Jumin would have not have so much as considered before meeting you that he could even potentially be touch deprived. The idea of craving touch simply didn’t make sense, anyway — too much of the touch he had experienced before was uncomfortable and unwanted. A grip like a vice around his wrist to drag him to a basement. Women trying to make advances on him since he was too young to even grasp it properly. Drunk business partners’ arms haphazardly thrown over his shoulders at corporate parties, as if they’re friends.
It practically goes without saying that when a man of almost thirty has never even been hugged properly he tends to miss the mark on physical touch altogether. And it didn’t bother Jumin, not being touched. He didn’t want to touch others just as much as he’d rather they didn’t touch him; he felt no need to instigate it outside of situations where good manners called for it. Frankly, he couldn’t even begin to enlighten someone on how to initiate human contact in a way that doesn’t feel awkward or misplaced, nor did he care to find out.
But like with every other aspect of his meticulously planned daily life, you completely threw a spanner in the works. Before he knew it you were holding his heart in your clutches — simultaneously so ruthless and so gentle. Like a glass so full that the surface tension is at risk of breaking, one tiny movement held the ability to send him spiralling (in the best way, he’d tell you).
Even still, in the very beginning he didn’t touch you much outside of what he had predetermined to be expected for a relationship. Him wanting to kiss you had been a given from the day you met in person; a craving to taste you, to leave you breathless. Yet, lingering hands and cradling arms were not something that came naturally to him. Efficiency and independence had always stood at the forefront of his life, and his logical side subconsciously assumed the stance that touching for the sake of touching merely added time and introduced complicating variables.
You had opted to stay mostly on equal footing when it came to physical contact. He was walking on unknown territory and it was only expected that it’d take time for him to find his way; if he wasn’t touchy you wouldn’t push the boundary of touch. Still, sometimes you’d fall into resting your head against his shoulder or holding onto him just to hold onto him.
Your contact was never unwelcome, he found.
In fact, with passing time it almost became too infrequent. And with the lack of your warmth (just to be warm) came an urge—a longing—that took Jumin some time to be able to place. To be touched. To relive the memories of you, or your hands, or your lips, pressed against him.
So it started with subtleties. A test. He’d purposely brush your fingers together when you passed him something. Reach for something you were reaching for just for the chance to feel your skin against his when it wasn’t necessary. Nonchalantly slide his palm into yours when you sat close to him or he, himself, sat too close to you.
One day, his left hand in yours and a cup of still-too-hot tea in the other, Jumin tells you, “I have a proposal.”
“Another? So soon? I already said yes,” you tease.
He chuckles. “Indeed. This is not a second request for your hand in marriage, though I guarantee that I would be overjoyed to marry you ten times over. Rather, I was curious if you’d be so kind as to assist me in something.”
“Anything,” you tell him. “Though it’s nothing nefarious, I hope?”
His brows furrow slightly and he looks to where your hands are locked together. “You do not take me for a criminal, do you? In that case, it’s rather irresponsible that you should stay so contentedly in my company, let alone accept my request regardless.”
A smile breaks your feigned seriousness. “I know you’re a good man, Jumin.” The concern fades away from his eyes as he looks back to you and fondly shakes his head. “But hypothetically, I never said I wouldn’t help you commit crimes,” you add.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says through an amused exhale.
“Good. Then tell me, what’s my assistance needed for?”
“An experiment.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“Then allow me to explain,” Jumin says. “I have deduced over the last several weeks of us spending time together that I find my desire to touch you, to be touched by you, increasing substantially.”
“In what sense?”
He raises an eyebrow and a smile threatens the corners of his lips. “I am simply speaking in general terms. Though I would not be opposed to more sex, too.”
He doesn’t miss the twinkle in your eyes (and he does smile, then).
“Ergo,” he continues with a giddiness uncharacteristically present on his tongue, “I hypothesise that an increase in physical contact between us, in any and all forms, would lead to an increase in my quality of life. Only if that would be something you may also enjoy, of course.”
