the older of the pair seemed to prefer the difficult road, taking what wasn’t his and causing a problem, creating a ruckus for no other reason other than for fun.
With all of that having been said, Yugyeom still managed to find himself in the room he shared with BamBam, one bottle of soju already completely empty, both boys lounging on one bed as they attempted to play video games on the small set atop a dresser. It was like any other night together, however there was a subtle buzz building, BamBam playing the game recklessly as he tossed his controller away, scoffing loudly as it fell to the floor with a crack.
“How is this fun?” BamBam asked, arms crossed as he stood up, gesturing at the television. “I thought drinking while we did this would make me play better and instead it made me worse at the game. How is that possible?”
“Aren’t most video games based on a lot of multitasking and hand-eye coordination?” Yugyeom asked, the statement implying heavily that he was right. “How would drinking help any of that?”
“Video games were a stupid idea anyway,” BamBam insisted, sitting back down and grabbing two more bottles of the pirated booze. “Let’s just enjoy the fact that we don’t have to share this with anyone.”
“Alright,” Yugyeom nodded, the two opening their own bottles and beginning to down the contents quickly, Yugyeom’s inhibitions about the master plot slowly fading with every sip. It was just like him to put up a fight early only to give in later, always wanting BamBam to feel like he had it all figured out. If it was weird to look up to someone only six months older than him, Yugyeom would accept the label, wearing it proudly with his arm slung tight around BamBam’s narrow shoulders.
One bottle each quickly became two, music cranked up to a level that was loud enough to fill their room without disturbing the others, BamBam demonstrating the latest viral dance craze for Yugyeom to imitate, the younger picking up on each move with ease. Feeling loose from the mixture of soju and American music, Yugyeom cracked open yet another bottle, taking a sip as his feet glided across the tilted floor of the dorm. hips swaying and popping back and forth, grooving to the beat. BamBam watched in awe as he usually did, cheering him on and eventually joining in, creating his own simple version of Yugyeom’s spontaneous routine.
Lost in his own world, Yugyeom continued to dance and drink, eyes closed as he felt the rhythm and melodies of every track, feeling up his own body. He was drunk and he didn’t care, happy to be in the safety of the dorms instead of out at a club with too many sweaty bodies and obstacles to having fun. All he needed was a random playlist pumping from a shoddy speaker and his best friend who had suddenly gone quiet, Yugyeom’s eyes popping open at the realization.
One quick scan of the room verified that BamBam had exited at one point, leaving Yugyeom to dance like an idiot all alone, a too common of an occurrence to really shake his nerves. However, BamBam never went anywhere quietly, always forcing everyone to listen to his purpose and destination before doing so, and he certainly hadn’t clued the younger in on his future whereabouts. That fact left the tipsy boy to panic, nearly tumbling to the ground as he scrambled to start his search, opening the door to the main shared living area first. Eyes searching around before he quietly started looking through blankets and pillows on the couch, Yugyeom had little luck, checking in the kitchen as well before heading right back to the room empty handed.
If Yugyeom was BamBam, where would he go? Certainly not to one of their hyung’s rooms knowing they would interrogate him regarding his sobriety, letting him self-incriminate before actually addressing the situation. With the dreary weather outside, Yugyeom crossed that off the list as well, knowing BamBam wouldn’t be caught dead in even a slight drizzle, whining when even a gentle splash from a puddle touched the edges of his designer boots. He was running out of options, pacing back and forth in their bedroom before noticing the sliver of light peeking out from under their bathroom door, Yugyeom hitting his forehead in disbelief of his own stupidity. Knocking on the door lightly before turning the knob and walking in, Yugyeom didn’t expect to see BamBam already leaning over the toilet, face buried in his arm as he groaned dramatically.
“Are you okay?” Yugyeom asked, eyes wide at the sight in front of him. “You look terrible!”
“I had… a little too much… to drink,” BamBam waved his hand in the air, clearly still at a high level of intoxication as his words slurred. “It’s fine, I’m fine! Totally… totally fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Yugyeom stared down at his friend, the worst thoughts coming to mind as BamBam held his stomach, whining in pain. “Aren’t you going to throw up or something?”
“I can’t,” BamBam pouted, looking up at Yugyeom, face pale and eyes slipping closed. “Too… too drunk to throw up.”
“What?” Yugyeom questioned, not in his right mind, but certainly doing better than BamBam. “You’re… you’re starting to freak me out.”
As BamBam continued to lean over the toilet bowl, barely moving from his position as he whined in pain, Yugyeom tried to think of the next logical step, not made out for taking care of his older friend, already panicking as to what could possibly be wrong with BamBam. Did he drink too much too fast? Was there something else in the drink that made him this way? Did their hyungs purposefully place decoy soju that would tear them up from the inside out?
“I’m getting Jinyoung,” Yugyeom decided, not thinking of the possible consequences that would come with it. “Stay here.”
Without listening to the rush of protests from BamBam, Yugyeom tried to rush to Jinyoung’s room, knocking without a second thought. After waiting and getting no answer, the knocks became louder, whining and fretting, imagining BamBam doubling over in even more pain than before. Just at the thought, tears began to prick along his eyes, some rolling down his cheeks as Jinyoung answered, the older man visibly annoyed at the intrusion.
“Do you know what time it is?” Jinyoung snapped before looking at Yugyeom’s twisted face, tears steadily streaming from his eyes. “Yugyeom-ah, what is going on?”
“B-Bam… BamBam is dying,” Yugyeom blubbered, his level of intoxication finally catching up to how much soju he had consumed, his feelings bursting from his chest. “He’s going to die in the bathroom and I don’t want him to die, hyung! You have to help him!”
“He’s not dying,” Jinyoung hardly missed a beat, holding Yugyeom’s shoulder. “Look at me, okay? It’s late and you woke me up, so we’re going to fix this.”
“He’s dead, I know he’s dead,” Yugyeom whined, missing Jinyoung roll his eyes as he slid his slippers on and left the doorway.
“Show me where the body is then,” Jinyoung deadpanned, following the emotional mess that Yugyeom had become to the bathroom. As the youngest pushed the door open, Jinyoung peered inside, letting Yugyeom wipe his own tears as the blubbering ceased. Just as he thought he had done the right thing, a firm hand smacked the back of his head, shaking him back to the current scene.
“Yah, he’s not even in here, you idiot,” Jinyoung complained, motioning around the empty bathroom. “Are you both fucking with me?”
“No!” Yugyeom countered, shaking his head as he wiped his eyes dry. “I swear, he was bent over the toilet and squirming around in pain. I swear, Jinyoung-hyung! I saw it with my own eyes!”
“Sure, I believe it,” Jinyoung rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he left the bathroom. “How drunk are both of you?”
“What? Us, drunk?” Yugyeom shook his head more, trying to put on a more sober face. “We don’t even have any alcohol here, hyung. How would we get drunk?”
“Be honest with me and I won’t snitch on you to Jaebum and Mark, okay?” Jinyoung smirked, peering over Yugyeom’s shoulder into their room more, nodding his head in the direction of the beds. “Maybe that lump on the bed will admit to it before you will. BamBam-ah, how are you feeling?”
Yugyeom watched as Jinyoung slid past his shoulder, making his way over to a slumbering body under a few blankets in BamBam’s bed. Could it have been possible that BamBam had miraculously recovered in the bathroom during the short trip Yugyeom took to get someone to help? It didn’t seem like a likely outcome with the way BamBam was whining in pain, but as Jinyoung sat on the edge of the bed, checking the boy’s forehead for any sign of extreme warmth, Yugyeom joined him, sighing as he realized he may have possibly overreacted - just a tiny bit.
“Take some aspirin and drink a few glasses of water before you both go to sleep,” Jinyoung calmly explained, both of the younger boys nodding in order to avoid a stronger fight. “I’ll take the empty bottles and explain the situation to the others if you both give me double the value of what you drank. Got it?”
Nodding again as he watched Jinyoung move from the bed and collect their trash, Yugyeom glanced over at BamBam cuddled up under the blankets, sighing in relief.
“Are you okay now?” Yugyeom asked, a pang of worry on the edge of his words. “I didn’t know what to do…”
“Better now that I threw up,” BamBam giggled softly, turning on his side to face his friend. “That was still fun, though.”
“I guess so,” Yugyeom lounged back, BamBam shifting over to make room for him on the small twin mattress. “You really scared me.”
“Sorry,” BamBam smiled softly. “I thought you’d be used to my dramatics by now.”
“I should have known better,” Yugyeom smiled, stealing some of the covers for his own use, the two friends a tangled mess of arms and legs, a position that went back years and years to the beginning of their friendship.
“To know that I was being dramatic or to listen to any of my dumb plans?” BamBam giggled again, Yugyeom shaking his head as he laughed under his breath.
“The first,” he replied. “I’ll always like your dumb plans.”
“Thanks,” BamBam grinned, patting Yugyeom’s head. “You’re a good friend.”
BamJae during the pool v app where bambam keeps company to youngjae before he fell sick
Warnings: Descriptions of being sick, and some extreme unoriginality xD
Author: TJ
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: This is a pretty generic scenario fic and like half of it is Youngjae being sick OTL but I hope you guys can still enjoy the fluff for this pretty under-written ship <3
~~
Youngjae couldn’t remember the last time he felt so terrible. Sure, his health had never been particularly great, but being bogged down by a lingering cold was still infinitely better than whatever plague he’d managed to contract this time.
He knew he had a fever - the thermometer he’d stuck under his tongue minutes before had confirmed as much - but he still couldn’t stop shivering. The hyungs had been all too happy to heap the blankets from their beds on top of his own, but buried under three or four comforters, his body still wouldn’t give up the embarrassing trembling.
His head, however, was suffering from the exact opposite symptoms. His skull was throbbing from his overheating brain, just bordering on being outright painful. His eyes were watering even while shut, cheeks flushed as he struggled to suck in air past his congested airways. Even just lying there immobile was exhausting, and unfortunately, sleep wouldn’t come so easily now thanks to the long afternoon nap he’d taken earlier.
But perhaps the worst of it all was the anxiety knotting his stomach, a gnawing worry about his condition. He needed to perform soon, but how could he when he could hardly make it to the bathroom without vertigo sending him sprawling? He couldn’t afford to be sick, not now, and god just the thought of letting everyone down was enough to make him gag.
Quite literally.
Which was bad. Very, very bad, Youngjae soon realized, his throat seizing once his gag reflex had been involuntarily activated. He was regretting thinking about anything at all once stomach acid started to rise up in his throat, chest heaving as he all but fell out of bed, one shaky hand coming up to cover his mouth as the other frantically searched for something to help stabilize himself on his stumble across the room towards the bathroom.
But of course, his right knee decided to buckle halfway there, so Youngjae was quite resigned to puking his guts out on the hotel carpet when his weight was suddenly lifted, two arms coming to scoop him up from under his armpits and force him back upright.
Youngjae didn’t have the mental capacity to register anything else before he was upending the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, throat burning. There was relief somewhere at the back of his mind at somehow making it to the bathroom, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it much, too busy with his violent retching.
It was a trying few minutes, the hand patting his back through the whole ordeal managing to make it marginally better. Youngjae was dripping sweat by the time the gagging finally stopped, sinking down to sit on the tiled floor with a relieved sigh. It took all his self-restraint to not press his burning forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet.
He leaned his cheek up against it instead.
“You okay?” Bambam’s concerned face came into view, along with a wad of proffered toilet paper. Youngjae blinked once, clearly surprised, though unsure what exactly about the situation had caught him off guard. Nonetheless, he took the toilet paper from Bambam with a half-groan as thanks, wiping his mouth off with disgust before tossing the now soiled wad into the toilet.
Youngjae just breathed for a few more moments, Bambam padding away to return with a cup of water.
“Can you get up?” Bambam might as well not have asked the question, already proceeding to pull Youngjae up to his feet without waiting for a response. “You wanna rinse your mouth out first?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Youngjae croaked, leaning heavily against the bathroom counter as Bambam went to flush the toilet. While he felt even weaker than before, it was also undeniable that his stomach felt much better, and after ridding his mouth of the terrible aftertaste, Youngjae almost felt refreshed.
“Why are you here?” Youngjae’s brain, no longer preoccupied with vomiting, finally managed to process his previous confusion at Bambam’s presence. “Aren’t you guys going to do a vlive?”
“We thought leaving you alone would be a bad idea,” Bambam slung an arm around Youngjae’s waist, allowing him to lean up against Bambam comfortably as they slowly made their way back to the bed. “All the staff went out for a late night snack, and the vlive’s going to be pretty spontaneous, anyways.”
“Ah.”
Upon reaching the bed, Youngjae groaned as he sank down onto the mattress, burying his hot face in the now-cooled pillows as enthusiastically a sick person could. There was a faint giggle that must’ve come from Bambam in reaction, but Youngjae didn’t care - his ears were half-plugged, anyways.
“Hyung, you wanna get under the covers?” Bambam finally asked after a few moments, amusement still lacing his voice. Youngjae whined, kicking his feet weakly.
“The pillows aren’t cold anymore…”
“Oh come on, get under the covers,” Bambam forcibly rolled Youngjae over, lifting up the blankets before rolling Youngjae back underneath. “And just flip the pillows, see? The other side is nice and cold again.”
“Ahhhhhhh…”
Cheeks once again soothed by the cool cloth, Youngjae blearily blinked his eyes open, staring up at Bambam hazily.
“When did you become so smart?”
“What do you mean, when did I become smart? I’ve always been smart, okay?” Bambam was immediately indignant, cheeks puffing and Youngjae laughed, though it ended more on a wet cough. “Smart enough to stay healthy, too.”
“Aw man, now that’s a low blow,” Youngjae grumbled, eyes slipping shut once more, finding the darkness of his lids much less aggravating for his headache. “But thanks, Bam. You can go join the everyone else now, I’m okay. I think I’ve puked everything up now, anyways.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” There was the sound of something scraping against carpet, and the proximity of Bambam’s voice when he next spoke made it clear he’d dragged a chair to sit beside Youngjae’s bed.
