✘-- pretty boy | kji&<m
Sometimes Jongin resorted to less than moral tactics in his search to survive storms, cold weather. It was hard, living on the street. It was hard having nowhere to go when the wind cut through threadbare clothes, when a sudden rainstorm kicked up and drenched him, left him frigid. It wasn’t like he had a shower or a clothes-dryer or even a change of clothing, for that matter. Sometimes he made enough to get a pack of kimbap from the corner store and sleep in a PC bang, but when he came up a little short he resorted to the clubs.
There were a lot of them in Hongdae, all over the place. And they were full of people interested in a one night stand- especially with an exotically handsome half-foreign looking kid. It helped that he stayed sort of rugged, sort of constantly tanned and weathered from the elements. So he played it up, spun his way through smoky rooms until he landed on someone liable to take him home for the night, always claiming he was a tourist or that his apartment was ages away or that his roommate was a weirdo. It wasn’t moral and it wasn’t dignified but Jongin had stopped caring much about that sort of thing a long time ago.
It was hit or miss though. Sometimes people ended up way, way weirder than they looked. Taemin had been one of those- but in a surprising way. He’d let him stay through the next day when a monsoon blew through, let him look at his paintings and take a shower. They’d made fried rice and dumplings and watched every Fast and Furious movie and, a few days later, they’d repeated the experience. And then again. And then again. It had turned into a sort of routine by now, to the point that Jongin was secretly-sort-of-banking on one night of comfortable sleep a week, and it had really picked his mood up a lot.
They’d arranged to meet for coffee and Jongin had danced himself silly and snuck into a sauna for a shower to prepare for that eventuality, having saved up enough to treat the both of them assuming Taemin’s tastes weren’t too extravagant (but frankly he was willing to bet it would be black, bitter coffee, to suit the other’s prickly personality). He slid his way into the seat across from a bright eyed, blonde haired boy, lips pulling into a wide and beaming grin, flashing white against tanned skin. “Hey kitten, how’s it going?” he hummed out curious, beckoned the waitress over and instructed the boy to order, followed suit before he turned back to the other. “Come up with your latest and greatest masterpiece yet?”