“You know, I never had you down as much of the type to put the fate of something as precious as your quality of life in someone else’s hands.” You lean in and kiss him in the way that always leaves him half-dizzy and wanting more; chaste but playful; almost saccharine. “But I’ll take good care of it.”
Truth be told, Jumin is not the type to give away his vulnerability easily. Not at all. But if he feels the need to explain himself further (and he does), it never comes. His need for you is not something he can effectively vocalise. Just because — that’s at the crux of it. Just because.
So subtleties shift to blatancies. When you drag yourself out of his bed in the mornings that you stay at the penthouse to greet him brewing tea or coffee for you both in the kitchen, you wrap your arms around his waist and sink into his back with no hesitancy or resistance. He lets you take the first cup and holds onto it longer than he needs to just to feel the way the heat passes between his hands and the ceramic and between your hands and his. He tucks your hair away from your face as you take the first sip, and revels in the way you gently rest your head against him with your eyes closed while trying to properly wake yourself up. The way you make a point of straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket before he leaves for work, how you linger with your hands pressed to his chest, is something he savours. It means he kisses you with just a little more fervour than had previously been typical in the morning, and he won’t complain when you keep his mouth to yours for just a few moments too long. When he has the honour of coming home to you after an exhausting day he will happily lay on you as you run your fingers into his hair and listen to him talk. He will let himself be pampered and held and kissed silly. And he will reject that pesky null hypothesis: There is no significant relationship between physical contact and my quality of life.
“I don’t want to let go.” She pressed her lips together, nodding quickly.
“That’s perfectly fine. Can I…suggest something?” she tried, feeling slightly apprehensive when he was quiet for a long moment.
“Go ahead,” he finally said, and she smiled, looking past her hands back towards his bedroom.
“If we move this to the bed, would—” She paused, feeling her skin heat up from head to toe as she heard him stop breathing.
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She breathed in slowly, opening her eyes a bit and remembering where she was. She stretched, turning to look at the time on Jumin’s alarm clock. It was barely past 3 in the morning, and the rest she’d gotten so far had only left her feeling more drowsy. She pulled the covers off her lower half, stepping onto the cold floor and shivering just a little. Wrapping her arms around herself, she moved out of the room towards the light coming from the living area.
Jumin was sat on the couch, staring past the glass of wine in his hands as he swirled it. His eyebrows were set low on his forehead, his jaw stiff and clenched as he twisted himself in his own tangled thoughts. She sighed worriedly, wishing more than anything that she could make Elizabeth appear right in front of him. But even that wouldn’t alleviate his worries completely.
Jumin looked up suddenly, his face softening slightly as he quickly put his glass down.
“You’re still awake? Is something uncomfortable?” he asked, standing to meet her as she took a few steps in his direction. She shook her head, smiling lightly as she looked him up and down. “It’s not even nearly morning yet. Is the bed uncomfortable?” Shaking her head again, she chuckled tiredly.
“Not at all, Jumin. What are you doing up?” she asked in reply, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“I was observing you sleep for some time. You can’t know how wonderful it is to hear you breathe when you’re sleeping,” he began, making her smile lightly. She couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, losing someone so important to you just as you find someone who becomes just as important. She wouldn’t be able to feel any less troubled about them leaving.
“When the moonlight hits your hair, all that anxiety that’s been torturing me throughout the day magically disappears. And for a while, tranquil and beautiful peace persists. But…once the sun comes up and you start your day, I’ll be anxious again. Anxious thoughts of you leaving…of someone making you leave…” She took a step closer, shaking her head.
“I told you I would stay until you figured everything out,” she said gently, watching him nod but look unconvinced as his gaze wandered to the side. “It’s only the party planning that concerns me.” He clenched his jaw, sighing out quickly.