“I’ll stay with you. It’s not an official schedule, so it doesn’t really matter if I’m missing. And the fans will think it’s weird if you’re the only one not there.”
“Are you sure?” Youngjae felt like he should be protesting more, because he was fine alone, really. The fans would be disappointed already that he was missing, there was no need to take Bambam away, too.
But it’d be a lie to say he didn’t feel more comforted with someone at his bedside, and speaking more words to convince Bambam otherwise seemed to require too much energy he just didn’t have.
He was far too sleepy, and goddamn it the pillow was getting too warm again…
“I’m sure.”
Bambam’s voice sounded vaguely distant, but the shifting of his pillows was all too close and real, the fingers combing through his hair to massage his sore scalp sending tingles down his spine. The satisfied sigh at the renewed coolness against his face was entirely involuntary as Youngjae slipped further towards slumber, his exhausted body finally coming to a rest.
He would worry about everything else later.
For now, he’d allow himself to indulge in Bambam’s care a little longer.
For the weekly challenge! I'd like to req a cute yugbam where yugyeom's a vampire and he fell in love with a human (bambam) but it's kinda not allowed in yugyeom's world but they still fight for it... please make it a happy ending! thank you!
Warnings: swearing. some mentions of violence/gore.Word Count: 6484Author: Jessica
A/N: it’s been so long ;; I hope ya’ll like this!
Yugyeom chuckles asBambam groans, his face smushed against his pillow and hands clutching hisstomach. He’s whining about how he’s going to burst any second, a big explosionof guts and ew. “Will you miss me if I explode, Yugyeommie?” Bambam asks,his voice muffled by his pillow.
“Of course,” Yugyeom says, placating the other. Hestands up from Bambam’s computer chair and shuffles towards the bed. He flopsdown beside Bambam, who immediately curls himself around Yugyeom, his thinfingers grabbing Yugyeom’s shirt, while his bony legs knock against Yugyeom’s,twining them together.
For as long as Yugyeom has known Bambam, this is how theyspend the boy’s birthday. They don’t go out into the city or hit up any of thelocal bars; technically Bambam isn’t legal, but untechnically, people heredon’t give a shit. Instead, they order a couple of pizzas, bake a shitty cake,and gorge themselves while watching Bambam’s favorite movies.
Yugyeom brushes back Bambam’s bangs, his other hand settlingon Bambam’s tiny waist. For a second, he thinks back to when he first sawBambam, fifteen and furious at the world, his small shoulders far too heavy forsomeone so young. Bambam is nineteen now, though, and Yugyeom feels a rush ofaffection for his best friend, who’s overcome so much and has grown so strong.“You okay?”
Bambam cuddles closer to Yugyeom in response, his food comasurely kicking in. Yugyeom figures Bambam will probably nap for a few hours,before dragging Yugyeom out for a nighttime stroll.
For someone who’s lived as long as him, Yugyeom likes acertain level of predictability.
“Ah, the stars are so pretty tonight!” Bambam shouts as hewalks along the edge of Mr. Lee’s farm, his socks and shoes stuffed into hisbackpack, so that he can feel the dewy grass between his toes. Yugyeomremembers the first time he brought Bambam out here, the summer after he turnedsixteen. Their friendship was just beginning to blossom, skirting along theedge of something truly amazing.
His thoughts are interrupted when Bambam practically jumps into hisarms, a dramatic pout on his lips. “You’re not paying attention tome!” Bambam whines, but Yugyeom can see the hidden message in his eyes. You okay?
Yugyeom contemplates telling Bambam his thoughts, but decideson teasing him instead; he doesn’t want to sour the other’s birthday, afterall. “Awe, poor baby,” Yugyeom gently sways Bambam from side to side, almost asif they’re slow dancing. “How can I make it up to you?” he asks, because he’salways a sucker for making Bambam happy.
He really is the dumbest guy ever, falling for his best friendlike this. His human best friend, he can hear himself saying, but quicklypushes that voice to the back of his mind.
Bambam wiggles out of Yugyeom’s hold and takes a step back,staring up at Yugyeom with careful consideration. “Honestly?” he asks andYugyeom nods, albeit a little apprehensively. He’s certain he knows where thisconversation is going, because it’s the same topic Bambam always brings up onhis birthday.
Bambam steps forward and reaches for Yugyeom’s wrists, hisfingers circling around the cold flesh. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re not awerewolf,” Bambam starts, which throws Yugyeom for a loop, because that’s nothow this usually goes. Usually, Bambam will mention how Yugyeom hasn’t agedsince they first met, to which Yugyeom will reply it’s nothing, I just have a young face, I’m totally a normal.
“I mean, we’ve hung out on the full moon before and I didn’tnotice you growing a tail, so,” Bambam smiles, his expression calm andcollected, while Yugyeom feels like he’s about to have a panic attack.
“Bam–”
“And you’re not a spirit or whatever, cause I’ve seen yourdumbass walk into plenty of walls,” Bambam snickers, his nose wrinklingadorably. “So, what’s left?”
Yugyeom keeps his mouth shut, knowing Bambam will justinterrupt him if he speaks.
“You’re sensitive to silver and sunlight, butlots of creatures are,” Bambam drops Yugyeom’s wrists and reaches for hismouth, using his fingers to pull back his upper lip and reveal his gums andteeth. “I don’t see any fangs, but they could be retractable?” He lets go ofYugyeom’s lip and moves his hands to his shoulder, gripping them. “You’re notbothered by holy water, crucifixes, and I can see you in the mirror and inpictures. You also haven’t aged in four fucking years, man,” Bambam chucklesweakly, shaking his head in exasperation.
Yugyeom should’ve known better than to befriend ahuman, and for such a long time period too. He just couldn’t help himself,there was something about Bambam that immediately drew him in and made him wantto be a part of the other’s life, no matter the cost.
Maybe it’s time he pays up, though.
“Oh, and you have no pulse,” Bambam casually adds, as if it’snot the biggest deal in the world. “C’mon man, you know everything about me,” he pleads with Yugyeom, a genuine pout on hislips as he gives Yugyeom’s shoulders a squeeze. “And I’m obviously not afraidof you, whatever you are.”
Yugyeom’s eyes narrow at that and he reaches for Bambam,grabbing his waist just a tad too tight, judging by the pained gasp that leavesBambam’s mouth as he winces. “Maybe you should be afraid,” Yugyeom hisses, butBambam doesn’t even flinch. “I could hurt you, you know?”
“Nah,” Bambam shakes his head, smiling confidently. “You’dnever hurt me.”
Yugyeom sighs, and despite the risk and trouble he’ll get inif anyone else finds out, the words tumble from his lips in a hushed whisper.“Vampire,” he states, and then adds, a little louder, “And yes, the fangs areretractable.”
“That’s…” Bambam pauses, his smile turning into a full-blowngrin as he rushes to hug Yugyeom, burying his face in the other’s neck. “That’sso fucking cool, oh my god!” he squeals, wiggling excitedly in Yugyeom’s arms.Yugyeom, of course, can hear the exact moment Bambam’s heart begins to quicken,sending his blood rushing through his veins.
Yugyeom gulps, ignoring the constant desire that itches awayat his mind.
“It’s not that cool,” he mutters, the words heavy on histongue. He eases himself out of Bambam’s grasp, ignoring the other’s saddenedlook. “C’mon, we both have work tomorrow and need our rest,” he reminds Bambam,who groans at the idea of waiting on rude customers and bussing tables in hisuncle’s restaurant. He nods nonetheless and loops his arm with Yugyeom’s, wholeads them back to Bambam’s place.
-
Bambam walks through the automatic doors at around 11:30 pm,about an hour later than he normally does. “Sorry,” Bambam yawns, brushing pastthe girls by the magazine rack. “We got packed the last hour and it took me foreverto finish cleaning.”
“That’s okay,” Yugyeom smiles, watching Bambam as he hoistshimself onto the counter and swings his legs over, jumping down to stand nextto Yugyeom, their shoulders brushing each other. The girls give them an oddlook, but Yugyeom doesn’t mind. Anyone who comes into the store on his shift ispretty used to seeing Bambam there too, until Yugyeom kicks him out around onein the morning.
“Slow evening?” Bambam asks, the dark circles under his eyeslooking stark under the fluorescent light. Yugyeom may have to kick him outearlier than usual.
Yugyeom nods, but he doesn’t mind the slow evenings. It’s whyhe took this job; inconspicuous, late hours…it was perfect for a monster likehim.
The girls walk over and dump several magazines onto thecounter, along with a few candy bars. Yugyeom greets them politely and rings uptheir purchases, while noticing the odd way they’re staring at Bambam. Theyquickly pay for the purchases and leave, but not before the words, “Gosh, thatone was so dark,” reaches their ears.
Bambam snorts and rolls his eyes, but seems unperturbed overall. Yugyeom can’t help but smile, because he remembers a time – beforeBambam graduated from high school – when people’s cruel words would break hisheart. Now, though, he brushes off their words like lint off his shoulders, andYugyeom couldn’t be more proud.
“Anyways, I wanna know more about this vampire thing,” Bambamchanges the subject as he hops back onto the counter and rests his palmsagainst the cool glass. He looks at Yugyeom with a mixture of curiosity andexpectation. Yugyeom chuckles in response and leans onto the counter, meetingBambam’s gaze.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Well,” Bambam says, drawing out the word as his head tilts tothe left. “Where do you get your blood from? How old are you? Are there otherslike you? Are there other monsters out there? What about–”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Yugyeom interrupts, eyes widening at thebarrage of questions. “Careful there, you were about to turn blue”! he teases,which Bambam scoffs at. “How about I start at the beginning and if you have anyquestions afterwards, I’ll answer them. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Although Yugyeom lived a life before he became a vampire, hisstory – this story – doesn’t start with him, but with Mark Tuan. “Well, it allbegan in 1847…” he says, because that’s the year Yi-En “Mark” Tuan moved withhis family to Sacramento, California, during the big gold rush. He was thirteenwhen his family moved and twenty when they decided to stay, after building newties in the community. Three years later and he was found “dead” on the sideof the road, two puncture wounds in his neck and a deep gash in his arm. Hewoke up several hours later, everything too bright, too loud, and with anunmistakable thirst for blood.
“Who bit Mark?” Bambam asks, watching Yugyeom with raptattention. Yugyeom can only shrug, because Mark has never revealed thatinformation to anyone, not even to Jinyoung.
“Who’s Jinyoung?”
“Jinyoung is Mark’s partner…” he continues, fast-forwarding tothe year 1987. Park Jinyoung traveled to Los Angeles when he was twenty years,in order to see the world beyond his parent’s narrow views and expectations. Hemet Mark at a tavern in the city, the two gravitating towards each other andstriking up an immediate friendship. They grew closer over time,Jinyoung finding comfort in Mark’s quiet nature, while Mark adored Jinyoung’szest for knowledge. After two years of secrecy, in regards to theirrelationship and Mark’s trueidentity, Mark revealed himself to his lover, fearing the worst.
The worst never came, though, and it was Jinyoung himself whoasked to become like Mark. “He told Mark he wanted to be with him forever, sothey could travel the world and see it change and grow.”
“Wow,” Bambam breathes out, his expression a mixture ofamazement and…sadness, it seems, if given the misty look that creeps over hiseyes. Before Yugyeom can ask what’s wrong, Bambam clears his throat and asks,“How many places have they been to? I bet they’ve seen everything.”
“Oh yeah,” Yugyeom smiles, easily forgetting the odd moment.“They’ve got this map, ya’know, and they mark off each time they visit a newcountry. They haven’t traveled much lately, though, since they don’t likeleaving me alone quite yet.”
“How come?”
“In our world, I’m still considered pretty young, so theydon’t like to leave me alone…in case I get overwhelmed,” Yugyeom coughs, thepleasant thrum of Bambam’s heartbeat always resounding in his ears. “Anyways, theyended up in London before the first World War…” he resumes his story, althoughwith a somber expression, one that doesn’t fail to escape Bambam’s attention.This part of his brother’s history has always been difficult for them, becauseof what Youngjae did.
“Who’s that?”
Choi Youngjae was taken from his home at the age of sixteen,due to his family’s debts, and was sold to the highest bidder; a man fromLondon who had a thing for “pretty orientals.” He and several other boys wereforced to work as prostitutes for this man, with the promise that one daythey’ll be returned to their families and could leave this horrible lifebehind.
After several years though, Youngjae knew that wasn’t thecase. He accepted his fate a long time ago, so when a handsome Chinese manbooked him for the evening, he didn’t think much of it. That is, until theman’s partner appeared from the shadows, a guilty – but hungry – expression onhis face.
“They were going to kill him!?”
Yugyeom nods. He knows they don’t like to talk about it, butbefore hospitals and blood banks began to store people’s blood, Mark andJinyoung used to feed from drifters and prostitutes, the people that no onewould really miss.
“They were,” Yugyeom nods again, his fingers tapping nervouslyon the counter. “But then Youngjae asked if he could be like them instead,which surprised them. Mark asked him why he’d want to be a vampire and Youngjaetold him he wanted a second chance at life, to be happy and not someone’sslave.”
Bambam’s hands move to cover his own, giving them a comfortingsqueeze. “Mark told him no, but Jinyoung felt really bad for Youngjae. Heconvinced Mark to let Youngjae go, but ended up sneaking into the brothel andchanging him, without Mark’s permission.”
“Is that a big deal?”
“As the oldest, Mark is our leader and it’s important wefollow his directions,” Yugyeom glances at the clock, which reads 1:39 am. He’salready kept Bambam too long. “I mean, it ended up working out in the end, butwhat Youngjae did to those people…”
“What happened?” Bambam asks, his eyes widening and hisbreathing speeding up. He’s afraid, and a part of Yugyeom thinks good, because Bambam should be afraidof what monsters like him are capable of. The other part, though, doesn’t wantto scare Bambam with the gory and savage details, so he keeps his explanationshort.
