god, this shirt felt like it was about to come apart at the seams, jongin thinks as curls his fingers into the edges of it. he gives it a light tug and freezes because, shit, it actually—he flicks a quick glance over to minho to see if he saw—did come apart at the seams. "uh." it's the only thing that comes to mind as he immediately releases the edge of the shirt and settles for feeling grateful that minho actually had a shirt to spare or else he'd be walking out of the locker room and to the dorms, shirtless.
not that, he's sure, a lot of people would mind that—aside from the administration, of course. he can't help but almost chuckle when he thinks about what headlines could possibly show up as a result.
"kim jongin suspended for indecent exposure"
he catches himself, though, and it's when minho finally answers his question. or, rather, that thing he had blurted out just moments before.
jongin blinks furiously as his response and he's surprised, or not? should he be surprised? he's actually not really sure what's supposed to thinking or feeling right now because the only thing he's actually sure of right now is that his ass kills, and it's not because of the shitter he took during practice today.
"oh." he replies, like the oh so intelligent being that he is. "well, that's..." jongin swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he looks around the locker around, anywhere but at minho will do. "cool." what were words, though, actually, he thinks as he reaches up and drags the palm of his hand over his face. he still has no idea how this is even fucking happened, let alone why.
god, all he remembers is minho yelling him about skipping practices and then next thing he knew, minho had him pinned up against the lockers and they were, well, doing it. like, actually doing it. like, somehow, despite both of their apparent heterosexual natures, they had done it. and jongin had liked it.
fuck, how had he liked it?
a not-so-good feeling finds its way to the pit of his stomach because god knows what the world...his friends...his family would think if they knew this. that not only had he let a guy fuck him, but that he had liked it. he almost felt like throwing up, just thinking about it. well, he knows what his family would do, for one. disown him. he's not too sure about his friends, either. they might disown him, too. ah, fuck. he shouldn't even be thinking about this. no one would find out, right? hopefully?
wait, were they loud?
it's then jongin finds himself glancing around the locker room again, but this time for any sign of people other than him and minho. everyone, thankfully, seemed to have left awhile ago. a relieved sigh escapes him then before he hears minho relay the question back at him.
"no." he replies immediately. "well—" jongin stops himself when minho starts babbling about him being a dancer or something. was that supposed to automatically make him gay? or straight? jongin couldn't tell what minho was getting at. he swallows again before gathering up the courage to speak again. "hyung..." he reproaches tentatively. "you don't think..." he licks his lips and tries again. "you don't think anyone heard us, right? or saw us?" he asks, wanting some sort of reassurance, any sort. he reaches up to rub the back of his neck in order to hide the way his hands were, embarrassingly enough, trembling.
no subject
not that, he's sure, a lot of people would mind that—aside from the administration, of course. he can't help but almost chuckle when he thinks about what headlines could possibly show up as a result.
"kim jongin suspended for indecent exposure"
he catches himself, though, and it's when minho finally answers his question. or, rather, that thing he had blurted out just moments before.
jongin blinks furiously as his response and he's surprised, or not? should he be surprised? he's actually not really sure what's supposed to thinking or feeling right now because the only thing he's actually sure of right now is that his ass kills, and it's not because of the shitter he took during practice today.
"oh." he replies, like the oh so intelligent being that he is. "well, that's..." jongin swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he looks around the locker around, anywhere but at minho will do. "cool." what were words, though, actually, he thinks as he reaches up and drags the palm of his hand over his face. he still has no idea how this is even fucking happened, let alone why.
god, all he remembers is minho yelling him about skipping practices and then next thing he knew, minho had him pinned up against the lockers and they were, well, doing it. like, actually doing it. like, somehow, despite both of their apparent heterosexual natures, they had done it. and jongin had liked it.
fuck, how had he liked it?
a not-so-good feeling finds its way to the pit of his stomach because god knows what the world...his friends...his family would think if they knew this. that not only had he let a guy fuck him, but that he had liked it. he almost felt like throwing up, just thinking about it. well, he knows what his family would do, for one. disown him. he's not too sure about his friends, either. they might disown him, too. ah, fuck. he shouldn't even be thinking about this. no one would find out, right? hopefully?
wait, were they loud?
it's then jongin finds himself glancing around the locker room again, but this time for any sign of people other than him and minho. everyone, thankfully, seemed to have left awhile ago. a relieved sigh escapes him then before he hears minho relay the question back at him.
"no." he replies immediately. "well—" jongin stops himself when minho starts babbling about him being a dancer or something. was that supposed to automatically make him gay? or straight? jongin couldn't tell what minho was getting at. he swallows again before gathering up the courage to speak again. "hyung..." he reproaches tentatively. "you don't think..." he licks his lips and tries again. "you don't think anyone heard us, right? or saw us?" he asks, wanting some sort of reassurance, any sort. he reaches up to rub the back of his neck in order to hide the way his hands were, embarrassingly enough, trembling.