“I know,” he breathed. She saw how tense he was, wondering how much pain it was causing him to be rigid with worry for so long. Glancing down, she saw his hands tightly gripping his arms, and she reached out instinctively, removing his left hand from his right arm. She held it in her own for a moment, and then she began to gently massage it, trying to work out some of the tension as he stared at her.
“Right now, nothing can hurt you or me,” she reminded him, seeing his eyes focused entirely on her. “You should rest. Your body and mind deserve it,” she continued, turning his hand over and continuing to rub circles into his palm gently.
“I wish I could,” he said lowly, clearing his throat afterward. “That way, my mind would have more strength to…resist,” he finished, and she met his eyes, seeing the dark grey of his irises almost burning as he looked at her. Her stomach twisted, and her mind wouldn’t produce words for a long moment.
“I’m not trying to…tempt you, Jumin,” she replied, her hands pausing against his as she held them in midair.
“You don’t have to try,” he said simply, his own words making his eyebrows twist in guilt. She let go of his hand, not anticipating or intending the situation to head in this direction.
About to explain herself, she took a breath as his hands moved to her waist, and he stepped impossibly closer. He was leaning over her, his eyes taking in the features of her face before his gaze paused on her lips. She was sure her heart would beat out of her chest, but she was at a loss for words, remembering their kiss from yesterday morning and unable to forget how he’d caged her against the wall the previous night.
Just before their lips brushed, Jumin closed his eyes tightly, turning his head and pulling her into his chest instead. Her eyes were wide with surprise, her arms at her side as he wound his arms further around her in a tight hug.
Taking a shallow, shaky breath, she moved to hug him, lifting her arms over his shoulders and linking them behind his head loosely. She thought the reciprocation would have eased him even slightly, but his shoulders were still tensed, his breathing short and quick.
“Jumin, are you alright?” she whispered, closing her eyes to try and focus on helping him.
“I’m trying to control myself,” he replied, his voice strained and guttural. She took another breath, trying to relax her body as an example for him to follow.
“Is this okay?” she wondered, feeling his hands clench into fists against the fabric of her pajamas.
“I don’t want to let go.” She pressed her lips together, nodding quickly.
“That’s perfectly fine. Can I…suggest something?” she tried, feeling slightly apprehensive when he was quiet for a long moment.
“Go ahead,” he finally said, and she smiled, looking past her hands back towards his bedroom.
“If we move this to the bed, would—” She paused, feeling her skin heat up from head to toe as she heard him stop breathing.
“Um, not like that, uh,” she amended, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to think more carefully.
“I just mean, I think it would be better if you were able to lie down and relax,” she got out, speaking slowly and softly. He resumed breathing, releasing his fists and clenching them once again.
“I trust you, but I don’t know if I can trust myself right now,” he said, just above a whisper. She nodded slightly, getting her breathing back to normal.
“I trust you, Jumin. You said yourself that you don’t want to disrupt the…order of things,” she reminded him, feeling him turn his face into her hair slightly.
“I still feel that way,” he agreed.
“Okay, let’s focus on that,” she suggested, testing how he would respond if she tried to move away. She unlinked her arms, using her feet to push herself back and meet his eyes again. He looked helpless, gazing at her for guidance as she smiled and pulled back further. His hands had unfurled, running along her waist as she stepped only a pace away from him.
“Have you ever cuddled with anyone before?” she asked quietly, seeing him want to fidget as he held and broke her gaze multiple times.
“I’ve never been in a physical relationship of that caliber,” he replied, making her smile at how eloquent he was being as if he wasn’t seconds from falling apart.
“That’s okay, I was just wondering,” she nodded, taking her hands from his shoulders and grabbing his hands that had been lingering on her waist. She held them gently before keeping just one in her own and taking a step to move past him. She led him towards his room, watching her feet so she didn’t stumble as the darkness grew.
“Because of that, I think it would help if you could…explain…what you’ll be doing,” he said hesitantly, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. She nodded, adjusting her approach to the situation as they stepped through his bedroom door.