“He went after everyone who hurt him, and it took Mark andJinyoung nearly weeks to catch up. Mark tried to kill Youngjae, but Jinyoungbegged him not to,” Yugyeom shifts his hands, so that instead of Bambam holdinghis, he’s now holding Bambam’s. “It’s a long story, but basically, Jinyoungbecame responsible for Youngjae. He helped him move on from his previous lifeand to let go of all that pain. He also helped Mark to finally forgiveYoungjae, although,” he pauses, looking down at their hands, “He was prettypissed when Youngjae changed me without permission, but I think he’s over itnow.”
“When did that happen?”
“In 1963,” Yugyeom doesn’t miss the sharp intake of Bambam’sbreath, but continues nonetheless. “I had encephalitis. The doctors dideverything they could, but it was the 60’s, ya’know?” he sighs, closing hiseyes for a moment. He can almost remember it, the pain, but shakes the thoughtaway. “I was barely eighteen when I got sick and it just seemed so unfair.”
Bambam doesn’t say anything, giving Yugyeom all the time heneeds to compose himself and get through this. “Youngjae was working as ajanitor at the hospital, in order to get easy access to blood. I rememberseeing him around a lot, but when I got sicker, everything started blurringtogether…”
On the day he died, Youngjae came into his hospital room andemptied out the trash can, before taking a seat in the chair beside his bed. Hehad asked Yugyeom about himself, his life, and his illness. He then askedYugyeom, if given the chance, would he do anything to get better? “And I toldhim of course, because I was a kid and I wasn’t ready to die,” Yugyeom chucklessadly, finally meeting Bambam’s eyes once more. “He told me how he could saveme, that by infecting me with his blood, I’d never get sick again, or get hurt,or even grow old. I said yes, not even thinking about the consequences.”
“What consequences?” Bambam asks with a curious expression.“You’re stronger, faster, can’t di–”
“I had a family, Bambam,” Yugyeom interrupts, quicklyclarifying when Bambam’s mouth drops open in surprise. “My parents and mybrother, I mean. I never got to see or talk to them again.” The regret he feelsover leaving his family, even after all these years, still hangs heavy on hisconscious.
A quiet moment settles over them, slightly uncomfortable andfilled with more tension then they’re used to. Bambam clears his throat andeases his hands out of Yugyeom’s tight grip, letting them rest in his lap. “So,what about other supernatural creatures?”
“Huh?”
“You said if I had any questions…” Bambam reminds him with ashrug and Yugyeom smiles, appreciating the subject change.
“Well, Mark’s told me stories about different creatures, butI’ve only met other vampires and werewolves. In fact,” his smile grows into atoothy grin, “A couple of werewolves live with me and my brothers.”
“What!?”
-
It’s actually a pretty funny story, one that he tells Bambamover a pint of shared ice cream. Its past three in the morning and Bambamreally should go home and sleep, but Yugyeom knows he won’t leave until hearingthis story.
It starts with Youngjae, who happened to notice the two guysout in the fields. Unlike Mark or Jinyoung, who would’ve bristled at the sightof a couple of werewolves, Youngjae went out onto their back deck and yelledout, “Hey, you guys wanna come inside? I can order some chicken?”
A blond whirlwind rushed towards him, nearly colliding withYoungjae as he jumped onto the other, screaming happily. “Chicken? I love chicken!C’mon hyung!” he called to his friend, who glared at the blond in return,shaking his head. “Whatever, more for me then!!”
Once the blond, Jackson, is happily fed and napping away hisfood coma in Youngjae’s room, Youngjae goes back out into the field, a coupleof pieces of chicken on a plate. He found the other werewolf easily enough,listening for the sounds of his grumbling stomach. “Hey, I brought you somefood!” Youngjae said, before placing the plate onto the ground and walkingaway, going back inside the house.
Twenty minutes later and the sour wolf is tapping on thescreen door, looking pitiful in his dirty clothes and matted hair.
“How mad was Mark?” Bambam asks with a yawn, his headpillowed on Yugyeom’s chest after they migrated to Bambam’s place.
“He was pissed, but Youngjae had a pretty good idea on howto make it work. In exchange for keeping an eye on them during the full moon,they’d work at the hospital with Youngjae and help get us more blood.”
“That’s insane,” Bambam’s words are becoming more and moreslurred as sleep continues to pull at him. “Your life is insane…” is the lastthing he mumbles before his breathing even outs, little snores echoing in hisroom.
Yugyeom kisses the top of Bambam’s head with a smile, despite the ache in his chest returning. Despite all of his anger anddepression, he’s more or less come to terms with the loss of his family and hisprevious life; god knows he’s had enough time to get over it. He can’t imaginelosing Bambam though, the idea making him want to cling tighter to the boy inhis arms. A part of it is because he’s foolishly in love with Bambam, but abigger, more important part, is terrified to lose his one and only best friend.
It’s like his heart is an incomplete puzzle and Bambam isthe missing pieces, as clichéd and silly as that sounds.
“I’m going to miss you,” Yugyeom whispers as he untangleshimself out of Bambam’s grasp, placing one last kiss atop the other’s head.“Sleep tight, Bam.”
Lost in his own thoughts, Yugyeom misses the way Bambam’seyes slowly blink open, watching Yugyeom leave with a contemplative expression.
-
Bambam drags him out to Mr. Lee’s farm a few weeks later, inorder to “ask a few more questions.” He seems nervous, which is odd, because usually it’s Yugyeomwho’s at a loss for words around Bambam, tongue-tied and anxious around thebright and charismatic boy. “So,” he starts up again, but then stops, shakinghis head with a sigh. “I um,” he grimaces as he struggles to get the words out,his brows pulling together in frustration.
“Bambam, it’s okay,” Yugyeom tries to comfort him, butBambam just huffs and turns away, his shoulders tense. “We’ve got all night,right?” he jokes instead, reaching forward to give Bambam a slight shove.
Bambam snorts and turns back around, a slight smile on hisface. “And you’d be willing to wait, huh? Until I was ready?”
Yugyeom nods, glad to see some of the tension easing out ofBambam’s shoulders. His expression is still worried though, but he finallymeets Yugyeom’s gaze as he asks, “You know how much I like you, right?”
Of course, he’s well-aware of Bambam’s feelings for him; andhe wouldn’t be surprised if Bambam knew he reciprocated those feelings, aswell. However, it’s something they’ve never discussed before, a subject thatYugyeom has carefully avoided for a variety of reasons.
Until recently, it was because of the age difference.Technically, he’s still older than Bambam, but he’s also been stuck in hiseighteen year old body since 1963, while Bambam just turned nineteen only afew weeks ago.
Bambam’s heart begins to speed up, sending a rush of bloodpumping through his veins. Yugyeom listens to the tantalizing sounds and biteshis lip, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat. That’s another reasonwhy this wouldn’t work, given Bambam’s current “living” status. He’s been ableto stifle his urges so far, but it’s only because of his careful effort tonever get too close. If he were topull Bambam into his arms, gently kiss those plump lips, trace his tongue alongthe pulsing vein in his neck –
“Are you thinking about biting me?” Bambam interrupts histhoughts, which Yugyeom is grateful for – they were getting dangerous – but heblanches at the question, trying to wave it off. “Oh c’mon, it’s pretty obviouswhenever you think about it,” Bambam continues and scooches a few inches closerto Yugyeom, until their thighs are pressed against each other. “If you wantsome of my blood, I’d be okay with that.”
Yugyeom curses under his breath, running a hand through hishair. “You can’t just say things like that, Bambam!”
“Why not? Wouldn’t my blood be better than some refrigeratedshit from the hospital?”
“Well yeah, but–” Yugyeom can’t believe they’re arguingabout this. “I’m not risking your life, Bambam!”
Bambam rolls his eyes and in one quick movement, he’ssettling on Yugyeom’s lap, his hands gripping Yugyeom’s shoulders. Despitetheir provocative position, Bambam’s smile is warm and his eyes are staringinto Yugyeom’s with such pure affection. “You think you’re some kinda monster,but I know you. You’d never hurt me,” he leans closer, his breath ghosting overYugyeom’s lips. “I like you, you like me…why can’t we just be together? What’sthe big deal?”
Yugyeom looks away, but is unable to keep his hands fromfinding Bambam’s waist. The big deal, of course, is that one day Bambam isgoing to die and Yugyeom – unless he decides to take his own life – isn’t. It’salready devastating enough, but if they add romance into the mix, holding eachother close on lazy evenings while Yugyeom tastes Bambam’s blood…it’ll breakYugyeom’s already dead heart.
“I’m never going to die.”
Bambam considers his words for a moment, a knowing smile onhis face. “There’s a pretty obvious solution here, you know,” Bambam’s quiettone is nearly drowned out by the insects chirping in the fields, but Yugyeomcan hear him as clear as day, looking up at Bambam in confusion.
Bambam moves his hands from Yugyeom’s shoulders to his neck,his thumbs tracing along the silent veins. Yugyeom can’t help but relax intothe touch, craving the warmth that Bambam provides him. “What if,” Bambamhesitates, his earlier confidence fading back into nerves. “What if you changedme?”
Yugyeom’s eyes widen as a cold feeling washing over him.“Absolutely not,” he nearly shouts, his voice raising at the end of hissentence. He gently shoves Bambam off of him and stands up, turning away fromthe other as his thoughts begin racing. He thinks about Bambam undergoing thechange, screaming in pain as he literally dies and is reborn a monster; he alsothinks about the aftermath, though, of being able to be with Bambam foreternity.
“Why would you want to be like this?!” Yugyeom whirls aroundto look down at Bambam, who is still sitting in the grass. “Bambam, you don’twant this, trust me!”
“But I do, you’re the only good things that’s happened to mesince–” Bambam stops himself there, eyes watering as the words the accident are left unspoken. “I don’thave a family like you did,” he continues after a moment, his voice thick withemotion. “I only have you. And c’mon, wouldn’t it be awesome?”
It would be awesome – traveling the world with Bambam,hearing his laughter late into the evening and kissing those beautiful smilesgoodnight – but he can’t do it and even if he wanted to change Bambam, it’s notsolely their decision to make.
Yugyeom quickly explains how they’d have to ask Mark forpermission first, since he’s the eldest among their clan. “He’d never say yesthough,” Yugyeom adds, pretty confident about this fact. For one, Mark isn’ttoo fond of new faces, and two, he’s still sore over Jinyoung and Youngjae’srash choices.
“Well, there’s no harm in asking him, right?”
It’s a terrible idea and Yugyeom wants to say no, but he’s asucker for Bambam’s big eyes and pathetic pouts. He sighs, running a handthrough his hair. “Yeah, fine.”
Bambam smiles and leaps to his feet, jumping into Yugyeom’sarms.
-
Yugyeom and Bambam part ways not long after that, the sunjust barely creeping over the trees. Before they part, though, he leaves Bambamwith detailed instructions on how to get to his house, plus a few quick wordsof advice. “Don’t wear any strong perfumes or silver, and try to avoid anycontact with other animals.”
“What, why?” Bambam asks, glancing down at the silvernecklace that hangs from his neck; Yugyeom knows it was his mom’s.
“The full moon is in a few days,” he says, as if that’senough of an explanation and heads in the opposite direction, ignoring Bambam’sconfused shouts. He walks along the path for about twenty minutes, until he cansee his house in the distance.
Once he gets inside and kicks off his shoes, he beginslooking around for his brothers. He finds them outside – along with Jaebum andJackson – where they’re working on securing the metal bars of Jaebum’s cage.
“Hey!” Youngjae greets him as he steps outside, everyoneelse following a moment after. Yugyeom takes a seat next to him and smiles whenYoungjae wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug.As they cuddle, Youngjae wrinkles his nose at Yugyeom’s scent, which has beencontaminated by Bambam’s perfume. “Your co-worker really shouldn’t wear suchstrong perfumes! What if a customer was allergic or something?”
When Yugyeom first began to hang out with Bambam, he lied tohis brothers and told them it was just some kid he worked with. They had beennervous about him interacting with a human, but since word never spread aboutany horrible, bloody massacres, they figured Yugyeom was fine and let him be.Now, though, he’s going to have to tell them the truth; Bambam isn’t hisco-worker, but his best friend (and the love of his life).
He’s so screwed.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Yugyeomstarts, as Jinyoung and Mark’s attention turn towards him. Jaebum and Jacksoncontinue working, but it’s obvious they’re listening in on the vampires’conversation.
“Well, there’s this guy…” and Yugyeom tells them everything.How Bambam came to the area when he was fifteen (after his family died in a caraccident and he was the sole survivor) and moved in with his uncle, the two ofthem living in a small flat above his uncle’s restaurant. How he found Bambamsobbing outside of the store on multiple occasions and they began to talk andhang out, eventually becoming friends. He even tells them about his feelingsfor Bambam, albeit with a grimace on his face. He finishes his spiel bytelling them that Bambam knows the truth and he’s coming tomorrow to ask Mark’spermission for Yugyeom to change him, so they can spend the rest of forevertogether.
“But you have to say no,” Yugyeom begs, causing Mark toraise a brow. “Please, hyung, he’s too young to make a decision like this!” hecries out, a sense of desperation coming over him. Bambam may be tempted by theidea of immortality right now, but what if he later regrets it and comes toresent Yugyeom? Yugyeom doesn’t think he could ever live with that.
Mark stares at him for a few minutes, then shrugs. “Ifthat’s what you want.”
It isn’t, not really, but he knows it’s what’s best forBambam and that’s far more important than his selfish desires. “Thank you,” hesays with a smile, but is sure everyone can see the sadness that lingers in hiseyes.
-
Bambam shows up at exactly eight o’clock, void of anyperfumes, silver, or animal scents. Yugyeom can hear the blood rushing throughhis veins and the frantic beating of his heart, a sign that he’s clearlynervous as hell. He still smiles beautifully though, walking straight towardsYugyeom and into his arms. “Don’t worry, you’re okay,” he whispers intoBambam’s ear, well-aware of the curious stares he’s drawing from his brothersand the two wolves.
Jinyoung clears his throat and the two jump apart, Bambamwith a blush and Yugyeom with his eyes towards the floor. “It’s nice to meetyou, Bambam,” Jinyoung says and moves to shake Bambam’s hand, a tight smile onhis face. He drops it after a second and Jackson swoops in next, bringingBambam into a big hug.
“Oh my god, he’s so cute! No wonder Yugyeommie is sosmitten!!” Jackson shouts as he pinches Bambam’s cheeks, cooing over theflustered boy.
Yugyeom gives Jaebum a pleading look, who sighs and stalksover to Jackson, gripping him by the back of his neck. Jackson immediatelysettles down, like a puppy who’s been reprimanded by his owner. “Sorry abouthim,” Jaebum apologizes on Jackson’s behalf, a smirk on his face, “He gets alittle hyper sometimes.”
“That’s okay,” Bambam gives Jackson a reassuring grin, whosmiles back brightly. “I like it!”
The rest of the introductions occur without too muchfanfare, and then Mark is asking for Bambam to follow him, the two heading outonto the back porch.
“Wait, what?” Yugyeom panics and attempts to follow them,because this wasn’t part of the plan. He’s stopped by Jinyoung and Youngjaethough and is pulled to sit on the couch.
“Like you said, he’s okay,” Youngjae grins and pets his hairfrom his right, attempting to relax him. “Mark just wants to talk with him fora bit, it’s okay.”
Jackson bounces over to them and curls up besides Youngjae,while Jaebum sighs and takes the empty spot next to Jinyoung. “Fuckingvampires, I swear to god,” he mutters under his breath and leans slightly ontoJinyoung, closing his eyes.
Yugyeom takes a deep breath, more for the feel than for anactual need, and waits.
After about fifteen minutes, he feels like he’s going tolose it.
It’s almost ironic, a vampire feeling antsy over waiting.What could they even be talking about? Mark had already promised he’d say no,so what’s there to discuss? Bambam’s feelings for him, his feelings for Bambam?What if Youngjae is wrong and Bambam is in danger? God knows how long it’s beensince any of them have had fresh blood…
“Stop worrying,” Jinyoung chastises him from his left,slapping Yugyeom’s shoulder. “You know Mark wouldn’t hurt your littleboyfriend,” he rolls his eyes, causing Yugyeom to look over at him in surprise.He’s used to Jinyoung’s pettiness and overall moody behaviors, but this seemsdifferent, anger laced with…betrayal?
“Are you mad at me?” Yugyeom asks, frowning as Jinyounghuffs in response. “Why? Is it because he’s human?”
“It’s because you didn’t tell him, dipshit,” Jacksoninterrupts and Youngjae snickers, amused. “What kinda brat doesn’t tell his momhe’s got a cute boyfriend, huh?”
“But we’re not–”
“It’s obvious how much you love each other,” Jinyoung saysas he turns to Yugyeom, his eyes expressing how hurt he is. “Did you really think Iwouldn’t be on your side?” he asks and Yugyeom has to look away, because no, hedidn’t think Jinyoung would be on his side. He thought Jinyoung would side withMark, who expressed – in great detail last night – how disappointed he is thatYugyeom not only risked a human’s safety, but all of theirs as well. “What if someone else figured out what youwere, huh? What if they hurt you? Hurt us? Do you even understand howirresponsible you’ve been!?”
Before Yugyeom can apologize, Mark and Bambam come back intothe room…smiling? Yugyeom jumps up and begins to examine Bambam, checking hisarms and neck for any marks. He sees nothing though and pulls Bambam into hisarms, relieved the other is okay. “What’s going on?” he finally asks, his gazefocused on Mark.
“I’ll let him tell you,” Mark says and gestures for everyoneto clear the room, until it’s just them.
Once they’re alone, Yugyeom takes a step back and looks downat Bambam, wondering why he looks so pleased. “Seriously, what is going on?” heasks once more, this time in a whisper; he doesn’t want to risk anyoneeavesdropping on their conversation.
Bambam’s smile begins to turn into a full-blown, almostsmug, grin. “Mark says you’re being an idiot and if you don’t change me in oneyear, he’ll do it for you. Either way,” Bambam closes the distance between andstands on his tip-toes, so that his lips are dangerously close to Yugyeom’s,“You’re going to be stuck with me.”
Yugyeom gulps. “You might change your mind in a year.”
“I’ve loved you since I was sixteen,” Bambam reminds him,his grin easing back into a small smile. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“We’ll see–”
Bambam scoffs and shuts him up with a long, overdue kiss.
One year later…
Bambam closes his eyes as he breathes in, feeling the lastfew rays of the sun caress his skin. He’s going it miss it, the sun’s warmth,along with bright blue skies that seem to stretch on forever.
He’s doesn’t mind giving it up though, especially for whathe’s getting in return. He can’t help but smile as he thinks of Yugyeom, ofwalking barefoot through the fields and counting as many stars as they can,wrapped up in each other’s arms. It fills him with such a warm feeling inside,one he knows he’ll never lose (even after his heart stops beating).
He opens his eyes and the sun is low enough now, safe forYugyeom to join him. He sits up and looks over his shoulder, seeing Yugyeomthrough the window. He gestures for Yugyeom to join him and a moment later,Yugyeom is beside him, an arm around his shoulders.
“How are you feeling?” Yugyeom asks, the fingers of hisother hand tracing over the recent puncture wounds in his neck. Bambam leansinto the touch, his cheeks reddening at the pleasant memories that alwaysfollow Yugyeom’s caresses.
“Nervous,” Bambam responds, then adds, “But excited. I’venever been to America.”
“It’ll be a good place to start over,” Yugyeom says andBambam hums, cuddling closer. “I’m glad Jaebum and Jackson are coming with ustoo. I still can’t believe you convinced Jaebum!”
“I just told him that Youngjae would cry without hispuppies,” Bambam giggles, even though that’s not exactly how theirconversation went. It actually wasn’t too difficult to convince Jaebum, he justhad to highlight how both parties can still benefit from each other’s services.Throwing in a crying Youngjae was just the cherry on top.
“So,” Yugyeom begins, drawing out the word as he glancesaway. “It’s been a year.”
“It’s actually been a year and two weeks, but Mark andJinyoung weren’t back from getting things settled at the new house.”
Yugyeom snickers and moves to ruffle Bambam’s hair, butBambam rolls away with a squeak, just barely missing the attack. He bounces tohis feet and glares down at Yugyeom, who looks up at him with a nervous smile.
“I can’t believe I want to spend the rest of forever withyou,” Bambam sighs, but there’s no malice in his voice, only pure adoration.
“It’s not too late to change your mind, ya’know?”
“Nah,” Bambam shakes his head, holding out his hands forYugyeom and helping the other to his feet. He smiles up at Yugyeom, giving hishands a squeeze. “I made up my mind about you a long time ago.”
Some of Yugyeom’s nervousness fades away, but Bambam canstill see traces of it lingering in his eyes and shoulders. “You haven’tchanged your mind either, right?” Bambam asks, making sure that Yugyeom stillwants this, wants him.
“Nah,” he says, mimicking Bambam from only a minute ago;accent and all.
Bambam moves to slap Yugyeom’s shoulder, but the other grabshis hand instead, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, let’s do this,”Yugyeom says, a confident look in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Bambam returns the look, taking one last deepbreath. “Let’s do this.”
Not sure if this really qualifies for the supernatural weekly challenge, but, kid!Yugbam (or yugjae, either one is fine) where Yugyeom's imaginary friend is BamBam, who's really a ghost.
warnings: implied character death(s)word count: 7.8kauthor: mnoa/n: hello i’m not so new and i’m still trying and platonic everything
“Hey,why are you crying?”
A young child sits at the base of atree, with his little legs drawn up to his chest and his head buriedin his arms. The tiny sniffles and quiet whimpers carry upwards tothe sky, where it catches the ears of another young child. He sitsatop a branch up above in the tree where the other child isdespairing. He looks curiously down at the boy, perhaps a few yearsyounger than he, and decides to drop a few leaves on his head.
“Whyare you crying?”
It catches the crying child’sattention, his head lifting to reveal his round, glistening eyes.Red-rimmed and spouting endless tears, they stare up at the otherchild. He stares back.
Wordlessly, the crying child snifflesand points upwards to the right. The child in the tree turns tofollow the small child’s finger, noticing the red ball stuck in thebranches on the other side of the trunk of himself. It’s a mediumsized ball, with no special markings like the ones he used to see intoy stores, and a little dirty, but a fine ball nonetheless.
The sniffling stops, and the child inthe tree looks back down at the crying child. The sniffling may havestopped, but tears don’t stop leaking from his eyes, running down hischeeks to the wet spots on his little bear print shirt. They stare ateach other until the child in the tree heaves a sigh and stands up.He holds one hand against the truck and the other outward in theopposite direction as if he needed to steady himself, and when he’scompletely upright, he moves to hug the trunk.
The crying child watches above him asthe other child throws his leg over onto the other branch, and slowlyeasing over until he’s on the other side. The child in the tree makessure he’s stable on the branch, inching his body away from the treetrunk closer to where the ball is stuck. With his little hands stillclutching the bark, he lightly taps on the ball with his foot. Downbelow, the crying child watches. His mouth is slightly agape, in aweas the other child works to get his ball unstuck.
The branches shake with each kick, afew stray leaves fluttering to the ground in the process. The childin the tree continues kicking, brows furrowed and a frown forming onhis face. Eventually the ball comes loose, and falls straight downonto the grass with a soft thunk. One child stares at the brancheswhere it once was, and the other scrambles to grasp it in his handsagain.
Their eyes meet once again when thecrying child looks up, and the child in the tree settles down on thebranch.
“T-thank you,” the crying childshouts hesitantly, hugging the ball to his chest. The tear tracks onhis face shine in the sunlight, his eyes still watery and red, butbrighter than before. Unsure of how to react around strangers, thecrying child runs back towards his house, yelling for his mother whenthe screen door shuts. The child in he tree just laughs, waving inthe direction the crying child ran.
“You’re welcome,” he says happily,letting the wind carry his words away.
“Hey, don’t cry!” A boy suddenlyappears in front of him. He has a frown on his face and Doremonbandaid pasted diagonally on his left cheek, and he’s staringintently at him. It doesn’t stop the tears, but he does quiet downand lower the balled up fists from his eyes.
“Don’t cry anymore, okay? All thewater’s gonna come out of your eyes like that!” The boy saysseriously, kneeling in front of him. Without the hands in his eyes,he can see the other boy is a little older—probably bigger andtaller and scarier. He can’t help but start to cry again, small wailsescaping his lips as the other boy’s words start to sink in and therealization that he could possibly get hit.
“Ah, no no! Don’t cry again!”The boy says frantically, he’s standing on his knees now, waving hishands in front of him like that would get him to stop. Gradually hiswails become louder, almost enough to drown out the sound of the boygetting up and running away, just as suddenly as he appeared. Itdoesn’t make him feel better that the other boy ran away, rather itmakes him sadder—was something wrong with him? Did he smell?
Once again he’s left alone in thecorner of the room, wetting his shirt through with tears while allthe other kids run and scream and laugh. He keeps crying; the coolPower Rangers socks his momma bought for him don’t even look like thecharacters anymore, just misshapen blobs in his teary eyes. He justwants to go home and stay there forever.
But, what he doesn’t expect is forthe boy to come back again, shadow looming over him for less than asecond before he’s kneeling again.
“Don’t cry,” the boy repeats,looking more determined than before. This time, he bits back anynoises and wipes at his eyes. He doesn’t want to get yelled at. Theboy sighs and smiles, and looks a little friendlier than when he wasfrowning. The boy takes something out from behind his back andpresents it to him, holding it carefully in between them.
“You can’t play with anything ifyou’re crying, so since you stopped, do you wanna play?” he asks,moving the bright red ball a little closer to him, waiting for him toreach out and grab it too. Him, with the tears and snot still on hisface, being asked to play with an older boy?
He shyly reaches his hands out andnods. It makes the boy light up even more if possible, letting theball go once it’s in his grasp and stands up. He waits til they’reboth standing and holds a hand out, still smiling while he tucks theball under his arm and taking the boy’s hand.
“My name’s Youngjae!” the boyintroduces himself, tugging his hand towards the play mat. “And I’m6,” Youngjae says proudly, puffing out his chest and grinning athim.
“I’m Kunpimook, but my momma callsme Bambam sometimes,” he replies, returning the smile a littlehesitantly at first, until Youngjae starts swinging their handstogether and he finally laughs. “I’m 5.”
“Then you have to call me hyung!”Youngjae exclaims, smiling so wide his eyes disappear.
“Youngjae hyung,” Kunpimooksays, testing the words on his tongue.
“Yeah, just like that!”
“Bambaaaaam!”
“I’m heeere,”Bambam hollers back, hopping down from the tree with ease. Hepretends like there’s dust to brush off, a habit he hasn’t shaken,and waits for the other boy to come out.
The glass doorslides open further, enough for the boy to slip through. He clutchessomething to his chest, carefully hopping over to where Bambam is.
“Hey Yugyeomie,”he laughs when the boy stumbles over. Yugyeom grins and opens hisarms, whatever he was holding drops to the grass below them. Crayonsof every color a child could image spill out from the box, decoratingthe green grass like ice cream sprinkles. The large pad of paperlands between their feet, a startling white that reflects the suninto their eyes.
“What’s this,”Bambam asks while Yugyeom whines and rubs at his eyes with littlefists. He squats down and fingers the pages, waiting for the slightlyyounger child to reply. Bambam didn’t have to wait long, in the blinkof an eye Yugyeom was down next to him, their shoulders almosttouching but not quite there, and excitedly chattering aboutcoloring.
“Drawing! Mom gave me new crayons,and I want to draw with Bambam!” He exclaims, turning to the otherwith bright eyes.