“I can do that. Thank you for telling me,” she said as they neared the foot of the bed and her eyes adjusted to the low light.
“I’m going to have you lie down on your side, facing the window, okay?” she started, watching him nod to himself and climb onto the bed. He stiffly laid down, his arms slightly out in front of himself as he looked at her warily.
“Perfect, and now I’m–”
“Would you also be able to explain the purpose of this?” he interjected, pressing his lips together. She tilted her head, ignoring the immediate answer that was her selfish desire to be close to him and make him feel alright.
“Well, being physically close to, or cuddling, with others releases hormones that make people feel…good, and it can help relieve stress, anxiety, and depression,” she responded, gesturing nervously with her hands as he watched. Clearing his throat, he shifted on the bed slightly, raising an eyebrow.
“Since I’ve never engaged in it, I suppose I can’t say whether or not that statement is true until I have tried it,” he thought aloud, making her smile and shed some of her hesitations.
“I agree.” She placed a knee on the bed, pulling herself up onto it and making his eyes widen. Faltering, she opened her mouth quickly, laughing tensely.
“I’m sorry, um,” she breathed, shaking her head a little. “Now I’m going to lie down in front of you, facing you, and I’ll be close, okay?” she explained, waiting for him to nod before she continued, moving slowly and predictably as she lowered herself on her side in front of him. He studied her every move, making her heartbeat ring in her ears as she finally settled.
“And now, you can hug me like you were before,” she said, trying to speak at a quiet volume but falling into a whisper. He looked between both of her eyes, looking worried and almost scared.
“Don’t worry,” she smiled, ignoring the way her hands had begun to shake. “This much is okay, Jumin.” He mulled it over for a moment before he lifted an arm over her, resting his hand on the small of her back. She watched his expression quietly, lifting her head when he began to move his other arm so that he could wind it behind her. His hand gripped her shoulder, and she let him pull her close enough that she could no longer meet his eyes, her head dipping below his chin.
She took a deep breath, holding her hands to her chest as she waited for him to get comfortable. His breathing was fast, and she could feel the pulse of his heart through the hand on her shoulder.
“Jumin,” she called softly, but he must not have heard her, still as rigid as ever. “Is it okay if I touch you as well?” she asked, getting his attention as both his hands twitched.
“Yes,” he whispered in her ear, making her stomach flip as she moved a hand forward. She pressed it on his upper chest, her fingertips able to feel his clavicle beneath his shirt and the way his heart was racing. She waited just a moment before slowly moving her hand back and forth, rubbing small, soothing circles into his skin and willing him to relax underneath her.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply in and out so that he could match it, his heart rate slowing slightly as he listened to her and focused on her touch.
“Can I touch your head?” she whispered, hearing his breath hitch briefly.
“Yes,” he replied again, his affirmation a soft breath against her ear. She blinked, biting her tongue as she used her other hand to reach up and smooth out the hair on the back of his head. His breathing accelerated again, and she hesitated, trying a hand through his hair instead. He grunted in surprise, the noise a groggy, deep sound.
She ran another hand through his hair when he didn’t say anything, unable to help the smile that stretched onto her lips when he pulled her closer. So she continued, wondering in the back of her mind what he used to make his hair so soft.
It was many minutes before his breathing began to even out, his hands slightly loosening around her as he got more comfortable.
“I’m not going anywhere, Jumin. I promise,” she whispered, barely able to hear herself say the words. He hummed lightly, almost in a sigh. She smiled to herself, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
She lost track of time as she lay there in his arms, her eyes closing naturally as she felt him go limp against her. Wishing him a restful sleep, she stilled herself, pressing a gentle kiss to his arm that was acting as her pillow as she too, drifted off to sleep.
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thank you all so much for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed even one sentence that I was able to share with you, and I can't thank you enough for all the support you've given. I haven't written like this in almost three years, and it feels so good to be back.
stay tuned for more from me! I think I'm going to participate in a few of the MysticTober prompts for this year! thanks again <3