Little Yugyeom’s eyes were always sobright with an inner light that no one seemed to figure out, like hisworld was much more vibrant and full of life, like the whole worldreflected in his eyes made them shine as bright as the stars in thenight sky. Bambam wasn’t as expressive with his eyes, they werealways dark and haunting, almost empty. He was more vocal with hisfeelings, often laughing or shouting—his voice was very distinct,becoming a permanent fixture in Yugyeom’s life.
Bambam grins, sitting down completelynext to the other boy who’s moved to lay on his stomach. His clotheswill be littered with grass stains before the day is over, andprobably a dirt stain or two on his cheeks and hands. But beforethen, Yugyeom scooches over so Bambam as enough space to draw on thesingle pad.
“What’re you gonna draw?” He asks,looking here and there at all the crayons scattered around them.Bambam’s always liked blue, but not orange. He nudges that onetowards Yugyeom instead, maybe to detail his smiley face sun.
“It’s a surprise,” Yugyeomsing-songs, kicking his legs in the air back and forth and he colorsin the bottom of the page with a combination of lime green and forestgreen. (Having 64 colors meant using as many as possible.)
“C'mooon,” Bambam whines, grabbinga handful of grass and dumping it on Yugyeom’s head. The boy justgiggles and keeps his lips sealed, turning to Bambam and tauntinglyshaking his head from side to side.
“Secret!”
“Best friends don’t keep secrets,”Bambam retorts, jutting out his bottom lip. Yugyeom only sticks outhis tongue. A house has appeared on the paper, a squiggly royal bluerectangle with vermilion windows detailed with the fancy curtainsYugyeom’s mother liked.
“Yugyeomie you’re sooo good,”Bambam says in awe when he looks over from his current snake inprogress. It’s a small snake, with a big head and little body,covered in scribbles of yellow and gray, and a short red tongue. He’sholding a black crayon, bout to color in the snake’s large eyes.
“You are too,” Yugyeom quips back,drawing a pink smiley face next to the almost done snake. “We’regonna be famous!”
“Together, right?” Bambam asks, notlooking up from his little doodle. He keeps the black crayon, drawingthree oblong ovals atop the snakes head. Yugyeom’s drawing comesalong, two tall figures marked with “mom” and “dad” alreadydone, and working on two, smaller and shorter figures next to them.
“Of course, best friends forever!”
“Yugyeomie, is this us?”
“Yeah, mama! You, papa, me, andBambam!”
“Ah, was Bambam drawing with youtoo?”
“Yup, we do everything together!We’re best friends, mama. That’s what they do!”
“Why did you make one of Bambam’sarms brown, Yugyeomie? Did you lose your crayon?”
“No, no there’s still 64! And silly,that’s what Bam’s arm looks like!”
“Mark hyung, Bambam’s hogging allthe crayons again!” Youngjae whines, tugging on Mark’s sleeve. Hemakes a face behind the older boy’s back at the youngest of theirtrio. Bambam responds in kind by pulling the skin underneath his eyedown and sticking out his tongue.
“Am not! Mark hyung you believe meright?” Bambam defends himself, continuing to color while he knockshis shoulder against Mark’s arm. “Mark hyung likes me betteranyway,” he says as a statement rather any person in particular.Youngjae pulls a scandalized expression.
“Nuh uh! He likes me better!”
“Does not!”
“Does too!”
“Does not!”
“Does to—”
“I like you both okay? You’re bothmy little brothers,” Mark, the oldest at 8, finally says. He grabsthe red crayon to color in his character’s hair. Mark doesn’t evenlook up at the boys that have suddenly attached themselves to hissides, used to their behavior. He’s always had a cool air about him,Bambam quickly picking up on that and looking up to the boy eversince Youngjae introduced him after they finished playing withpuzzles. Youngjae had warmed up to the quiet older brother figurewhen he shared his Power Rangers toys when Youngjae was sitting aloneclutching a raggedy bear doll that was left over in the toy bin. Theyboth adored Mark, and Mark adored both younger boys.
“Really, hyung?” Youngjae asks.
“Yeah, really?” Bambam echos.
“Of course. We’re friends, right?”Mark says, looking from Youngjae on his left, to Bambam on his right,gracing them with one of his rare smiles that showed his missingfront tooth.
Youngjae laughs and cheers, thatthey’re friends forever no matter what. Bambam grins up at the olderboy, barely hiding his giggles when Mark ruffles his hair. He looksdown at his simple drawing of three stick figures. Two of them werethe same size, but the middle one was tallest and had red hair,because Mark hyung had said one day he’s going to have red hair andbe the coolest guy on the planet. Bambam smiles and grabs hisfavorite blue crayon from the pile he accumulated by his side (by notreturning them to the shared pile in front of Mark), and wrote in bigletters: “BEST FRIENDS.”
Yugyeom decided to play in his roomtoday. It’s still raining outside, and hasn’t stopped since lastnight. He lays in bed, his head hanging upside down off the edgewhile he stares a the wall. Little Yugyeom’s room is painted a coolsteel gray, not too dark nor too light. The ceiling is decorated withlittle glow in the dark stars and planets that he asked for hisfourth birthday, and various family photos and personal drawings he’sdone on the walls. Drawings both on the paper, and much to hisparents’ chagrin, the wall itself. It’s what he’s staring at now, acreation of pure imagination, a fire breathing dinosaur chasing aftera rocketship with legs—only upside down.
Bambam lays next to him, only his faceisn’t turning red.
“I’m so booored,” He says, shakinghis head so his hair swishes around. It feels nice, or maybe Bambam’simagining it. The only other sound in the room comes from the rainhitting the window panes.
Yugyeom lets out an incoherent noise inreply, and lets his arms hang off the bed too. Coloring seems tooboring, his father told him not to play with the ball in the house,he already played with his other toys—both boys were at a loss withwhat to do.
“Are there any cartoons on?” Bambamasks, though he doesn’t sound too excited about it anyway.
“Mama’s watching her people tv,”Yugyeom replies, still staring at the wall. “And Papa took the ipadto work.”
“Oh.”
“Rainy days are sooo boring.”
“Rain is sooo stuuupid,” Bambamsays.
“You said a bad word,” Yugyeom onlyreplies, with no energy to even react. He just turns his head to faceBambam, droopy eyes looking to large, black ones. “I’mteeeeellinggg,” Yugyeom taunts, a lazy grin spreading on his face.
“Did not,” Bambam counters,sticking his tongue out at Yugyeom. “You can’t tell your mommacause she won’t let you play with me anymore.”
The other boy stops his snickering,letting the words sink in. “Oh. I don’t want to stop playing withyou.”
“I win,” Bambam giggles, “Andit’s not a bad word! Hyung says it all the time.”
“Bambam has a hyung?” Yugyeom’sboredom turns into mild curiosity, his eyes taking on a small shine.He rolls over and sits up, ruffling his own hair in attempts to getthe blood flowing again. His scrunched up face has Bambam laughing,rolling around on Yugyeom’s teddy print covers and into his rabbitshaped cushions.
Yugyeom only starts laughing whenBambam rolls himself completely off the bed.
“Of course I do, he takes good careof me when I go home,” he says when they’ve both calmed down andare laying side by side on the bed.
“I wanna meet him,” Yugyeomdeclares, staring up at the stars.
“He’s loud and says stupid thingsthough,” Bambam says fondly, grinning at a memory that floated tohis mind. “But I still like him.”
“Do you think he’ll like me?”
“Yup! I like you, so he has to likeyou too.”
“I’ll like him too,” Yugyeom says,letting out a loud yawn. The rhythmic pitter patter of the rain islulling him to sleep; he rolls over to face Bambam, struggling tokeep his eyes open. “Wanna build a fort?” He breathes out,despite his sleepiness. If Bambam notices, he doesn’t mention in.
“Okay!”
And the two of them try, one stackingpillows and the other struggling to pull the covers over them.There’s a lot of laughter, mostly from one of them falling over onthe bed with a loud “oof,” or from the impromptu games ofpeek-a-boo one or the other would initiate. In the end, there is nofort and Yugyeom falls asleep on top of the covers.
“Today’s boring,” Bambam says.He lays on the large playmat, a blue Power Ranger figure clutched inon hand the other lying on the floor by Mark’s feet. The older boyopted to sit at the little desk, finger painting with some of the newsupplies the brought in. Youngjae went to the bathroom not long ago,his fluffy dog plushie left abandoned at Bambam’s side.
Mark doesn’t answer, so Bambampouts. He brings the action figure to stand atop his chest, and raiseone of its arms. The blue ranger’s so cool. And that’s why he takesit and pokes Mark’s leg with it.
“Hey,” Mark just says. Hewiggles his foot when Bambam keeps poking him. His fingers arecovered in different colored paints; red, yellow, blue, pink, black,and surprisingly his drawing isn’t as messy as his hands.
“What are you doing?” Bambamasks from his position on the floor. He’s gotten comfortable, lollinghis head around and generally not having to move. The other kids arescattered in the room, a few others share the playmat with Bambam,but they play with building blocks and legos instead of actionfigures.
“Drawing something for my sister,”Mark replies. The seat next to him is left empty, probably forYoungjae to take when he returns. Bambam didn’t like getting hishands dirty much, learning quickly after their marker incident. “It’shere birthday today.”
“Oh,” That piques Bambam’sinterest. He hauls himself up to rest his arms on the edge of thetable to see what Mark’s doing, his blue Power Ranger standing tallbeside him. His big eyes peer over the edge up at the older boy,blinking up at his serious expression. “Is that a pony?”
“Yeah, she likes those,” Theolder boy says, dipping his finger in the red and white mix. “Idon’t know if dad can buy her one, so I’m gonna draw her a picture!”Mark smiles as he continues the outline of his pony, making longquick strokes for the tail. It’s a pink pony, and a little girl witha red dress sitting on top. She has a little yellow crown and wide,squiggly smile on her face. Bambam watches with fascination, in aweof the older boy’s artistic talent.
“Whoa hyung,” Youngjae’s voicesuddenly comes out of nowhere. He’s standing next to Bambam, acrossthe table from Mark with his hands on the desk as he leans over toget a look at the painting.
“Uh, hyung,” Bambam says,glancing up at Youngjae. Mark’s smiling wide now, but stillconcentrating on his drawing.
“What?” The boy looks down atBambam, moving to kneel in front of the table much like the youngerboy was. It’s too late when Youngjae settles into his spot, holdinghis head up with his hands, elbows out in front of him on the table.At that point Bambam can’t help bursting out into laughter andfalling backwards onto the playmat, action figure forgotten on thetable in favor of clutching his sides. Even a few chuckles escapeMark’s lips.
Normally Youngjae would be laughingtoo, sharing the joy with the rest of his friends, but this time hejust looks from Bambam to Mark in confusion.
“What?” The poor boy doesn’trealize the wetness on his cheeks until later, when Mark points tohis own cheek.
“Hyung, how much longer?”
“Not that much, I think? Soon.”
“Okay. Yugyeomie wants to meet you,you know?”
“I wanna meet him too.”
“He’s cute, you’ll like him! Not ascute as me, though. Only a little less.”
“A little is a lot!”
“Hyung that’s stupid how can a littlebe a lot!”
“I’m older so I’m right!”
“Yugyeom would agree with me! When hemeets you he’s gonna think I’m so much cooler after!”
“Says you!”
Sometimes when Bambam’s playing withYugyeom around dinnertime, he asks to stay in Yugyeom’s room. Most ofthe time his mother tells him to stay out of the kitchen whilethey’re cooking, other times Yugyeom helps carry the cups andsilverware to the dining table. When it’s one of the latter times,Bambam sits in Yugyeom’s room and plays with the little stuffedanimals he has. There’s not that many action figures, because Yugyeomlikes things he can hold and hug and squeeze, but that’s okay.Everything’s fun when they play together.
“Yugyeomie, where’s your friend?”
“Bambam’s upstairs! He doesn’t likethe kitchen.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, the stoven? Hot thing isscary. He doesn’t like it.”
“Stove, Gyeom-ah. And is that so?”
“Yeah, it’s okay though. I wanna helpMama so he plays upstairs.”
“That’s nice of you, Mama appreciatesit.”
“Hey hyung, what do you want tobe when you grow up?” Bambam asks Youngjae one day. They’re sittingby one of the windows during snack time as the teachers passes out afew cookies and a grape juice box to every child. Bambam takes a bigbite of the star shaped cookie, making it a deformed rectangle. Theskies are blue and there are few clouds, but they have to be insidefor snack time. If it wasn’t for cookies, Bambam would’ve stayedoutside and learned to climb trees from Youngjae. Youngjae alwaysliked to climb the small tree in the yard, but he never got as highas Mark could. That’s what both boys wanted, to be able to climb ashigh as their Mark hyung.
“An astronaut!” Youngjaereplies, his mouth stretched in a wide smile. “I want to walk onthe Moon!” His brother often shared his books about the solarsystem with him, pointing out the different planets and all theirrings and moons and stars. It was amazing, that people could go intospace and explore, and one day that’s going to be Youngjae. “Myhyung says the Moon is made of cheese, so I wanna try that. I’llbring some back for you too, Bambam.”
The younger boy grins, noddingexcitedly at the promise. “That sounds cool!”
“Just like me, right?” Youngjaelaughs, a big laugh where his mouth opens so big Bambam can probablythrow what’s left of his cookie into. The sound carries, and beforelong the other kids are looking over, but neither of the boys care,too wrapped up in their own fun.
“What about you?” Youngjae askslater, sipping on his juice box. Snack time is far from over, andMark hasn’t come back from helping another kid put the toys away yet.
“I wanna be a zookeeper! I wannabe friends with aaaall the animals,” he says, stretching on hisarms to demonstrate how many exactly. Little Bambam had a big book ofanimals at home, a gift from his father when he went overseas for aconference. His eyes had lit up like a Christmas trees at how manyanimals there were between the pages. He flips through it almostevery day, spending the most time looking at the forest animals andpenguins. He likes those the best.
“Really? That’s sounds cool too!Will you let me ride a lion?” Youngjae asks seriously.
“Stupid hyung, of course! We’regonna be best friends with all the animals and eat Moon cheesetogether!” Bambam laughs, the older boy joining in later. Both withtheir mouths full of cookies, crumbs spill all over the table andtheir clothes.
“And Mark hyung too, right?”
“I didn’t forget about Mark hyung!He’s gonna be there too, eating Moon cheese with the biggest lionthere!”
The two laugh and laugh well untilthe end of their break, meeting up with the eldest of their trio bythe door to the playground. They drag him to their tree and pull himto lay in the grass, excitedly telling him all their promises ofcheese from the Moon and friendships with wild animals. Mark laughswith them, holding their hands in his while they look up into thesky, dreams for the future just as far as the clouds are.
“Hey Bambam, when’s your birthday?”Yugyeom asks one day, sipping from a cup of orange juice he pouredall by himself. There’s a cup in front of Bambam too, but it’s barelybeen touched. They sit outside because it’s a nice day, and the treein the backyard provided ample amount of shade from the hot sun.
“May 2nd,” he answers,not looking up from the snail he found inching up the tree trunk.Beside him, Yugyeom’s hands flew up to his hands, eyes going wide.It’s the middle of June now, and nearly ten months since they’vebecome friends. Yugyeom’s birthday was in November, and even thoughBambam couldn’t attend his party, he made sure to save some cake forhim. In the end Yugyeom had eaten it, at the request of Bambamhimself because for some reason he couldn’t. It made Bambam happythat he did, so Yugyeom was happy too.
“It passed!” Yugyeom exclaims.
“That’s okay! I don’t need presents,”Bambam says, finally turning to look at his best friend. “I playedwith you and that was good!”
“But cake,” Yugyeom pouts. Hisbrows furrowed together and his bottom lip jutted out, eyes downcastat the grass below them. “I wanted to eat cake with you and yellhappy birthday loud like people do on people’s birthdays!”
Bambam just laughs, mostly at how poutyYugyeom became and how seriously he took it. His birthday didn’tmatter much anymore, Bambam preferred spending it with people heliked. “It’s okay, Yugyeomie. We did celebrate! We played cops androbbers, and I won! That’s like a present, right?” He tries tocheer the boy up, crawling in front of him and trying to take a peekat the other’s face.
The pout’s still there, but at leastYugyeom’s looking up. His eyes are sad. “But…” he begins tosay, trailing off when he sees the bright smile on Bambam’s face.
“You’re my best friend! That’s all Iever wanted,” Bambam laughs, throwing his hands in the air. “Idon’t think even ice cream can beat that.”
“Oh!” And like a switch, Yugyeom’seyes go bright like they did when he gets excited. It catches Bambamoff-guard as he lowers his arms and looks at the boy curiously.Yugyeom just starts nodding and giggling to himself, covering hismouth with his hands, clearly pleased with something.
“Ice cream!” He repeats.
“Huh?”
“We have ice cream!” Yugyeom shoutsas he stands up, grinning at the befuddled boy still sitting on thegrass. “We can d it late, because summer’s hot and we should haveice cream anyway, and I can sing happy birthday to you!”
Bambam has no chance to even protestwhen Yugyeom’s already running back into his house, little flip flopsmaking slapping noises against the floors of their home while he goesinto the kitchen. He leans back into the tree, smiling to himself. Hewonders how he found such a wonderful friend, and how he can’t waitfor forever to start.
“…Happy birthday dear Bambam, happybirthday to you!” Yugyeom finishes with a loud clap, grinning happily at Bambam across a tub of vanilla ice cream. He even grabbedtwo spoons, one for each of them. The boy continues the clapping,thanking Yugyeom for the [late] birthday song.
“Make a wish!” Yugyeom says,nodding his head. “Close your eyes and make a wish, Bambam!” heurges, leaning forward in his seat. His smile is what makes Bambamcomply, indulging Yugyeom despite it not being his birthday. Bambamdoesn’t even know if the wish would count, but he does it anyway,wishing for the one thing that he truly wants more than anything elsein the whole world.
“Did you do it?” Bambam opens hiseyes to Yugyeom’s curious expression. He nods once and grins, teethshowing and all.
“Good!” He claps again, leaningback into his seat. “Now we can eat ice cream to celebrate!”
Bambam watches him excitedly take oneof the spoons and scoop a big round ball of vanilla ice cream up. Thewarm weather made it difficult to dig through the ice cream,explaining the ease of taking a scoop by a five year old. He shovesthe entire thing in his mouth, eyes closed tight while he eats it andshaking his head as if he could shake off the brain freeze. Bambamlaughs, falling over at Yugyeom’s pained expression and whine of“cold!”
“Bambam, you have to eat too!”Yugyeom pouts again when he notices Bambam just rolling around in thegrass, no blades sticking to his clothes at all unlike when Yugyeomhimself did it, and laughing at him.
“Yugyeomie, remember I said I can’t?”Bambam answers when he wipes the nonexistent tears from his eyes.Back inside the dining room are the two cups that Yugyeom broughtback in, one empty and the other still full of juice.
“But it’s ice cream,” Yugyeomargues. “No one can’t can’t eat ice cream!” He says it like it’sthe most outrageous thing in the world, the fact that someone wouldturn down ice cream? Impossible.
“I like ice cream, but I just can’t,Yugyeomie,” Bambam tries to explain, smiling sadly. Yugyeom startsto look sad again, his eyes become dimmer.
“Is there any way you can?” Hetries again. “Anything? I’ll help!”
“Well…”
“You know? Bambam this is important!”Yugyeom says seriously, but with the pout on his face Bambam can’thelp put laugh and blow air into his face. The boy recoils a bit,holding his hands over his nose, but at least the frown is gone.
“That’s cold!”
“Weeellll, there is one way, but it’shard!” Bambam sighs, not sure if now is the right time. He takes apeek at Yugyeom, and is slightly taken aback at how determined theboy looks. Yugyeom is still a child, but as a child it isn’tdifficult to understand happiness. For him, ice cream is a form ofhappiness, and if Bambam couldn’t have ice cream, he’s missing partof that happiness he feels. So of course he would do anything.
“Tell me!” Yugyeom demands.
“I..” Bambam is hesitant. Yugyeomhuffs and gets up to sit next to the boy.
“We’re best friends and friends helpeach other! Mama taught me that!”
“Okay,” he decides. Better latethan never, he thinks. “I just have to borrow you!”
Yugyeom tilts his head to the side, notunderstanding. So, Bambam explains.
“I can’t taste the ice cream, so allI have to do is just borrow you! So you can taste it for me, get it?”
It takes a little bit; Bambam searchingYugyeom’s face for any signs of fear or shock or anger or anythingnegative, and sighing in relief when none of those are present.Instead Yugyeom makes Bambam laugh and smile like he always does, andsmiles widely for the other boy. He nods, his eyes taking on thatshine that became a distinct trait for him, and shouting that heunderstands. It sounded simple enough.
“Okay! You can borrow me!” He saysearnestly, trusting Bambam completely. “Anything for my bestfriend.”
Bambam smiles and thanks him, turninghis body to face him. Sitting cross-legged just like Yugyeom, heleans forward to lean his forehead against Yugyeom’s.
“Thank you,” he whispers and boththeir eyes fall shut.
He takes a bite of the ice cream, lipsquirking upward at how good it tastes; it’s even better than heremembered. So it’s a shame that he has to leave. Up past the tree hegoes, reveling in how familiar it was to feel the rough bark underhis hands again, and the exhilaration of going up high—soon, soontheir forever will start and he’ll get all he ever wanted.
“Hyuuung, where are youuuuuu,” hecalls out, stepping into the empty lot. “I’m baaaaack,” heshouts, with his little hands cupped around his mouth.
“I’m here,” a voice says frombehind. He spins around, frowning immediately at the other boy.
“Hyung you scared me!” He whines,stomping his foot.
“Sorry sorry Bambam,” The older boylaughs, ruffling his hair. “It’s not my fault you got scared! I’malways here, you know?” Bambam just sticks out his tongue.
“So is this Yugyeom?” Youngjaeasks. Bambam nods, his face going from annoyed to giddy in aninstant. He spreads his arms out and spins around once in a circle.
“Yup, this is Yugyeomie!” Bambamlaughs when he’s facing Youngjae again. “Look, he even has a markunder his eye like us!” He leans closer and pulls the down at theskin around his eye so the older boy can see.
“Wow, that’s cool,” Youngjae says,impressed. “And I’m definitely right, he’s a lot cuter than you!”
“Hey,” Bambam-Yugyeom says,sticking his tongue out at the boy. “Well, this hyung looks coolerthan you actually are!”
And he is, instead of Youngjae’s small,sleepy looking eyes, he has large and expressive ones with thickereyebrows. His face is rounder than Youngjae’s, and despite being alittle shorter, looks like he’d be great at sports.
“This is Jackson,” Youngjae says,doing a little turn himself. “I met him a few days ago by the traintracks!” Youngjae-Jackson grins, pleased with his handiwork. Theyounger boy just rolls his eyes.
“Come on hyung, we’re not done yet.”
“I didn’t forget! I’m just as excitedas you, okay?”
The two boys hold each other’s hand asthey walk down a familiar path, after bidding goodbye to theircherished spot. Maybe they’ll be back one day.
“Hyung, hyung where are you?”Bambam’s voice cries out. He can’t see and it’s difficult to breathe,he’s not sure where he’s going but he has to find his hyung. “Please,hyung I’m scared!” There’s a lot of screaming from the other kids,and yelling from the teacher, but it’s all just white noise forBambam.
“Over here, Bambam!” Youngjaeshouts, from where he thinks the beanbags used to be. Once Youngjaesees a silhouette gradually coming closer, he wastes no time incatching the younger boy in a hug. They’re both crying, whether it’sfrom the smoke in their eyes or the fear, they don’t know. Bambam’sclutching Youngjae’s shirt, sobbing into his shoulder while the olderboy hugs him as tight as he possibly can, not wanting to cry outloudly and scare Bambam.
“Where’s Mark hyung?” He managesto yell above all the noise. Children were still screaming, and hefeels someone push them to the ground in their hurry. “I don’tknow, hyung,” Bambam continues to cry, trying to shrink intoYoungjae’s side. He manages to crawl under two bookcases that fell ontop of one another, creating a small space enough for them to staysafe under. But feeling safe is different than being safe.
“Hyung, where are you?”
“Hyung!”
When Youngjae-Jackson goes to thedoorknob, it hisses and Bambam-Yugyeom has to look away. The otherboy smiles apologetically, trying to get the door open as quickly aspossible for the sake of the younger. It opens with a light push, andthe two boys walk quietly into the modest apartment. The living roomis cozy, a large couch and several armchairs and regular chairs thatlook like they’ve been pulled from the dining room scattered around.The kitchen is nearby, separated from the living room by an islandwhere a bowl of fruit sits. There are photographs scattered allaround, hung on the walls, in picture frames on shelves, even a photoalbum sitting on the coffee table in front of the tv.
The two boys are happy to see the waythe room has changed, and the way it hasn’t either.
The loud music coming from a room downthe hall attract their attention, they both exchange glances andgrin, setting their path down the hall and to the room. And even inthe hallway, there are many, many framed photographs of family andindividuals, all smiling down at the two children walking towards theroom. Almost as if they were smiling at them for finally reunitingwith their friend.
“Mark hyung,” Bambam-Yugyeom is thefirst to speak when they push the door open. He lets go ofYoungjae-Jackson’s hand to dive at the boy lounging on the bed.Youngjae-Jackson smiles and pushes the door closed, watching as hisyounger brother climb onto the bed and hug Mark’s arm just like theyused to.
Mark, the thirteen year old in chargeof watching the house while his family went out for groceries, has noidea what’s happening. He barely had time to register a blur leapingat him and grabbing his arm in a vicegrip.
“Mark hyung, I’ve missed you,”Bambam-Yugyeom says, looking up at the older boy’s face, eyestwinkling. “Your hair is red, just like you’ve always wanted,” hecontinues, staring in awe.
Mark can only stare with his mouth hungopen, he doesn’t know this child, nor the one standing on the otherside of his bed, just staring. The other kid just stares at him witha wide smile on his face, not moving, not anything.
“Who are you two?” He manages tosay, while trying to shake off Bambam-Yugyeom and backing up on hisbed towards the headboard. “Look, I don’t know who’s kids you are,but mom didn’t tell me I had to babysit anyone,” Mark says, lookingfrom one to the other, becoming increasingly more and more confused.
“Mark hyung, you don’t remember us?”Youngjae-Jackson finally speaks, climbing into bed, grabbing on toMark’s other arm. “We’re best friends, remember?”
“Yeah hyung,” Bambam-Yugyeom says,nuzzling Mark’s shoulder. “The three of us were gonna be bestfriends forever.” He looks up at the red haired boy and smiles.“And still are.”
“I, I don’t know who you are!” Markexclaims, trying to shake both kids off. He’s never seen them before,and would definitely remember who his best friends were. “Look ifyou want snacks just take them and leave, you don’t have the rightperson,” he grunts out, desperately trying to get his arms freefrom them. His legs have already kicked the covers off his bed, buthe still can’t break free. He doesn’t know if it’s the strangechildren, but it’s like he’s being pined down and unable to get up.But these are just kids, and things like this didn’t happen in reallife.
“You’re lying Mark hyung,”Youngjae-Jackson says. “You remember us. Mark hyung wouldn’t forgethis best friends, right Bambam?”
And suddenly Mark stops thrashing. Hismind blanks; that name.
“That’s right, so you have toremember Mark hyung!” Bambam-Yugyeom nods energetically. He grinswhen Mark’s eyes widen, the color drained from his face, and turns tolook at him. “Hi hyung!”
It’s impossible, Mark thinks. He thinkshe’s seeing things; where the strange child hanging onto his rightarm is, he’s replaced with a boy he hasn’t seen in nearly five years.The same boy who used to hang off his arm and beg for his last cookiewhen he still went to the after-school daycare. The one who wanted toride on lions and could talk about Power Rangers endlessly.
“Bam..bam…” He whispers, stillstaring wide eyed at the child on his bed. Bambam-Yugyeom onlysmiles. “I’m not the only one here, hyung.” He says, promptingthe boy to look to the other side.
“Youngjae,” Mark says without evenrealizing it. The random kid becomes the lonely kid he befriended onesunny day many many many years ago. The same one that would alwaystry to make him laugh despite how quiet or unresponsive he was andbrought his stuffed dog everywhere; Mark remembers him. He remembersthem both, and how they were best friends and shared everything andlaughed and played and how they—
“You, you can’t be here,” Markcomes to his senses, blinking back the tears as he starts to struggleagain. “You’re not real, you can’t be, it’s not possible!”Bambam-Yugyeom grunts in annoyance as Mark tries to wrench his armout of his grasp.
“Hyung, we’re here,”Youngjae-Jackson says. “We’re here because we wouldn’t leave youbehind.” He smiles and grips Mark’s arms between his own eventighter. “We waited, hyung. Waited so long.”
“We made some new friends, but that’sokay because you can meet them too. Then we’ll all be able to playtogether,” Bambam-Yugyeom says, sighing contently and closing hiseyes. Mark frantically looks back and forth between Bambam andYoungjae, becoming extremely desperate to leave. He doesn’t realizethe room is getting hotter and hotter, nor does he notice the tearsthat are running down his cheeks.
“Please, please,” he begs. “PleaseI didn’t do anything, I don’t understand,” he cries and cries.
“We know hyung, we know.”
“But we can’t just leave you behind,Mark hyung.”
“Best friends forever.”
“Please!” Youngjae yells out,screaming in fear when a burning chair falls over in front of theirhiding spot. He can barely see anything through the smoke, and it’sgetting difficult to breathe. He has his back toward to the flames,arms wrapped tight around Bambam. The younger one has an arm aroundhis waist, clutching the back of his shirt like a life line.
“Hyung!” they both call, stillhoping Mark is out there somewhere and looking for them too. “Help!Where are you?” They scream, they scream for Mark and they screamin fear at all the burning debris around them. The smoke has gottenthick, to the point the only thing either of them can see are thebright orange flames, slowly taking everything in and growing bigger.Bambam begins to cough, making it harder to breathe through all thetears and mucus, and Youngjae can’t do anything but continue toscream.
They feel something fall on top ofthe bookcases they’re under and they try to squeeze together and makethemselves small to stay safe, but it’s only a matter of time.Youngjae’s scared, Bambam’s scared.
“Hyung, please help us!”
And suddenly through it all, theoutline of another child appears. He’s looking back and forthfrantically, as if looking for something. Youngjae can’t tell, hiseyes are filled with smoke and tears, but he believes it’s Mark.Holding Bambam close, he whispers, “It’s hyung, he’s here, he’shere.”
The younger boy is almost passed outcompletely, but manages to crack open an eye to peer out into thefire and smoke over Youngjaae’s shoulder. Youngjae didn’t lie, Bambamsees him too. Their Mark hyung, in the middle of the fire looking forthem.
“Hyung, don’t leave us!”
“Hyung we’re here!”
They both shout and scream with allthey have left, but…but the figure doesn’t move closer. Their Mark hyung stares at them, stares at them for a long time, and runs.
The bookcases collapse.
“Hey, don’t cry,” a voice says.“It’s okay, don’t cry.”
Yugyeom doesn’t stop. He feels hot allover, but there’s nothing wrong. But that’s not why he’s crying,either.
“Hey, hey,” the voice says again,and someone gently takes a hold of his wrists and pulls his handsaway from his eyes where they’ve been rubbing. Tears are stillrunning down his face as he looks up to a smiling boy, with a markunder his left eye just like him. He sniffles and rubs his eyes again.
“Don’t cry, all the water is going tobe gone from your body if you do!” he says with a quiet laugh, butall that does is make Yugyeom want to cry harder.
“Ah, no, don’t cry,” the strangertries again. “My name’s Youngjae. What’s yours?”
“Yugyeom,” he manages to saythrough hiccups and sniffling. “I want mama,” he wails.
“It’s okay Yugyeomie,” Youngjaesays, gathering the younger child in his arms. “Mama’s not here,but I am, okay? And Bambam is too.”
“Bambam?” Comes the mufflesresponse.
“Yup, he’s my little dongsaeng. He’stold me a lot about you, about how his best friend’s the best,”Youngjae continues, smiling down at Yugyeom. The child rubs his eyes,but the tears have stopped coming.
“You’re his hyung?” He questions.
“That’s me!” Youngjae laughs,ruffling Yugyeom’s hair. “Bambam’s a little busy trying to get ourother friends together, but it’s okay just you and me for now,right?” He loosens his hold around Yugyeom to gently take the boyshand. Yugyeom nods shyly, not sure of what to say around Youngjae. Itmakes the older boy laugh; he’s definitely cuter than Bambam.
“Let’s go take a walk and find them,okay? Then we’ll all play together!” Youngjae exclaims, swingingtheir hands back and forth. It makes Yugyeom laugh a little, albeit alittle watery, but still a laugh.
“Okay, hyung.”
[Tragedy hits as a fire takes the livesof three young boys in the area. Tuan Yi-En, 13, Wang Ka-Yee, 8, andKim Yugyeom, 5, were reported dead after authorities responded to a119 call from a passerbyer that saw black smoke coming from nearbywindow. Officials are still unsure of what the source of the firewas, but foul play has been ruled out. The three were found in theeldest Tuan Yi-En, or Mark’s room, allegedly sleeping while the fire started.Tuan Mark was also involved in a similar incident a few years back,the burning down of a local daycare that served local areas. He wasamong one of the many that were there that day, managing to get outsafely and without harm. That incident claimed the lives of twochildren, Choi Youngjae, 6, and Bhuwakul Kunpimook, 5. The fact thatTuan Mark has been involved both times is pure coincidence asauthorities have declared no connection. At this time, the familiesof each child ask that the media please give them their privacy andallow for them to mourn in peace…]
yugbam, where they're spirits and they just want a friend?
Warnings: character death (but now they’re cutie ghosts ^^)
Word count: 4193
Author: Jessica
a/n: I loved this prompt the minute I saw it~ I included the other members as well, with some romantic undertones, but I hope you like it anon ^^
Kunpimook had been dead for over sixty years when a young boy, no older than seven, waltzed into the antique shop with his mother. The excited boy dragged his tired mother around the shop, pointing out different items with a grin, until he paused, a small gasp leaving his mouth. “Mama!” he shouted, his little finger pressing against the glass that kept the jewelry safe. “Mama, can I have that necklace, pretty please?”
The necklace in question was truly one of a kind, although the boy didn’t know that. It was commissioned in 1942, by a young mother for her beloved son, before he went off to war. The necklace itself was a simple rope string, which had been replaced over the years. The thing that made it special, and what surely caught the boy’s eyes, was the pendant that hung from the string; it was a hand-carved, wooden snake, whose tiny body was coiled into a tight circle.
The boy’s mother rolled her eyes affectionately, but nodded, handing the shop owner several Baht banknotes. He put the money away before grabbing the necklace and carefully placing it over the bouncing boy’s neck. “Oh, it’s so cool!” he squealed, one hand moving to caress the soft wood, while his mother grabbed the other, pulling him from the shop. “Thank you, mama!”
“Just make you’re careful with it, Jia-Er,” she reminded him with a smile, “It’s an antique, so it’s very old.”
“Don’t worry, mama!” Jia-Er exclaimed, finally taking his eyes off of the necklace in order to beam up at his mother, “I’m going to keep it forever!”
“I sure hope not,” Kunpimook replied with a grumble, well-aware that the happy pair wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Oh well,” he sighed, feeling that unmistakable pull as his necklace traveled down the street, strung low on some kid’s neck. “It’s like mother always said,” he attempted to smile, hurrying after the two, “Change is good, right?”
No. At first, change isn’t good; it’s complicated and a part of him wants to strangle the new owner of his necklace, the loud Jia-Er who spills ramen broth on it and wears it in the bath, no doubt damaging the authentic Cham Cha wood. “Oh, c’mon you brat!” he shouts, hands on his hips as Jia-Er rolls through the grass, covering himself in dirt and dried leaves. “Ah, this kid is going to be the death of me,” he whined, realizing the idiocy of his statement just as Jia-Er jumped into a leaf pile, shrieking with joy.
Of course, Jia-Er wasn’t the death of him (there were a few close calls, though – seriously, who let the boy wear his necklace while playing with swords!?). Instead, he watches as Jia-Er grows over the years, the boy transitioning from a rowdy and loud child, to an equally rowdy and loud teenager (albeit with a stronger sense of purpose in the world). Jackson, as he prefers to be called now, dedicates himself to his sports, academics, family, and friends; and Kunpimook gets to experience every moment of it.
He’s there when Jackson breaks down in the locker room, just a few months shy of fifteen, over his first big loss during a tournament. Angry tears fall from his eyes as his fingers grip the wooden snake, wondering aloud if his father and mother will be disappointed in him. “They’d never be disappointed in you,” Kunpimook says, and although Jackson can’t hear him, his sobs slowly began to dissipate, “They’re so proud of you, Jia-Er.” Thankfully, Jackson’s father shows up and gives him a similar speech, his hand rubbing soothing circles along his back.
Although it hurts, Jackson doesn’t let the loss stop him; if anything, he becomes even more motivated to win. He begins practicing a few extra times a week, sacrificing the time he would’ve spent with friends or family to perfect his technique. He pushes himself harder and harder, truly giving it everything he’s got – blood, sweat, and tears.
In 2011, Jackson’s dedication pays off as he wins his first gold medal. Kunpimook can’t help but feel proud as Jackson lifts it into the air, the brightest smile he’s ever seen plastered on the teen’s face, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. He goes on to win one more gold medal, before hanging up his sabre for good. “It’s time I focused on getting into a good school,” he tells his parents over breakfast one day, their smiles sad but understanding.
The same effort Jackson put into fencing, he applies to his academics. Kunpimook watches the dark circles growing under Jackson’s eyes, as the teen stays up later and later, night after night, head bend over his textbook and scribbling notes into his journals. “Jia-Er, you should take a break,” he whispers one evening, Jackson yawning for the umpteenth time. “You’re going to make yourself sick,” he continues, worrying over the teen who can’t see or hear him; a part of him wishes he could stroke Jackson’s back, if only to show the teen that he’s here with him.
Jackson graduates at eighteen with honors, and packs up for Los Angeles a few weeks later. He breaks up with his childhood sweetheart, kisses his mother and father goodbye, and boards the sixteen hour flight to his new home. He smiles as he converses with the people next to him, but Kunpimook can see the way he nervously fiddles with his necklace, his fingertips tracing along the snake’s coils.
Unlike Jackson, Kunpimook never received a formal education. He was the youngest son in a family of four, so while his two older brothers went to school, he stayed at home and helped his mother around the house, while taking care of his baby sister. Occasionally, his brothers would share their books with him, teaching him how to read different words or to solve a math problem. It was never permanent, though, and once the war it came, it didn’t matter if he could write his own name or not.
He sighs and glances over at Jackson, noticing that the young man is asleep. “Change is good, kid,” he says, chuckling slightly to himself. “You’re going to make us all so proud.”
They arrive in Los Angeles without any drama, and Jackson finds his luggage before hailing a taxi. “UCLA, please,” he says to the driver, who just grunts and peels away from the curb with a squeak, Jackson immediately tensing up. Kunpimook glares as the driver continues to speed, taking the corners too sharp and cutting several other drivers off; Jackson, in the seat next to him, has gone pale, his hands clenching at the seat. Thankfully, they arrive at the school in one piece, Jackson rushing towards his new home with renewed exuberance.
“This is it!” he practically squeals with excitement, entering the residence hall. Several eyes follow Jackson as he walks, no doubt admiring the handsome young man. Kunpimook smiles as he walks along, remembering a young Jia-Er with missing teeth and a spot of dirt on his cheek.
“Ah, oh my god!” Jackson giggles as he bounces up and down, standing in front of his room. He knocks on the door and waits, wiggling excitedly; when it opens, he nearly jumps his new roommate, bringing a wide-eyed blonde into his arms and chattering a mile a minute.
Kunpimook, on the other hand, is frozen outside of Jackson’s doorway, looking past the two men and at the other occupant in the room. “You’re…you,” he stutters, taking a step back as the other begins to move forward, until his back hits the wall, “Are you…like me?”
“Have you never seen another spirit before?” he asks, an amused smile on his face. Kunpimook shakes his head; the only place he’s lived, besides with Jackson, is the antique shop. “Well, I’m a spirit, like you,” he pokes Kunpimook in the chest, who jumps, surprised when the touch doesn’t go through him, “And I’ve been dead for one hundred and twenty years. How about you?”
“Eighty years,” Kunpimook replies, his voice no louder than a whisper, “You…touched me.”
“Um, yeah?” he raises a brow at Kunpimook, before shrugging it off and grabbing his hand, dragging him into the dorm room. “So, this is Mark Tuan,” he gestures towards the blonde with his free hand, and then back to himself, “And I’m Kim Yugyeom.”
“Kunpimook Bhuwakul,” he introduces himself, glancing from Yugyeom’s face to the hand that holds his. “It’s,” he starts, then chokes, sniffling (even though no tears come), “It’s been so long.”
“What has?”
“This,” he says, referring to their linked hands, “Yugyeom, I haven’t touched anyone since…” he closes his eyes, ignoring the images that flash behind them. “Since I was alive.”
“Oh, oh,” he promptly drops Kunpimook’s hand, ignoring the saddened whine that leaves his throat, “Oh god, I’m so sorry. First time seeing another spirit and being touched, no wonder you’re…” he trails off, the words ‘emotional’ hanging in the air. “Look, how about I leave for a bit, and you can keep an eye on the kids,” he offers, which Kunpimook accepts with a sniffly nod.
Once Yugyeom is out of the room, Kunpimook directs his attention back towards Jackson, who is sitting cross-legged next to Mark. He’s still chattering like a lunatic, but Mark watches him with a smile, occasionally nodding along or providing a one-word answer. “Oh, Jia-Er,” he sighs, as Jackson giggles and slaps Mark’s chest, making the blonde laugh along with him, “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
When Yugyeom finally returns, the lights are off and everyone is fast asleep, Mark’s quiet snores filling the room. “Hey,” he gives a little wave from his spot on the floor, where he had been watching Jackson sleep. He knows it’s an odd thing to do, but for some reason, Jackson’s sleeping face always brought him peace.
“Hey,” Yugyeom echoes, sitting beside him with a smile, “You feeling better?”
Kunpimook nods, giving Jackson’s face one last look, before directing his gaze at Yugyeom. “Can I ask for a favor?” he questions, receiving a silent nod in return. “Will you…touch me, again?” It takes a second for him to realize how awkward that sounds, and to try and backtrack his request, “I mean, um–”
Yugyeom chuckles and takes his hand within his own, lacing their fingers together. Kunpimook gives his fingers an experimental squeeze and feels the bones in Yugyeom’s hand, thin but strong, unlike his own. He then rubs the pads of fingers along the other’s skin, the flesh as cold as ice, but smooth from lack of use. “It feels nice,” he says finally, letting their joined hands rest on Yugyeom’s firm thigh, “My hands weren’t nice.”
“They were well used,” Yugyeom corrects him, his own fingers taking an experimental walk, “Your fingertips are calloused over, no doubt from years of hard work. Your skin is also rough, and a little dry, telling me you worked outside for some time?”
Kunpimook chuckles, shaking his head, “Yeah, you could say that.”
“What do my hands tell you?”
“I think…I think you grew up well,” Kunpimook starts, not wanting to offend. Yugyeom just continues to smile, his fingers stroking along his knuckles, “You were rich and never did any hard labor. You have slight callouses on your fingertips, most likely from playing an instrument or using a pen, but you never got down on your knees, scrubbing the floors clean or pulling weeds out of the garden.”
“I played piano,” Yugyeom responds, “Although, my older brother Youngjae was much better than me. He was a terrible dancer, though.”
“You have strong legs,” Kunpimook blurts out, and then blushes, swearing softly.
“I loved to dance,” Yugyeom closes his eyes, as if reliving a distant memory. Kunpimook uses the opportunity to explore Yugyeom’s face, noticing right away how handsome he is, with his strong jaw and high cheekbones; he’s also very adorable, though, with his boyish smile and dreamy eyes.
“I never learned,” Kunpimook admits, receiving a wicked grin in return; before he can even blink, Yugyeom is dragging him to his feet and bringing his hands to settle on his broad shoulders. “Really?” Kunpimooks asks with a laugh, as Yugyeom then places his hands on his waist, bringing them close.
He gulps as they begin to sway, a simple two-step back and forth. He can’t help but notice that from this angle (just below Yugyeom’s nose) and with the moonlight streaming in, he looks…Kunpimook shakes his head, pushing the thought from his mind. Instead, he smiles and stands on his tip toes, so that he can rest his head in the space between Yugyeom’s shoulder and neck.
He closes his eyes, reveling in the other’s touch.
The last time he had been held like this was during the war. It was a cold, winter night, as shivers wracked his body, making his teeth chatter. His friend, Nickhkun, brought the boy into his arms, so that he could share his body heat. “It’s so cold,” Kunpimook had whined, his freezing lips brushing against the smooth skin of Nickhkun’s neck.
“Just try and relax,” Nickhkun whispered back, tightening his embrace. “Just try and sleep, Kunpimook, and we’ll be home before you know it.”
“Kunpimook?” Yugyeom’s gentle tone draws him back to the present. He slowly lifts his head and falls back onto the balls of his feet, blinking up at Yugyeom curiously. “You were…” Yugyeom pauses, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. He gave the plush skin a quick bite, before releasing it with a sigh, “You know what, it’s not important.”
“Are you sure?”
Yugyeom nods, tightening his embrace.
The next day, Mark and Jackson leave the dorm and venture to the mall, in search of cool decorations and knick-knacks to adorn their new living space with. Kunpimook and Yugyeom trail behind them, lost in their own conversations. “You really lived a high society life?” Kunpimook asks, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I was so high society, I had an arranged marriage,” Yugyeom groans, running his hands through his hair. It spikes up for a moment, before falling perfectly back in the place, “Her name was Suji. She was definitely beautiful, but…”
“You didn’t love her?”
“No, although I could have been happy with her,” Yugyeom says, his expression thoughtful, “I was young, though, and wanted to live my own life.”
Kunpimook shrugs, “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Maybe not, but regardless,” his expression turns regretful as he frowns, “I could have lived a long life with her. I could have died at seventy, surrounded by my family, instead of at eighteen and all alone,” he sighs, idly rubbing at his wrist.
“I think it’s normal, to think about the what ifs and could have beens,” Kunpimook says after a few moments, interrupting the silence that had fallen upon them. He glances away from the smiling and laughing Jackson, who is pulling Mark into a clothing store, and at Yugyeom, “I know when I look back, there’s a lot I regret. And it’s hard, not to feel sad, but it’s over and done with, right?” he looks back at Jackson, smiling fondly, “We’re stuck here, so we may as well enjoy it.”
Yugyeom’s brows draw together as he holds out a hand, stopping Kunpimook from fully entering the store. “Wait, you think you’re stuck here?”
“Well, yes. Aren’t I?”
“You really don’t know a lot about spirits, do you,” Yugyeom asks, the question rhetorical. Kunpimook frowns, not appreciating Yugyeom’s lack of understanding. “Okay,” Yugyeom leans against the wall, smoothing a hand over his face, “Okay, I need you to listen carefully, alright?”
“When I was seventeen, I fell in love – with a man,” he adds, clearing his throat, “Jaebum tended to the gardens at my family’s home, and he was…amazing,” he smiles for a second, a bashful look on his face, “I loved him with all of my heart, Kunpimook, but I knew…rather than live with the pain, or risk being discovered, I took my own life.”
Kunpimook catches the way Yugyeom’s fingers scratch at his wrist, and suddenly it all makes sense.
“There was a lot of blood, naturally. My parents burned the clothes, but my ring,” he pauses, glancing at Mark, “The ring was a family heirloom, so they cleaned it and kept it. Thirty years after my death, my brother’s son sold the ring to a Chinese man, who brought it – and me, out of Korea.”
Kunpimook thinks about the ring on Mark’s finger, and the necklace around Jackson’s neck.
“Seventy years after my death, a Taiwanese woman bought the ring for her husband. They ended up having four children together, and when his eldest son was old enough, he gave the ring to him,” Mark’s laughter echos through the store, no doubt in response to something Jackson did. “Wherever my ring goes, my spirit travels with it, because there is a part of my earthly body still attached to it.”
“The blood,” Kunpimook whispers, feeling sick to his stomach. He looks away from Yugyeom and towards Jackson, the young man’s fingers tracing along the snake’s coils. It’s a nervous habit he’s had since he was a boy, and until now, Kunpimook had never thought much of it; now, though, he just imagines Jackson’s fingers covered in blood, the way his were as he clutched the necklace with his dying breath.
“So,” Kunpimook’s voice is thick with emotion as he faces Yugyeom once more, his body shaking, “If I…if I burn the necklace, then I’m free? I can finally rest?”
Yugyeom nods, his eyes downcast. “I can do it for you, if that’s,” he pauses, watching as Mark and Jackson walk past them, their arms saddled with several bags, “If that’s what you want.”
Jackson giggles as Mark whispers into his ear, high-pitched and a little too loud. An older woman looks up from her cell phone and glares, scoffing under her breath. Kunpimook can remember a time when he felt the same way about Jackson’s laugh, always annoyed and hating the boy for everything he did; now, though, he finds himself glaring at the woman, cursing her for having ill feelings towards Jackson.
“I don’t know,” Kunpimook finally responds, Yugyeom and him following behind the two, “When I first met Jackson, I hated the kid. He was loud and annoying, and he took me from my home. Over the years, though,” he smiles, taking a gander down memory lane, “I’ve gotten attached. A part of me wants to move on, to maybe see my own family again, but…” he sighs, “A part of me also knows that one day, Jackson won’t be here anymore. Do I really want to stay and watch him grow up, only to be left all alone in the end?”
Yugyeom slips an arm around Kunpimook’s shoulders and pulls him closer, rubbing his arm. Kunpimook relaxes into the embrace, his eyes never wavering from Jackson’s smile. “Whatever you need, Kunpimook, I’ll help.”
They arrive back at the dorm an hour later, the subject dropped for now. Life continues as it normally does, until school officially starts the following week. Jackson attends all of his classes with the biggest grin on his face, backpack filled with hi-lighters, mechanical pencils, and notebooks. The only other student who matches his level of enthusiasm is Park Jinyoung, a foreigner from South Korea. Of course, Jackson forms an immediate bond with Jinyoung, and soon even Mark is friends with the other as well.
“He’s so…pretentious!” Yugyeom scoffs, causing Kunpimook to giggle at him. “No, seriously! Look at this jerk,” he gestures towards the group who are piled on Mark’s bed, Jinyoung dominating the conversation as he goes on and on about this new book he’s reading.
Kunpimook leans over and whacks Yugyeom on the thigh. “He’s not that bad,” he says, ignoring Yugyeom’s pout, “He’s just well-read. I wish I could’ve been like that…”
“You never went to school?”
“I was the third son in a family of four; by the time I was ready for school, there wasn’t any money left,” he explains to Yugyeom, who in turn gives him a sad smile. “That’s okay, it’s not like knowing addition saved me during the war.”
“You were in the war?” Yugyeom asks, surprised; Kunpimook realizes with a start that he’s never shared this information before.
“Oh, well,” he looks down at his hands, remembering how theheavy gun felt in them, how warm his blood had been. “When I was eighteen, theJapanese invaded Thailand. Our government agreed to cooperate with them, but alot of us – mostly my best friend, Nickhkun, didn’t support this decision. Westarted our own war, and I took a bullet to the chest for it.”
“And you were wearing your necklace?”
“It was a gift, from my mother,” he sighs, placing his hand over his chest. He can still recall how the pendant felt, the wood resting comfortably against his ribs. “She said as long as I had it, I would always be with her…”
Kunpimook sniffs, his shoulders tensing. “Kunpimook?” Yugyeom calls out to him, concerned, “What is it?”
“I want to go home,” he whispers, looking up at Yugyeom with pleading eyes. “Will you help me?”
“Of course, Kunpimook,” Yugyeom says, laying a warm hand on his back. The two begin to devise a plan, beginning with Yugyeom swiping a lighter from the students next door. They then wait until Jackson takes off the necklace, tossing it onto his bed and following after Mark to the communal showers.
Yugyeom picks up the necklace in one hand, while holding the lighter in the other hand, finger on the lever. “Are you ready?”
Kunpimook begins to open his mouth, but freezes, the word yes trapped on his tongue. Is he ready for this? Ever since he left for the war, all Kunpimook wanted was to be reunited with his family again; now that the chance is here, he’s hesitating, all for a stupid kid he’s grown attached to. It’s not like Jackson can see or hear him, and does he really want to stick around, only to be abandoned in the end?
The doorknob begins to turn and Yugyeom drops the items from his hand, letting them fall onto the carpet with a soft sound. Jackson enters the room and pauses, looking at the floor in confusion. “What the –?” he picks up the necklace, his fingers stroking the coils.
“Jackson, did you find the–” Mark comes rushing in, stopping when he sees Jackson’s confused face. “What’s wrong?”
“My necklace was on the floor,” he mumbles to the other, before slipping it over his neck. It comes to rest against his bare chest, “I didn’t leave it there.”
Mark closes the door behind them, their lack of shampoo for the showers forgotten. “I’ve had this necklace since I was a kid, you know?” Jackson begins, his fingers still following the coils, “It’s hard to explain, but I’ve always felt…comfort, when wearing it. Like someone is watching out for me. Is that insane?”
Mark chuckles, giving his ring an unconscious twist. “Nah man, it’s not crazy. C’mon, we need to shower before all the hot water is gone,” he says, moving to grab the bottle of shampoo on the nightstand, before guiding Jackson out of the room, a gentle hand on his back.
“No way,” Kunpimook says as soon as they leave the room, turning towards Yugyeom, “Yugyeom, he…he knows I’m here. Jackson knows I’m with him!” he feels like crying as he jumps into Yugyeom’s arms, burying his face in the other’s strong chest, “He knows I’m here!”
“So,” Yugyeom’s arms circle around his waist, holding him close, “Should we devise a new plan, or would you like to stay a little bit longer?”
Kunpimook leans back, looking up at Yugyeom with a grin.
Five Years Later
Kunpimook gasps as Jackson falls to one knee, his hands over his mouth. He immediately begins squealing as Jackson opens the little felt box, ignoring Yugyeom’s eye rolls. “You were literally there when he picked out the ring,” he mumbles, unable to contain his own smile as Mark tears up, shakily nodding his head yes. Jackson shrieks with joy and bounces to his feet, picking up Mark and spinning him around the room.
“I’m just so happy,” Kunpimook lowers his hand, one of them catching Yugyeom’s and giving it a squeeze. “An opportunity like this was never available to our generations. I mean, look at them,” he continues to gush, meeting Yugyeom’s eyes, “They’re healthy, they’re both educated, and they’re in love. It’s amazing, Yugyeom.”
“It really is,” Yugyeom agrees, grinning, “It’ll be even more amazing when they adopt. I know Mark wants a son–”
“And Jackson wants a little girl,” Kunpimook finishes, his eyes widening as he exclaims, “Oh my god, two babies! Can you imagine?”
They glance over at the two, just as Jackson spills a flute of champagne onto himself, making Mark giggle in response. “Currently, no, but I’m glad I’ll be around to see it.”
“Yeah,” Kunpimook nods, his smile never wavering, “Yeah, me too.”
